Friday, April 5, 2013

La Vie

Man, I really suck at posting anymore, huh? About a year ago I was like, "I'm gonna write ALL THE TIME! And, like, dedicate myself to this and be on top of it! And get good!" The gods laughed at my plans and I think I did the opposite.

On the other hand, you should thank me for not just sprouting bs for the sake of sprouting bs. I could do that, but then it would diminish the value of service that I provide that is most of the time me shouting into the ether.

Anyway, updates! List form!

1. There was a boy thing because of course there was. To call it a "thing" is generous. But I am me, which means that when I am incredibly awkward (always), I over-think things (again: always) and spent three weeks running every conversation this person and I had over and over in my head and pondering what I should have done or said differently and coming up with the perfect witty quip days after the fact. And all of it was really a waste of time and energy other than some fantastic back and forth emails and text messages with the stepsister that resulted from this over-analysis.

After spilling so many words and contemplating why and what and how I feeeeeel about it all (something I am loathe to do because to what end?) I was finally like, "Oh fuck this. Done." So. Some of the intervening weeks since I last posted were spent obsessing uselessly over that.

Also: next time I'm going full Isla Fisher in Wedding Crashers because I've had enough. If you're gonna make me think I'm crazy, I'm just gonna BE crazy. (I'm really still kinda pissed about this whole thing and then pissed that I'm pissed and I think I need to take a boxing class.)

2. Then I got a cold. I would like to blame said boy for said cold but who knows. He's all healthy and shit so he probably ate some chia seeds and wasn't sick. (What is up with chia seeds? Is this the new thing?) I, on the other hand, do not have the immune system of a person who eats right and goes to bed early and doesn't drink to excess. I resisted getting the cold for a week and then spent a few days in bed coughing and feeling miserable. But I was a trooper and so proud of myself for going to work when feeling less than a 100%. Like an actual adult! At a job I'm not paid to do. And then immediately called in sick the following day I was supposed to be there. Because I am still not a fully formed grown-up. Also because the hall of justice is disgusting and full of germs and criminals and the thought of touching anything there was horrifying and I'm not even a germaphobe. I have the last dregs of the cough/chest junk left and keep getting the side eye from the judge who I think would prefer I wasn't coughing all over her chambers but dedication!

3. The court liaison officer (like a bailiff, but a cop) even said, "Why are you spewing your lung junk all over the place?" Which is a way of introducing him. I can't share a lot of court stories because they are privileged. But some happen in open court and are fair game and some are just us chatting and irrelevant so I feel okay sharing what a complete roll our CLO was on the other day. He was HILARIOUS. We had an extended conversation on proper tactic to bust down a door and how it's his favorite thing to do.

Me, "My dad once said, after he made sergeant, that you kind of have to be an idiot to be a patrol man. 'I tell them to knock down the door and they do it! They have no idea what's on the other side!'"

CLO, "Right, but if you are the one that breaks down the door, you step aside and everyone else goes charging through and you DON'T get shot." He did a little peeking around the door jamb goofy face and a hop skip step by way of illustration. "Some places send in the biggest guy first. He's the meat shield. We send in shortest first." I died laughing at "meat shield". Died.

"And you actually want to be first," he continued, "You don't want to be second or third. By the time the criminal sees you and reacts, he misses the first guy and hits the second or third. So be the point guy."

"Do you have 'Likes to break down doors' on your resume?"

"Yes, I do. I am quite proficient at it."

He then went on to tell the story of how one of the city's projects upgraded their hardware and put in a steel door frame. Not a steel door, just the frame. And how he bashed the door and was perplexed at the resistance he was getting from the battering ram. He was telling this with much flourish and with facial expressions that were worth the story and ended with him making that "WTF" face at the door frame like it was somehow the inanimate object's fault and not the human who couldn't get through the door. Which if you've hung out with dudes long enough is a thing they do often.

We then somehow devolved into quoting the Princess Bride and the fact that I hate The Wire and he's one of the first people I know to understand that it's because I lived it, not because I think it's bad TV.

The following day we discussed how someone should write a heist movie based around the president being in town and all the resources are pulled for that, leaving response time in the rest of the city down. But we figured for reasons of national security we wouldn't be allowed to write it.

And then I got giddy discussing contracts with him. Seriously you guys, I LOVE contracts. It's an illness. Contracts don't give a fuck. They're the best. I want to marry them. And then divorce them so I can tear into those contractual principles. Such a nerd.

4. I had to go to the post office the other day. THE WORST. But as I was finally, mercifully leaving it, a guy walked out ahead of me with an Irish Wolfhound. The five year old with his mom says, "Mom that dog is HUGE!" His mom agrees and says, "Yeah, it's as big as a goat!" I cocked my head in that perplexed way. WTF kind of goats is this lady familiar with? Not your average petting zoo goat, that's for sure. Did she mean the kind of goat David Booth killed? Because that thing was huge. An Irish Wolfhound big as a Shetland Pony. It's not as big as a goat. It could EAT a goat. But it's function is, ya know, WOLF HOUND. I guess my point is that as a parent you should have some understanding of the world and not tell your kid that an Irish Wolfhound is the same size as a goat.

5. It was the guy best friend's birthday last weekend. He decided we were going to the Tourist Club in Muir Woods. It's a german beer hall with a big patio that you have to hike to. Not far, necessarily, just from the parking lot. It was fun and bucolic and all that. But it was entirely downhill on the way from the parking lot, meaning it was entirely up on the way back. Which at the tail end of a chest cold after a couple beers was not the most pleasant endeavor. I would definitely go back when feeling a bit better, take the dipsea trail and enjoy a few more beers in slightly warmer weather. It did, oddly enough, have kind of a marina-ish vibe.

Then we went to the East Bay after that. I don't exactly know why (well, half our group lives there) but I was driving and it was his birthday so I didn't have much say. The bar was fine and all but, and I'm gonna sound like an asshole, going to the east bay always fills me with groaning. I'll happily drive North or South. Something about going over the Bay Bridge and navigating the 18 stupid freeways in suburban hell over there makes me cranky. And then our East Bay friends called it a night. At 8 p.m. The birthday boy wanted to continue drinking. I told him that was fine but that since I was driving and the rest of us lived in the city, there was no way I was staying in the East Bay. If he wanted to go out, he was gonna have to come into the city. He obliged.

But he's not a great decision maker. As we're crossing the bridge I say, "What's the plan?" I'm met with blank stares. It's established we need food. Again, blank stares on what or where to go. I finally tease out that red sauce Italian seems to be on the agenda and make the command decision to go to Joe's of Westlake. THAT is met with horror. "Daly City?! That's soooo far!" We were just in Marin and the East Bay, I've driven over three bridges and it'll take me longer to find parking in Hayes Valley, where you live, than if I drive ten minutes South of the city but y'all are bitching about Daly City? When I'm the one driving? GTFO.

I take them to the god's waiting room that is that restaurant and they LOVE it. First, I sit them in the cozy bar with a fireplace where we order 4 cocktails as we wait for our table. The waitress comes back and says, "That'll be $20.50." They look at me like she can't possibly be serious. But she is. And they made fun of going to Daly City! Then they see the menu and the prices and the portions and that the food is delicious and they shut up.

After that we headed to the outer sunset surfer bar but it was packed and we couldn't get service so I took them to shitty outer sunset Irish bar which was kind of depressing and then we called it a night because we'd been out all day and were sleepy from actual food and I was home, sober, by midnight after being a good friend and dropping them off back in Hayes Valley. Lesson: Don't be the one with the car who offers to drive. Also: I will feel no guilt about having them come to Occidental for my birthday or alternately the Sunday Giants/Dodgers day game the weekend following my birthday even knowing they don't like baseball.

6. I have an interview in the Central Valley on Monday that I'm sort of terrified/excited (terricited, if you will; related to horribawesome) about, so send me good vibes and any interviewing tips you have would be great and omg I really need a paying job because loans are due and I freak out about my future on a regular basis but mostly keep those panicky feeling buried deep inside of me and then drink. LIFE!

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