Author: Dave

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cheesecake charity

Lord, thank you for this dairy treat. Oh, and these laws and rules and junk.
Written for yesterday and never posted:

Oregon, Tuesday night. Sitting here in the hotel room watching Willie Wonka on AMC. For reals, this movie is great. I’ve always been attracted to movies and stories that have some element of the fantastic. Fantasy, absurdity, these have always been my favorite narrative elements (either on screen or in print). Anyway, I’m not writing about anything right now, just rambling. Intro paragraph over.

My grandfather turns 89 in a couple weeks now. 89. I was thinking about it today, what kind of things you’ve lived through when you’re 89. He was born in 1915, two years before we joined the Allies against Germany in WWI, although that conflict would come and go before he could remember it. He was 14 when as we entered the Great Depression, and spent those oh-so-glorious teenage years during some of this country’s hardest times. At 26, the 3rd year of post-college career life for me, he would see America again enter into world conflict after the Japanese bomb Pearl Harbor. Four years and two bombs later, that war also ended – only to see us pick up arms again in Korea a mere five years afterward. The Kennedy assassination, the Beatles, the civil rights movement, the space age, Vietnam, the cold war… so much. Kinda crazy to think about, and he’s got a sister who I think is in her late nineties.

I’ve got the window open in this room because it looks like it might rain tonight. I love the sound of rain, and it’s not my place – so I’m gonna keep the window open and hope it does. It’s a nice little room really, complete with a fridge and stove and dishwasher and microwave. They even give you some complementary popcorn which, were I not fulled up on beers and burger, I’d probably indulge in.

Written for today:

Back in the CtotheA. Tired from getting back late, and just that travel-tired, even though it wasn’t anything heavy-duty. Two days spent in a different state really makes the work week fly by though. Almost Friday and almost camping.

Yesterday was some Jewish holiday (when Moses received the commandments from God I think), and in celebration of this day the Jewish people eat cheesecake (which I’m pretty sure was also given to Moses by God on that same day). Just so happens that the woman who was chairing the meeting my boss and I went to Oregon for is Jewish. Anyway, she had brought like 20 huge cheesecakes to the meeting, and in the end there was one wholly untouched cheesecake leftover. She tried pawn it off on several people, who made various protests about already being overweight and whatnot – and then finally tried to give it to my boss and I. At first we declined, saying we were going to be on a plane in a couple hours. But then someone made a joke about giving the thing to a homeless person on the way to the airport. Struck by the awesomeness of the idea, we decided to do just that.

We set out for the airport, but stuck to the surface streets through the city instead of taking the highway. All the while keeping eyes peeled for those less fortunate than ourselves. You know how, sometimes, you’ll see something every day, some random object in a strange place at home – and you’ll think “wonder what that’s doing there?,” or “what a strange place for that.” but not do anything about it? Then the day comes when you actually need or want said thing, and you can’t for the life of you remember where you’ve been seeing it? It was kinda like that trying to find a bum, when you want one – they’re nowhere to be found, but when your stuffing cash into your wallet after walking out of a fine meal at a nice restaurant – they’re there to hold out a grubby hand and make you feel guilty for being so Republican.

We went on a mission, taking a 40min detour (and really pushing it on our arrive-early airport thing), just to find a homeless person. Finally, with one hour left until the flight too off and still being 20min away from the airport – we found our man. A grey-haired scruffy gentleman sitting on the corner, forlorn and hungry looking as he sat on his bedroll, trash strewn about. We rolled slowly up to the corner, and I held the cheesecake out the window. Before I could offer it to him, he jumped up and moved towards the window. I offered him the cheesecake, telling him it was brand new and we couldn’t take it with us. He smiled, looked at the cheesecake, seemed a little confused, smiled again and thanked us – then backed away and gave us the peace sign with the left hand, cheesecake clutched in the crook of his right arm. It was truly a sight to be seen. We weren’t laughing or anything, I didn’t want this man to think we were making fun of his station in life or anything. Although, after driving away – we did chuckle at how absurd it was. My boss said, “you know what that guy is probably thinking right now? ‘Man, I don’t have a fork, and my hands are filthy, how am I supposed to eat this thing?'” That cracked me up.

Cheesecake to the homeless in celebration of the ten commandments, peeing in the street (on a Salvation Army truck no less), and being served hot wings by a 41 year-old Hooters waitress – I call that a successful trip to Oregon. Oh yeah, and we did some work too.

Dave out.

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straightup buy a live chicken

Jetsetting yuppie.
On a plane to Oregon tomorrow, only gone for a couple days. Tonight was a pretty uneventful evening. Spent the time upgrading my RAID array to 240GB – since my “digital migration” project (ripping all my CDs to MP3) was taking up way more room than I originally accounted for. Surprisingly, the upgrade went off without a hitch, and I’m happily back to ripping songs.

Whoa, in the middle of writing that 1st paragraph about this being a rather uneventful evening, I decided to open today’s mail. Turns out we got another check from our home refi, for what seems to be more leftover impound account balance. Anyway, to me – it looks less like an impound account refund and more like a backyard. Yeah baby, it’s all there, every cent we need to hit yesterday’s targets by the arrival of Sharaun’s folks in July. I have changed my tune, and now think it’s entirely possible. I’m pumped.

Today Sharaun took her class on a field trip to Chinatown in San Francisco. They took a guided tour that hit some temples and other places of interest, one of them a traditional Chinese marketplace. The way she described it to me, it sounded a lot like some of the night markets in Taipei, lots of seafood and odd animals parts for sale? as food. Anyway, apparently this place has all sorts of livestock for sale too, frogs, turtles, chickens, etc. I guess one of her kids actually bought a live chicken.

One of the other students alerted her and she got back to the chicken hawker just in time to see a the saleswoman folding over a paper bag, stapling it shut, and poking four air-holes in it. When Sharaun asked the student what was in the bag, he replied with great excitement, “I just bought a real chicken for only a dollar fifty!” She managed to talk the woman into taking back the chicken, after explaining that it wasn’t going to be accompanying them on the two-hour bus ride back. For some reason that story had me cracking up, what kid tries to straightup buy a live chicken in Chinatown?! You got moxie kid, I like that.

Turns out the disks I wrote about the other day are unreadable. Yup, they either got the bit-rot, or there’s nothing on those mofos. You know, now that I think about it – I think Joey and I may have used those things on a PC sometime after we used them on the Mac? I wonder if we were smart enough to format them and store crap on them. Either way, I’m gonna try and get them back and see if I can read them on a PC 5.25″ floppy. Owell, it was worth a try.

That’s it, midnight-thirty and I have to be up around five. I’m off to bed, g’night losers. Dave out.

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technically, illegal

Baaaa-licious.
So I was lazy last week, didn’t write on Thursday or Friday. Well, lazy may not be the right word, more like busy as crap. Work was kicking butt, after-work schedule also kicking butt, and just a general lack of things to write about. I’m not making excuses for you punks, so don’t think I’ve gone soft – I’ll still break your ass.

Worked on the backyard a bit this weekend, forming up the sidewalk that’s going down the right side of the house. Even though I’m now gonna redo it (I want to make a little “landing” where the garbage bins can live), I was proud of the work. Now I just need to get some fill dirt to level it out and then I can pour concrete (sometime next week I think). Also bought some do-it-yourself interlocking landscape curbing, for the little garden strip I’m doing on the left side of the place. Sharaun hasn’t really seen my vision of that yet, so she was a little confused. I’m totally confident it’ll look utterly rad when it’s done though – plus it simplifies the sprinkler layout on that side. I thought about my goal of having things pretty much wrapped up by Sharaun’s folks’ arrival in mid-July, and I’m just not sure. I’ve got concrete, sod, pavers, and plants left to do. That’s about $500, $600, $400, $500, respectively. I think I may be able to do all but plants before they come – which will at least give us grass. Then there’s all the little expenses that add up, like sand for the pavers, edge restraint, etc. At this point it’s the wallet that’ll give out before my back does.

This weekend we’re doing an adventure-camp trip up the Sacramento River. We went yesterday to scout possible riverbank campsites, and found a really nice one about 15mi up from where we launch. Nice sandy beach complete with a little hollow to have a fire. Technically, camping on the river is illegal – but I think we found a pretty good spot. There’s no road on that side, and the bank is probably farmland – as there’s an irrigated grove just over the levee. I figure we should be able to camp for the weekend without getting busted. And if we do get busted, we’ve got a backup plan – the owner of some seedy riverside bar said we could camp behind his place for free if we got booted out by the cops. Should be really fun. We’ll go up Saturday, setup camp, wakeboard all day, then repeat on Sunday and Monday. As long as we don’t get eaten by river rats, accosted by pirates, or chased off by farmers, it should be a success.

Heading to Oregon early tomorrow morning for work, returning sometime Wednesday – which doesn’t give me much time to work on the yard before we’re gone all weekend. I was thinking about taking Friday off, to maybe do my concrete work and just get a jump on the long weekend, but not sure yet.

I’m done. But guys, I got some bad news: that stuff we thought was lamb curry, it’s not lamb curry – it’s goat curry. Yum, goat. Dave out.

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a 7th grade attempt at fantasy

Just a really cool GIS for "womb."
Last night was the sneak-attack Decemberists/Shins show in Davis. Pat and Cynthia accompanied us, as Cynthia was the conduit for tickets being a UCD student and all. The acoustics during the opening band were kinda lacking, and I don’t know if I just got used to the hollow “high school gym” sound or if the equipment/mix just got better with each act – but the Decemberists and Shins sounded great. Was a fun night with an earlier bedtime than the usual SF shows.

Shipped off a couple of old 5.25″ Apple IIgs floppy disks today, sending them to a dude that does file recovery from old Apple disks. I found them in the spare room the other night. They are mine and Joey’s class disks from our middle school Language Arts class. I’m pretty sure they contain all our work for the year, including essays and whatnot. The main thing I want off of them is our “final” project from that year: a long fictional narrative. I’m pretty sure mine was called “Quest,” and was a 7th grade attempt at fantasy. I remember being extremely proud of it at the time, which was before I ever even read the Hobbit. I think Joey’s was about some kid who went inside a waterfall in search of some treasure or something? but I can’t remember. Anyway, I’m hoping to at least get those stories – and kind of getting my hopes up for some recovered surprise, maybe some lost stories we were working on or an interesting assignment. Anyway, it cost $36 to get text files off two disks – hopefully it’s worth it.

One the “indie music is on TV” tip, Pat brought over a Newsweek article to rub in my face the other day. Here’s the online version of the article, without some supporting graphics from the print version. In the actual magazine, they have a graphic that does that “if you like this band, try this other band” thing – pointing people towards indie bands that may fit their likes. The bands in that sidebar graphic read eerily like my Best of 2003 from last year: Shins, Bright Eyes, Postal Service, Death Cab, etc. It’s actually a good article, and they mention several newish albums that are also on my current playlist. I like the quote from Gibbard about “feeling” something coming? I wonder. What the heck am I gonna listen to to be cooler than everyone when everyone’s listening to indie? Man, a self-important music-snob’s job is a hard one?

OK, I have nothing more. Oh wait, I got one thing. I forget where I stole this from, but check out Britney Spears’ backwards message. If you play the chorus of “Hit Me Baby One More Time” backwards, you can hear “sleep with me I’m not too young.” OK, where do I sign up?

Dave out.

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crazy itchy hives

Good thing I wasn't born an Eskimo.
Did you know that the word “carrot” has four homonyms in the English language? You’ve got “carrot,” “caret,” “karat,” and “carat.” What a dumb language. Tonight we’ve got a surprise Shins/Decemberists show in Davis, so that should be fun. Now onto the meat!

Well, after going to the doctor once and getting a prescription for some kinda allergy drug – I still get crazy itchy hives when I come in contact with coldness. I will say that the medicine has stemmed the reaction a bit, in that it doesn’t happen every morning when I go outside anymore (aside from a little itching and tightness in my hands). But doing things that are super cold, like wakeboarding, still bring out the hives and itchiness in force. Sunday we were on the river, and when I came out of the water my whole body was on fire with itch – and covered with mottled red spots. I looked like a tomato, and all my skin felt tight and warm – and like the last time I was in the river, my chest got tight and I felt dizzy. It’s so strange, after being in the water for a while I get short of breath and woozy, not to mention itchy and bright red.

Being that I just didn’t believe the whole thing to just be “allergies,” I decided to do some research online. A couple refined Googles brought up information on a condition called “cold urticaria.” Seems like it’s a real thing, and while it can come at any age – it’s most prevalent in younger people. An allergy to cold? How much does that suck? But dude, the symptoms are dead on exactly what I experience under the exact same conditions. Sounds like I’ve been stricken with the urticaria, maybe I should hold a benefit concert? Anyway, several websites say you can test for this malady by holding ice against your skin for a few minutes. So, Anthony and I went downstairs at work yesterday and filled a napkin with ice from the soda machine. We sat down in the cafeteria and I held the ice to my forearm for about 5min. Went back upstairs and within a couple minutes my whole arm was blotchy red, warm, and itchy. Oh, that proves it – I’ve got the cold urticaria, ain’t no denying.

OK, so when I first listened to this new Wilco album – I wasn’t that impressed. I mean, there’s been a lot going on with this album. It was leaked, in an unfinished form, nearly a year prior to it’s release. Being that so many people had the album so early, Wilco set up a website for fans who downloaded the leaked copy – allowing them to make donations in whatever amount they thought fair compensation for the music, all of which would be donated to charity (Doctors Without Borders). Here we are in May, and the album is still unreleased (there were some label problems, some lineup changes, some rehab time served) – and I’m sitting here listening to it and liking it more each time. Like I said, I wasn’t that impressed on first listen – a sentiment that Ben echoed (although he went so far as to call some songs “uninspired”). But the more I listen, the more emotion the tunes convey. Not only does it have a Pavement-esque indie tinge, it’s flirting with that 70s drug-country vibe. Drug-thick minimal rock-country arrangements ala JJ Cale, Jesse Colin Young, or Brewer & Shipley. Just something to sit stoned on a mountain to while looking out over God’s creation. What, a whole useless paragraph about one album – sorry.

I guess work really does sink into my brain more than I’m willing to admit. I mean, I like to think that, regardless of how much I think about work when I’m at work, work-related thoughts are only accessing the periphery of my brain. I don’t want to let them into the real stuff like installing sprinklers and checking account balances and what’s for dinner – work stuff needs to be relegated to the edges where I’m sure I’m not really “thinking” about it at all. It would be a shame if I couldn’t learn the lyrics to a new song just because I have some work junk taking up the neurons where those lyrics want to move in.

Anyway, I guess it’s all this talk of offshoring to China or something – but last night I had a dream that Sharaun and I were over in Shanghai picking out an apartment. I guess we were going to live there for a while or something. Freaked me out in the morning when I woke up and remembered it. Stupid China.

Dave out.

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my curse


Hey guys, here goes the customary intro paragraph. Which is odd because I usually come back and write it last, after I’ve gotten the “meat” done and am out of stuff to say (don’t worry, you’ll be able to see it all happen in “behind the blog,” soon to be shown 600 times a week on VH1). No but for real. This weekend was good. Friday night Kings game at my place, Saturday worked in the yard and went mini-golfing, Sunday on the river all day and another Kings game. Next week sounds good too, Tuesday we catch the Shins/Decemberists show in Davis (a local show? awesome!), Wednesday Kings game. There, see – we’re all caught up on the junk and I can write what I’m here for.

Watching TV the other night, I saw a commercial for these new condoms that produce a “warming” sensation. Are you for real? Dude, if there’s on time I don’t need to be any warmer – it’s humpin’. Considering my natural internal body temperature is lava-hot compared to most humans, and that I’ve been known to break into a fevered sweat from just thinking too hard – artificial warming is the last thing I want. I mean, especially when I’m doin’ it. I gotta open the windows and turn on the fan as it is, I’d have to be insane to want to turn up the heat anymore. I’ve been cursed with a Bikram existence that has me sweating from a shower and while swimming. Now come up with a condom that chills the room to meat-hanging temps and you’ve got a lifetime customer.

I’ll tell you a story that haunts me to this day. Back in my first year of high school I used to ride the bus. Now, yes, there are some great bus-stories (carefully placing homemade pungee-sticks to pop the bus’ tires and render it useless for transporting us to school; removing one screw from a different place each day until every window and seat was ready fall apart; etc.), but in this story the bus in only the setup. We were ridging home one afternoon, headed towards the corner where we’d be dropped off to walk the block or so home. This day it so happened that the man who lived in that corner home was out mowing his lawn as we drove up. Only thing was, this guy had what was quite possibly the hairiest back I’d ever seen. So, here comes a bus full of young kids – and there’s this old, slightly overweight, sasquatch-looking dude mowing his lawn. We did as all good kids would, we laughed till we cried and made fun of this poor sap. I mean, why would someone so disgustingly hairy mow his lawn without a shirt?! Surely he knows how utterly repulsive he is as an example of the human form, right? Hairy man, do you have no shame?! If I remember right, I actually yelled some comment out the window at this sad man – although I’m sure he didn’t hear me over his lawn mowing.

So, what’s the point you ask? Well, for those of you who don’t know – I am now that man. And I can’t help but think that my cruelty that day has spun around on the wheel of fate and dealt me this Teen Wolf hand as some ironic justice. The God of body hair looked down on me that day and put me on his list. Then, as I reached my late teens – he sent his demons nightly to slather my back and shoulders with Rogaine. These follicle-awakening imps took me from baby’s butt to missing-link with a quickness, and one morning I awoke to a hideous sight. That sad man, that poor sap – he had nothing on me. My hair had reached a thickness and luster to rival Pantene commercials. And as the years went on, not only did the Black Forest that is my back and shoulders continue to flourish, but the hair that I’m supposed to have started to take off. Maybe those “good guys” hairs from the top of my head were forced out by the urban sprawl of my back hair, I don’t know.

That’s it, I’m outta here.

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band together and masturbate on the enemy

You'll go blind.
Hey dudes, didja hear there’s some video of US soldiers masturbating onto Iraqi prisoners? That’s so cool. As a country, we should masturbate on more people I think. It just seems so logical and all. Oh, and we should take pictures of it. As Americans, we must band together and masturbate on the enemy – and don’t forget to shout “You got served!” as you finish up in their eyes. Fucking Neanderthals.

Man, I remember how mortified I was when I learned we were expected to take showers in Junior High gym class. As if my sports-challenged former self didn’t have enough problems, now I had to take showers with other dudes? Luckily, I wasn’t the only one who had this fear. In the three years I was there, I don’t think I ever saw one single dude take a shower in that locker room. And some dudes needed a shower too, come 8th grade you can get pretty ripe after 40min of flag football.

Looking back now, the social shower doesn’t seem so strange. I mean, I’ve been in several same-sex communal showering situations since – and they don’t bother me much anymore. I still, however, don’t like those “rotary” urinal things. I mean, the trough urinal is bad enough – but a circular one where I’m peeing directly across from a bunch of other dudes peeing? No thanks. If you’re gonna see my goods, it’s gonna be because I had too much beer and am the sole participant in a game of “strip Dance Dance Revolution.” Yeah, for real. With video too. I can never hold public office.

Dave out.