Here's three:
1. I can tell an insanity producing year when I see one, even if I am kinda slow.
2. Today I barked at my principal. Literally.
I was standing in front of the master schedule, trying to figure something out. In walks BB Lizardo (my attempt to call my principal by their initials has succeeded in making them only marginally more tolerable in my eyes). BB looks around in a quintessentially lizardo way, and licks hir lips nervously, as I am the only one there. And then faces me and states: Who let the dogs out?
Me: Arf. (Seriously)
BB Lizzy: (Smiles while eyes rivet to escape door)
Not enough to convince you this is going to be a weird year? Fine. Read on:
3. So I go to an organizing meeting. At which, despite the racing around of children, we are very organized. Weird in and of itself. And I get out to the world to find a voice mail from some guy whose name is ... let's say Pedro. And he launches into this whole thing in medio-spanglish about some health clinic near my work and can I call him back at whatever number blah blah blah. His number isn't in my phone and I cannot imagine who the guy is. Sure, his voice sounds vaguely familiar. I know like three guys named Pedro; some of whom I think more highly of than others, but I am still surprised any of them are leaving me messages with such familiar tones. So I call him back. He asks how I am - I reply quickly and ask him to basically get on to whatever he needs from me. We talk a while and maybe 15 minutes after we hang up it occurs to me that perhaps this? This is perhaps an ex-bf of mine... from probably four years ago max? For like a year or so? And I have to LOOK up his name to recall if his first name had been Pedro.
Can we say: Sarah knows how to MOVE ON.
Come on... now let's all say it together.
Arf.
9.07.2009
Reason Number 3549 to Love and Fear San Francisco
As many of you know, it is a life goal of mine to keep the locally-owned and operated Balboa Theater running strong through the sheer frequency of my patronage. I will go see anything there. Even things I am totally disinterested in seeing.
Awesome. So that is the caveat.
I heard a rumor that on Sundays, one could see the film Julie and Julia there for free if you brought a cake with you. Seemed harmless enough. I baked brownies.
Yes, they had the same argument that you all just brought forth:
At 11:30pm last night I exited the theater to find this:
Yes, for those of you who cannot squint sufficiently to see anything on my absolutely terrible camera phone, it was tables filled with slices of cake and cake products. For everyone at the theater. Or on the street. Or wherever.
And we ate hella cake. Rum cake, mocha cake, lemon cake, indeterminable taste cake, velvet cake... I ate much more sugar than I normally should even eat at ... say... 1pm, much less at almost midnight.
And then I peeled myself away for home. But the staff pleaded:
And as I am a fan of being waste-free, I complied. I boarded the 31 MUNI at close to midnight with cake. Hella cake(s). And I learned something about San Francisco MUNI passengers as I walked up and down its aisles offering cake to everyone...
There are shocking amounts of people in San Francisco who are willing to take pre-cut, clearly homemade pieces of cake from an obviously sugar-cracked-out wild eyed grinning stranger who points and says,
And between the patrons of the Sunday Night 31 Balboa and the 22 Fillmore, now at close to 1am, I got off the bus for my home with Tupperware tucked under my arm, having moved all the cake into random strangers' gullets. Reason Number 3549 to Love and Fear San Francisco and our particular sense of what is reasonable to offer and receive.
Awesome. So that is the caveat.
I heard a rumor that on Sundays, one could see the film Julie and Julia there for free if you brought a cake with you. Seemed harmless enough. I baked brownies.
Yes, they had the same argument that you all just brought forth:
Do brownies qualify as cake?After some discussion, the staff consensus was:
They do.Phew. So they denuded me of my Tupperware of brownies and ushered me into the movie.
At 11:30pm last night I exited the theater to find this:
Yes, for those of you who cannot squint sufficiently to see anything on my absolutely terrible camera phone, it was tables filled with slices of cake and cake products. For everyone at the theater. Or on the street. Or wherever.
And we ate hella cake. Rum cake, mocha cake, lemon cake, indeterminable taste cake, velvet cake... I ate much more sugar than I normally should even eat at ... say... 1pm, much less at almost midnight.
And then I peeled myself away for home. But the staff pleaded:
Take as much cake as possible in your Tupperware. We do not want waste!
And as I am a fan of being waste-free, I complied. I boarded the 31 MUNI at close to midnight with cake. Hella cake(s). And I learned something about San Francisco MUNI passengers as I walked up and down its aisles offering cake to everyone...
There are shocking amounts of people in San Francisco who are willing to take pre-cut, clearly homemade pieces of cake from an obviously sugar-cracked-out wild eyed grinning stranger who points and says,
Ooooh, would you like some cake? How's about that one? I think it is rum-soaked... that one I believe is coconut-chocolate... Ooooooh, you are so welcome!
And between the patrons of the Sunday Night 31 Balboa and the 22 Fillmore, now at close to 1am, I got off the bus for my home with Tupperware tucked under my arm, having moved all the cake into random strangers' gullets. Reason Number 3549 to Love and Fear San Francisco and our particular sense of what is reasonable to offer and receive.
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