Wednesday, October 1, 2003
Cindy brought in bagels and orange juice to celebrate Kristina's birthday. Melissa also contributed with delicious red and green tomatoes from her garden. Printed out floorplans for Cindy. Delivered IP address info to Mike R. Called back Mike L about his computer—we set up a drop off for tomorrow morning. Kirk Hudson left a voicemail for me that I thought was so wonderful, so you-did-the-right-thing I called him back and said, "You're the perfect employee, you know that?" Met with Chris and Cindy about VPN problems. They are very supportive, and I feel very lucky to have them as co-worker and supervisor. Went to the Associated Students of the School of Pharmacy Skit Night 2003—a kind of talent show and entertainment put on by the students. It's a great deal of fun. Ross had gotten the staff to mimic the opening credits of The Brady Bunch, and it turned out splendidly even though Joel was away on outreach. (They inserted a still photo of him.) The opening act went on to provide a tongue-in-cheek introduction to many of the professors. The fun then went as follows: First-year students were quizzed on their pharmacy knowledge and presented with a variety of pharmaceuticals and asked to demonstrate how to use them on a teddy bear. The pharmaceuticals were: a dental dam, an enema, a tube that worked in conjunction with an inhaler, and something else I couldn't identify. There was a dating game skit in which Cindy was 1 of 10 participants (and, sadly, one of the "departing contestants"—she didn't win because Amber stumped her on a very tough question). After a brief intermission, several students lip-synched numbers to Chicago, a popular movie in the past year. We watched video of students playing pranks on each other. And the final skit was a video parody of the television show "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" called "Asian Eye for a White Guy." I was quite impressed with the video—each year these student mini movies seem more and more sophisticated. They always forget good lighting, but the results that come out are still worthy of a great laugh. Dinner at Nan King Road Bistro with Patrick: hot and sour soup for Patrick, wor won ton soup for me, oyster chicken with vegetables, steamed rice, brown rice tea for Patrick, jasmine tea for me. Under US$30. Patrick thinks he did well. I asked him when he finds out his grade, and he said he doesn't get a grade. So I ask him, "How do you know you did well?" and he said, "If she doesn't say, 'You got to do it again!'" then you probably did well. The 9:00 PM bus 66 left 9th and Judah at 8:57 PM. We saw it as we were walking from the restaurant—"Was that the 66 that just left?—Early?" Since we weren't sure we waited until 9:05 PM before deciding it was indeed the 66. There wasn't enough time for us to walk two blocks to Le Video to pick out a DVD rental and then get back before 9:30 PM (the next bus). And if we took a 43 or 44 to Forest Hill and then an L train to 30th Avenue it probably would have taken us longer than waiting 30 minutes for the next 66 bus. So we spent 30 minutes of our lives standing at the corner of one of San Francisco's ugliest intersections. I realized today that I've spent so much time waiting for the bus here that this intersection is ingrained into my memory. Let me describe it for you. On the corner where I wait is a Taoist school of some sort. It's mostly just a plain wall with a few translucent glass windows beginning at about 8 feet up from the sidewalk running horizontally across a portion of the big wall. Since it's just a plain wall, it's a hot target for graffiti "artists," and I'd like to add here that whoever Giuseppe is—he or she is no artist. He's (or she's) not even an "artist." All he or she can do is write his name, which I've seen in several other places in the area. Giuseppe, can't you draw? It's not enough these days to just write your letters G-I-U-S-E-P-P-E, even if it's done creatively. Babies can draw. Kindergarteners can draw. There are many others who are much more talented than you are—take a class in graffiti art, for the sake of the public, please! There's an entry inset into the building creating an alcove which is too small in which to permit a homeless person to lie down. The entry door is made of glass and (I believe) a portion of it is mirrored. The wall is painted the color of green tea ice cream. The building is perhaps 3 or 4 stories tall, and higher up are some columns and planters and eaves where pigeons nest. Conveniently using the telephone wires above as a stooping place, the pigeons poop all over the sidewalk, creating art with the bubblegum globs that have accumulated over the decades. The bird poop and bubblegum is usually covered with free range trash—usually newspaper, packaging from convenience foods like potato chips and Burger King cups, and cigarette butts. The trash is alway circulating due to the breeze that comes in from the ocean. A City of San Francisco trash can sits next to the telephone pole on the corner which is next to several newspaper stands. The sidewalk surrounding the trash can has grime buildup and stains from liquids the nature of which I probably don't want to know. A medium blue awning sits above just around the corner from the laundromat on Judah. The awning is dappled with bird shit all over. A Muni bus stop also sits on the corner. If Muni can be commended on anything, it might possibly be the cleanliness of the bus huts. They hire people to drive around all day long in white pickup trucks to wash them. They usually work in teams of two and are pretty efficient. They report broken glass, remove graffiti and stickers, and wash grime off the entire structure. Why Muni doesn't send them inside the busses as well is a mystery to me. They don't—at least not as far as I can tell—and I have the pictures to prove it. Laughed at Margaret Cho's weblog at margaretcho.net. I ask Patrick if he thinks she was stoned writing one article we'd just finished reading. He says, "I think she was high when she wrote all of them!" But she's a reformed sister, isn't she? Go read for yourself and make your own determination.