Saturday, April 30, 2005

My Life Is Better Than Yours

I'd teach you, but I would have to levy a fee. ;-)

I got some great news yesterday: my company realized they hired too many people to do the work they have planned, so they're terminating the contract with three of the five of us. My boss held a quick-and-dirty, super-top-secret meeting to tell me and one other person that he wants to keep us and let the others go. And since there is still some indecision about some of the features we're documenting, my co-worker and I are getting a week's paid vacation, which is separate from the vacation I accrue from the contracting company that hired me. VERY. COOL.

I think we earned it. I work pretty fast, and we had to log everything we did in a shared database, so I know I produced the most content. I was worried that my fast working would mean less money because I get paid by the hour, but it looks like things turned out alright! I'm pretty excited about going back a week from now too. Since more of the features will be hashed out, our projects are going to get more interesting.

As he ran through the timeline for the remainder of our contract, my boss also noted that around September, we would start talking about whether we want to continue doing contract work there or become full-time employees. For him to mention the possibility of either option this early is definitely awesome. And companies don't usually give hourly employees paid vacations unless they're interested in keeping them around. So... what will I do with this week?

My first inclination was to fly to Vegas and play cards, but now I'm leaning toward visiting Honolulu again because I haven't been there since I was eight. My main concern, as always, is Zoey. I would like the nice couple I live with to walk her when they walk their dog, but I don't want them to feel like I expect them to. Kennels and dog-walkers are so expensive though, even independent people who do it from home. I mean, $30 to walk a dog once? What planet are you living on?

Anyway, before I leave, I want to finish my synopsis of See-What-Happens-Larry, my psycho ex-roommate. I promise it will be a good read, even for those of you who have already heard about his antics firsthand.

posted by platkat @ 3:04 PM  0 million people love The Kat

 

Thursday, April 28, 2005

See What Happens, Larry? (Extended)

The title of this post is based on a quote from The Big Lebowski, but since you're such a hip amateur film critic, you already knew that.

So I got a job in the San Jose area and I was all ready to start. I didn't have much time to fly out beforehand and look for a place, so I decided to rent site unseen. It worked in college (which I am no longer attending, as Gus pointed out) and I lived with some pretty crackheaded people. I really thought I'd had the worst of it. Very few people could be more disgusting and pathetic than some of the morons I was forced to live with at LSU. After all, as people age, they generally mellow out and do their thing without acting like complete asshats, right?

Wrong. Introducing See-What-Happens-Larry, the window-washing psychopath that I lived with for less than three weeks.

Before I even arrived at the house, there was trouble. I had called him when I was leaving, and told him I'd call again when I was closer to town. When I did this, he said something to the effect of, "Just so you know, I'm not going to be taking care of your dog while you go away for the weekend. I have two of my own dogs and a cat and a bird and I don't have time to be worrying about other people's pets."

At what point had our several three-minute phone conversations led him to believe that I expected anyone else to take care of Zoey? Never. Because I've always looked after her. She's mine. Duh. I brushed it off, just assuming he was nervous or something.

When we met face-to-face, he explained that he was up on a ladder washing windows when I called. Okay. I was not aware that being up on a ladder causes a person to transform into a complete friggin' jerk. Moreover, and this goes for everyone, if you're too busy to talk, don't answer your phone. Voicemail was invented so you can know who is calling without addressing the caller right away. If your phone rings and you pick it up, you're saying to the caller, "Hi, I'm willing to talk now." If that's not the case, let it ring.

Anyway, he shows me around the house, in which he smokes not just marijuana, but cigarettes too. It may seem strange to look at it that way, but every smoker and former smoker knows that pot smoke clears out in less than an hour, but tobacco is forever. Still, I didn't think it would matter much. Contrary to what my parents and all the anti-smoking PSAs try to tell you, smokers aren't bad people. Sure it's unhealthy, but so are lots of socially acceptable things, like eating McDonald's every day.

The smoking alone wasn't a huge problem. My room was smoke-free. It just sucked to open my door to a stench-ridden house every morning. And I didn't notice until I moved, but my clothes smelled like smoke, too. Again though, not a huge problem, as I've often asked for it by hanging out at Austin dives like the Cloakroom, Canary Roost, and GCue.

But in addition to the smoke that clung to the walls of this relatively small house, a number of repairs needed to be made. I'd like to mention here that I wanted to rent from a homeowner, not only because it's almost always cheaper than getting an apartment, but because an owner who lives there is more likely to fix what's broken. After all, it's his place too. You'd think a person would try to keep their living space nice whether they own it or not, but that's not the case here.

The screen to the front door was partially torn out of the screen door, such that it was large enough for the dogs to jump through. It was ripped enough that, in my opinion, he might as well have just taken the damn thing off.

The bathroom door didn't lock. Yes, THE bathroom. The one bathroom I was supposed to share with this guy. It was pretty easy to tell when someone was in the bathroom, so this wasn't a problem for awhile. Until Larry walked in on me while I was washing my face. Thank God I wasn't taking a shit, but I wasn't happy about it. He'd obviously had a few drinks and wasn't thinking. Still, I could be drunk enough for the two of us and remember that a closed door means someone's in there.

Let's go inside the bathroom, shall we? Toilet lid: broken off. Toilet seat: partially duct-taped. Toilet paper roll holder: missing. Bathtub drain fixture (now this is precious): weighed down by a butterfly corkscrew with the cork still in it. It makes sense though, he probably doesn't need to open wine very much as I was probably the first woman to set foot in that house since the Reagan Administration.

The kitchen was a bit funky too. A washer/dryer took up most of the space in it because there was no utility room. Although somewhat obtrusive, I was glad they were there because I hate leaving the house to do mundane chores such as laundry. The refrigerator, a main appliance in most kitchens, took up but a small corner of the room. It resembled something I used in my college dorm, and then my cubicle at work, but was much smaller. Would have been nice of him to mention that he was monopolizing a small dorm fridge and all the cabinet space before expecting a roommate.

The walls of my room, and the rest of the house, were diiiirty. Dark and dirty like bad UK garage tracks. They were dirty, I learned, because Larry likes to come home every night and leave the font and back doors open. I could see he was attempting to air out the house to compensate for his filthy habits, but what he was really doing was allowing every creature with six to eight legs and/or wings to come inside. Shouldn't they be paying rent? I usually had to inspect the bathroom before I used it, since most of the big ones liked to hang out in there.

It's amazing that bugs even found our house, since it was surrounded by pavement. The "frontyard" served as a driveway. The backyard was maybe an 8" by 15" concrete stoop. Larry never walked his two unruly dalmatians. Since he left the door open, they could walk out and shit on the concrete, and every week or so, he'd pick it all up. I didn't think of it much until an earthy hippie I met in San Francisco told me that dogs go crazy when they're not exposed to outdoor smells. Those dalmatians were loopy because they could never be outside and go on real walks like normal dogs. I suppose I'd go crazy if I had to shit on concrete. Dunno, never tried it...

Anyway, enough about the house. You get the jist of it. And believe it or not, as well as Gus took care of me in Austin, and as well as I took care of myself before I met him, I could deal with the dilapidated dwelling. All I need is a roof over my head and place to sleep and everything else is gravy. The problem here was not the living conditions, wretched as they may sound. No, the problem was See-What-Happens-Larry. His mood swings, his anger, his inability to grasp the concept of anything beyond a black or white scenario... those were problems.

The real deal breaker that caused me to start shopping for a new place was the time he kicked my dog. His dogs came into my room and started eating my dog's food. My dog let it slide the first time, but when I put more out for her to eat, his stupid dogs tried to eat it again. My dog growled to defend her turf, and his dogs growled back and they got into a scuffle. Larry separated the dogs and then kicked my dog in the face. My biggest issue with it is that he and his dogs were not in any danger at that point. He was just mad. He apologized afterwards and pet her... I don't know how much of the aftermath was due to the fact that I was watching the whole thing.

Larry seemed mad all the time, even when he was happy. When he talked to me, he tried to soften his voice, but it still sounded kind of like yelling. This was pretty strange behavior for a pot smoker, but it was normal to him.

Larry owned a small window-washing business. By small, I mean it had one employee: him. He worked about five hours a day, so he was always home when I woke up and often home when I returned from work. On the first day we met, he pretty much summed up his philosophy on life, "I like to sleep in, get up and work for a few hours, and then just come home and party." Hearing this from a guy in his late thirties is funny alone, but now imagine that he talks just like Carl from Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

"Partying" for this guy meant coming home, cracking open a beer and smoking a few Js. Nothing wrong with that. But at his age, you should really have enough going on in your life when you can't (and don't want to) do that every day.

He fancied himself a musician, and had some recording equipment strewn about the living room. (Gus: "Look on the bright side, if your place gets robbed, at least they'll just steal his stuff.") He played the guitar and he sounded alright. He told me when we met that he likes to have friends over to "jam." And thus, when friends were over, I expected a "jam session" of some sort. It didn't even have to be awe-some. Instead, there was a bit of instrument-playing sandwiched between large chunks of pot-smoking and TV-watching. Rock over London, rock on Mountain View...

I think Larry had just undergone a midlife crisis before I met him. But since he had no money and couldn't buy a sportscar, he decided to make a life change (which I admire more anyway). He took up reading. That's definitely cool. I've always loved to read and it was nice to see the village idiot making an effort to get his knowledge on. I could tell it was a new thing for him because most avid readers his age wear their intelligence on their sleeves. Larry was still in the process of obtaining the metaphorical shirt.

He had also recently purchased the game, Scrabble. He was really excited about playing with me, so we busted it out a few times. One time, I kept getting the right letters to spell words that could be interpreted as being of a sexual nature. He took that as a sign to make a lame pass at me.

The last time we played, I told him I was planning to move out at the end of the month. He was really pissed off because even though I was living there under the agreement that we'd give it a try, he seemed to think I was going to live there long-term, which was never the case. I said that I was concerned with being in a healthy living environment that's best for me and my dog, but he was hell-bent on the fact that he was not going to have the extra rent money coming to him every month. But he settled himself down by saying, "That's karma. I've just been reading about that lately and... That's karma." As if to say, "You'll get yours." But I hardly think my not solving his problem of needing extra money constitutes as "karma comin' at me". Furthermore, I've also done some reading on eastern religions, and karma is a ripple effect, not simple give-and-take. Of course, I knew better than to try explaining this to someone who had just learned the word yesterday.

He ended up "evicting" me the next day, telling me that I had till 6 the next day to move out. I say "evicting" because he was not the landlord to whom I had directly paid my rent, so I could have legally stayed there till the end of the month. Luckily, my new roommates were ready for me and Gus was in town that weekend, so everything worked out. Larry didn't make it sound like he had found someone else to take the room. Again, he just seemed angry and wanted to react in some dramatic way. I found the whole thing to be quite ridiculous.

In conclusion, some people may be reading all of this thinking, "Okay, you had a bad roommate experience. But don't you think it's unfair to tarnish this guy's name on the internet?" My answer is this: If you don't want the dozen or so people who read my blog to know you're a psychopathic asshole, don't kick dogs, don't live like a disgusting pig, don't hit on me after I've told you that I have a boyfriend, and don't get hostile for no reason.

posted by platkat @ 12:59 PM  1 million people love The Kat

 

Persistent Decorative State

When I die with the knife in my chest instead of my back, I want to be remembered like any other great hero. I don't want to be thrown in some stinking mass grave, or even carried away and honored at some barbaric ceremony. Proper burials in cemeteries are for the common, and cremation is for the overly nostaligic. When I die, I want a huge diamond ring made out of my remains so Gus can wear his dead girlfriend around his finger and use it as a conversation piece.

posted by platkat @ 9:40 AM  3 million people love The Kat

 

Monday, April 25, 2005

Rooster Booster

After work, I stopped at the dry cleaners on the way home. It is literally on my way home, which is the only reason I chose that one over any of the others. I usually like to check the credentials of a place before I go there, but that's kinda tough for dry cleaners. Every strip mall has one, and it's impossible to tell if it's good or bad.

So I pull into into the parking lot and as I leave my car, I hear "Cock-a-doodle-dooooo!" I stopped for a minute, shook my head, and kept walking. That rooster is far away and has nothing to do with me.

Wrong! That rooster is the dry cleaning man's pet. His name is Ruby, and he likes to hang out at the store all day.

Amused, I began taking pictures.





I'll find out Thursday if clothes clean better with a rooster booster.

posted by platkat @ 8:31 PM  0 million people love The Kat

 

Friday, April 22, 2005

Kat's Life Grab Bag #1

As you can clearly see, I've been too busy to post. Sometimes, when I have big things happening, I like to take a break and marvel at the little things that are happening too... and write blog posts about them first because it's easier. Introducing Kat's Life Grab Bag:

1. Since I've moved all my crap to a hotel room in Sunnyvale (explanation forthcoming), I don't have a fridge to put food in. That's not a huge problem because I don't have that much, but I'd like to save the little I've purchased. Of course they're cleaning the fridges in our building at work this weekend, so of course I can't keep my food at work the one weekend I don't have a fridge. So I just wandered all over Building 6 looking for a fridge, trying to pretend that I belong there. I found one, so now I'm more worried about never finding it again.

2. Something like 3 days in a row circa last weekend, I have been walking down the streets of San Fran, Mountain View, wherever, and have seen women's underwear crumpled up on the sidewalk like its someone's own bedroom floor. WTF? Who goes somewhere and leaves their underwear behind? Perhaps my Puritanical upbringing has barred me from ever understanding such hedonistic practices.

3. I got rid of my five-year-old computer yesterday, and I'm getting rid of my ten-year-old TV today. I'm replacing them with flat-panel everything 'cause I'm getting real tired of lifting shit.

posted by platkat @ 1:25 PM  0 million people love The Kat

 

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

See What Happens, Larry?

Last night, I took a little trip down El Camino Real to sign a lease with Fong Fong and Bill, a nice Asian couple with an apartment just minutes away from where I work. I have never been happier to write a check in my life. Besides being closer to work, I'll be a 5-minute walk from Walmart and Safeway. I'll also have my own bathroom with a door that locks and when I come home, the house won't smell like stale cigarette smoke. Gotta be thankful for the little things in life, I suppose.

posted by platkat @ 10:04 AM  0 million people love The Kat

 

Friday, April 15, 2005

Get a Leg Up on the Pile and Refinance Your Dreams

So Bush is finally backing legislation that I can agree with: tighter bankruptcy laws. I never liked how easy it is for careless spenders to absolve their debts, declaring they have nothing when they actually have a lot more than the average person needs, just no liquid assets. You have a brand new beamer and you can't buy dinner tonight because all of your credit cards are maxed out? Tough tamales.

The forthcoming legislation prompted me to buy a modest amount of stock in both Capital One and Citigroup. I know I won't make bank and retire in Tahiti, but both companies are pretty solid and will do quite well in the coming years. Even if I make just enough to take a short vacation to Tahiti, or perhaps buy only a poster depicting Tahiti, the money is being put to better use than sitting in a bank account.

In addition, a fairly recent viewing of Jim Cramer's Mad Money has caused me to think a little harder about what I'm doing with my cash flow now so I can keep it going in the future. I doubt anyone can agree with every tip he gives, but his overall advice is sound. "Am I Diversified?" is a fun game and a good question that everyone with a little extra dough should strive to answer.

Watching my NI stock plumment in the recent weeks has also prompted me to pull my head out of the sand and get a leg up on the pile. Although NI has a diverse range of products and thus, a varied customer base, something there ain't goin' right. I don't plan to sell, but I won't buy more. (In my time there, I accrued enough NI stock for it to amount to a large percentage of my total assets. Plus, there are better tech stocks out there.)

If I buy more stock in the coming months, it is likely to be in consumer goods and services. Southwest Airlines is a popular one. I'm wondering if I'm too late to cash in on the Whole Foods organic b.s. craze. I think Wal-Mart might be trying to make their own version to compete, but I'll have to do some more reading. I don't care for Wal-Mart much and their produce section is currently abhorrent. I guess we'll see.

posted by platkat @ 12:16 PM  0 million people love The Kat

 

Who Changed Our Club's Name to Buzz-Buzz Buzz-Buzz-Buzz?

Last night, I finally got a decent night's sleep. The night before last, as I lay down to go to sleep, I hear a "Buzzzzzzz" in my ear and awake to find one of those big nasty flying things circling my room. When I jumped up, it was chillin' on my bed, so I yanked the covers off all quick-like, which moved the mattress, which caused the box spring to come off the frame. So my bed had pretty much collapsed. Putting together a bed by yourself is hard!

To make things worse, there's some stupid bird who likes to come out squawking at 4am. Larry asked, "Does it go through like 30 different bird calls?" And I said, "If some retarded bird is waking me up before the sun rises, I'm not exactly paying attention to its calls."

But apparently, it's just about mating season for this type of bird, so it mimics the calls of other birds and does it really loud.

Larry's suggestion: "Just throw a rock at it. If you just let him know that the tree by your window isn't cool, he'll move further down the street."

I don't like throwing rocks at things at 4am, so we decided that he'll be throwing the rock. (It woke him up too.)

We had this conversation while playing Scrabble last night. I won, but only because I got some good letters and was able to take advantage of multiple triple word scores.

Of course, every word I spelled had to be some kind of sexual innuendo. I really wasn't trying to get at anything. Those were just words I could make with the letters I got. But after I spelled "sexing", "wife", "nest", and "hentai", things got a little creepy.

I made some joking comment about where my mind is these days. Larry offered to give me a massage. I know he was kidding, but the thought of it made me shudder anyway. He also said something like, "I wouldn't even have to get you drunk." And at that point, I began talking about when my wonderful, intelligent, and totally committed boyfriend is coming to town and all the fun stuff we plan to do together.

And I feel bad. Here I am, just invading this poor guy's space and inadvertently waving everything he can't have right in front of his face. Feeling sorry for people sucks. I'm going to check some stock quotes now.

posted by platkat @ 8:58 AM  0 million people love The Kat

 

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Ring of Fire

My roommate smokes, which I didn't think would bother me, but kind of does. So every night, I light a scented candle in my room. My logic is that if my room smells really nice, the intolerable stench outside won't be such a big deal.

Last night, I fell asleep with a candle lit. I guess the wick was too long or something. It ended up fogging up my entire room with thick, dark smoke. The cobwebs in the corners turned black (and were then easy to find and remove). The ceiling above the candle now has a thick layer of black ash on it. Now one of the items on my to-do list is "wash the ceiling."

All day, I've been cleaning hardened smoky residue out of my nostrils. No, friends. The irony is not lost on me.

posted by platkat @ 3:27 PM  2 million people love The Kat

 

Monday, April 11, 2005

"Monday" Is Intuitese for "Have a Bagel"

So every Monday, someone brings in a TON of bagels and the flavored cream cheeses. Man, I loves me some cheeses. But a moon's worth of cheeses would be useless without as many bagels to put them on. Thus, I have written a poem:

Bagels are the tastiest food
Go get bagels from upstairs, dude
I eat bagels all day long
I shove bagels in my thong
Bagel bagel, bagelley Jones
These are my bagels, get your own
I could eat bagels forevermore
But don't call me a bagel whore

Heh, I feel like Adam Sandler! Except I don't always have that stupid look on my face. And I'm not as funny as he is. Although he really peaked at They're All Gonna Laugh at You.

posted by platkat @ 11:17 AM  0 million people love The Kat

 

Friday, April 08, 2005

Frank Sinatra Went Into the Future and Wrote a Song About Me

Well, I don't hate California, but it is cold and it's damp. And most of the other lyrics to the infamous song are pretty true to my style. There must be a missing verse about playing poker with a bunch of old Chinese men because I think I'll be doing that somewhat regularly for the next few months.

In light of the phone bill fiasco (which I discussed further with Larry, and he still thinks it's going to be more like $30 instead of the $100 I estimated), I decided to explore my other options. Someone had told me about Bay 101 when I said I was moving here. Turns out it's about ten minutes away from where I live. With convenience like that, how could I lose?

I don't normally traipse into casinos by myself and hang out, unless I'm in Vegas, have a room at the hotel, and Gus is too tired to join me. Although none of these instances were true, I felt right at home in the Bay 101 poker room. Except I don't have to wait for an hour to get a table at home.

I played $3/6 Hold 'Em for a few hours with an interesting cast of characters. Well, our side of the table was interesting anyway. We were also winning most of the hands, which I suppose allowed us to let our hair down a little more.

This guy next to me kept betting strong with hands like 8-2 offsuit and winning, then losing with high cards. He was pretty light-spirited no matter what and it was nice chatting with him.

Another gentleman had also just moved to San Jose from Texas and we talked about that for while. Some of the FOB Asians couldn't believe that it's illegal to play Texas Hold'Em in a Texas casino.

To my left and across from me were a couple of Asian girls who played really well. The one across from me kept getting full houses, but somehow convinced half the table that she had nothing and they should call her. With structured betting, that's pretty hard to pull off. Good stuff.

At around 10:30, I was up by a nice chunk of change, so I decided to take off. I almost felt bad for leaving so early, especially since Larry called all of his friends so they could "jam" while I was gone. When I came home, there was no jamming, just him and some old guy who plays the harmonica and does origami. He's good at Scrabble, which Larry is just getting into. The last time I played Scrabble, I lost to Gus, so I hope to play again soon to raise confidence in my abilities again.

posted by platkat @ 8:36 AM  0 million people love The Kat

 

Thursday, April 07, 2005

The Whole Story

The title of this post might suggest that I'm about to tell you the whole story. But it's actually a request to everyone who ever talks to me to give me the whole story whenever offering favors, jobs, explanations, etc.

When I moved in, my roommate Larry gave me a two months' free AOL CD that he got in the mail and let me use his phone number to establish a dial-up connection. I was elated to be able to get back on the internet so quickly, so I logged on immediately.

Last night, Larry came into my room and saw me on the computer. He said, "Just so you know, you're using a business line. I get charged by the minute no matter where you're calling. When you moved in, I wanted to be nice and get you set up, but if you're going to be on every night, we should get you your own phone line."

My immediate mental reaction: Oh shit.

Why? Because when I logged on, I never logged off.

I'm used to having the internet 24/7, and since I had found a number that was local, I thought I was being charged for a local call and that's it. Larry admitted that he has more phones than he probably needs, so I didn't even think about tying up that line because he has his other line and his cell phones to conduct his business. He also admitted that the only reason he kept the business line that I was using was because his ex-girlfriend might call sometime.

Okay. If you are paying X amount of dollars a month to keep a line open just in case you might score some previously sampled poon, you seriously need to get out more.

So anyway, Larry offered to pay for the time prior to yesterday night, but I don't think he understands how high his phone bill is going to be. I made a few hundred dollars on Party Poker in the last couple of days. I guess I know where most of it's going.

On the topic of stupid phone stories, here's another one my friend told me yesterday. Names have been changed to protect the stupid and the innocent. Hey, those make pretty good names...

It's the end of the workday at an office building in Austin. Stupid is scuttling out the door, juggling a giant bag, giant binder, and other miscellaneous giant items. Innocent sees Stupid struggling and tries to help.

Stupid: Darn, I can't find my phone.

Innocent: Would you like me to call it so you can hear it ring?

Stupid: Oh that would be so great! Here's the number...

Innocent dials the number and Stupid's phone rings from her giant binder.

Stupid: (Unzipping her binder) Thank you so much!

Innocent: No problem.

The next day, Innocent comes to work to find a barrage of calls on her voice mail. The phone rings again and Innocent answers it.

Innocent: Hello?

Stupid: I found your number on my phone last night. Who are you and why are you calling me?

Fin

Some people really shouldn't have phones. Or waste the earth's precious air.

posted by platkat @ 8:35 AM  0 million people love The Kat

 

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

All About Day Two

It was fairly uneventful, as far as Day Twos go, but I'm gonna talk about it anyway.

Yesterday was consumed by orientation stuff, so today was a better indicator of how things are actually going to be. Things are going well, so far. The other writers are really nice and since we're naturally confused by some things, we all did some cube-hopping in efforts to answer each other's questions. Our boss is very helpful and easy to get along with. Most of the people here have quite a few years on me, which I appreciate because there's an extra degree of professionalism about the place... and a lot less dicking around. People show up and do their work. Pretty straightforward.

That's not to say it isn't a pleasant place to work. They give us bagels, fruit, and other tasty stuff. Sodas are only a quarter. The campus is gorgeous with fountains, lush green vegetation, and ample parking. I actually parked right outside my door of choice at quarter to nine. My cube is large and in charge, and since I'm a contract worker, I sit in it a maximum of eight hours a day.

I made a joke in an e-mail to some friends about some of my former co-workers shitting roses now that I'm gone, but it appears as though it is I who am shitting roses! Magnificent! Let's celebrate my lack of stinking shit!

Just kidding. I guess I'm in a silly mood because I'm so happy about how things have turned out. And no, I haven't been smoking any of Larry's wacky tabacky. He needs that for his... um.... insomnia. Yeah.

posted by platkat @ 4:19 PM  1 million people love The Kat

 

Sunday, April 03, 2005

I Know the Way to San Jose

And when you're coming all the way from Austin, Texas, you remember it forever!

Overall, I had an unexpectedly good time driving out here. I came alone, except for Zoey, my sweet labrador mix, and the lack of conversation was actually pretty cool. Here's a little synopsis of my trip:

Day 1: I packed a bunch of stuff into my bitchin' camaro and gave the house one last look. Even though I was bringing Zo-meister, I was able to fit a TV, a computer, and six months' worth of stuff into my tiny car.

Then I headed to NI to say good-bye to Gus. That part sucked. Let's talk about something else.

My first stop (less than two hours into the drive) was Fredericksburg. I had heard of the town, but didn't know it was on my route. Even if I had known, I wouldn't have made plans to stop there. However, since the all of the goods and services the town has to offer are splayed out on Highway 290 like a cheap whore, I was compelled to stop and check it out.

Fredericksburg is kind of peculiar. Lots of old people sit outside of stores on benches, although their affiliation with the stores or anyone in them is difficult to determine. People were generally nice, although I was obviously an out-of-towner and some of the funny looks I got told me they weren't ready for tourist season yet.

First, I bought some sugared pecans for my roommate-to-be. Then I stopped in a courtyard and messaged some people on my new Sidekick II. I'd had the thing for less than 24 hours, and I've never been one to neglect a new toy. As I continued walking down the street and texting people, I remembered this thing had a camera too. I took a handful of pictures, but they don't really encapsulate the experience. And now that I have them on my computer, they're in the wrong format or something. :-p

I also got some tasty flavored salsa and some special dog treats for Zoey since she was having trouble eating her food on the road. Of course, when I feed her the first treat, she spits it out before reluctantly eating it. *sigh*

Anyway, the town was clean and pretty, and I'd like for Gus and I to go back for a visit (but still not during tourist season).

I met an uneventful fate as I continued through West Texas. I tuned into a few conservative AM stations and listened to people debate about Terri Schiavo. I also listened to some popular radio and for the first time, heard Jimmy Eat World's "The Middle" and found it somewhat meaningful instead of silly.

When I finally got to El Paso, the sun was setting and I was driving West. Not the best combo when you're on a five-lane highway and might as well be driving in Mexico. I was relieved to find my exit, but less so when I found I'd gone the wrong way and ended up in downtown El Paso.

Downtown El Paso is a cross between San Antonio and Nuevo Laredo. There were a lot of shops containing crap that no one needs, and like any downtown area, things were closing down at dusk. I let Zoey pee and began traveling up and down Mesa Street to look for my motel. I spent the red lights texting Daniel because I had no idea where I was and couldn't see the motel from the road. It took forever to find, but it was cheap and functional. Except for the TV remote. That didn't work at all.

Although a giant Mexican family had set up shop in what seemed to be the surrounding three rooms, I managed to get a good night's sleep thanks to earplugs supplied to all SXSW registrants by ASCAP.

Day 2: I woke up super-early and got the hell outta dodge. Although there is generally a lot of cross traffic between El Paso and Las Cruces, I made it to New Mexico with few delays.

I love how everyone goes at least five or ten miles over the speed limit. As I reached the long stretch of road that would take me to Arizona, there was a sign that read, "Speed monitored by aircraft". As if I'm not paranoid enough! In reality, I didn't spend much time looking for planes, and the people zooming by at 90 mph in the left lane didn't seem to either.

I spent the hours before my arrival in Tucson (another place I didn't know was on my route) sampling the contents of my SXSW bag. The earplugs were superb, but not the sole purpose of the registration bag. I listened to the Filter Magazine CD, which contained artists like Billy Idol, Garbage, and Beck, among other talented lesser-known artists. I also listened to the Astralwerks sampler CD, which I knew was good and enjoyed the reminder. Then I listened to an EP from Ultrasonic (?) 78, an okay-sounding moody-girl kinda band.

An hour outside of Tucson, I stopped at a rest area near Texas Canyon. The mountains on either side were enormous and beautiful, so I took a couple of pictures. You can't see those either.

I stopped to eat at El Pollo Feliz in South Tucson. Yes, the name alone was what enticed me. If some bird is gonna be my food, it better be happy about it!

The restaurant was run by a group of young Mexican ladies who didn't speak English. They let me bring Zoey in while I ate, which was wonderful. The food was really good (but since I ate at Taco Cabana the night before, I guess it's all relative). Zoey busied herself by capturing a few flies in her mouth while I ate. The girls thought this was hilarious and we started talking about Zoey. I liked how they just spoke to me in Spanish, unlike when I travel to Spanish-speaking countries and everyone assumes I'm a dumb American and speaks to me in limited English. It's funny that I get more practice speaking Spanish in the US than I do abroad.

One of the girls felt along Zoey's underbelly and said something I didn't understand. She said something about babies, but it didn't register that she was speaking of the size of Zoey's nipples. She asked another girl what word she was looking for and came back with "boobies", which I found incredibly funny because I only hear that word uttered by young children and immature men. The oldest one asked me if she was a mama. I said no, but tried to explain that I've only had her for six months, so I don't know what she'd been up to for the last four years.

I cruised through the rest of Arizona watching the border patrol work its magic on at least half a dozen cars along the way. I hit some traffic in Phoenix, so I decided to drive through instead of stop and look around like I'd planned. If traffic was going to be that slow at 3pm, I didn't want to see it at 5.

A little bit later, I spent an unexpected road closure reacquainting myself with Frank Sinatra and the band, Gus Gus. My Sidekick crapped out because I forgot to charge it, so instead of calling Gus (singular) again, I tried to play Super Puzzle Fighter on my Gameboy. It didn't work so well as we started inching along, so I had to put it away and stare vacantly out the window for an hour.

I saw tumbleweed bouncing across the street and the species of cacti that was the generic shape of what we all think of when someone says "cactus". But that wasn't enough to keep me in Arizona.

I crossed the California border and once again, the sun was setting in my eyes. I stopped to get gas and wait it out. I was lucky to come upon a cafe with a patio next to it where I could actually sit down and eat a regular meal with Zoey in tow. Lucky me, twice in a row!

The sun had almost set once I got back on the road. Seeing the colors over the mountains was very beautiful. As I approached Indio, I saw a maze of bright lights in the valley and a spotlight near some mountains. I figured a hotel in or around Indio would be fairly inexpensive since Coachella wasn't happening for another month. When I drove into the city, I was greeted with the sign "Welcome to Indio, City of Festivals". Goddamn logic! I spent the night at the Royal Plaza Inn because the people who work at the Super 8 there are dicks and no one should stay there. The lady at Royal Plaza told me there were some things happening this weekend, plus a movie was being filmed there, so a lot was going on. I spent several times more money on that room than I had the previous night, but the working remote and near silence made it worth it.

Day 3: I woke up early and walked Zoey around the block. I took some pictures of palm trees that are temporarily unavailable (erg) and watched a couple of hot air balloons fly over the mountains in the distance. Props to the dudes with the "balloon trip at sunrise" plans - you're gettin' laid tonight buddy!

The one picture that actually transferred to my computer as a JPG is one I took of some flowers. It's probably the least interesting of the lot, but here ya go:



Then, I got back on the road and headed to LA. Traffic started to get hairy an hour before I reached any semblance of a city, so I expected some delay. When I saw that I-10 West was now a route to Santa Monica, the delay was entirely my doing. While looking for a place to get off the highway, I noticed an exit for 101 coming up. The place I'll be working is right off of 101 near San Jose, so I naturally wanted to go that way. But as logic had failed me before, I didn't want it to fail me again.

I pulled over on Sunset Boulevard to look at a map and hopefully see something cool. I saw many cool things, like the Hollywood sign, some interesting buildings, and beautiful hilly landscape, but the internet on my Sidekick was choking at me, so I messaged Erik, a guy I met at Barfly's over a year ago.

I intended to ask him just to look up a map for me, but as luck would have it, Erik knew the area somewhat. He advised that I take 101, although it is an eight-hour trip, as opposed to a five-hour trip when you take the 5. As he put it, "It's everything you think of when you think of California." Since I had some time, I decided to do what I had planned to do anyway, but with a little more peace of mind than I would have felt otherwise.

Erik was right, of course. I saw mountains, the coast, and vineyards. I was truly in the middle of nowhere, but for the first time in a long time, it was beautiful and I wanted to stay. I listened to house music the whole way up, including an old mix from East Coast Boogiemen (it worked just fine for the West Coast too) and Coy West's "Dark Meat" mix. I kept rolling down the window attempting to catch a whiff of some salty sea air, but I smelled mostly rubber and diesel. I guess you can't have it all.

As I pulled into Mountain View, I found I'd made excellent time, which was good since the car was starting to smell kinda "doggy". With a few twists and turns, I found my new temporary home and met my new temporary roommate.

The house is an plain single-story on the corner of a bank of six. The neighborhood is lined with cute little houses with gorgeous well-maintained lawns, most of which contain multicolored flowerbeds. Most of the neighborhood is shaded by enormous trees and the grass is finer and softer than in Texas. There's a trail and park nearby where I can walk Zoey, and a dog park is further up if we're ever feeling adventurous. It's a lot like my old neighborhood, but prettier. And the several people I've run into so far were very friendly.

While no roommate could top living with Gus, Christmas, and Delan, I think that living with my roommate, Larry, will work out fine. He's in his thirties, owns a window-washing business, plays loud rock music (living room = recording studio) and smokes medicinal marijuana (it's legal here!). If he continues to be good about staying quiet at night and not smoking in my room, living here is gonna be swell.

Zoey is still getting used to sharing a house with two other dogs (both are friendly dalmatians), but Larry isn't fazed by their barking or wrestling. He seems pretty confident that they'll get used to each other, and I'm inclined to agree.

posted by platkat @ 6:52 AM  0 million people love The Kat

 

 

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