wishbone clover

Six Stinky Hours Next To "Cap'n Legolas Bad Body Odor"

 

Sometimes I think I'm so funny. And then I'm wrong.

Like when I snapped this photo of a "pirate" waiting for the flight back to San Francisco from Detroit, and tweeted it out with the tag #themagicalcityofsf.

At the time, it sure as hell was funny to me. Here, let's count the ways, starting at the top:

• highly engineered white dude dreads/scruffy beard
• not one, but TWO amateur steampunk-metal-feather-hoop earrings (really, wouldn't one have been plenty? I have to think that Captain Jack Sparrow would have shown restraint, and thereby achieved greater impact -- but that's how you know you're dealing with a professional, innit?) from Etsy
• dashing red sash from Etsy
• corset murse (translation for the uninitiated: man-purse) from Etsy
• a pair of "crafted by elves" gators from Etsy

The only thing missing was a treasure map, with X marking the spot of that stupid McSweeney's pirate supply store in the Mission. And he probably had one safely tucked into his Esty murse.

Ha ha ha! So much airport entertainment! People-watching and tweeting! All in good fun!

Until I walked by him and got a whiff of the most vile body odor, ever. And I've been to Germany! Believe me when I say he had never, ever, ever bathed, washed his clothes, or "defiled" his body with deodorant. Because, you know, PIRATE.

And then saw his seat assignment. 

Yep. Right next to me.

I braced myself for the five hour flight, with a scarf to wrap around my nose, and scented hand lotion which I huffed at regular intervals.

If smells had colors (and you kinda could see fumes radiating off this dude) then his aura would have been acid green with streaks of dried blood red. He smelled like the floor of a charnel house that had been washed down with urine.

Old urine. From angry goats.

With time on the runway waiting for the de-icer, and then 30 minutes in the de-icer, the whole olfactory ordeal took about six hours. Recovery involved a gallon of Febreeze for my coat and prophylactic squirts of Nasonex.

Learn from my tragic experience, and don't mock Pirate Elves in airports!  They travel with Protective Stank Ass, and do not hesitate to unleash it on the entire coach section. You've been warned!

 

Why My Wifi is Wack

We live in an old building. It is dusty. A bunch of things are held together, literally, with duct tape. It is a traditional San Francisco building.

It has charm.

I used to like charm. Covet it, even.

Those days are gone.

Now I say, "Fuck charm and the decrepit, cluttered, non-functional, steampunk, fetishized hobby horse it rode in on!"

These days I fantasize about living in a hermetically sealed apartment, made of blindingly white, anti-microbal plastic, that was (is? will be?) built in the future and delivered to me via time machine.

It will be free of charm/dust catching grooves, easy to clean, and the wifi will work all day, every day.

Actual sign in my basement, below the actual phone wires for the building, directing any phone company representative who might drop by to keep his/her paws off the madness. Because we wouldn't want a trained professional from the phone company to go messing this shit up.

The wifi is an issue for me, because it's my job. I live online, all day, every day. That is, except for the random 15 minute interludes when the wifi just...fades out.

You see, I have delicate -- charming -- phone wiring. You could call it consumptive. And consequently, the wifi, which comes in via the land line, is also prone to periods of nervous exhaustion.

My wifi goes out if the wind blows at a particularly malicious angle.

Or if my neighbor Julie, or my other neighbor, Laura, or her husband Steve, succumbs to an overwhelming urge for microwave popcorn.

Or if anyone slams a door, with moderately emphatic force, within a .82 mile radius of here.

No, really, this is the actual device that brings phone service into my home. The true wonder is that the wifi ever works.

The phone "area" in the basement looks like a Radio Shack-sponsored home improvement experiment circa 1953, which I'm guessing is exactly what it is.

Seriously, a couple of pieces of overchewed Trident gum would improve the signal conductivity by doubling the insulation on the wiring. Look at it!

There are probably several ways I could work around this problem, but I have to admit, we live in a delicate balance with the apartment. I'm terrified mess with it.

If I screw with the phone/wifi, the water heater might give out, or a random electrical surge could blow out every electronic item we own.

Oh, wait, that last thing already happened a few years ago. Yeah, it might finally be time to move. 

In the meantime, if you and I are ever chatting on Skype and I disappear, don't worry. It's probably just Julie (or Laura, or Steve) heating up lunch, and I'll be back online in two minutes and 45 seconds.

Just A Reminder of Where We Are

Wordless Wednesday: The Fauxtsunami of 2010

 

 

Silicon Valley Asian American Voices Project

I love documentaries because true stories always have more twists and turns than anything anyone can make up. This trailer is for Silicon Valley Asian American Voices documentary video project, coordinated by Asian Americans for Community Involvement (AACI), a client of my social media agency, Clever Girls Collective.

The documentary follows the stories—the successes, hardships, and hopes—of three Asian American immigrants in Silicon Valley. It shows their struggles, and also the solutions they find, as they navigate a new culture and language.

As the stories of these three immigrants unfold, it becomes clear that their success at overcoming barriers like access to health care, is tied to the strength and support of the community. It's also moving to see how their contributions to the community make it even stronger. It's a reciprocal relationship.

The Limoncello Bomb

We do "Large Family Holidays" back East. On Christmas there were 40 people at my parents' house. For a sit down dinner!

Rather than go broke and crazy trying to buy gifts for everyone, we do a major Yankee Swap. You can spend a maximum of $50, and can go kooky, e.g. a selection of "As Seen on TV" gifts, including a ShamWow and a Snuggie, or nice, like iPod speakers.

This being my practical-joke-loving family, I was tricky and wrapped the iPod speakers in the box from this glowing tea pot:

blue = cold water

Drinks, Dinner, Dead Guy

The medical debris left after firemen came and saved a man's life.

Last night I had a lady date with my good friend, Tiger. I met her at Fuzio in the Castro, because we like that Firecracker chicken (the lettuce wrap version). Also, the cocktails are big and strong, like the boyz of the Castro.

We hadn't seen each other since before the holidays, so we were having one of those catch up conversations where you start a new story in the middle of a sentence, but you both can keep track of everything.

And then the guy sitting five feet away keeled over and turned blue.

A hush fell over the restaurant, and no one did anything for 30 long seconds. Then half the people stepped back, and the other half rushed forward.

Why It's So Exciting To Live Here

This weekend the fog came in just over the water, dense and compact. From a distance it looked like you could scoop up handfuls of it. But when you were right by the coast, it was a dense cloak that isolated you in a tight cell of diffused the light.

The magical city of SF indeed.

Irish Night at the Giants 2009

Shockingly, we forgot to bring a flag. Fortunately we were able to borrow an extra from the drunks Fine Irish Folk sitting everywhere around near us

I'm a "San Francisco Travel Expert"!

Through my travel writing at UpTake, I was invited to do my first podcast, an "Insider's Guide to San Francisco"! The very cool Addison Schonland from IAG, a travel and aviation consultancy, interviewed me today, posted it 20 minutes later and it's already been downloaded a bunch of times.

Addison helped me avoid screwing up too much, but I did:

• say that Healdsburg was 2 miles (not hours) north of SF
• forget the name of Bodega Bay
• pronounce "room" like "rum," a Boston accent thing that Chief always points out and I always deny. Now he has proof!

It's 20 minutes long, which I understand is time commitment in this busy world. But I tried to make it entertaining -- I even bring up naked people near the end. Enjoy!

- Cat/BadKitty