San Francisco Bears

Anyone who knows me knows that I hate fucking Deadheads. And worse, I hate their dancing bears. This is often a troublesome fact when I spend time in San Francisco. Luckily for me, there is a graffiti artist that has taken the repeating bear and reclaimed it for those of us who think that hippies just need to die of patchuli poisoning. The best part is both of these were taken on Haight Street, just down the block from Grateful Dead central.

I love you, snaggletoothed sacred heart bears (and your little bird, too)!

The Toilet Report #1

So I'm now on a mission to uncover and bring into the harsh light of day the reality of men's toilets. I feel it is my duty to reveal the evilness of the facilities we are a) forced to use and b) make disgusting for others every day.

This lovely toilet is at my place of work. Now, I don't work at Billy Bob's strip club or the local Gas R Up. It's a Fortune 500 company. Every day I go into this bathroom and discover a little surprise. There is some guy who goes in there--again, every day--and delivers a poop with such force that it sticks to the back of the toilet and does not move no matter how often the toilet is flushed. I figure he lives on a strict diet of corn meal, sticky rice, and paste. Not only that, this colon blast comes out at such a trajectory that it nearly goes up and under the seat, a feat of physics that puzzles me endlessly.

Yes, I know this is sickening, but imagine looking at it every day. Plus, he always does it in the stall with the door that can't be easily closed. You know, the one where no matter how careful you are to try and get inertia to keep it shut will invariably creak back open once you move your hand slowly away.

So if you are as sick as I am you can click on the happy little face to see the real toilet of horrors I must face as a smiling employee each morning.

We Are the Robots vs. B.O.B.

I got these from Pitchfork's 100 best videos on YouTube.

Not much happens, but it is awesome. There is some walking. Some robosinging. Some autoturning heads. Kraftwerk flat out rules.

Which reminds me, I finally saw Greg Pak's Robot Stories, and I was really impressed with what he was able to do with such simple ideas.

I guess this is the lesson that we must learn from robot culture--keep it simple, stripped down, and streamlined. If you do it right it will be much cooler. Either that or beware: the robots are going to murder you in your sleep. Nighty night!

"Jane you ignorant slut"

In contrast, this video is fucking bananas and I love it! I cannot describe it beyond a smorgasbord of loony vomited onto my favorite Outkast tune (I just can't help it!) of all time.

Muir Woods Inhabitant

No, this isn't a severed penis. It is the mascot for UC Santa Cruz, the fightin' Banana Slugs! Better than looking at the bloated, dead face of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, right?

Sara and I went for a pair of great hikes around Muir Woods. It's amazing that it can be sooo beautiful that close to San Francisco...and that close to Hwy 1. Texas ain't got nothin' on this place.

The Watchful Eyes of Cat Toys

My roommate, Stella the Cat, has many toys. Does she like these toys? It's hard to say. I've never really seen her play with them. Since we moved (well, Mary and Michael moved while I tagged along) the toys have been arranged in a nice, neat row in front of the "fireplace." There are about 30 of them guarding me as I sack out on the sofa bed.

They talk to me at night.

Climb Aboard the Sushi Boat

Look at all that sushi! After the inevitable photo op we not only ate all of this but had a couple of more rounds.

It took all my strength not to pick up that leaf and eat it. It reminds me of some mints that I used to love.

Though Houston has some AMAZING sushi restaurants, Zaoh here in San Francisco will always be my main go-to spot for cheap, good sushi. It's good to come back for a visit.