1081 Oddstad

http://www.redfin.com/CA/Pacifica/1081-Oddstad-Blvd-94044/home/1141146

Check out the home Matt and I put an offer in on!

Last night the seller accepted our offer! Unfortunately, this is a short sale, so it is subject to approval from the bank...but we're keeping our fingers crossed!

Poles, parking, and psychos

I'm a horrible parker. I can drive through black ice, hydroplane without panicking, drive for hours and hours and hours without stopping. But parking.... Parking is not my forte. 2 hours after my mom bought a brand new car in 1999, I drove that thing right into the garage wall. In 2000, when I was late to work during my short stint at the Gold Nugget Casino, I ripped the mirror right off of my dad's truck and sent it flying into the neighbors yard. In 2002, I hit a pole in my dad's new car while looking at colleges. It's always been a problem for me.

So, two days ago, when I was leaving the gym at around 7:00 am, it's not surprising that I bashed into a concrete pole in the parking garage. Now, given my history, some may think that this was an act of carelessness, however, I have a valid excuse for hitting that pole. As I waited patiently to step into the elevator to the parking garage, my mind was drifting off. I was thinking about what I had to do that day, my current job prospects, and the way my legs felt like spaghetti after a brutal workout. When the elevator went *DING* and people started filing out a nice middle age woman stepped out first. I was blocking her way so I stepped to the left. She stepped to the left. I stepped to the right to avoid a collision. She stepped to the right. I've been in situations like this before...usually the out come is a chuckle between both parties or a cliche comment like, "You wanna dance?"

Imagine my surprise when instead of a pleasant encounter with this stranger and a brief laught at our inability to manuever around eachother, she puts her face two inches from mine and shouts, "JESUS F&*%ING CHRIST" Holy Crap, what a psycho! this nice looking middle aged woman trying to maintain her figure by working out in the mornings goes postal on me. I'm thinking, "Jeez, if a simple encounter like that can make her take the Lord's name in vain with such disdain, I wonder what it would take for her to shank me???" That was my cue to get the hell out of there.

I hurried into the elevator and to Ginger, my old reliable wagon. As I backed up, I scanned the parking lot for the elevator psycho, being careful to look between cars and behind concrete poles.....During my escape, I did not happen to see the large concrete pole in my blind site.

CRUNCH!!!!!!

Now, my steering column is bent, my radiator is leaking, and Ginger is crying her little eyes out at some auto shop down the street....All because of that Elevator Psycho.

When Matt and I took Ginger to the shop we spoke with "Frank" an Asian man with broken English. Here's a synopsis of how that convo went...

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Matt: Hi, we were hoping you could take a look at our Subaru Outback. I think the Steering column is bent...

Frank: How you bend steering column?

Matt: Well, uhh, my girlfriend hit a pole

Frank: What, how she bend steering column with pole?? How fast she going?

Matt: I'm not sure, but the alignment is really off.

Frank: Ok. We take look

Matt: Also, the radiator is leaking...

Frank: Ok.

Matt: And, I think the rear brakes need replacing. I heard some metal grinding on my way here.

Frank: (concerned voice) Metal grinding? From hitting pole?

Matt: Uhhh, no, they just need to be replaced.

Frank: Okay (Money Signs in his eyes)

Matt: And you might as well change the oil. I don't think she's had an oil change in about 2 years...

Frank: You may want to just upgrade yo car. Put all this money in old car, not worth it. Maybe if you upgrade yo girlfriend you don't need to upgrade car.

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Okay, maybe I exagerated this conversation a bit at the end, but I swear that's what Frank was thinking.

Project Soundwave

http://www.projectsoundwave.com/

Check it out!

Preventing Sexual Harassment Class

California Law mandates employers to educate their employees on Sexual Harassment. As I feel that sexual harassment is very common, I completely support this. However, if the examples in the training are so over the top and obvious hyperboles of realistic scenarious, what is the freaking point?

Taken directly from my Sexual Harassment Class:

Shawn: Oh wowww, who is that?
Jason: That's Monique, she just started a few weeks ago.

Shawn: Damnnnnn, Monique is one fiiiinnnnne lady!


"Although Monique did not hear Shawn or see him biting his knuckles while leering at her, these actions contribute to a hostile work environment and may offend others nearby."

Thank you Employer. Thank you for informing me that it is never okay to bite knuckles at a cute boy.

Matt 'n Meg in Monterey

An exerpt from Cannery Row by John Steinbeck

"Cannery Row (below) in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone , a habit, a nostalgia, a dream. Cannery Row is the gathered and scattered, tin and iron and rust and splintered wood, chipped pavement and weedy lots and junk heaps, sardine canneries of corrugated iron, honky tonks, restaurants and whore houses, and little crowded groceries, and laboratories and flophouses. Its inhabitants are, as the man once said, "whores, pimps, gamblers , and sons of bitches, " by which he meant Everybody. Had the man looked through another peephole he might have said, "Saints and angels and martyrs and holy men," and he would have meant the same thing."

Matt and I share a love for literature. We each spend a fair bit of time reading and talking about what we have read. Our discussions are thought-provoking and imaginative and often times lead to lots of giggles, or long strung out stories and scenarios.

This weekend we decided to take a trip to Monterey, California to see the old stomping grounds of one of my favorite authors, John Steinbeck. We jumped in the car and cruised down the beautiful California coastline feeling just like John and Charley (his black poodle) when they hit the road for the book Travels with Charley.

We didn't listen to the radio or CDs, but rather to each other and to the wind and to the ocean. I read Matt my favorite excerpts from Steinbeck books and he listened intently, occasionally asking me to repeat a sentence or phrase that struck his ear. When I tired of reading we drove in a pleasant quiet, broken when Matt pointed out an interesting tree or made up stories about us getting a farm along the coastline.

When we arrived in Monterey we headed straight to Cannery Row, an area of Monterey that was transformed from the stink and filth of fish cannery to become an upscale tourist destination. Steinbeck's novel Cannery Row features "Doc" a marine biologist based on Ed Ricketts, a Monterey Local who had a close friendship with Steinbeck. As I read passages about Doc and glanced over at Matt I was surprised at how similar Matt is to the character of Doc. "Doc would listen to any kind of nonsense and change it for you to a kind of wisdom. His mind had no horizon -- and his sympathy had no warp. He could talk to children, telling them very profound things so that they understood. He lived in a world of wonders. Everyone who knew him was indebted to him. And everyone who thought of him thought next, "I really must do something nice for Doc." In Cannery Row, Steinbeck wrote of Doc, "He wears a beard and his face is half Christ and half satyr and his face tells the truth." I told Matt that I thought that described him well also and he chuckled at the Jesus reference.

The Children of Famine: (a.k.a. most F'd up fairy tale ever)

My boyfriend and I have been reading the Complete Fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm. So far they have provided us with hours of entertainment including deep discussions about life and death, morality and also plenty of giggles.

We have developed a rating system and rate each story after reading it. The rating is alphanumeric, consisting of two letters and a number. The letters come from a listing of adjectives that Matt and I developed and the number is the age at which it is okay to read the story. So far, after reading close to 40 stories, this is the only story that I rated an F, H, 17. (F'd Up, Horrifying, Age 17)

If this story isn't a clear illustration of a Mother's addiction to Meth, I don't know what is. I'm thinking of submitting it to the Montana Meth Project for a commercial script.

The Children of Famine

Once upon a time there was a woman with two daughters, and they had become so poor that they no longer had even a piece of bread to put in their mouths. Their hunger became so great that their mother became unhinged and desperate. Indeed, she said to her children, "I've got to kill you so I can have something to eat!"

"Oh, dear Mother," said one daughter, "spare me, and I'll go out and see if I can get something without begging."


She went out and came back carrying a little piece of bread, which they shared with one another. But it was not enough to still their hunger. Therefore, the mother spoke to the other daughter, "Now it's your turn to die!"

"Oh, dear Mother," she answered, "spare me and I'll go get something to eat from somewhere else without anyone noticing me."

She went away and came back carrying two little pieces of bread. They shared it with one another but it was not enough to still their hunger. Therefore, when a few hours had gone by, their mother said to them once more, "You've got to die or else we'll waste away."

To which they responded, "Dear Mother, we'll lie down and sleep, and we wont get up again until the Judgement Day arrives."

So they lay down and fell into a deep sleep, and no one could wake them from it. Meanwhile, their mother departed, and nobody knows where she went.

The End
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Please see my version of the story that I will submit to the Montana Meth Project.

The Children of Meth

Once upon a time there was a woman (dirty trampy hag) with two daughters, and they had become so poor (due to their mother's addiction to meth) that they no longer had even a piece of bread to put in their mouths (or any drugs for their mother to consume). Their hunger (and their mother's jone-sing) became so great that their mother became unhinged and desperate. Indeed, she said to her children, "I've got to kill you (and/or pimp you out) so I can have something to eat (snort, shoot up, smoke...not sure how that works really)!"
"Oh, dear Mother," said one daughter, "spare me, and I'll go out and see if I can get something without begging."

She went out and came back carrying a little piece of bread (bag of drugs), which they shared with one another (gave to their mother). But it was not enough to still their (her) hunger. Therefore, the mother spoke to the other daughter, "Now it's your turn to die (and or be pimped out)!"

"Oh, dear Mother," she answered, "spare me and I'll go get something to eat (some drugs for you) from somewhere else without anyone noticing me (stealing)."

She went away and came back carrying two Little pieces of bread (bags of drugs). They shared it with one another (gave it to their mother) but it was not enough to still their (her) hunger. Therefore, when a few hours had gone by, their mother said to them once more, "You've got to die or else we'll (I'll) waste away (go through withdrawals)."

To which they responded, "Dear Mother, we'll lie down and sleep, and we wont get up again until the Judgement Day (Child Welfare) arrives."

So they lay down and fell into a deep sleep, and no one could wake them from it. Meanwhile, their mother departed, and nobody knows where she went (but one can assume she's probably dead in a gutter somewhere).

The End
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Primary Morale of that story: Don't do it. Not even once.

Secondary Morale of that story: Not all Fairy tales are kid friendly

Mount Tam

After spending the morning packing food, clothing and shelter for our journey to Mount Tamalpais, Matt and I headed over the Golden Gate Bridge and started up the winding road to our base camp at Pantoll Campground. As we drove through Mill Valley, a small town in Marin County we passed the 7-11 store. As I had been primarily responsible for the preparation of our camping trip due to my reputation as a rugged Montana outdoors man, Matt jokingly said, "My job will be to remember where the local 7-11 is." Turns out he wasn't kidding. The road was windy and treacherous. We drove up and up, round and round, up and round, and round an up until the saliva in my mouth started to become thick and metallic tasting and my eyes began darting around the outback to see if I had anything to barf into. If the decision wouldn't have led to driving down and down and round and round and round and down and down and round, I would have stopped at that 7-11 for some freaking Dramamine for my car sickness.

As we unpacked the car, I sheepishly told Matt that I had purchased a box of firewood from Safeway. I prefaced this confession with a threat not to tell any of my friends that a Montanan had actually PURCHASED firewood. Humiliating. But as the rules clearing state, collecting firewood in the Mount Tamalpais Wilderness is strictly prohibited. As the night wore on our pile of Safeway wood rapidly declined. Luckily for us Matt had remembered where the 7-11 was, and we were forced to drive down and down, round and round, down and round and round and down the mountain to pick up another two ridiculously priced bushells, some smokes, and some Malt Liquor.

We ended up have a great time together out in the California Woods.