Read of Zac

Name the movie

2011-03-13T18:23:00.001-07:00

Wanted criminal and experienced con-artist uses magic and lies to hoodwink impressionable young rich girl into falling in love with him.

Danger of Finals

2010-12-13T18:39:00.000-08:00

Narges: "I'm going to put the sauce on it and then put it in the oven."
Me: "Why?"
Narges: "Cause this chicken is not cooked."
Me: "Oh."
Narges: "Yeah, I've been watching you."
Me: "I ate some of it."

Car Shopping

2010-10-02T23:59:00.000-07:00

These are the cars I've driven in my life. I think the list is comprehensive. I've combed my memory and taken input from those who have lent to the cause.

2010 Toyota Yaris
2008 Mazda 3
2007 Scion tC (racing modified)
2005 Scion tC
2009 red Chevrolet Cobalt (rental car Vegas)
2009 Nissan Cube (rental car OC)
2008 Dodge Caliber (rental for work)*
2008 Mustang (rental)*
2009 Lincoln Towncar (rental for work)
1994 Saturn SL2 (my car)
2000 Ford Focus (Jeff's car)*
2000 Saturn SL2 (mom's car)*
1985 Ford F-150 (dad's truck)
1992 Saab 900 (mom's old car)*
1990 Taurus station wagon (mom's old car)
1983 BMW 318i (Athena's old car)
1996 Buick LeSaber (Grandma's car - I took my driver's test in this one)*
1995 Nissan Altima (Driver's training car)*

2006 Volkswagen Jetta (Narges' car)
2008 Saturn Astra (Jon's car)
2003 Saturn Ion (Jon's old car)
1985 Ford Bronco (Nick's car)
2005 Toyota Echo (Nick's old car)
2002 Saturn SL2 (Jessica's car)
1998 Honda Civic(Kate's car)*
2000 Saturn SL (Dana's old car)*
2006 Mazda 3 (Dana's Car)
1999 Nissan Maxima (Matt's (possibly old) car)*
2004 Nissan Sentra (Mary's car)
2009 BMW 328i (Melanie's car)
2006 Subaru Outback (Ginny's car)*

1993 Honda Elite 80 (My scooter)
2004 Suzuki SV-650 (Mike's bike)
1997 Harley Davidson (Dad's bike)

U-Haul (small box) to LA - June 2006
U-Haul (medium box) to Bay Area - August 2007
U-Haul (F-150) to Woodbine St - June 2006
U-Haul (F-150) in LA - Summer 2008

2000 Ford Aerostar - New Flower Van*
1990 Ford Aerostar - Old Flower Van*
Long panel van - Rented flower Van

1995 Honda Elite 50 with a broken front shock (test drive)
1996 Saturn SL2, fuchsia (test drive)
1974 Ford Bronco, so cool but gas guzzly (test drive)

Small Pleasures: Part Seven

2010-08-21T16:48:00.001-07:00

The sound my keyboard makes when I'm typing.
The

Small Pleasures: Part Six

2010-08-20T16:46:00.000-07:00

Over-ear headphones.
Little boxes for storing stuff are also awesome.

Small Pleasures: Part Five

2010-08-19T17:38:00.000-07:00

PB&J

Small Pleasures: Part Four

2010-08-18T17:34:00.000-07:00

The smell of fresh-cut grass

Small Pleasures: Part Three

2010-08-17T20:44:00.001-07:00

Pact underwear.

Small Pleasures: Part Two

2010-08-16T18:21:00.000-07:00

The guitar styles of Kaki King.

Small Pleasures: Part One

2010-08-15T21:57:00.000-07:00

Taking my new reading glasses off and putting them back on.

Answers to some of life's biggest questions

2010-06-02T12:35:00.000-07:00

The answers to the below questions are as follows:
1) Because you're not old enough to take care of it
2) It's a Tyler Perry movie - wait two months and rent it if you must.
3) It was their bra colors. It was kind of stupid.
4) I haven't the slightest idea.
5) I'd guess spinach. Or blue food coloring.
6) It's the way light refracts in the atmosphere. Blue has the shortest wavelength and scatters easiest.
7) They're kind of stupid.
8) They're kind of stupid, too.
9) Because they can't bark and be useful, so they must purr to be adorable.
10) Cause my feet hurt and my throat is sore still from Vegas.

In... my mouth

2010-05-16T20:14:00.001-07:00

So, as planned, post Bay to Breakers, I made a stop at KFC for a Double Down.

The Double Down has been hailed as some kind of new sandwich. A breadless sandwich consisting of two pieces of fried chicken breast (in the original style), two strips of bacon and two slices of cheese. The chicken acts as if it were bread, so if this were a sandwich, it would be a cheese and bacon sandwich really.

But it's not a sandwich. Sure, it's stuff between other stuff, but really it's an elaborate chicken nugget.
And what a chicken nugget it is. The photo above is a few bites in, but you can see that it's two pieces of chicken breast with cheese sandwiched between it. The bacon isn't fully visible in this photo, and thinking back on it I don't really recall it being there, but I'm sure it was. Whatever was there, it was awesome.

I read one report that this was 550 calories. Then later that day I heard that report was grossly underestimated. However many calories it contains, it's pretty much worth eating it. Whether there's bacon or not. Though again, I'm sure there is bacon if they say there's bacon.

Car List updated

2010-05-07T12:02:00.000-07:00

2009 red Chevrolet Cobalt (rental car Vegas)
2009 Nissan Cube (rental car OC)
2008 Dodge Caliber (rental for work)*
2008 Mustang (rental)*
2009 Lincoln Towncar (rental for work)
1994 Saturn SL2 (my car)
2000 Ford Focus (Jeff's car)*
2000 Saturn SL2 (mom's car)*
1985 Ford F-150 (dad's truck)
1992 Saab 900 (mom's old car)*
1990 Taurus station wagon (mom's old car)
1983 BMW 318i (Athena's old car)
1996 Buick LeSaber (Grandma's car - I took my driver's test in this one)*
1995 Nissan Altima (Driver's training car)*

2006 Volkswagen Jetta (Narges' car)
2008 Saturn Astra (Jon's car)
2003 Saturn Ion (Jon's old car)
1985 Ford Bronco (Nick's car)
2005 Toyota Echo (Nick's old car)
2002 Saturn SL2 (Jessica's car)
1998 Honda Civic(Kate's car)*
2000 Saturn SL (Dana's old car)*
2006 Mazda 3 (Dana's Car)
1999 Nissan Maxima (Matt's (possibly old) car)*
2004 Nissan Sentra (Mary's car)
2009 BMW 328i (Melanie's car)
2006 Subaru Outback (Ginny's car)*

1993 Honda Elite 80 (My scooter)
2004 Suzuki SV-650 (Mike's bike)

U-Haul (small box) to LA - June 2006
U-Haul (medium box) to Bay Area - August 2007
U-Haul (F-150) to Woodbine St - June 2006
U-Haul (F-150) in LA - Summer 2008

2000 Ford Aerostar - New Flower Van*
1990 Ford Aerostar - Old Flower Van*
Long panel van - Rented flower Van

1995 Honda Elite 50 with a broken front shock (test drive)
1996 Saturn SL2, fuchsia (test drive)
1974 Ford Bronco, so cool but gas guzzly (test drive)

Work

2010-05-07T12:00:00.000-07:00

Way too much of my life is spent here.

But maybe I'm just still cranky cause I'm sick and I left my pb&j sandwich on the coffee table this morning.

State of mind

2010-04-09T09:10:00.000-07:00

I drive home the same way almost every day after work. I tend to catch the same red lights, but not always, as I make my way down Lombard. Then yesterday, I saw this:

I had to scramble into my pocket to snap a shot with my phone. Do you see what I saw? The shapes staring out from that person's front door?

I made this to better illustrate my point:

It fits so perfectly, I wanted to run over there and tag it on the wall!

Saturday morning thoughts

2010-02-13T12:30:00.000-08:00

The premise of Donkey Kong Jr. is far more believable than that of Donkey Kong.

"O.P.P." is a phenomenally dirty song.

Late Saturday morning showers are the 4th best kind of shower.

Paperboy is comically dated. First of all, no one break dances in their driveway anymore. Secondly, kids don't play the game with the stick and the hoop anymore (and run out into the street and almost knock me off my bike). But mainly, there are no paperboys anymore. Also, streets have houses on both sides, typically.

If hangovers and drunkenness switched positions in the timeline of drinking, would we still drink?

My 2009 in Facebook Statuses

2010-02-09T15:07:00.000-08:00

So there was this app on Facebook that would collect all of your statuses for 2009 and make an art out of them. I did it (it only used about 20), but here's the whole year.

Remember to read "Zac Dillon" before each line. Try and guess the one that was hacked on my computer. A hint is, it doesn't fit my usual grammatical style.

January
just signed onto MySpace for the first time in months and months. He signed off after about 45 seconds

has seen this Nostradamus expert on a different History Channel show before.

absolutely hates people on Yelp who, when reviewing Italian food, feel the need to mention that they're "from New York."

is going to learn tonight

is worried that the mom sounds bitchy

needs to gamble and win

is thinking about beaches and mountain mornings

is stoked for February Eve

is tired of being guilt-tripped by NPR. Leave me alone, I'm poor. Just read me the news

February

looks like Daniel Faraday today. He could be your constant, if you'd like.

probably should have taken that glass out of his foot on Saturday

is tired of getting fucked by mother fuckers and may just have to become a vigilante, Dark Knight-style

is wondering why he ordered so many Girl Scout Cookies

is suddenly emotionally invested in the characters of "Six Feet Under."

March

has gotten rid of the mountain-man look

is surprised it took FDSF 20 minutes to get here and only 10 seconds to turn off the alarm

is enjoying the 1920s. Despite the lack of alcohol and all these women voting

Limp Bizkit was popular less than 10 years ago. I mean like, REALLY popular.

reminds you that Limp Bizkit was popular less than 10 years ago. Like, REALLY popular.

is listening to U2 coincidentally.

actually does have a roll of quarters in his pocket, but he's not UN-happy to see you

is mentally checked out.

is packed

is on vacation

found out yesterday that in the 90s, his parents feared he'd grow up to be a republican.

April

blogs.

is stoked for some roller coaster action soon.

Goodbye F-22 Though I never knew you at all You had the grace to hold yourself While those around you crawled

is remembering that Advil, Tylenol etc. don't work

has rediscovered exploration (through exploration).

found out the hard way that he's allergic to snails this weekend. But he finally got to try escargot.

really wants a Dyson Ball... though he still wouldn't vacuum.

is excited for beer, golf and beach: everything a good weekend should be.

agrees with Neil Young, a man needs a maid

would like to work for Gavin. As his anything, basically.

likes that he recognized the woman in the Miracle Grow commercial as the woman from the KY commercial.

shouldn't read "World War Z" when there's a viral scare going on.

May

has returned his face to normal

is stoked that his boss isn't here today because there's really no way that he could have done less of that budget report that was due on Friday

is counting down to vegas pretty hard core at this point.

is in love with the way May is shaking out

just impulse-bought a ratchet set at the hardware store and in so doing, officially became his father.

is thinking that breathing is the opposite of calculus. It's easy to do, and you do it every day, all day.

is tired of working in what sounds like a crowded elevator

doesn't understand the hows and the whys, the 80s or the 10s.

doesn't own a record player, but just bought an LP. This is EXACTLY the kind of thing he just chastised himself about.

is loving 103.7 right now. 10,000 songs, no commercials "the soundtrack of my life." It's amazing.

is missing his bed. It was so nice this morning.

June

is procrastinating like an f-ing CHAMP!

won trivia night last night. Go (small) team.

is near the end of one of the longest weeks.

knows time goes by so slowly and time can do so much.

is eating a lunch consisting of the half sandwich Narges left in his fridge and the leftover Mexican food Andy left in his back seat. Does that make him a hobo?

is wondering why he still thinks he may someday like Bjork.

felt like the guy at the end of "2001" this morning, wandering around the hallways in his pajamas... alone.

hopes you know someone who wants to rent out a furnished room in San Francisco for July.

might go to see Wallpaper tonight, or he might drink a bottle of wine and watch "The Wire" on his couch. It's hard to say for sure.

is looking at a fun-filled non vacation week starting tomorrow with a steak the size of a... well, a cow.

just got attitude from someone running a focus group.

is filing advertising agreements for Q1 2010 (the year we make contact), and he's happy for a return to saying 'twenty-ten' just like the good old nineteen-nineties.

is going to Sonic for dinner for the first time.

is happily drunk from all the drinking.

is fucking excited.

is a pro at watching tv

is going to write a book and call it "Crying in Argentina."

is now aware that the button fly on the pants he's wearing has but one button; the top one.

hopes recent celebrity news out of L.A. doesn't distract the American media and public from the potential world-changing events in Iran for too long. Sad yes, but an inevitable part of life.

has lamb burger on his mind. Also housemade duck prosciutto.

is noticing that pride is loud

is giving up on "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" after 60 pages because, in the end, it's still pretty much just Jane Austen.

July

is already really irritated with today

is singin' Kanye this morning. But just to himself, so it's ok.

suffered his first defeat last night and actually lost sleep over it... like a geek.

is at the Pizza Hut.

bought a bottle of wine today and will probably drink it tonight.

is sighing at San Francisco

can't wait for this time Friday

likes his dentist

is singing, "I'm at the In-n-Out..."

should have just bought that damn TV

has less than a year left according to Margaret Thacher who said, "A man who, beyond the age of 26, finds himself on a bus can count himself as a failure. "

is into Alan Rickman as Snape. Like a lot.

still can't find his "Trainspotting" DVD.

needs for whoever has the voodoo doll of him to stop putting pins in his wallet

just saw that Sam Rockwell is in the original TMNT movie. And I didn't think it could be any better.

may have a new motto: wine for nights in, beer for nights out.

is stoked for trivia night. Andrew needs a win!

is ready for July to slag off

's computer has no memory of him or the things they've done together. It's as sad as that scene in Wall-E when Wall-E doesn't recognize Eve or any of his junk.

August

made an espresso that is far too weak. If I wanted coffee, I should have just MADE coffee.

hates when he opens a neopolitan ice cream sandwich upside down.

is wearing a sweater-vest today because of (500) Days of Summer

is making banana pancakes pretending it's the weekend

is tired of seeing conservative "news" printouts on the sink in the bathroom at work.

embodies the July 24 Dilbert desk calendar page

loves finding the answer to the question, "What stinks in the kitchen?" But hates when it has to be asked.

just realized how violent "De Do Do Do De Da Da Da" is.

loves breakfast pie

has recommended that his mother join facebook

is missing Shadow Complex while at work.

will give a gold star to whoever can tell him what Ralph's cat's breath smells like

is starting a thing. Time-wasting web scavenger hunt: How did Hardy Amies say a man should dress? There are three parts to it.

needs someone with whom to see "It Might Get Loud" this weekend.

is a man amongst kings...

wants to be a comedy writer

September

could handle being rich

just liked a lot of things people are doing, but isn't sad that he doesn't like what he's doing

doesn't come to your kitchen and tell you when to bake cookies

is tired of hearing that it smells like toast, even though it does

is having a strange facebook day

is thinking about how boring a conversation with his clone would be.

wishes dentures were socialy acceptible for people younger than 60 (or ideally, 30)

has plans for Halloween (see below)

no longer lives the life of an '80s teen movie, Lisa Dracolakis

is in SillyPuttyManLand

just pickled peppers

will give you a dollar, and won't think it's nothing strange. Andy J. Wang give you a dollar, expect back 95 cents change

is bummed that Kenny Rogers canceled his SF show... again.

loves the shuffle feature's performance today

is bummed he's going to miss Hardly Strictly Bluegrass.

sits all night and never buys

is able to watch ABC Family at 5 today, but it's one of his least favorite episodes. Fate, how dare you?

just wants to eat these Doritos all UP.

would like to be a part of a rich man's experiment to see how money would change him. Why do Richard Pryor/Paul Rodriguez/Eddie Murphy movies not happen for reals?

just put maple syrup on his beet and walnut salad. I think the Iron Chefs could learn a thing or two from him.

October

knows there is a point in the week where the likelihood that that suit will get drycleaned before Saturday's wedding falls to zero. He also knows that point is always on a Thursday

had a weekend. It was goood.

is being sent to stay at Encore in Vegas next weekend for work. It's true, pimpin' ain't easy

has no idea what FarmVille is put many of his friends seem to have mastery of it

would be eating leftover cake right now, if it were socialy acceptable

love the Blue Angels. Absolutely LOVES them.

thinks the inverted collar is the new popped collar.

just bought what will likely become his new favorite funny shirt. Move over, "Missouri loves company"

wonders if there's anybody here it doesn't suck to be. Mabye Jedediah Orlando Levine?

can smell the first raindrops hitting the pavement and loves it despite the inevitable soggy wait for the bus.

has "Field of Dreams" on in the background because it is AWESOME!

just realized that it's only Tuesday

is thinking about soup, garlic bread, mulled wine and "The West Wing."

was just asked how much he weighs... cause the helicopter pilot in Las Vegas needs to know!

is going to the Grand Canyon Monday morning... via HELICOPTER!

is wearing his new favorite shirt today.

is not a terribly patient person today

just got drunk with his family and did a Jack in the Box run.

is in vegas

woke up in vegas at 4:30 this morning, which is the opposite of how beds and 4:30 should go together in that town

has been wondering if changing the phrase "life in prison" to "death in a prison cell," would make it seem like more of a permanent punishment.

wants cereal, but would have to use either tea, questionable buttermilk or chicken stock

loves the fall weather

has pumpkin soup for lunch!

is getting "Hostel II" tomorrow so he can avoid sleep

is pizza

thinks that "cat" does not constitute a costume for a girl. Unless it's one of the cats from "Cats."

is incredibly happy that he put on the thermal before leaving the office. Long sleeves were key

man, i love boobs

November

is not responsible for the content of his previous status update, but does support the idea (especially at the end of Breast Cancer Awareness Month).

can't, for the life of him, get "The Word of Your Body" out of his head

is wondering what Maine's problem is

is shocked to see that "Sachin" is a trending topic on Twitter

sometimes looks up in the trees and thinks how terrifying it would be if octopi lived there and could jump down on passersby

will be suiting up for his trip to DC tomorrow.

is looking down on the Rockies right now. For you see, they have no formal education and he is a snob.

is in Kansas

is not in Kansas anymore.

got 3 pieces of mail today at work! That's never happened.

is rocking the winter beard again this year

absolutely hates Tom Swifties.

is wondering if it's OK that he mentally checked out when the dog peed on his desk

is encoding things in base64. It's c3VwZXIgZnVu

has his computer uploading 1,180,000 lines. It's currently at 45,000

did not bring a rain jacket today. And wore the shoes that seep up water. He did not plan this well at all

is bummed that his ESPN feed reads like a crime blotter

knows what will be getting him through the first 18 days of December

is impatient, so indecent

is pissed that the internet doesn't know what he means when he types "amazon.CMO"

kind of wishes he had gone to the state dinner last night

is reading "A Christmas Carol" and can't help but picture the Disney characters (particularly Jacob Marley)

December

forgot his headphones at home today. Now he has to kill everyone in the office.

loves beverages, more and BevMo!

wouldn't take a single rose in trade for a night's shelter from the bitter cold, either. The Beast got hexed for illigitimate reasons.

loves the Ross in Marin County. Rich areas have awesome discount stores

Just bought cufflinks despite having no shirtsleves lacking buttons. It's all for you, Shaiya Hana Rahman

This is a note in a marketing email I just got... "I like simpler text: You talk, we listen (still have person with large ears)" and it's not even the worst idea being tossed around.

has a smiley face in his tea leaves

decorated two christmas trees this weekend

will not be staying late at work anymore. He is over it.

isn't entirely sure exactly HOW Ruff Ryders roll

will continue to work late... way to buy my love, work

appreciates that there are more Panda Express restaurants in the world than there are actual pandas

thinks the Universal Declaration of Human Rights is awesome. Article 24: Everyone has the right to rest and leisure, including reasonable limitation of working hours and periodic holidays with pay.

has plans tonight with Chuck Klosterman, Valeriano Jaccuzzi and Mr. Spaghetti.

is wondering, for no reason, what ever happened to Ian Ziering?

got a tetanus shot today but first asked, "isn't that just for 5-year-olds or stepping on nails?"

has written a poem: "do I want to just eat tamales tonight for dinner? basically giving in to the easy way out? i think i might"

has hated Joe Lieberman since childhood. ESRB anyone?

thinks cut-up grapefruit looks like tuna tartare or sashimi

knows that the most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see

wrote another poem: just got an email: wellsfargo statement is ready. saw the number thought, "i'm rich." then realized it's a credit card bill

has never been able to shoot a layup.

needs this Wallpaper CD to get through the last hour of the week. What What!

loves hot totties but hates the red ring of death.

will be devoting the rest of 2009 to learning the lyrics to "Truly Madly Deeply" in anticipation of the 90s party

What more could there possibly be?

2010-01-18T16:48:00.001-08:00

2009 in bills

2009-12-22T01:12:00.000-08:00

As 2009 draws to a close, one more big-ticket item had to break on me. My camera, which took more than 4,000 shots in 3 years across 14 or so countries, busted its screen this weekend.

In a year of car towing, engine blowing, check frauding, punk jumping, root canaling, hard drive crashing, iPod dying and snail eating, a screen cracking was not a big deal when I heard it burst.

But maybe it's because also in this year I've been to Hawaii, Disneyland, Lake Tahoe, Hearst Castle, The Grand Canyon, Union Square, DC, Vegas twice, The Grand Del Mar, Muir Beach, Santa Cruz, Wente Vineyards, Dolores Park, Shaiya's engagement party, the nursery, my backyard, Golden Gate Park and three new years parties.

Happy Holiday Party

2009-12-18T08:43:00.000-08:00

So last night was the office holiday party. Let me just say it was the biggest shitshow I've been to in a long while (including Athena's wedding, where JoNelle and I were the only ones to make scenes).

Various coworkers were out of it or belligerent, particularly at the after party, but I'll spare them by not mentioning any deets here.

I will however, as a service to myself, update my list of cars driven. Throughout the day I had 3-4 glasses of wine (it was a long day) so I became the designated driver and had the opportunity to drive the 2009 BMW, which was a manual that handled swimmingly, and the 2006* Subaru, which are both now listed below.

2008 Dodge Caliber (rental for work)*
2008 Mustang (rental)*
2009 Lincoln Towncar (rental for work)
1994 Saturn SL2 (my car)
2000 Ford Focus (Jeff's car)*
2000 Saturn SL2 (mom's car)*
1985 Ford F-150 (dad's truck)
1992 Saab 900 (mom's old car)*
1990 Taurus station wagon (mom's old car)
1983 BMW 318i (Athena's old car)
1996 Buick LeSaber (Grandma's car - I took my driver's test in this one)*
1995 Nissan Altima (Driver's training car)*

2006 Volkswagen Jetta (Narges' car)
2008 Saturn Astra (Jon's car)
2003 Saturn Ion (Jon's old car)
1985 Ford Bronco (Nick's car)
2005 Toyota Echo (Nick's old car)
2002 Saturn SL2 (Jessica's car)
1998 Honda Civic(Kate's car)*
2000 Saturn SL (Dana's old car)*
2006 Mazda 3 (Dana's Car)
1999 Nissan Maxima (Matt's (possibly old) car)*
2004 Nissan Sentra (Mary's car)
2009 BMW 328i (Melanie's car)
2006 Subaru Outback (Ginny's car)*

1993 Honda Elite 80 (My scooter)
2004 Suzuki SV-650 (Mike's bike)

U-Haul (small box) to LA - June 2006
U-Haul (medium box) to Bay Area - August 2007
U-Haul (F-150) to Woodbine St - June 2006
U-Haul (F-150) in LA - Summer 2008

2000 Ford Aerostar - New Flower Van*
1990 Ford Aerostar - Old Flower Van*
Long panel van - Rented flower Van

1995 Honda Elite 50 with a broken front shock (test drive)
1996 Saturn SL2, fuchsia (test drive)
1974 Ford Bronco, so cool but gas guzzly (test drive)

Sexpigeon has infected my thinking

2009-12-16T14:38:00.001-08:00

One day, when I open the door to the office bathroom and the lights have been off due to inactivity, as they flicker on I know I will find a dead old man sitting on the toilet.

I'm always mentally prepared to check his pulse and dial 911 on my cell phone, but will I pull up his pants for him?

Where'd the poo go?

2009-11-25T09:02:00.000-08:00

So a dog keeps shitting on the sidewalk in front of my building in the mornings. It's either the same dog or a different dog that is the same size and has a very similar diet/digestive system.

The owner of the dog did not pick it up (I know it's not a stray cause if it was, surely one of the craftier hobos in the neighborhood would have caught him and either tamed him or feasted upon him) and there are no dogs in sight as I walk to my car to head to work.

Then after work... it's gone. Did one of the crafty hobos make something out of it? There are no smears on the ground, and it wasn't in a place that would easily get stepped on (kind of by a tree).

Where's the poo going?

--

My life in dreams part II

2009-11-24T10:40:00.000-08:00

My dad and I were walking around the corner from his house to the Boys Club. We had our shotguns (we don't own shotguns - or at least, we don't own two) and were going to some kind of gun show. I have always wanted to shoot a shotgun, preferably at a clay pigeon off the back of a huge ship or at a T-1000 in some kind of steel mill where I can melt him and not get sliced by his daggerhands. But I digress.

We were in the Boys Club gun show* when suddenly we weren't anymore. We were walking in the snow, down a long fairly flat slope in the mountains. My view was like a Lord of the Rings shot from a helicopter of us approaching the base camp. We were, I think, about to climb K2. In my dream version of K2, you can see Everest and really it didn't look that much taller than K2. Then from the top of Everest (I know I skipped a part, but what do you expect, I was asleep), all the other mountain tops didn't look that low beneath us.

I've done some Wikipedia-ing, and it's clear that I don't understand the concept of mountain prominence. Because apparently, Everest is entirely prominent, all the way down to sea level, which is 600 miles away. I would think "prominence" means how high up you are while on the top compared to your surroundings. For example, Lake Tahoe may be at 6,000 feet above sea level, but when you're sanding there, it looks like zero.

Based on my view from Everest this morning, it's prominence is more like 2,000 feet, and not 29,000. But maybe it was just cloudy this morning, so I couldn't see.

This is the north side of K2. I was on the south side, but this picture is cooler.

*Please note the Boys Club doesn't actually have gun shows.
--

Red Book Chronicles

2009-11-20T14:38:00.000-08:00

Earlier this year I was helping my mom convert my childhood room into a library. We were going through a bunch of her art projects, scraps and notes when we re-found the legendary shopping list. It was for groceries, but right at the bottom, scrawled in her familiar hand writing, were the words "static electricity." No one knows why it was, nor are we surprised that it was on her list. Also lost to time is whether she indeed got her static electricity on.

But I make lists too. I have a little book, which I got on one of Andy and my strolls up Polk in the first few days of this year. It's nearly full now, and it's great fun going through it.

Similar to my Overheard Poetry (which seems to have been rejected by The Paris Review) some of the entries would make for great poetry readings, but all paint a kind of vague picture of what I did in the past yearish.

The Red Book Chronicles:
Zac's 2009 in notes
(How You Measure A Year In the Life)
Annotated version

-- denotes a page break

1/31/09
Walk up Polk
Bell Tower Bar ->Looks awesome (Written the day I got the booklet. I would later go there, try escargot, and have a horrible allergic reaction)

"The Real Trial of Oscar Wilde"
-By Merlin Holland

"Interpreter of Maladies"
-By Jhumpa Lahiri

"Special Topics in Calamity Physics"
-Marisha Pessi

--
COD: WAW
Jitterbug
W
Tamales
Laundry
Anita
Swim
Run
Sam Adams Beer

Black Silicone
Shampoo
Cleaner of some kind
Cash
--
Alamoana plate lunch

--
~~Books~~
~~Snorkely~~
~~Blank CDS~~
(The above list was a to-get from parent's house)

Books
CDs
sunglasses
camera
charger
ipods
cord for comp
west wing
--
Olives
tomatoes
cucumber
club soda
vodka
mint + lemon?
hummus + pita
Pasta
sauce
lettuce

Lost
HIMYM
FNL
Everything... (is Illuminated, film)
30 Rock
--
(Narges' handwriting)
King of Thai
2850 Sacramento
Sac & Divis

1911 filmore
btw bush & pine
SpQR

--
Chabot Golf
12:57 PM
$78
EF9460D0

May 9
10-9pm
Luggagestargallery.org

Ellis
TL Nat'l Forrest

--
Sheepdip
-Scotch

9 21
LACK

Soda
Chips/salsa
Doritos (I needed two kinds of chips, clearly)
Rolls
Tomatoes
Pickles
Meat
Lettuce
Frozen Food
Hummus
Pita
Stir Fry
Sweet + Sour
Pot Stickers

--
West Wing Lounge

Nickle Creek

Moss Beach Distillery
140 Beach Way
L on Cypress
L at airport
R at marine
L at Beach
5:45

--

"The Only problem is, I think she's in love with me."
-"No, it takes 3 times." (Nick, then Mike)

The Palace Hotel
2 New Montgomery St
8:30 AM - 12:30 PM

ABM Exploring the Digital Revolution

Main St Station Casino

--
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that was a long story."
-Nick, abou this ripped pants in Vegas

--
(The following are two opposing pages that are great next to each other)

National Air Races in Reno in Sept?

"Salma Hayek Deserves her boobs."
-Andy

Brett Dennan
"San Francisco"

Beans
Lettuce
Milk
Eggs
Raisins

747 Gayley apt 208

"You Have Wit and Word and Worth"

--

Papolote
Fulton & Masonic

Cline Mourvedre
~~with~~ For Mike

Ft Mason Center
Building C
Room 205
--
"A Nap short of perfect."
-NZ, post
half marathon

pinenuts
jam
garlic
bread
G turkey
tamato
pickle
pita
tea for work
parsley

--
1968
Front Door

Pavilion Stacking wine rack (check mark)

BB + The Bop Guns

Sept 4
--
2008 Dodge Caliber

Calistoga Ranch

Calistoa hotel -
outdoor showers!
--
Belique
Pots + Pans

Tux Group #
2402346

Men's Warehouse
Before 11th

Blk K Cole
--
Twisted Merlot
Gnarly Vines Zin
181
Joel Gott Sauvingon Blanc ->Grapefruit
--
Mayer Hawthorne
"Album of the Year"

To do Thurs 10/22
email tony to ask about lastID tag
newsletter
santa fe email
write blogs
personal statement

Fri Morn Call Luc
Colin info from luc
Survey monkey

--

Yak Wellington
(III?)

"Mortified"
The Makeout Room
Diaries read as performance art

Postage Stamp Planes

--
A goal is a dream with a plan and a deadline

Finos in the Andrews Hotel

(Yes, this is how it ends... for now)
--

Subject: Turducken this year?

2009-11-10T11:58:00.000-08:00

Email from me to Mom:
I will buy this. Or at least, throw some coin down on it. TURDUCKEN!!!

"Approximately 18-20 pounds and will feed 18-22 people full with some leftovers. Each Turducken comes with a electric thermometer and alarm probe in the center of the duck breast (the very center of the Turducken), directions on how to cook it will also be provided. The Turducken comes on a bed of root vegetables with assorted herbs in a roasting pan ready to cook.

The Turducken is stuffed with a duck inside a chicken inside a turkey, all never frozen and free range. The birds will be stuffed with a chicken and duck sausage cornbread stuffing.

Each bird is $250 and we require a 50% deposit via paypal to process your order."

I'm down to get vetoed, but this comes from a very reputable butcher. it's not like the KFC experiment of 2004.

Email response from Adam (who was CC'd)
Uuuhhhhh

Email response from Mom
Why, just last night I was discussing a free-range organic turkey for this year. The subject of Turducken never came up. While I am open to new ideas and am loathe to shoot something down that I have never tried, (hence the KFC turkey), I feel that I must kindly decline the generous offer or Turducken.

I will, as form of consolation consider a duck, alongside the turkey, or, duck for Christmas dinner, or a rubber duck swimming in gravy. Turkey gravy.

I applaud your sense of adventure.

--

Do you have H1N1 or just a cold?

2009-11-03T11:03:00.000-08:00

Do you have Swine flu? Or are you just being a hypochondriac?

Know the Difference between a Cold and H1N1 Flu Symptoms:

Symptom	Cold	H1N1 Flu
Fever	Fever is rare with a cold.	Fever is usually present with the flu in up to 80% of all flu cases. A temperature of 100°F or higher for 3 to 4 days is associated with the H1N1 flu.
Coughing	A hacking, productive (mucus- producing) cough is often present with a cold.	A non-productive (non-mucus producing) cough is usually present with the H1N1 flu (sometimes referred to as dry cough).
Aches	Slight body aches and pains can be part of a cold.	Severe aches and pains are common with the H1N1 flu.
Stuffy Nose	Stuffy nose is commonly present with a cold and typically resolves spontaneously within a week.	Stuffy nose is not commonly present with the H1N1 flu.
Chills	Chills are uncommon with a cold.	60% of people who have the H1N1 flu experience chills.
Curly Tail	A curly tail is uncommon with a cold (unless preexisting).	A curly tail is actually also uncommon with H1N1 (again, unless a preexisting condition).
Tiredness	Tiredness is fairly mild with a cold.	Tiredness is moderate to severe with the H1N1 flu.
Sneezing	Sneezing is commonly present with a cold.	Sneezing is not common with the H1N1 flu.
Sudden Symptoms	Cold symptoms tend to develop over a few days.	The H1N1 flu has a rapid onset within 3-6 hours. The flu hits hard and includes sudden symptoms like high fever, aches and pains.
Bacon Craving	People with colds should give in to their natural bacon cravings	67% of people who have the H1N1 flu experience increased bacon desires.
Headache	A headache is fairly uncommon with a cold.	A headache is very common with the H1N1 flu, present in 80% of flu cases.
Sore Throat	Sore throat is commonly present with a cold.	Sore throat is not commonly present with the H1N1 flu.
Chest Discomfort	Chest discomfort is mild to moderate with a cold.	Chest discomfort is often severe with the H1N1 flu.

My car is fixed...

2009-11-02T16:42:00.000-08:00

So with much help from my dad, the Saturn rides again. We got an engine in a car that had a bad transmission (much like my car did about 40000 miles ago), took it out and put it in mine. It runs great, though the "Service Engine Soon" light came on right when I was on the San Mateo Bridge. Not entirely sure what that means, but if the car lasts me another year, then it was worth the $200 and all the fun we had swapping them out.

Though that 2010 VW Golf TDI does look exceptionally fantastic despite being surrounded by abbreviations.

My life in dreams part 1

2009-10-15T19:03:00.001-07:00

I had a dream last night that an unidentified third party, Andy and I stole an alligator from the zoo. It actually may have been another kind of animal as we were leaving with it, but when we got to where we were going, it was an alligator for sure (I thought it might have been a crocodile, but having looked at images, it wasn't).

We put it in a rigidly square-cut dirt hole that was the same width and length of the animal, so when looking top-down on it, it fit inside snugly like a person in a grave. But the depth was the same height as the gator, so it fit like a perfectly formed ice cube in a tray. Later, my view of the hole would pan out and I could see it was in the center of a kind of bull ring, but at first we were right on top of it looking down.

It was thrashing around and slowly the perfectly vertical walls started to fall in on it, creating a ramp it could escape on.

This is when my view became much farther away.

He ran around for a bit, and may have eaten the third party. I woke up not really disturbed so much as confused because really, what the hell was that about?

--

Three for a dollar

2009-10-02T09:19:00.000-07:00

I awoke this morning with artichokes on my mind. Which is weird. Not nearly as weird as it would have been to wake up surrounded by artichokes - a realization that made me feel a little better.

I wasn't dreaming about artichokes, you understand. But at 6:30 as soon as I opened my eyes (and experiencing a bit of an upset stomach) it was almost all I could think about. Mainly just the word and the image of what they look like.
I started thinking about artichokes as a metaphor for time, with each year being a leaf torn off the thistle. This is a frightening image if you think about it (which I did) because eventually whoever's doing the tearing will get to those really thin pedals, rip them out all at once along with the fur, causing everything to age decades in an instant, then bite into the heart which would what? End all time?

So I shook that metaphor and started to concentrate on the last time I had an artichoke. Narges' grandma gave me three this past June or so, and I cooked them up for myself, Andy and Rew. I made a Parmesan garlic butter for dipping (cause I didn't have mayonnaise) which was good. While I ate it I tried to remember the last time I had had an artichoke. At the time I may have been able to remember, I don't know.

Again, I should point out, I didn't wake up wanting an artichoke, or with an artichoke taste in my mouth. Their existence just occurred to me, is all.

--

Traffic School

2009-09-28T20:36:00.000-07:00

This is the stupidest thing ever.

"Vehicle Code section 22106 states that drivers are not allowed to back a vehicle on a highway "until such movement can be made with all reasonable safety." Most of the time, it can't, so it's a good idea not to back up on a highway at all. The author knows how to speak French, but not Spanish. Particularly on steep downgrades, the approaching traffic, especially large vehicles that gather speed quickly, could be coming faster than you think."

This kind of thing has been in every section, and they always ask a question about it.

Dear iPod while on shuffle

2009-09-23T11:51:00.000-07:00

I love you. Who would have thought of these songs in this order? No one but you, you magnificent genius, you.

Kings of Leon, "Wasted Time"
Rage Against the Machine, "New Millennium Homes"
Dido, "Sand in my shoes"
Gnarls Barkley, "Transformer"
Nancy Sinatra, "Bang Bang"
Korn, "Freak on a Leash"

I can't wait to see what's next.

--

You got some BALLS, La Boulange

2009-09-18T14:01:00.000-07:00

I've never been to La Boulange before, despite the fact that they're everywhere in San Francisco.

Today, since I have a borrowed car, Narges suggested I go somewhere I can't walk to, so I made my way to Strawberry Village for my first trip the "the bakery."

I ordered an open-face club sandwich (with avocado) expecting to get something in the form of this, which I would need to eat with a knife and fork.

What I got, was a NORMAL sandwich (although with three layers). And it wasn't even cut into 4 triangles like a REAL normal club sandwich.

Don't get me wrong, it was delicious as all get out and had me licking the plate when I was done. But the point remains, I was expecting an open-face club sandwich - which would have been a radical interpretation of the traditional club sandwich composition (the aforementioned triple-decker 4 triangles). What I got was a (delicious) bastardization of the triple-decker club sandwich. In fact, this would even qualify as half-assed, since there were half as many cuts as would be required to turn it into 4 pieces.

I wish I had taken a picture, but it was so tasty, I ate it too quick.

I just inadvertently defined college life

2009-09-15T14:09:00.000-07:00

Ode to my old, departed friend

2009-09-11T12:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Saturn,

I paid cash for you, to a guy who was selling on behalf of his deceased mother. I picked you up in the southern part of San Jose off of Highway 85. I forget the exit now, but there was an El Pollo Loco right off the freeway.

It was Sept. 1, 2001 and I was 18 years old. I had spent the summer working on a garage for Spanish Tony around the corner, but had started at Chabot in mid August. You had 48,000 miles and a silver windshield sun-blocker that is still in your trunk. On the way home together, I was blaring the radio, and I vividly recall how funny I thought it was that I bought you from a religious person and the first song that played was “Running with the Devil” by Van Halen.

The guy I bought you from had forgotten to sign something, so on September 9, I drove back down. I returned the knitted tissue holder I found in the console, because I thought the son would want to have it. He didn’t, but neither did I. We got you registered on Sept. 10, 2001 (dad towed you back from the garage yesterday, Sept. 10, 2009).

I quickly put on the Metallica sticker, the Disturbed smiley face and the KSJO sticker (never did get flashed for Whip ‘em out Wednesday). The boys teased me about the “performance” switch ("This car couldn't do 135 mph if you pushed it out of a fucking airplane").

I tried to change your oil myself for the first year or so, but you’re so low it was hard to pull off. I needed a jack and two jack stands just to slide under.

In June of ’05 your transmission went out, probably because the guy who checked the fluid level during an oil change left the dipstick sticking out. I was in the Grapevine, on my way back down to LA. It was in the mid 90s, and after you cooled down and got a pint of tranny fluid, I drove you slowly back down the hill. At this point, you’d already been broken into four times, including the time that the guy bent your passenger-side door back to get the stereo. You still leak when it rains.

You had your driver-side window smashed, and your lock jimmied at least 8 times. You gave up three cell phone headsets, two stereos, two toolboxes, a great Gap blazer, sunglasses, my "Bleach" CD, my Mag Light and a can of Diet A&W Root Beer.

We ran out of gas twice. You got a flat on the way back from JoNelle's rehearsal dinner.

Back in San Francisco, you lost your water pump, fuel pump and there was the time your brake caliper came off and stopped my car (literally). I’m sorry about that, I should have tightened it tighter.

There was the hobo inside you that Monday morning, the checks stolen from your trunk, the ticket for running the stop sign by work and the time you got towed on that Thursday morning. You took us to Daily City BART after the concert. It’s been a big year. You became unreliable, but we had some good times.

I’ll probably drive you a few more times, but not like it used to be. We’ll fix your head gasket, but I won’t trust you to make it over any bridge. Probably, I’ll donate you or drive you into a dealership for what I expect will be less than $500 in trade-in value (BlueBook has you at $700 in “good” condition).

But Thanks Car. We had an eventful-ass eight years together.

Is that the kind that takes 30 minutes? No... 30 Minutes!?!

2009-09-08T19:27:00.001-07:00

By coincidence, Andy and I both went to the dentist today and by obvious correlation, both of our mouths are sore. I see the thing of steel-cut oatmeal that Narges mistakenly bought a while ago and declare that I'm going to make some.

He asks if that's the kind that takes 30 minutes to make and I say no, it couldn't be that long. From the other room I could then be heard yelling "30 minutes?!?"

So now is the waiting time. I'ma put maple syrup in it (sugar was not the cause of my trip to the dentist, though I can see now how you could think that).

Another Car!

2009-09-02T09:52:00.001-07:00

In San Diego this weekend, I had to drive my coworker's rented car down to the docs to handle some "business." While there, I got a parking ticket. I have adjusted my list of vehicles accordingly (and it was a pretty sweet ride - I officially love the sport wagon body style).

Car List

Then what's your problem?

2009-08-19T17:44:00.000-07:00

"Stick your arm for some real fun"

2009-08-14T09:11:00.001-07:00

We all know about the homeless man I found sleeping in my car a few weeks ago. It needed a jumpstart and smelled of hobo for days in there but just I realized it could have been a lot worse.

I'm pretty street-smart. At least, I think I am. I try to emulate my dad in negotiating the mean streets, but he's slightly more respectable and intimidating than I am (the dimples work against me in that regard... hence the beard). But when I found a syringe Wednesday on the street, I didn't know what to do. There's a high school up the street from me. I didn't want one of the kids to fall on it or something. Also, Narges almost exclusively wears sandals and I for sure don't want her to kick it with her bare toes (ahhh, bear toes!) so I had to get rid of it somehow.

But I sure ain't picking it up.

I thought about kicking it in the gutter, but the nightly streetsweeping would, with my recent luck, kick it out to the middle of the street where it would wait patiently to embed itself in my tire. I seriously considered picking it up, but looking at it puts me in a surreal mindset - it's a very odd-looking and nefarious device.

This is the kind of thing they should teach in drug education. Sure warn kids about drugs, but when you take health in college, talk about what do to if you find a syringe, or a vile some crackhead dropped on his way to or from the cluster.

I settled on kicking it into a planter box, being sure that the needle side is securely in the dirt.

Every day I walk by and look. It's still there.

Kitchen fun

2009-07-16T19:35:00.001-07:00

What you'll need:
The meat off of two leftover barbecued (meaty) pork ribs chopped up... about two handfulls
Three gypsy peppers cut into pepper-sized slices
Half a can of baked beans
Half a bottle of beer
1/8 bottle of red wine

Put those ingredients in an oven-safe pan and simmer on the stovetop till it bubbles for a while.

Topping, what you'll need:
Half a red onion cut up and some olive oil - saute that in a pan till the onions are clear.
1-2 yellow potatoes shredded. Add that to the onions. Pepper the hell out of it and add some salt. Mix that a while and let the potatoes cook for a few minutes.

Turn off the soupy mixture and the potatoes. Gingerly layer the potatoes on top of the meat and beans and spread it out evenly. Put the pan in the oven, 450F, and bake for about 15 minutes till the top is crispy looking.

By now you've finished drinking that other half of the beer. Open another one and eat.

Don't mind if I do

2009-07-10T09:28:00.000-07:00

The last piece of cake, the last beer in the fridge, the last of what was a dozen Buffalo wings? Yeah, I'll take that.

Someone cut up a strawberry scone in the office this morning. I had one of the first pieces to be claimed, then half an hour later there was a lonely little bit left. I swooped on it like a lion on an elderly antelope.

It was yummy and am glad I didn't hesitate like so many others would have.

And I didn't even come from a big family. Oh wait, yes I did.

That was surprisingly easy to do

2009-07-01T15:57:00.000-07:00

me: give me a word and i'll try to work it into the story somehow

Narges: unicorn

...

The nemeses of great speakers, sadly, are multiplying every day (and of course the enemies of a decent or poor speaker are more numerous than unicorn stickers at a daycare). E-mails going off in pockets, free coffee (and the associated bathroom breaks), packed agendas, ambient noises and the ability to surf the web on a phone are all taking eyes from the front of the room and concentration off the source of the message.

A private conversation between a lovely young lady and a drunken fool

2009-06-24T09:48:00.000-07:00

10:01 PM me: HI!

10:02 PM Narges: is the exclamation mark an indication of ur tipsy state?

10:03 PM me: which exclamation mark?

10:04 PM which is to say, probably

(redacted)

10:11 PM

me: but seriously drunk

since i got home

rum margarita and a few beers since that

10:12 PM i turned your mashed potatoes into potato soup with cheese and tomato soup

soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

good

10:13 PM i meant cheese and tomato sandwich

not soup'

there was only two soups

Narges: haha

10:14 PM i wish i was there, i love drunk zac

(redacted… this is where I fall apart)

me: jahahah

10:40 PM hey

seeriously narges

i'm super out of control

i'm watching my new show "From The Earth To The Moon"

10:41 PM just the one episode

which is almost over

Narges: haha

me: i'm not goning to watchover the show

10:44 PM which is to say, I will be knowledgeable about the show... but maybe there will be some RFS seat entry beacon when they try to renter ...

hey, narges...

10:45 PM you're awesome (this is in 2009)

10:46 PM Narges: is my awesomeness somehow related to space?

10:47 PM also, whats in 2009?

10:49 PM me: i honestly have no idea

cause really

10:50 PM that is this this year

Narges: hahaahaha

me: I have no idea why i said "(2009)"

10:51 PM seriously... drunk on people drnking

good times

but not relyable people

10:54 PM Narges: k, im gonna go to bed

10:55 PM me: good call

Tonight's menu

2009-06-16T12:48:00.000-07:00

Chopped salad with roasted peppers and tomatillo salsa dressing

Homestyle mashed potatoes

Swiss chard avec carrot

A Montreal seasoned ribeye steak with a Cabernet mushroom shallot reduction

Desert of little brownie

Paired with a 2004 Sette Fratelli Merlot of Jacuzzi Vineyards, which was purchased specifically to be paired with a steak dinner.

Salty and Sweet

2009-05-31T21:30:00.000-07:00

I've been wavering to the extremes of salty and sweet all day. I went to bed last night a little hungry, planning on having a creative breakfast. I started with sauteed spinach, topped it with some grilled tomatoes and two eggs over easy. There was a side of potatoes and toast involved as well. You can see in the photo that I accidentally popped one of the yolks, but it was a pretty freaking sweet breakfast.

Several hours later I went to see a movie and had popcorn, which was salty. After the movie, I made coffee and wanted a doughnut to go with it, so I made that happen. About an hour later, danged if I don't want something salty. But to round the day off with a healthy close like the way it started, I had a salad, which had some salty ingredients.

There's something strange about a day where you don't have to do anything. I realize I don't have any of them coming up for probably about 6 months cause it's going to be an interesting time. Which is good, cause if I hadn't been kind of sick today, I would have found something to do anyway.

Somewhere a copy editor is laughing or crying about this

2009-05-01T16:52:00.000-07:00

Passive voice isn't weak, it's polite

2009-05-01T14:15:00.000-07:00

I have been bombarded with comments over the years by editors saying that the passive voice isn't the best choice (I just used it again). But it has been used deliberately and pleasantly, I feel (did it again).

Skunk, of "Elements of Style" fame said "The active voice is usually more direct and vigorous than the passive." Sounds like an obnoxious drunk to me. All up in your grill, being all vigorous.

Columbia says "Active voice makes subjects do something (to something); passive voice permits subjects to have something done to them (by someone or something). Some argue that active voice is more muscular, direct, and succinct, passive voice flabbier, more indirect, and wordier."

Sounds a lot like me actually (flabby, indirect and wordy).

And yet, I turn your attention to the writing of Mr. Thomas Jefferson: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

The above passage essentially said, "Suck it, England. We rock." And it used the passive voice (some active too, but still).

Also, for funsies, listen to "Fixing a Hole" by the Beatles with only the right headphone on. It's a kind of haunting a cappella.

"You have to update your blog now"

2009-04-27T00:26:00.000-07:00

Yes Narges. Yes, I do.

I recently listed all the cars I've driven in my decade behind the wheel (read it here)and today added to that total. My work had a function at Cavallo Point (which is gorgeous) and needed people to shuttle guests from the airport.

Four of us were asked to help. One drove the boss' car, two drove their own nice cars (a new Saab and a BMW) and I had a car rented for me as my POS would not sufficiently impress the guests.

I was only marginally insulted for a brief amount of time, and when I drove the 2009 Lincoln Towncar I instantly got over it and wanted to be an old man or a mobster.

Talk about a nice ride. That car wants to go 80 mph, and you can't really do a lot to stop it. It does what it wants, and you're going to enjoy it while it does. Leather, 6-disk CD, seat that adjusted so much I had no idea when to stop (clearly not a genius) and a trunk that could fit my apartment.

So we're at 34. Here's hoping the rest continue to be as great as the most recent two

It's on

2009-04-23T14:20:00.001-07:00

Cause really, who goes to garage sales anymore?

2009-04-16T22:46:00.000-07:00

So I bought a camera on ebay. It's from the early 1960s, comes with three lenses, and will hopefully be here before my birthday next week so I can play with it.

I'm really excited about it, but I always have this nagging thought when I "win" an auction: I'm the only one stupid enough to have paid this much for this thing. Cause really, that's what auctions are based on. You and some other people want something, and the one who will part with the most money for it, gets it.

Still, I'm excited. Despite the dubious honor of my "win."

Dropped off at the pool (I'm pooped)

2009-04-15T23:24:00.000-07:00

For the first time, in what I now realize is a really long time, I swam some laps today.

I used to swim 3/4 of a mile three times a week. This would have been in 2003 and 2004. It amounted to 40 laps, I think, and took about half an hour or so. On one occasion, I swam the full mile (to get a certificate saying that I did) and it took me just under 50 minutes.

Today I drove to the gym in Potrero Hill (got lost on the way) and did 16 laps in a little less than 15 minutes. I probably could have done a lot more if I knew how to go a lot slower, but I'm used to swimming at a certain rate and frankly, my arms and lungs couldn't maintain it for very long.

But then I was able to go in the steam room and the sauna, so all-in-all it was a good trip. I hope to return tomorrow after class, but we'll see if I'll be able to.

This is all in preparation for surfing, which will recommence soon.

My hour-long desire

2009-04-13T22:52:00.000-07:00

I really want an old camera like my mom has. Or at least, I have for the past hour or so. Well, I've always wanted one, but it just occurred to me that I should be on the lookout for one. You know how you may come across a random garage sale some day, and you think to yourself, "I wanted something that I can only really get used but I can't think of what it is"? And you go to the garage sale and you look around and you don't see it so you don't remember what it was? Well I remember now what it is. It's a metal, fully manual camera. In the meantime, I may make a pinhole camera. that could be fun. Also, coming off spring break, I failed to do my homework tonight, which doesn't bode well for future Zac. Though in my defense, this class has been very easy from the start (didn't have to give it a lot of time early on). It's getting very late in the semester (I'm kind of over it). Also, I already did the homework, Narges (I just want to check the answers cause I feel like my calculated GDP is off target). And I really have always wanted an old camera. I'm tempted to borrow my mom's, but then if I ever get one, it'll be less fun. We'll see.
I'm on the lookout for you, camera

Andy! The Roof! The Fireworks!

2009-04-08T22:32:00.000-07:00

In the kitchen by the window, cleaning the George Foreman, minding my own business, thinking the Giant's game ended long ago while we watched "Lost," I hear a noise.

I look to the window and push it open, letting in the chill and the same noise, a little louder this time. I yell to Andy, put on shoes and grab my camera on my way up the stairs to the roof.

Tonight was the Giant's home opener (they lost) and I knew there would be fireworks and I knew I'd be able to see them. If New Year's hadn't been super foggy (and if I hadn't been in Santa Clara) we could have seen fireworks from the Ferry Building I'm sure, but this was the first real shot at seeing them.

I love fireworks and jet airplanes. I don't know why, but Zac like big boom.

Hop in my ride(s)

2009-04-03T10:29:00.000-07:00

For no reason in particular, I made a list last night of all the cars I've ever driven. Having spent the better part of last week driving a red Mustang convertible around, I knew it was the coolest car I'd ever been behind the wheel of, but what, I ask, was the second coolest?

Here, in no particular order at all, are the 34 road vehicles I can remember piloting since first getting behind the wheel of my dad's 1985 Ford F-150 when I was leaving the dirt-bike park 11 years ago.

2008 Dodge Caliber (rental for work)*
2008 Mustang (rental)*
2009 Lincoln Towncar (rental for work)
1994 Saturn SL2 (my car)
2000 Ford Focus (Jeff's car)*
2000 Saturn SL2 (mom's car)*
1985 Ford F-150 (dad's truck)
1992 Saab 900 (mom's old car)*
1990 Taurus station wagon (mom's old car)
1983 BMW 318i (Athena's old car)
1996 Buick LeSaber (Grandma's car - I took my driver's test in this one)*
1995 Nissan Altima (Driver's training car)*

2006 Volkswagen Jetta (Narges' car)
2008 Saturn Astra (Jon's car)
2003 Saturn Ion (Jon's old car)
1985 Ford Bronco (Nick's car)
2005 Toyota Echo (Nick's old car)
2002 Saturn SL2 (Jessica's car)
2002 Honda Civic(Kate's car)*
2000 Saturn SL (Dana's old car)*
2006 Mazda 3 (Dana's Car)
1999 Nissan Maxima (Matt's (possibly old) car)*
2004 Nissan Sentra (Mary's car)

1993 Honda Elite 80 (My scooter)
2004 Suzuki SV-650 (Mike's bike)

U-Haul (small box) to LA - June 2006
U-Haul (medium box) to Bay Area - August 2007
U-Haul (F-150) to Woodbine St - June 2006
U-Haul (F-150) in LA - Summer 2008

2000 Ford Aerostar - New Flower Van*
1990 Ford Aerostar - Old Flower Van*
Long panel van - Rented flower Van

1995 Honda Elite 50 with a broken front shock (test drive)
1996 Saturn SL2, fuchsia (test drive)
1974 Ford Bronco, so cool but gas guzzly (test drive)

*Most of the models and years are estimates as my memory is incapable of recalling things I've never known.

Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner: Photos, esse

2009-03-18T20:39:00.001-07:00

Sauteed chard with onions, garlic, garbanzos, a splash of balsamic and a splash of chardonnay. This was served with feta cheese, toasted pita, pepperchinis and hummus (I thought I had mixed Mediterranean olives, but despite being in brine, they smelled yeasty).

Entirely homemade tortilla soup (to-go version pictured below).

A bed of shredded lettuce, a sliced tomato, a sliced avocado (salted and peppered) topped with an egg over easy. Breakfast done unique (and with what was on hand).

Lesbians are very "in" right now, says 1985?

2009-03-11T21:45:00.000-07:00

By coincidence, the last two books I've read were both written in the mid 1980s. "Jitterbug Perfume" was relentlessly recommended to me by Jon, and "Watchmen" is not only one of Time magazine's 100 best novels, it's the awesome basis for a really bad movie that just came out.

*note the obvious 80s paperback book cover design

I'm used to reading a lot of books from the same time period in succession. English 142b, for example, would have me read 10 novels published in the same decade or so in about 10 weeks (actually, I'm almost certain that English 142b was a Shakespeare class, but you get the point). When you do this, you can't help but find patterns or similarities that reveal some of the happenings of the times.

One thing that sticks out in these two books from 25 years ago is the seemingly unnecessary inclusion of minor lesbian subplots. The subplot was so minor in "Watchmen" that both of the women were cut out of the movie, and the lesbians in "Jitterbug" seemed even at the time (I read it before the comic book) to be lesbians only because it would be cool to have lesbians. And not even cool in the "that's hot" kind of way, but cool in a "I'm so edgy and topical" kind of way.

*interesting sidenote, searching Google Images for "watchmen lesbians"
doesn't get you porn till page 6

So this makes me wonder, were lesbians big in the 80s, or is this, like my reading of multiple 80s books, just a coincidence? Or were the plots somehow important and I just managed to miss the significance?

Keep in mind I'm not complaining about the plots, I'm just saying they struck me as being really obvious and not terribly organic.

Who would buy this?

2009-03-06T11:46:00.000-08:00

Though clearly I did, I just wouldn't call it that.

From Wikipedia

2009-02-17T11:48:00.000-08:00

Bizarro is a fictional supervillain (superhero in Bizarro World) that appears in comic books published by DC Comics.

As opposed to all the real-world super villains?

this is what my day is about now

2009-02-11T10:29:00.000-08:00

We have advanced funds from your account(s) linked for Overdraft Protection to your Wells Fargo checking account XXX-XXX6123.

Account Source Account Number Advanced Amount
-------------- -------------- ---------------
Credit Card XXXX-XXXX-XXXX-XXXX $7,277.67

But mostly it's the checks totaling $10,700 written to Gabriel Smith and Doyle Johnson (fake names much?).

The music on the fraud report line is very peppy.

Holy Balls

2009-02-03T11:17:00.001-08:00

I'm going to be 26 in two months. Cue quarter-life crisis... now.

Or maybe...

Or maybe...

Actually... after 5 minutes of trying to find a good picture of a drifter, I'm much better now. I'm actually quite alright with nearing my late 20s. Especially since that's still a year away.

Short-sighted pessimists

2009-01-28T20:08:00.000-08:00

The past week, driving around San Francisco, I've seen the same thing a few times and it always makes me smile.

There's no way of knowing for sure that I've seen what I think I've seen, but I'm fairly certain I saw what I think I saw.

We've all seen the bumper sticker declaring the owner's political views by simply saying "1.20.09." Of course, there has also been, in the past 8 years, the more direct version of essentially the same message that said, "Not My President."

Well these stickers are now one week obviously past their prime, especially in this city. While 1.20.09 is still a fine day to remember, the people with the other sticker on their cars are now, pretty much screwed.

In my years of driving, I've seen a lot of super-faded bumper stickers on cars that range from super-faded to pristinely new. I can't think of ever having seen a bumper sticker that looks intentionally scraped off, and certainly can't remember seeing one that was partially scraped off.

Three times this week I've seen the sticky stuff left behind when you pull the top off of a sticker. The only thing I can think is that these people, eager to show their hatred of George Bush, either didn't think they'd ever see a president elected that was "theirs," or they didn't think their car would last long enough to see the day.

Or maybe they just never thought about how hard it is to get a bumper sticker off a bumper. Well, it's hard.

Boozin' classy like

2009-01-23T16:43:00.000-08:00

So I've decided to start infusing alcohol with things.

I first attempted this in June when I got my job-as I'd told myself I'd make ginger tequila upon securing employment. I told myself this in January and didn't think I'd linger on the unofficial unemployment list for six months, but I did make the concoction and it was pretty good.

The only problem is, I did a full bottle, so I've still got more than half a bottle left. Variety, being the spice of life, took me away from it pretty quick.

Enter the decanters in the Ross stemware section (where I spend my lunch break sometimes). They have several very cool looking decanters for $5, but they're only 700ml causing me to not buy them and think to myself, "those aren't even big enough for a full bottle, let alone a bottle with ingredients in it."

Then it hit me. I'd been so short-sighted. I should just be doing half bottles anyway, so I can have more variety sitting around.

First up? Vanilla bourbon. And since I'll have a half a bottle left over, I may also make lime bourbon.

And what about cinnamon cocoa brandy? Or melon gin? Melon gin and tonic could get some takers, I bet. Or, since I'll have limes too, lime infused gin.

Lime has a place in every drink, really.

Notes from a small kitchen

2009-01-12T23:15:00.001-08:00

So I signed up for a delivery service that, every two weeks, brings me a box of organic vegetables picked from a farm outside of Sacramento. I usually don't know what they're going to bring me until I open the box on Tuesday mornings (at the advice of Narges who told me "it's like Christmas") but after finishing off "The Omnivore's Dilemma" tonight, I needed to go online and see what I'm getting tomorrow (I also expect to have a busy morning at work and thought it best to get my googling of recipes out of the way tonight).

The website lists the vegetables they are going to deliver on the Friday before delivery day, which is Tuesday for the zip code where my office is located. The farm picks whatever's ripe that week, supplements it with stuff from other farms nearby (I've been getting apples and pears from Oregon, but everything else from Capay Valley) and the subscriber has to make something with the ingredients. It's a little like Iron Chef, but not really at all.

Since it's the dead of winter, it's winter produce season. Leeks, red onions, garlic, apples and pears (from Oregon), oranges, potatoes, red leaf lettuce and the like are all (except the fruit and lettuce) the kind of seasonal soup-ingredient-esque stuff I'd expect to find at a farmers' market this time of year.

Part of the goal of getting this delivery is general health. I'd like to live long and healthy, and eating fresh vegetables seems to be a good way to go about that. Also, it's an attempt at supporting local economies and good ideas. But also, it's an adventure. I've made some recipes lately and cooked with ingredients that I had never and probably would never have attempted. My mom doesn't like brussels sprouts, so I'd never eaten one in my life. But, presented with nearly a pound of them, I had to make some lightly seared and salted brussels sprouts as an appetizer one night.

My last two (and honestly, so far the only two until tomorrow morning) shipments also included kale, which has been fun to experiment with. Here's what I'm getting tomorrow (along with onions, garlic and four pounds of fruit):


1	bu	Our Farm	Gold Chard
1	bu	Our Farm	Bunched Collard
1	bu	Our Farm	Nantes Carrot
1	cnt	Our Farm	Lacinato / Dino Kale

I wanted to make roasted kale last time but used it all in a soup (which came after the appetizer mentioned above), so I'm glad I'm getting another shot at it. Carrots are awesome (I may just eat them as snacks) but I'm having an issue with the collard greens (aside from their similarity to chard and kale).

Going back to the health aspect, why does every recipe for this plant call for ham hocks? First off, while I never did before, I realize now that I have a rule against eating food the name of which I associate with loogies. Second... no. I don't want to cook with pig knuckles, or feet, or whatever the ham hock is. It seems weird, and really, wouldn't bacon be better suited anyway? It usually is.

This bunch of collard greens is going to lead us to yet another installment of Tenderloin Fusion, whereby through lack of funds, motivation or a sense of urgency we put inexpensive, lazy, or "really what difference does it make" spins on dishes from around the world. Well, so far mostly Asia, but we were bound to make it to The South eventually. It makes a kind of homonymical sense to go to Soul Food after the last attempt at Seoul Food.

21 (if I let myself cheat)

2008-12-21T14:07:00.000-08:00

I spent a few hours in Books Inc. with Andy just now and bought one heckov a lot of books for people (and I'd already ordered a few from Amazon).

While browsing, I stumbled upon "The Lump of Coal" by Lemony Snicket and read the whole thing cover to cover. It's about a lump of coal who wants to be an artist, either by doing abstract charcoal drawings or making lines on barbecued chicken. This search for miracles takes all of 1000 words, or about 20 fully illustrated pages to get through, but it is a book. It's also the kind of children's book my mom and I have been kicking around for a few months.

Take a look at this despondent little bastard brooding in a stocking. Isn't it great?

And yes, I heard most of the narration in Jude Law's voice.

Four to go

2008-12-15T10:15:00.001-08:00

I started this year with a hope more than a goal. To read, on average, two books a month. I'd fallen off book reading since graduating and I've always loved books (Nate the Great, WHAT WHAT!) and didn't think it an unrealistic goal since I used to read 10-20 books a quarter when I was at UCLA.

Looking at the column on the left of this blog, you can see what I'm reading now, and books I've "recently read." By my count, starting with "Old Man and the Sea," (which I read in January) I've read 20 books so far in 2008. And despite what my current reading list says, I'm actually only reading three of those books - mostly done with "Tumble Home" (collection of short stories), a third through "The Omnivore's Dilemma," and just started but will tear through the collection of columns about reading a lot of books by Nick Hornby, "Shakespeare Wrote for Money."

That brings me to 23, one shy of my aspiration. With two weeks left of this year (which has really been a pretty cool year overall) I'm thinking I have to hit this mark. Perhaps another play, or a graphic novel. Andy does have "The Watchmen" sitting on his bookshelf.

Or maybe I'll remember something I read and didn't write down. That would be ideal, really. If only I could count all the magazines and news I've read as one big "What happened in 2008" tome. But alas, I think that would be cheating. And I already feel bad enough about counting "Maus" as two books.

A little too ironic

2008-12-04T14:27:00.001-08:00

There is something so delicious about spending my lunch hour eating Orange Chicken at Panda Express while reading "The Omnivore's Dilemma" by Michael Pollan. The answer to the question of "What should I eat?" is probably not "the jewel of the Orient," but it's certainly the answer to the question of "what do I want to eat right now?" (Well not now, cause I just ate that, but two hours ago it was the answer.)

But I did just sign up for bi-weekly deliveries of fresh, locally grown organic fruits and veggies from FarmFreshToYou.com. So I've got that going for me starting on Tuesday.

Christmas Issue

2008-12-03T14:18:00.000-08:00

The thing keeping Christmas from being really fantastic is two tendencies of mine that get in the way of gift receiving. The first is easily remedied by being poor: I buy stuff I want when I want it.

The second is a more far-reaching problem: I don't really talk about stuff I want. Now, it's no secret that I want a motorcycle and I need a new iPod, but we all know they're not cheap (if they were I wouldn't have been using a partially functional unit for the past 10 months), and other little things I like go largely unmentioned.

Now I've already heard tale of one present I may be getting and it's perfect because a) I don't talk about wanting it but to the observant I clearly do, and b) it's something I wouldn't have bought for myself.

But there are some things out there that I think I'd like but don't talk about for whatever reason. Like a set of DJ-style headphones. I don't want to be that guy on the bus with the overly elaborate headphones - especially if my iPod doesn't work - but a large part of me thinks I'd enjoy them. I saw a pair of Sony ones for like $30.

Of course I still need that golf bag and UCLA head covers for my new, awesome R7 clubs. They're just not stylish enough yet. But maybe the UCLA stuff would clash with the red and black bag. We'll never really know.

Sports Night Special Edition just came out on DVD. Everyone should want that.

There's also a new Tomb Raider game that could be fun (the last one was) and I'd like to read some magazines/publications such as the Paris Review, McSweeney's Quarterly, the Believer, Good, but don't cause they're kind of expensive and I'm kind of lazy.

And if I had that couch/bed from Ikea, I might just use it as my main couch and leave my futon down all the time cause I'm a fan of not reconfiguring my bed every morning and evening (again, lazy).

And why are navy blue slacks so hard to find? I feel like they'd go with everything (just like jeans do) yet no one seams to have them.

This kind of turned into a Seinfeld routine, but what is the deal with blue pants? And how do I tell my secret Santa at work to just buy me a bottle of booze or a good book?

November reigns

2008-11-19T11:16:00.000-08:00

This morning looked like November for the first time all month. After weeks of gorgeous skies, bright mornings (still no blinds on the window of my new place) and warm weather, the clouds were back in San Francisco.

Not so much with the fog, but the high clouds that act as sunglasses for the entire city, dimming the lights a bit. This is November as you might expect it. At least, as you might expect it in the parts of California where it never snows.

The forecast has rain for the days before Thanksgiving, which is the same days that our Australian couch-surfer will be coming "home" before going back to his native land for the first time in over a year. I'm actually kind of bummed that he won't be around through Thursday, cause I'd like to send him back to his family after having a semi-traditional Thanksgiving meal with my semi-untraditional family.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday by far (former fat kids know what I'm talking about) because it never lets you down. It's going to be a great meal. And even if the potatoes get ruined (1998) or you're not with your family (2007) or you spent the day before sitting in hours of traffic just to get to where the turkey would be (2004, 2005, 2006), there will still be turkey and good times.

Last year, while I was in Spain (I'm such a douche for that one), my mom made so many references to being "so thankful and blessed" via email that I assumed someone was pregnant or getting married and I just hadn't been told yet (check the comments she left on this blog from about a year ago-they're strangely upbeat, even for a woman who's pretty upbeat).

My family never did the "what am I thankful for" thing and we never say Grace, so the suddenness of being thankful for what he had struck me as odd. She started in on it again recently and I called her on it Sunday when we went to Pier 1 together.

I don't want to break a family member's news on my blog, but today I've been grinning all day and it really does seem that we do have "so much" to be thankful for. In the past year, I've been called overly optimistic and unbearably pessimistic by different people. I've also recently been called an English Dandy, but that couldn't be less the point. Despite the gray skies outside, and the fact that I just interviewed a girl to be my assistant who is more qualified for my job than I am, we do have so much to be thankful for. Life is good, times are exciting.

But, on second thought, I just saw that People magazine snubbed me again. Stupid Hugh Jackman.

Viva, Italia!

2008-10-23T15:52:00.000-07:00

I live in a world where this exists. And that makes me happy. Happy as a giant stuffed pink bunny.

For some perspective on it all, check out the Google Map of it. Now I have to go back to Italy (which is where I was exactly one year ago). Though I still say I'll never go back to Florence. Four times in two weeks was enough

Damn you, zacdillon

2008-10-10T09:12:00.000-07:00

So Derek made me want to get a Twitter account because of his recent blogging. I had resisted the site with little trouble since I find the service kind of annoying and self-indulgent (he said on one of his two blogs).

I click on the join button and type in the not-at-all-original-but-very-direct name I want to use for my account, which I wanted because, narcissisticly, I wanted it to match the blog domain you're reading right now. But Twitter tells me the domain is already in use so I can't have it.

Maybe some people would see this message and simply try another name. My old AIM name for example is likely available. I saw this message and immediately went to twitter.com/zacdillon to see what this guy was all about and what he was up to (that's kind of what Twitter exists for).

Not only does this so-called zacdillon have a blocked account to prevent us from seeing what he's up to (what's this guy doing that he wants to be so secretive, anyway?) but he's not even from this country. There's some British dude (chap?) from New South Wales using my name and taking over my blog-matching Twitter domain name.

However, you'll notice if you visit him to see his photo that he is from Newcastle, home of the bridge, the blue star, and the Brown Ale that everybody enjoys. I can't fault a guy who's from where awesome beer is from. Except Hitler. No beer is that good.

Autumn falls

2008-10-03T12:10:00.000-07:00

The carpet in my living room is white to off-white.

In my front yard there are three birch trees, arranged in the traditional triangle that birch trees are always planted in. Their little spade-shaped leaves burst out of the white trunks in the spring seemingly over night and suddenly the front yard is more green than anything.

Last weekend I opened the front door to get the mail and walked back inside. In the few seconds that the screen door was open the breeze had blown in a brown leaf which stuck out on the carpet like only the first brown leaf of the fall on a white carpet can.

Fall is hear and I love it.

Money matters not

2008-09-26T08:36:00.000-07:00

Washington Mutual (which is often cutely referred to as "WaMu") went under overnight and was bought up by JP Morgan Chase. I have a secondary checking account with WaMu so I consulted a story on Marketwatch to see what the deal was going to be with my funds.

There is a list of questions people might ask including, "I just wrote a check out. Will it clear?"and "What about my debit card?" Both are fine and basically nothing different will happen. One question stood out from the others by asking, "I already had an account with J.P. Morgan Chase and now my combined balances exceed the $100,000 FDIC insured limit. What do I do?"

... This, sadly, was not one of my concerns.

Anatomy of a scam

2008-09-24T13:31:00.000-07:00

This 2 bed 2 bath was just posted on Craigslist. Let's take a look to see why it can't exist. Note the balcony entrance that doesn't exist, the "dark wood" cabinets and the distant view of downtown from near Van Ness.

Also, it was listed as $1200, which should have been a dead giveaway.

Note: Does this shape look like the Iberian Peninsula to anyone else?

Censorship and mass market video games

2008-09-15T14:53:00.000-07:00

It's payday, so at lunch today I bought Rock Band 2 because it came out yesterday and I wanted it (see previous post about delayed-gratification Zac being dead).

I've obviously yet to play it at all, as I am sitting at my desk in my office, but aside from "Livin on a Prayer," "Go Your Own Way," songs by Dylan and Pearl Jam, I'm most looking forward to "You Oughta Know" by the young angry Canadian Alanis Morissette.

At one point, as you most likely know, Alanis asks in the song if her former lover is thinking of her during a specific activity he does with his new girlfriend. One thing I have to wonder is, what will Alanis, and those who are singing along with her in the game, wonder about her former lover in the video game that censors song lyrics? When will we, the singers, wonder if he thinks about her?

It's one of the absolute best lines in the song and really nails (heh) the source of the anger and hurt. In the digital, XBOX 360-version of Alanis, does she wonder if he's thinking of her while he "loves" his new girl? "Kiss her"?

"Hug" actually fits pretty well, but only in meter and rhyme and not so much in tone, meaning or fury. Cause really, would she care if Joey from "Full House" is hugging some chick and wonder if he's thinking of his little under-aged bitter songwriter ex-girlfriend?

For that matter, when the Chili Peppers release the entire "Blood Sugar Sex Magik" album next month, most "whats" will not give a damn? And most "whats" have a cold-what stare? I don't even want to think what happened to Kedis after his eyes popped out and before he dropped his jaw in "Apache Rose Peacock."

Like "Creep," these songs are "so very special" if you know the actual words that the artists used while crafting their, you know... art; and not the words that soccer moms are ok with their children singing along to.

The downside of public transit

2008-09-09T18:21:00.000-07:00

Upside: Read a book, take a nap, see the city from the water (I love being on or in the water), avoid traffic, spare the air, don't have to change tires or oil as often, feel more urban and less suburban... etc.

Downside: When the Internet I work on breaks at 5:33 and it takes 20 minutes to fix I miss the 5:49 bus back to the ferry station and city leaving only the last bus of the night for me to catch in my attempts to get to my desired destination of pants shopping and home. The last bus leaves an hour after the bus I wanted, which makes for an extra long day.

I'm still not quite giving up though.

Euro Trashed

2008-09-02T22:26:00.000-07:00

This is a little project I just started. It's roughly a third of all of my pictures from my trip that started almost exactly a year ago. I think it's pretty cool (the song definitely is).

Look for more installments soonish

Free-verse meetings

2008-08-27T13:35:00.000-07:00

I'm a big lover of language. I think my course of studies in college (American Literature) and my profession (editor/journalist) are a dead give-away of that. Also my narcissistic obsession with things I've said and thought of, but that's neither here nor there.

The English language gets a bad rep a lot of times. What with its frustrating spelling and grammar rules, and the thing where any word can be any form of word. For example, just verbize some letters to have a new English word.

But language is great, and can be very poetic if you're willing to hear it. I just finished reading Bill Bryson's biography of Shakespeare (which was fascinating and incredibly entertaining), which combined with my discussion with Derek on the matter, has me ready to share with the world some of my poetry.

What I often do is, while in meetings at work (it actually started years ago in Ramona Silver's philosophy class), take notes as people talk. Most meeting attendees will do this, I'd imagine, but I don't do it to remember ideas or project dates (frankly, I rarely care) - I write down snippets, word-for-word, of what people say, usually as fast as I can keep up. Since people talk faster than I can move my hand, I end up missing some key words but the results of my selective editing are sometimes profound, often pretty and always fun.

I may one day publish a book of my collected poems, which I have tentatively titled "Meeting Poetry," (kind of a pun, and kind of direct) but I'm sure I'll think of something better after a career of not paying that much attention to what the bosses are saying. [edit: how about "Bored Room"?]

Here's two untitled poems from the summer I spent at Ascend Media (before I quit and went to Europe). I don't now know what the speaker's point was, but I've made them my own, and I know what they mean to me.

Early in the meeting
and then slow time

the strategy i have

how to fit that in?

what kind of cycle is he?

try to fit that all in

you're getting down
what kind of process

to stimultate and create
a limited commitment
tell them what I'm looking for

Later, in that same meeting
I’ve had success introducing myself
Even if its not that person
Sometimes I struggle
The attendees look
Pretty much everything

[Please note that I wanted readers to take away from this post the thought that I am kind of a bad employee and not that I'm super-creative. It's fun to do, you should try during your next meeting.]

Clap if you believe in ferries

2008-08-25T12:39:00.000-07:00

So, more on my job. I mentioned briefly that after seven months of glorious unemployment and further racking-up of credit card bills, I finally found a job that appealed to me (and who also wanted me). I am a Web editor for a business-travel magazine in Sausalito. Sausalito is a small burg located 35 miles away from my current home, but only about 10 hopefully from my soon-to-be-living-in home.

I started in late June, and after two months of commuting 45 minutes in each direction, I decided to give mass transit a try. As a big proponent and lover of trains and metros, the idea greatly appealed to me, despite the numerous transfers and doubling of the time it takes to drive.

From the East Bay, I took BART to San Francisco's Embarcadero station (added benefit was that I rode with my sister, who lives across town from me and works in Union Square). I left Athena before her stop and walked from the station to the Ferry Building to sit in the queue for the Sausalito-bound ferry. I boarded the vessel and took the half-hour boat ride mostly in awe of the beauty that is the Bay. I also read some because really, you can only appreciate beauty for so long. From the ferry stop in Sausalito, I hopped a bus down the street to my office and sat down early for the first time all week.

After work (Fridays during the summer are half-days, so I left at a little before 1:00) my boss said that if I walk through the shipyard, I would hit the shoreline park and could follow it all the way to the ferry stop. The roughly 2-mile trek was on a gorgeous day and I submit to you the photos of my commute, taken with my new cellphone (which, in an aside, may actually be quite broken/faulty).

Some of the highlights not captured on film include: the hippies sitting in the grass by the water's edge; the poetic metaphor of a black dog and a white dog playing in the waves; the conversations overheard in German, Portuguese and accented English while waiting to hop on the ferry back to the city; and the recently wed gay couple who were wearing matching white linen suits and tuba rose leis, toasting with champagne on the ferry ride back to the city.

The Ferry Building, roughly 7:30 am. My boat would leave at 7:45.

Five minutes into the ride. Stern of the boat and one of my 8 co-commuters.

Random stone shop in the Sausalito shipyards.

Part of the shoreline.

This is the kind of thing you can't help but think the artist thinks is famous/renowned.

Random gazebo where perhaps the gay couple was married. But probably not.

White pants? Check. White sweater tied around his neck? Check. Aviators? Check. Unshaved? Check. Pink polo with collar popped? Check. Ladies and gentlemen, we've found "that guy."

A trip that never happened and a flight that was bound to eventually

2008-08-08T08:41:00.000-07:00

When we were about 19 or 20, Nick and I were talking about going to London for a couple of months. Not really though, because we'd only really be there for a few weeks, but the trip would take a few months. The plan we worked out was to take a few weeks to drive across the U.S., stopping off in cool locations like Denver, Chicago, and New York. We'd then hop a steamer (or cruise, but it's just more fun and old-timey to say steamer) from New York to London and stay there for a few weeks seeing sights, visiting Paris and Scotland by train, developing accents, and listening to British girls speak with their accents.

At the end of our trip we'd fly back to New York and drive the Southern Route home. This was a prospect that made a then non-drinking Nick say he'd need to get "fall-down drunk." For you see, Nick has never flown before.

The trip never happened of course. The logistics of such a trip (and we looked into all of it), to say nothing of the expense, kept us from living out our dream and Nick from facing his fear.

It wasn't always a fear. He was the sixth kid of seven, a recipe for not a lot of long-distance family travel. I think it started to dawn on him in his late teens that he'd probably be afraid of flying and he just went with it. He would say there was nothing that would get him on a plane except a lot of alcohol. This morning he was proved wrong. Money, it seems, will do it too.

I took him to the airport on my way to work this morning so he could fly to Indiana for his work. He wasn't nervous at all at the prospect of flying, though he did ask me for any tips I could offer. I told him to not worry about noises cause planes are always loud, and he waved it off, clearly having realized he's not actually scared to fly.

Still, I felt like it was his first day of school and I want the little guy to have a good time. It's important to point out that, though I say "little guy," Nick is about a foot taller and 100 pounds heavier than me.

I'm excited that this might open up the prospect of him flying other places, potentially with me. Though I imagine an airplane is going to be a very uncomfortable ride for a guy his size. I'm average height and I find planes tight. Good luck with the leg room buddy.

Double, double oil and trouble

2008-07-14T14:34:00.000-07:00

I find myself not even looking at the price of gas anymore.

It's usually around $4.50 a gallon, give or take a few pennies, but the give or take variable just absolutely doesn't interest me at all.

Years ago, the difference between name-brand gas, like Chevron, and small independent gas stations, like the grope-happy White Tiger by my house, was about 7 cents.

Filling up my car would cost roughly $15, so the 70 cent difference in a full tank meant the difference between getting a fiver and some coin back from my Jackson, or getting four singles and a pocket full of change. That five dollar bill was worth going out of my way to White Tiger for.

Now I find that despite the exponential increase in gas prices, the difference between the little guys and the 76s of the world is the same small increment of about 7 cents. While I am a consummate supporter of underdogs, lost causes and independent organizations, I find myself, when lacking the time, uninterested in searching one out for cheaper petrol.

The 70 cent difference on a tank that now costs about 45-50 dollars on my credit card couldn't be more inconsequential to me. It's all fake money added on the heap I owe, which I pay off with electronic transfers from my bank account that is funded by direct deposit from my job (ps I got a job).

At no time do I or anyone else in the long chain of people involved in the financial aspect of filling my tank ever see cash or even a check, so what do I care if it's 70 cents more? It's just 70 more cents that I never would have seen anyway.

But then again... too few to mention

2008-06-29T22:59:00.000-07:00

I have this affinity for the Roaring 20s (and to a lesser extent, the Depression-era 30s). The books of course, but also the idea of the parties (I'm sure it would have sucked if you didn't know Gatsby) the cars on dirt roads, the hustle-and-bustle of New York, the short haircuts on the ladies, the hats, the thrill of drinking illegal martinis, the flapper dresses, and mostly the men's suits.

I can't lie, I like wearing suits and I don't think I'm being arrogant when I say I look good in them. Everyone does, that's why men have been wearing suits for hundreds of years with only slight variations. Two buttons, three buttons, with a vest, with a bow tie, with a bright-colored T-shirt a-la Miami Vice - the alterations for seasons and eras are really only minor details.

What makes the 20s and 30s fashion distinct in my mind is that men wore suits all the time. Traditionally, if a party's dress code was "casual," it meant men would show up in a three-piece suit. If a man were going to a park for a picnic on a Sunday afternoon, he'd wear a suit. And he looked good doing it.

After watching "The Darjeeling Limited" yesterday I was struck by how casual the three stars looked as they trekked across India even though they were all wearing suits (the movie is also great for non sartorial reasons).

Aside from Barney Stinson urging people to "Suit Up," Mike has also been encouraging a heightened dress code lately. The man owns well over 50 ties and he looks good in all of them. So this morning I was thinking I would like to wear suits on occasions that don't call for them in the modern sense (weddings, funerals, church functions etc.). But the thing is I need to wear suits that look nice, but don't cost as much as my usual suits so I won't get sad and poor if some moron spills wine on me (cough... Parsa... cough).

Not four hours later, without looking, I found a linen suit, the kind I would feel great about wearing out to Jay's on West Egg some fictional Saturday night 80 years ago. The one problem was they didn't have pants for me, just the jacket. I now regret not buying the jacket and hunting down the pants later. I need a nice summer jacket anyway, as I outgrew the one I used to love. Not so much in size but in age bracket.

The pants eluded me today, but that’s no matter — to-morrow I will search harder, stretch out my arms farther... And one fine morning ——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Join the clubs

2008-06-15T20:36:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I feel that I fail to grasp the significance of events in my own life.

I started golfing when I was 9. I was just going to walk around with my dad and uncle, but when my dad found out he had to pay the same amount if I walked or played, he jammed a club in my hand and after my first round hunted down some used my-sized clubs from the classified ads (the early 90s version of Craigslist).

I can legitimately say that I've been playing golf for most of my life, which means I should be a lot better than I am by now, and I don't mean this as an excuse, but I've never really had my own set of clubs.

For much of my four-year varsity high school career, I used my mom's old clubs (she never really took to the game and these also got their start in our family used from the classifieds). I was a short kid (and know I'm not really a tall man) so it made sense that I use a set of women's clubs. Or so my dad said. I didn't have a problem with it, except that my woods said "Lady Laser" on them and the high school boys I played with and against got a pretty big kick out of it (the richer schools were the worst. Several times our teams, mine being the Hayward area golf equivalent of "The Bad News Bears," almost came to blows over issues other than my clubs, but in my head it was mostly that).

I don't know, 10 years later, if the whole experience of swinging the Lady Lasers made me more resilient with a thicker skin or made me into a chubby ball of self-loathing. It didn't help that, often times, especially compared to the really good players, I hit the ball "like a girl."

I only recently told my family about what I now see as the humor of my using those clubs for competitive play. Mercifully, before the spring season of my senior year, I grew to average size (finally becoming taller than my then-idol, Muggsy Bogues) and inherited my dad's old clubs which, like Tom Hanks' only friend in "Castway," had Wilson written on them. These have been my clubs ever since my dad bought himself those new ones.

Some of my friends from the team asked me what happened to the lasers. My sister played with them today, if any of you are wondering.

After 15 years of swinging hand-me-down or ladies clubs, for my recent birthday I got a set of golf clubs. Well, in theory. My parents didn't know what kind I would want, so in an incredibly out-of-character move, they gave me cash and told me what I was allowed to buy with it (we never give cash in this family).

Two months later I still haven't gone to look for a set of clubs. Faced with the question of what I want, I'm quite stumped. It's never really occurred to me to think about it. Graphite or steel? Stiff or flexible? What kind of grip do I like? How should I know? The last time I swung a brand new club, it was somebody else's and they were just showing it to me. They liked it, and it seemed like it would hit a golf ball well enough, but really, how am I supposed to know the difference? I know what I don't like, but I'm almost certain that has a lot more to do with my skill level than my second-generation clubs.

My search isn't aided at all by the fact that I don't really like shopping. Looking for clubs seems a lot like trying things on and I get tired of that kind of thing real quick. I'm thinking about just buying my uncle's old ones from him. If only to keep my streak alive.

This whole thing might be a metaphor for my life. Or it might just mean that my sister is wrong and I'm not the favorite. It could even be both, but it's probably neither.

A Lucky Break

2008-06-01T14:53:00.000-07:00

Saturday: 6:30 a.m. Dad and I are awake and loading the boat up to go fishing. It's to be my first time out on the Bay in about four years. We hitch it up to the truck and pull it out from alongside the house. Most visitors don't even notice the 18-foot Marlin sticking up behind the gate at what appears to be the end of the driveway. But from behind where my mom's car parks, after swinging the gate back, you can't help but see the big blue boat on the rusty trailer.

The sun's up but we can only assume that because the sky's cloudy, so it will be a good day to be on the water trying to catch halibut (pictured below).
I'm closing the gate as I hear Dad, from the end of the driveway say "Yup. Don't close it. We're done." My dad has a dramatic and absolute way of speaking sometimes. As if you've been in the middle of a conversation, he'll answer a question or make a statement that makes absolute sense in the context of that conversation. The one you weren't having.

Here, the conversation we weren't having was something like, "I heard a bit of a ca-chunk back there. What was that? Did the rusty trailer hitch on this 20-year-old boat just break finally?"

I walk over and we look at the damage. Right behind where the tow-ball comes out of the truck, the trailer hinged down to the ground. Not severed, but most definitely broken. I pick up the tongue as Dad C-clamps the tubing back together. We then help the boat retrace its steps cautiously back up the curb, into the driveway, and back along the side of the house.

The day has become about something else now. For years we've driven down the freeway or over railroad tracks, towing the boat in fear that the inevitable would happen. The trailer would crumble in a flurry of rusty flakes of metal, followed by a shower of sparks as it dragged on the asphalt, followed by hopefully not too much collateral damage. Saturday morning we only had the first step of the inevitable and had a perfect opportunity to prevent the latter two from ever happening.

8 a.m. we're heading to the scrap yard (always a weird kind of treat). We bought 45 inches of 3x3-inch square tubing. Dad wanted to replace the 1/16-inch metal with 1/4-inch, but since they didn't have that I convinced him that twice as strong (1/8-inch) would surely outlast a) the rest of the trailer, and b) sadly, the boat. Next was a trip to PepBoys for a trailer hitch, then a trip to Carrow's next door for strawberry pancakes, then back home to wait for about 10 a.m. when we could start making noise without feeling like douchey neighbors.

The next step, ironically, involved quite a few sparks. We grinded (or ground, if you prefer), sawed and hammered the old metal out of there. Then we welded, bolted and painted the new material in so it all looked surprisingly high-quality and original.

Sunday: 7 a.m. The boat was mostly already loaded from yesterday, so we just filled up the cooler with some food and sodas, tossed it in and pulled the boat out again. This time there was no scraping thud at the end of the driveway. We took the boat all the way to the marina and saw all the flags in the area taut in the incredibly strong winds. We hesitated for about half an hour before finally saying, who cares, this is three days of 6:30 alarm clocks in the making (Friday's story of us not going is decidedly less interesting), let's just get the thing wet already.

We caught no fish (pictured below, not me nor Dad, but some guy from Google images),

but Dad got a leopard shark nearly 3 feet long and a scary-looking seven-gill shark that was about 4.5 feet long (1.5 meters) with a mouth the size of a honeydew.

The wind stayed rough and we took a beating on the way back in, riding up and down waves like George Clooney at the end of "A Perfect Storm." The only thing close to a fish that I caught was in my glass of Coke Zero after I got home and took a shower. Right in the middle of the ice cubes, I could swear I saw a sardine head bobbing mockingly in the middle of my zero calorie refreshment. I knew I should have only put my usual three ice cubes in the glass.

Bounce House Redux

2008-05-12T07:40:00.000-07:00

So I spent the last week (every day all day last week) delivering flowers for Mother's Day. Saturday was not only my sister's birthday, but it was apparently the birthday of dozens of kids around Hayward as well, judging by all the bounce houses I saw in people's front yards and driveways.

It was a gorgeous day for bouncing, and at about 3 in the afternoon I pull up to a house, number 169, and start walking to the door. Aside from the strangeness of a little boy about 6 years old answering the door and not having a) any parents home or b) any idea if Mariana lived there, the house was remarkable because of what was next door.

In the driveway adjacent to 169 was a truck with planks of wood making the bed deeper. Painted on the wood was a phone number and a logo. It was a bounce house delivery truck. Like Neo, I saw the source.

And I'll tell you my most common thought over the last week, which went unsaid because I'm polite. "I don't know. There's a card here, maybe you should just read that. If I had to guess, I'd say they were from one of your kids since it's you know, Mother's Day."

"Zac, wome [sic] that cut our flesh S. Plascencia"

2008-05-01T11:30:00.000-07:00

After reading the famous novels of Gabriel Garcia Marquez I decided to go back and reread what I often refer to as my favorite book, "The People of Paper" by Salvador Plascencia.

It's hard to describe what it's about since, like all post-modern art, it's really about itself, but the story deals with love, war, sadness and oppression - all of which is about the book in some way if you really wanted to think about it hard.

I first read the book as part of my contemporary American literature class, which ended up being probably the best class I ever took in my academic career. The professor, Katherine Hayles, who also served as my TA during section, is often referred to as one of the foremost literary critics of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. She has so much clout actually, that she was able to get Sal Plascencia to come to our class and discuss the first, and to date only, novel he's written.

Sal was a doctoral student at USC at the time (and likely still is) and was noticeably nervous speaking about his book not so much to the class, but with Dr Hayles (interesting trivia about her: she has a masters and PhD in English but also a masters in chemistry from Cal Tech).

So we asked Sal questions (the binary sections are just gibberish but there is something written under Baby Nostradamus' black circles) and he signed our books if we wanted. At the time I wished I hadn't cheeped out at the beginning of the semester and bought a used version but now I'm glad there's a little bit of wear and a UCLA stamp on the spine.

The book is out of print (a modified paperback version is available from Amazon but I've looked and never found one in stores) and like "House of Leaves" would be nearly impossible to turn into a movie. It's strange and flawed (the best ones always are) but there's something about it that is fun, rewarding and heartwarming/breaking. About halfway through my rereading of it I've passed my favorite section and can definitively say that it is in fact, my favorite book.

But you might not like it at all. Nineteen reviewers on Amazon have given it an average rating of 4.5 stars out of 5, but McSweeney's fans tend to be pretentious and like things that you've never heard of just because you've never heard of it. They can be spotted by their expensive pants and constant insulting of anything mainstream. I like the Olive Garden and usually wear cheap jeans (though I've recently received a pair of GAP jeans and like them) so maybe there is a bit of crossover appeal with this one.

"Whooah, we're half way there"

2008-04-27T00:11:00.000-07:00

There's something I'll never understand about the die-hard sports fans of the world. I enjoy sports, I enjoy going to sporting events and even talking about sporting events. And I'm not talking about the guy with the jersey or the girl with the big foam finger. They're cool with me and I get their excitement. But the guy at the Raiders' game wearing the Darth Vader suit or the skulls and spikes? Or the guy at the Sabercats' game with the green Mohawk and face paint? I really don't understand that.

Raiders fans have a bit of an excuse. Their families could be multi-generation fans. It's like racism: They grew up with it, and it's really all they know. But the San Jose Arena Football team was founded in 1995, which means that at some point in the past 13 years, this guy who is at least 40, made a conscious, if not entirely well-thought-out decision, to become a crazy fan of a new team playing a sport that is very exciting, but let's face it, not quite in the mainstream. I don't mean to sound elitist or snobby (despite the implication that, like racists, Raiders' fans are ignorant) but the Philadelphia Soul is owned by Jon Bon Jovi, making him by far the most famous name in the Arena Football League. The second most famous name is probably Richie Sambora, another of the team's co-owners and lead guitarist for Bon Jovi.

So this started because my dad had made some comments about how cool it would be to go to an arena game. The field is only 50 yards long (usually played at an ice hockey arena) and instead of out-of-bounds there is a padded wall. I looked into tickets and found a family pack of four that came with four hot dogs, four bags of chips, and four sodas. The seats were behind the end zone, 10 rows back so I dropped $60 and took along Adam and Jaedon because it's always cool to take 3-4 generations of a family on an outing (besides which, I had to buy seats in multiples of four).

Other than the exhilarating quick-paced gameplay, they do a lot to get fans into the game, and the things they do are all of a certain type. Let's say that there are a lot of things that would be really exciting and interesting if I was really drunk and they did several of them at the game.

Before the team comes out of the locker room fog billows out of the tunnel and a motorcycle revs its engine unseen somewhere. Suddenly some dude wearing a Sabercats shirt and a bandanna on his bald head rides a Harley out to the 25-yard line prompting Adam to lean over and ask, "Who the hell is that supposed to be?" I shrug and smile at the ridiculousness of it all as the team runs out to fireworks and applause. Now, drunk Zac would have loved the Harley, the no helmet wearing, the cheerleaders and the fireworks; sober Zac just liked the latter two.

The same AC/DC song plays every time the Cats kickoff (they scored 70 to the LA Avengers' 42 so it was very often that the intro to "TNT" played in the arena) which can get a little repetitive - but drunk Zac would have eaten it up (it is a great riff and it didn't actually get old until the last two times they played it because I was pretty tired). Though sober Zac understands and supports the decision to film from above a group of skinny blondes in green tank tops and show them on the big screen over and over throughout the night.

Maybe it's because my dad isn't a die-hard sports nut, or maybe, like Howard Stern said in his autobiographical movie when his station switched to country music, "I just don't get it. Explain it to me. And maybe it's 'cause I went to college, and I never drove a truck and had sex with my daddy's sister."

That said, at one point they came out with a slingshot and asked "Who likes T-shirts?" I definitely yelled that in fact, I did. And when the same guy that rode the motorcycle came out with a pneumatic shirt-launching gun my first thought was definitely, "That's how Maude Flanders died."

Jaedon, when the motorcycle dude rode onto the field with a cheerleader on the back, asked me, "Why is that girl riding with him?" She was getting a lift to the far end of the arena to hand out free pizzas to the people in row 24 of section 103 but at the time I didn't know that and told him the truth without hesitation, "Because chicks dig motorcycles."

I mention all the weird parts only because they were all so much fun. I don't want to sound like a snob because it was a great game, and very exciting to watch. I'd absolutely go back again (I'd gone once before years ago when I won tickets from channel 20) especially if I can rock the same deal we had last night.

Late in the third quarter, Jaedon told me that it's a good thing I don't live in LA anymore, because they were losing by a lot. I told him yeah, but told myself that it's a good thing because if I did still live there I wouldn't have bothered to come up to go to an Arena Football Game with my family. And if I was only up for a weekend I wouldn't take the time to go to a game in San Jose, which makes nights like last night the exact reason I'm back for good.

One awesome, please

2008-04-17T14:23:00.000-07:00

Despite years of warnings from my mother, today I took some candy from a stranger.

I found myself in the mall, of all places, and as I was walking out an old mustachioed man whose job it is to replace the candy in those machines they have called out to me. "Hey buddy, can I borrow your hands for a second?" I walk over and he asks me to hold open a long plastic bag as he pours, from a box, multi-colored Smartie-esque candies that are the size of golf balls.

The box weighed about 5 pounds or so, so it takes about 30 seconds of careful pouring to get everything where it needs to be. As he's done he says thanks and I take a half a step away before he asks, "You want a couple?" I think to myself: "What am I, going to not take free candy?" I reach in and take out a pair as the old man tells me, "Thanks a lot. I don't care what they say, you're a good guy." This cracked me up to no end as I walked away and popped one of the balls in my mouth (that's what she said).

But before I left the mall, and before I scored candy and was told that all my detractors are wrong, I went into a store that sells board games, drinking games, chess sets, stickers, gags and magic, swords, and has a walk-in humidor. I don't know what it was called, but if anyone ever asks me, "Zac, I'm looking for the world's awesomest store because I'm running low on awesome. Do you know where I can find one?" I will tell that person, yes. It can be found on the bottom level of Newpark Mall, of all places.

Corollary to previous post

2008-03-20T15:04:00.000-07:00

So I was planning on driving to my interview yesterday because I didn't want to mess with MUNI. Narges told me that, rather than trying to figure out the subway, I could get to AT&T Park (which is right next to where the job is) by just getting off BART at Powell and walking about a mile down 3rd Street. And since there was a huge protest in downtown to mark the fifth anniversary of the start of the Iraq war, I took her sage advice and opted to avoid traffic by taking BART.

While I was in San Francisco my car was parked at the San Leandro BART station, and for the fifth time since I've owned the car, it was broken into. Saturns, apparently, are legendarily easy to get into, so I've taken precautions after the last time to ensure that I don't lose anything important.

The valuable contents of my car, in descending order of value, is as follows:
1 (one) grey UCLA sweatshirt - $25
1 (one) Mag flashlight - aprox $20
1 (one) iPod charger - aprox $15
1 (one) pair of sunglasses I bought at Kirkwood when I went cross-country skiing - $14
1 (one) $10-off coupon for a lift ticket at Sierra - $10
2 (two) Pez dispensers, one each of Darth Vader and Yoda, sans candy - $3
5 (five) quarter-dollars - $1.25
1 (one) "November Rain" cassette single - $3 in 1994, back when one could buy cassette singles

The intruder rustled through my center console and tossed all the old gas receipts and directions to friends' houses on the passenger seat. Two empty sunglass cases in the driver-side door were examined and left on the driver side floor, and the napkins in the glovebox were all askew.

The perp made off with a buck-25 in quarters and that's it (there's a whole thing behind how I know how many quarters were there, I'm not that obsessive compulsive).

Now I'm not saying the B&E is Narges' fault, though interestingly enough it's directly because of her that my car was burgled. If not for her I would have driven to the city, parked my car (for more than $1.25) and driven home without incident.

Of course, if there wasn't a protest, I wouldn't have been warned about the traffic. If there was no war in Iraq, there wouldn't have been a protest. If George W Bush hadn't been elected president in 2000, not only would there be no global warming and more Internets, we wouldn't have gone to war and my car wouldn't have been burgled, leaving one clear source to this chain of events:

The state of Florida owes me five quarters.

It's also possible to say that Juan Ponce de León discovered Florida, and he followed Columbus, who was sent by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella, so:

The Kingdom of Spain owes me $1.25. Or if they prefer, they can send me .75 euro.

Indian math

2008-03-18T14:38:00.000-07:00

I got a birthday card Monday from Cache Creek, my semi-local Indian casino. This card is more than a month early and it offers me double points when I use my player's card - something I had no plans of ever really using and only signed up for to get the initial free $20 of slot play.

Way to make me feel prematurely old, unwanted Native American birthday card.

Now my friend Sophie, who told me to write a post and recently had a big birthday herself, would tell me I'm being ridiculous because I'm only turning 25. But this birthday firmly places me in the mid twenties and lately, events are occurring that usually seem to happen to adults.

Between Jon fracturing his hip (75-year-old woman), my wanting to watch the John Adams miniseries (55-year-old white man), and my pulled ab muscle coupled with visits to the chiropractor (34-year-old former high school athlete who thinks he can still play like he's 18), there isn't much going on that makes me feel like a kid anymore.

I'm looking for a job, and just interviewed at a place yesterday that, I'm not going to lie, I really want to work for. Andy just got back from his travels around the world yesterday, which means I can't say I have friends out there still traveling, and I just took my grandma to the hospital to have her eye surgeried.

But there was one thing that happened at the end of the night Monday. I found a power ball (which you may refer to as a super ball or bouncy ball if you'd like) in the parking lot of the delightfully alliterative Porky's Pizza Palace. Nick and I bounced it off the floor and ceiling of his kitchen for about 15 minutes while eating pizza.

So clearly I'm not that old at all, am I, Native Americans?

"Hello Harley Burger?"

2008-02-19T14:37:00.000-08:00

When I was in middle school, maybe high school, I would think to myself that when I came back to town from college, my first stop would be Harley's Burgers.

Located literally right around the corner from my parent's house, Harley's was a staple growing up. While working on the bathroom, redoing my room, or building the garage; we'd always head to Harley's for our quick food needs.

The old-fashioned-looking drive-up diner was owned and run by Harley and his wife, Kim, two wonderful old people who cooked up great burgers and delicious Chinese food. When you'd call to place an order Kim usually answered with the familiar refrain, "Hello Harley Burger?" After telling her what you'd like to order she'd half ask, half instruct you by saying, "OK, you come now."

When I'd walk up to get food she'd hand it to me and ask how my parents were. We'd chat briefly and as I walked away, back toward home, I'd always pop one of the crinkle-cut french fries in my mouth.

But I never went there on weekends home from college. About two years before I moved to L.A., Harley and Kim retired. They were going to spend some time with their daughter's family in Orange County and then drive around the country, visit China for a while and just generally enjoy having more than one day off a week (Sunday) for the first time in as long as I can remember.

They sold the restaurant to a young Asian couple and we gave them a shot. Within a month it was too different. The burgers were round now, not square; the chow mein less noodley somehow; and worst of all, the fries were straight cut.

We stopped going.

But lately I've been wondering. Is it still that bad? After all, the window still has the "Best Burgers in Town" paint displayed blatantly without any source or evidence (I would bet that Best Burgers about a mile away would take particular issue with that declaration). So I called up today for lunch. It was too rainy outside for me to make the sandwich I had been planning on and I've been wanting a quarter-pound hamburger with cheese no mayo no onion and a small fry which is what I told the old woman who answered the phone.

I walked up about four minutes later, said hello to a new old Asian woman and saw no sign of the young couple who shook my world years ago. After paying less than five dollars for my food I walked away holding a white paper bag, reached inside, and pulled out a crinkle-cut fry.

"Did you see where I put that other butterfly?"

2008-02-13T23:59:00.000-08:00

There are some things that you can only expect to hear in a flower shop.

After three-and-a-half years I have completed the boomerang that started with my move home and am once again delivering flowers professionally. This is, after all, the busiest time of the year for them, and when my old shop calls for help I am there to help. Assuming I'm in the area and not busy.

So today I cut and cleaned flowers, changed the water, arranged roses in vases, ran arrangements out on delivery and answered phones just like old times. I even went by the grave site of L Young for his wife and dropped off a little arrangement for the vase. I have given this man flowers more often than I have given flowers to any living woman, including my mom (and I used to, and once again, work in a flower shop).

People may think that working in a flower shop is dainty work. To those people I say, think about it. Five gallons of water, plus 4 dozen roses still in bunches weighs about 50 pounds (20 kilos for the international readers). That's a lot of weight to heft around, up and down. Especially when you're dealing with dozens of dozens of roses and other flowers and their fillers including baby's breath and various greens.

Come on guys, go with something original. Don't just get roses.

For now, my hands smell like myrtle and eucalyptus and I get to go back in tomorrow at 6:30.

Happy Valentine's Day. Or, to quote the oft-quoted in my house episode of "30 Rock," "HAPPY VALEN-TIMES!"

One art please

2008-02-12T01:26:00.000-08:00

Three guys stole four paintings that someone, somewhere would have paid $163 million for. The job was pulled in Zurich, which is actually not the capital of Switzerland, in a fantastically low-tech fashion consisting of literally grabbing them off the wall and throwing them in a white van. Thanks, NY Times.

The return of the travel sponge

2008-02-10T10:07:00.000-08:00

How much do I love staying with Jared and CJ? Quite a bit, actually.

Having never lived with guys before it's a nice preview of what life would be like finally doing so. Nine-foot TV for watching Lost? Check. Saturday morning spent sleeping, playing Guitar Hero on same nine-foot TV and online poker? Check. A little more filth than I'd like? Check.

Getting off the 405 on Wilshire was incredibly familiar. I knew everything there was to see in LA, knew where I needed to go to get where I was going without thinking and knew it would take me a long time because it was 5 pm.

And while it's no secret that I'm a fan of jackets, not using the AC and enjoying scarf weather, it is nice to be back in my traditional uniform of flip flops, t-shirt and jeans. It's been warm and sunny, almost unbearably so given that it's February.

LA is also great for making me feel like I'm super popular. Trying to see everyone you know in three or four days gives the impression that you know a lot of people. And the people are some of my favorite people, and I'm glad to visit them often.

Hot Hot Heat

I have now seen Hot Hot Heat three times and "Talk to Me Dance With Me" will never not be a great song. Part of the reason I came down this weekend vs another was because that band was playing with Louis XIV (one of my favorites) and The Editors (one that I now know is a great live act) for about the cost of a half a tank of gas. I couldn't really think of anyone at home who would want to see them as much as I would but apparently, I know quite a few people that would want to go in LA.

The amazing show got out at midnight and I was astonished that we found parking a few miles away in Hollywood at 12:45 am on a Saturday. After getting hit on twice by two different guys in the span of 10 seconds (when I bought it three years ago, Kirsten did say that the jacket wasn't "that gay") and a drink we walked over to the 101 Cafe located in the Best Western Hollywood Hills.

The syrup smelled better than the pancakes tasted at 2 in the morning, but what are you going to do? It was still deliciously awesome and quintessentially LA somehow. Everyone in their button up shirts and blazers and designer jeans or else wearing short skirts and other club wear. Me in my Dave Matthews t-shirt, Christmas present jeans and worn out hemp Rainbows. Ah, LA, it was nice to be back.

Golden arches

2008-01-31T10:00:00.000-08:00

When I was in Paris (I don't want to be one of those guys who does this a lot, but come on, how cool is it that I can start a sentence like that?) someone, probably from BF Australia or Canada, said if they lived in Paris they could see themselves not looking at the Eiffel Tower every day because they'd get used to it.

I say they were from the middle of nowhere because I grew up in the Bay Area, about 25 minutes from bridges, buildings and cable cars that are easily as recognizable, if not less romantic than the Eiffel Tower, and I must disagree.

Yesterday I had a job interview (for a job I think I may want) in San Rafael, which is about 7 miles north of the point where the Golden Gate Bridge hits land in Marin County. To get there from my current side of the Bay I take a different bridge but I do see the Golden Gate, just as I do whenever I drive through Berkeley on my way to Vallejo, Sacramento, Tahoe, Chico, Oregon or Canada.

Across the water from highway 80, behind Alcatraz, there is always the orange Japanese animation eyes of the Golden Gate. I look at it every time I pass by. I don't strain my neck to see it, but as I sit in the Maze traffic 100 feet from the water line I glance out my passenger window (when going south, generally home) just to acknowledge it.

It's a beautiful bridge that actually empties into a nice area for both directions, unlike so many other bridges that start or end in poverty, industry, salt flats or oil refineries.

So no, person I met from either Australia or Canada, I don't think I'd stop looking at the Eiffel Tower or any other widely known landmark I lived near. I don't get tired of my favorite shirt, food, or songs. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think familiarity necessarily makes something less remarkable.

A bookstore in California

2008-01-30T22:19:00.000-08:00

I've just returned from Moe's in Berkeley where I spent more on books than an unemployed writer should spend. I bought one book I needed to get, another I went wanting to get, and two I had thought a lot about buying. As I said on the phone earlier this week, Delayed Gratification Zac is gone.

As I strolled past the 'F' section I noticed a hard-cover version of "Everything is Illuminated," a book I've always told myself I wanted to read but have never bought or borrowed. I slipped it off the shelf and flipped toward the copyrite page to see if it was a first printing, which it wasn't, then flipped toward the first blank page to see what price was etched into the top right corner in pencil. I would find out in a few moments that it was $10, but first I saw an inscription.

It read, in a sloppy yet still feminine handwriting that was half printing, half script:

A late fathers day gift

To Kevin from Linda
To the best dad in the
whole world - July 2002 -
Ben is so lucky to see your
face every day & to have
you as his dad

I couldn't imagine selling a book, especially a book that was a present and certainly not if there was an inscription.

In my head, Kevin and Linda had a baby boy in May or June of 2002. Her saying he was the best dad in the world was based more on assumption than a proven track record of fatherhood. She thought he was the best husband in the world and, of course, would make an excellent father.

He probably was, and I picture him, mid-thirties with tousled short hair, walking around his and Linda's hardwood floors in his pajama bottoms on a Sunday morning with seven-month-old Ben leaning on his shoulder as he watches the 49ers game across the room.

But something happened, Ben got sick or there was an accident. It was no one's fault but it's a painful memory. In late 2007 Kevin and Linda are moving, probably out of Berkeley, maybe back to her home town, when he recognizes the book as he's boxing up their shelves. He re-reads the inscription for the first time in more than five years and just about cries again.

He wants to get rid of it but doesn't want to throw away the story of a young man searching for his grandfather's past. He considers donating it to someone but he wants someone to want it. He takes it to the used book store and makes a little bit of cash, which he'll add to the annual donation he and Linda make to the foundation for curing the disease his son died from (I've decided it was an illness).

I will show that inscription to everyone I show my books to and ask them what they think. The book will sit on my small bookshelf that I usually reserve for my favorite, highest recommended, or rare books. After I read it.

A golden event

2008-01-26T20:39:00.000-08:00

My dad turned 50 yesterday. To celebrate the occasion, my mom, sister and I, took him to dinner at Le Cheval, a French/Vietnamese restaurant in downtown Oakland to get some braised quail, bad service and terrific coconut snapper. After dinner, the four of us had tickets for Mark Hummel's Blues Harmonica Blow Out at Yoshi's jazz club in Jack London Square.

Part of the blow out were John Mayall, the godfather of British blues and rock (Eric Clapton got his start in Mayall's band); Kenny Neal, a young kid (51) from Baton Rouge; Fingers Taylor, my favorite nickname of the night; and Lazy Lester, a tall old black guy with huge hands who must have been 70.

The venue is small, only about 120 seats, the music was great, and the drinks well made. The house band, the Blues Survivors, could jam with all the legends like they've known each other and been playing with each other for decades, which they probably have.

The late set started at 10 and went a half hour longer than the early show so that when we walked toward our car it was past midnight and the rain had stopped but left the deserted streets wet and shiny in the lights. There was no singing of "Happy Birthday," and no cake. The evening was far too classy for that.

Today I woke up to a call from the bounce-house guy, asking if we still wanted it if it started to rain. Of course we did, so he'd be by in the next few hours.

A few days ago I told my friend this weekend was my dad's birthday. She asked if we were having a party and I said no, he didn't want one. But we're still getting the bounce house, I told her. She didn't ask if I was serious, or what I meant by that. She knew. She just said, "The Dillons are a hoot."

When the bounce-house guy got here, we sent him around back and showed him where to set up. As the Monkey House was filling up with air, my mom ran in to call my dad out. At first, he thought it was ridiculous. He'd wanted to get one on Thanksgiving because it was my little cousin's birthday but didn't because she wasn't coming over until later in the day. Ever since then (apparently at least, I was in Europe so I don't really know further back than a month ago) he's been talking about it. "Saw another bounce house today. Looks like fun," he'd say randomly.

But as soon as the guy left and we got in it, he couldn't stop laughing.

We did choreographed flips, tried to not knock each other over, sweat a lot, laughed and bounced. It's how all 50th celebrations should be, and in two years, my mom's will no doubt be incredibly similar. In 25 years, I'll do some kind of futuristic version of today. Like rocket packs or moon boots that don't suck like those Moon Boots from the 70s.

The end of Time

2008-01-22T08:20:00.000-08:00

All my life, or at least for the portion I am able to remember, I've loved calling POPCORN. I used to beg my parents to let me call after a blackout or earthquake so I could be the one to hear the exact time and set the clocks. My family referred to 767-2676 as "Time," and it was so familiar, the woman's voice so comforting. Good evening. (so polite) At the tone (ah the tone), Pacific Daylight Time (I always preferred hearing her say "daylight" over "standard") will be seven, thirty two, and forty seconds (ever notice it was in increments of 10 seconds?)... boop.

In an age of cell phones that have their clocks set automatically via satellite, lithium ion batteries that keep computer clocks artificially ticking forever, and Web sites such as www.time.gov brought to you by the National Institute of Standards and Technology, there is, apparently, no need for a familiar woman's voice on the phone. I didn't call as often as I should have the past couple of years, but it was nice to know she was there, waiting to answer my one question accurately and promptly.

Now a different voice, though similar enough that it seems they tried to pull a fast one on us, rather curtly tells callers that "Effective September 19, 2007, the Time announcement information service has been discontinued. We apologize for any inconvenience."

But there are so many questions left unanswered by that answer. For years, I'd call to learn the time but that simple answer prompted so many more questions that the recording would never be able to provide on it's own. Who are you, voice of Time? How was your voice chosen? When did you record all those fragments of dialogue? How long did it take you to record all those numbers? Did you have any creative differences with the guys recording you? At what time of day did they decide to switch from "good morning," to "good afternoon," to "good evening," and then back to "good morning"? It would be strange to call at 12:55 and 10 seconds and hear "good morning." 1:00 am is still evening to everyone I know. And who is the they? Who funded this? Who is the we that is apologizing for my inconvenience?

This new message prompts even more disturbing questions. Does the fact that this never-ending loop ended somehow disprove the theory of time travel? Or prove that the universe is bound to end too? We thought it was a never-ending loop, but it was just such a big circuit we couldn't see that it had an end point.

It was only recently that I learned I've been living in a world without Time. I knew life was different while traveling, and often I would say that the day of the week didn't matter. The day Time was discontinued, I was in Berlin. But Berlin seems like another time, but was such a good time it's still timely. I thought things would return to normal when I got back, but time has been flying and dragging at the same time. I have so much time yet run out of time all the time. It will take some time to adjust to a world without Time.

The absolute worst part is that future generations will now never understand the scene from Full House where DJ, on her first day of junior high, alone at lunch and scared, takes her food into the phone booth, drops a quarter as if she were calling a friend but hears only a voice. They won't crack a teary smile or feel her pain and isolation because they will be hung up on trying to comprehend why some woman's voice would tell a caller the time of day twice in 20 seconds.

That voice was a friend. To DJ, to me, to people without watches but with access to a phone, and to scared preteens everywhere.

Good bye Time. I wish I had more of you, but I'll always remember the good times.

We ski UP hill

2008-01-20T18:55:00.000-08:00

"After today, we'll be able to do half a biathlon."

That's the kind of thinking my mom regularly engages in. Or at least, the kind of thinking she regularly talks about. It's the ultimate "glass half full" way of looking at things and she's only ever half kidding (or half serious, depending on whether you think kidding is positive or negative).

It was 6:30 am and we were on the way to Kirkwood to try cross country skiing for the first time. It's something she's been talking about trying for years, and it's something I haven't ever done before. When it came up somehow, I egged her on until she committed to going late Saturday night.

"Are we really going to go, or are you just saying we're going to go?" I asked her. The ball was in her court (she was paying, after all) and after seeing my excitement for free winter sports her eyes got big and she got that wide grin she gets when she's about to doing something exciting.

Our lesson began at 10:30 with a man I would have guessed was 55 but who was actually 73. It seems that the fountain of youth is on two skinny planks of fiberglass.

The surprisingly old instructor remembered my name throughout the hour-and-a-half lesson and I fought hard to not fulfill his prediction that I would try and fly across the training course as fast as possible. Because I was youngish and didn't live up to his old-man expectations of being hyper-competitive and impatient, toward the end of the lesson when no one would volunteer to be the first to try stopping, he of course called on me and I of course fell on my face. Stopping is not as easy as starting, it turns out.

The meadow across the highway from the lodge was gorgeous and the 5k trail went by in a blink. Mom fell a few times, but only because I was harassing her about going faster. Turns out I am hyper-competitive and impatient.

On the way home, Mom said, "All we need to do now is learn how to shoot." Mom, I tell her, after years of shooting zombies, criminals, cops and digital ducks, I already can shoot. I am a biathlete now. Or at least, I'm curious about it.

Necessity of normalcy

2008-01-17T09:32:00.000-08:00

My hair is never quite the same. Each day it does something a little different, presumably because, I suppose, it's one day longer. I have yet to lop any of it off since returning from over the pond in part (yes, a pun) because I keep getting told that I have nice curls, in part because I'm not ready to pay someone $20 to take them away from me, and in part because in a writers'-strike-beard kind of way, it helps keep me in that place I've been.

I have yet to take off the leather strap on my right wrist that Sophia didn't have to try hard to convince me to buy, even though I bought two at the same time. It's the one I put on and I have no immediate plans of ever taking it off.

There was talk of posting pictures here, and after a weekend in Sacramento visiting friends with my laptop, being asked to share stories and click through iPhoto, I realize I've never seen a lot of them. I remember taking pictures in general, if not always specifically, but looking through them is strangely foreign. I can see the people, places and events without trying but their photographs look like the caricatures of people sold on the Charles Bridge and outside the Uffizi Gallery. For pictures, they're ironically not very picture-perfect.

And so many of the things that are most vivid in my memory and that I most want to show people, I didn't take pictures of and so many of my favorite events of which I have scant photographic evidence would be boring to all the billions of people in the world but two or three. No one wants to see Jason at the Madrid airport triumphantly holding a plane ticket back to DC, and I don't need a picture to remember, but I know I have one. I've seen it recently and it isn't what I saw that day.

So I will happily share my photos with the world, but I have to see them first. And I'm not ready to replace my memories with photographs yet.

Sitting by the dock of The Bay

2007-12-13T02:09:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow finally arrived and it is now today. It's 2 am on the west coast, 11 am to Paris, the rest of continental Europe, and my internal clock. I caught about two hours of sleep on the flight from Philly to Vegas and am now in the warm embrace of the fog, sourdough bread, family and friends.

I just got out of a shower I didn't want to ever end. I can't remember the last time I felt the need for that kind of warmth and actually got it. It's like quenching a whole body thirst.

But I had to get out. I've got a queen bed with my name on it, and I can hear the call of the dead geese that gave their feathers for my comfort calling me with their... swan song, I guess.

Over the next week or so I'll post pictures here, as well as links to more pictures elsewhere, so if you're still reading, feel free to waste more time at work while I remember the past 14 weeks of my life.

It's good to be home. Thanks for all your messages.
-zac

"The longest day of my life." - Jack Bauer

2007-12-11T13:30:00.000-08:00

Update: No other flights from Philly to the Bay Area so we land at 1 minute to midnight (like the doomsday clock). Ah Phoenix, you're almost California.

In other news, we just ate a really good three course meal, Tor. And it was pretty cheap for Paris. I had Mousse de canard au porto (mousse of duck with porto), echine de porc grillee aux herbes (pork grilled with herbs), and creme de marrons chantilly (chesnut puree with sweet whipped cream).

I think I have gout now.

Read of Zac

Name the movie

Danger of Finals

Car Shopping

Small Pleasures: Part Seven

Small Pleasures: Part Six

Small Pleasures: Part Five

Small Pleasures: Part Four

Small Pleasures: Part Three

Small Pleasures: Part Two

Small Pleasures: Part One

Answers to some of life's biggest questions

In... my mouth

Car List updated

Work

State of mind

Saturday morning thoughts

My 2009 in Facebook Statuses

What more could there possibly be?

2009 in bills

Happy Holiday Party

Sexpigeon has infected my thinking

Where'd the poo go?

My life in dreams part II

Red Book Chronicles

Subject: Turducken this year?

Do you have H1N1 or just a cold?

My car is fixed...

My life in dreams part 1

Three for a dollar

Traffic School

Dear iPod while on shuffle

You got some BALLS, La Boulange

I just inadvertently defined college life

Ode to my old, departed friend

Is that the kind that takes 30 minutes? No... 30 Minutes!?!

Another Car!

Then what's your problem?

"Stick your arm for some real fun"

Kitchen fun

Don't mind if I do

That was surprisingly easy to do

A private conversation between a lovely young lady and a drunken fool

Tonight's menu

Salty and Sweet

Somewhere a copy editor is laughing or crying about this

Passive voice isn't weak, it's polite

"You have to update your blog now"

It's on

Cause really, who goes to garage sales anymore?

Dropped off at the pool (I'm pooped)

My hour-long desire

Andy! The Roof! The Fireworks!

Hop in my ride(s)

Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner: Photos, esse

Lesbians are very "in" right now, says 1985?

Who would buy this?

From Wikipedia

this is what my day is about now

Holy Balls

Short-sighted pessimists

Boozin' classy like

Notes from a small kitchen

1

bu

Our Farm

Gold Chard

1

bu

Our Farm

Bunched Collard

1

bu

Our Farm

Nantes Carrot

1

cnt

Our Farm

Lacinato / Dino Kale

21 (if I let myself cheat)