Journal of Pirate Lingo*


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* not an actual journal
of pirate lingo

02.08.01 - 6:53 p.m.

i've been really busy! time to just type, type type. this is going to be verbose and sprawling, edit later?? starting last thursday:

thurs: skipped work cos I was "sick". SICK OF WORK! (uh-oh, i said the loud part quiet and the quiet part loud)

hung out in berkeley w/ a. and didn't do much of import

fri: work, then up to berkeley. went to bed early in anticipation of MASSIVE X-TREME BIKE RIDE

sat: massive x-treme bike ride. a. and i started @ embarcadero, wound our way around the north edge of the city, past the wave organ (defunct), over golden gate bridge (lovely), into sausalito, where we drank beer & ate peanut butter sandwiches that had been craftily made by A. with peanut butter on both sides of the bread to prevent jelly-induced sogginess. then we came back across golden gate bridge (so gorgeous, the ocean was sparkling and the wind wasn't so bad except at the pillars, where it was so strong you felt like you were going to fly off the bridge like a kite) and back through the presidio. i proceeded to get us lost-- we ended up in north SF near lombard, which is a hellish, hellish place to be on a bike. every road inclined upward at a 45 degree angle. it was absurd. we ended up walking our bikes up for 10 blocks, cursing under our breath the whole way. well a. was cursing under her breath. i was brightly saying things like "man, this is great exercise!" in a feeble attempt to mask my incompetence.

#x in series: that moment when we were crossing underneath the bridge to the other side, and we stopped in the middle and listened to the strangely muted roar of traffic and the sounds the bridge made as all the cars went past.

In the evening we had dinner w/ Blair & (?name escapes me, his friend who is a girl) & then went to last day saloon to see "ron jeremy explosion", which is a "funk" band. Normally I would not go to see a band like that because a) the name is ham-fisted and b) I am not a big fan of "funk" bands. but, i met their keyboardist at chris & tirza's dinner party and he had just been laid off from his job and he seemed like a nice guy, and the last day saloon is only a few blocks from my apt. a whole bunch of us ended up going. (c, t, shawn, jenny, angi, blair, blair's friend who is a girl, jay, sandeep, a. and me)

We were temporarily stymied by this opaque burly Russian guy who was tending tickets on the staircase. We asked him how much the show was and he replied (in thick, slavic accent) : "twenty five dollar". he smiled a toothy grin. i thought he was fucking with us and asked again, how much. "twenty five dollar." when I asked incredulously if that was just for the ron jeremy explosion, he denied their existence. "Tonight is Russian night, all russian bands." Ok... time to retreat & regroup.

After much investigation, shouting on cell phones, threatening, cajoling and polling of strangers, we finally figured out what was going on. There was this private party for a huge group of russians going from 7-10, which was $25, and after that r.j.explosion was coming on. later the waitress confided to us how lame the russians had been -- apparently the entry price was so high that none of the russians had been able to afford more than a single drink. and, their english wasn't very good. so the waitress would come to pick up their empty drink glasses--

Waitress: would you like another drink?

Russian: Yes! (beams)

Waitress: what kind of drink?

Russian: (confused pause): ...No!

Waitress (gesticulates wildly to mime "another drink, what kind")

Russian (finally gets what she's saying): No! No no!

Around 10:30 r.j.explosion finally came on. they weren't very good, but no matter, just an excuse to drink. had a shameful "all back to mine" moment when everybody came back to apt. and angi & i hadn't stocked any booze. by the time i remembered hungry hungry hippos the crowd had dissipated. *sob*

sun: brunch @ shawns, the making of waffles and unwinding. brunch is good space to breathe.

mon - working hard to prep for weds

tues:pg&e flew my team up to portland to celebrate completion of the wretched gas pipeline management system. wretched, but (bursting with pride) it's *our* wretched gas pipeline management system. I was all hyped because they put us in luxury box seats at portland's baseball stadium, so we could watch a game that night. only came down to earth when one of my more baseball savvy friends pointed out that portland doesn't *have* a major league team. doh. it was a triple AAA game. the portland "beavers" vs. the something "somethings". (i wasn't taking detailed notes on every little thing, ok?) we had a good time even though it was small scale. there were @ 6,000 people there and the luxury box seats turned out to be little more than concrete enclosures elevated above the bleachers. but, free beer.

Things I learned about baseball:

1) seventh inning stretch

2) infield chatter

3) baseball may seem quite boring, but once you really get down into it and begin to understand the intricacies of baseball strategy, you realize that it's really, REALLY boring

For me the most notable event of the game was my getting menaced by the Beavers mascot, i.e. a guy in a giant beaver suit. What happened was, I was sitting in the luxury box area talking to A. on my cellphone, cos I was bored. Suddenly I look up and the beaver guy is looming over me! It was very startling and terrifying. His crony had apparently seen me talking and sent him over my way for a little jolly ho-ho. I felt very awkward cos I didn't know if he could talk or not. (Shawn suggested that, if we were being videotaped, a funny thing to have done would be to punch him in the stomach, and then tackle him. But I don't think I could win a fight with a guy in a beaver outfit because of all the padding-- he wouldn't feel a thing. then he'd start whaling on me and pummeling me. But don't you think that would be a funny video?) After a prolonged silence I finally shook his hand and yelled "GO BEAVERS!" This seemed to placate him, and he moved on to menace someone else.

(how much do mascots get paid? TOO MUCH)

[at the ballpark. and yes, this is the least attractive group of people ever assembled in a public space.]

in the evening, hung out with Todd as he lives in portland. we argued about the ethical dimensions of burning cds/ripping mp3s. there was also drinking

weds: working on-site, meeting clients at pg&e. they're "business casual" so i had to wear my one crumpled pair of khakis. i saw a gap ad (was it gap? some clothing company) that said jack kerouac wore khakis. i wonder how how cool mr. beatnik would look if he had to also wear an ugly polo shirt and a pager on his belt. not so cool now, are you mr kerouac!

lotsa meetings (i had on my game face, it war very professional). i'm always amazed at how in these meetings i can act like a grown-up and frown concernedly as issues are raised and todos are taken and specifications are pored over, when inside i'm a 10 year old kid squirming and wanting to throw pencils. i think most people are probably like this.

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