Thursday, November 29, 2007

Sixty-Seven Ways Not To Be Like Me

Whoa, did someone come up with sixty-seven ways not to be like me?

BTW, I am now fully back in the saddle. Email me if ya know me.


Oh, Swell

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Yeah, Uh, Well...

I have Internet access again!

Big whoop.

I am still not at the point where I will access my email account, hopefully sometime this week that will come true. This blog is chock full of hope, ain't it?

Monday, November 26, 2007

Procrastinators Can't Be Choosers

So like I said before, I have to go to another work site to have any Internet access at all.

The browser that is installed here is cumbersome and inefficient on purpose, because technically we can't have Internet access outside of the company offices (all the better to monitor you, my dear). I can't create hyperlinks unless I can remember the URL by heart, because URL's aren't visible at all on this browser.

I can't go "Back" or "Forward." As "Refresh," "Home," and "Preview" are the only choices available. The "Backspace" button doesn't work which is a huge pain in the ass for someone who likes to correct their typing by backspacing. The company page comes up at the inopportune times and you have to click "Ctrl," "Alt" and "Esc" simultaneously to get rid of it.

My company searches the Internet for any mention of it, where our spokesperson sends emails to dissuade anyone from trying anything on the company's property relating to flash mobs or protests. Conversely, I don't trust them to have the best f*r*w*ll and such, so I don't want to answer or even access my email, lest it be compromised or the company start sniffing around in my business.

On the bright side, here I am and the family had an excellent Thanksgiving. I hope you all had the same.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Um, Maybe I'll Be Back A Whole Lot Later

Well, I'm not necessarily back, but, hey.

At any rate?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thursday, November 15, 2007

I'll Be Back

I am not without computer, but I am without an Internet connection. Hopefully all will be rectified by Saturday at the latest and all apologies.

Monday, November 12, 2007

I'd Comment, Honest.

I added the mighty Quin to the blog about a week ago, I bring this up because that's what I usually do, plus I can't comment on her blog. Nor can I comment on ITSW, Melinda's and one other blog that has pop-up comments, it's a 404 Error thing and I understand to a lesser degree. All the cause of computer problems that I hope to rectify today.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Blogging Summit, West Coast-Style or When West Meets South

So I get an email with an attached audio file...curiouser and curiouser.

I recognize the sender, so I open it. A baritone voice begins...

Good evening Mister Procrastinator. Your mission should you choose to accept it, is to meet up with and extract as much information as possible from Beth, the Southern cultural maven. She will use her charm and vast intelligence to keep you off balance at all times.

As always, should you or any of your IM force be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. This audio file will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck, Write.

(cue sound file blowing up, the sound of gunpowder sizzling and the "Mission Impossible" theme)


First, if I invite you out? Unless you own the restaurant, you'll never get the check before me. Never. The sooner you accept this Elizabeth Kübler-Ross and move on to "acceptance," the better.

Second, I know that your ears were burning, you just didn't know why.

So I played phone tag with one Ms. Coffey, but she proved elusive, as she was seeing the sights and painting our town Coca-Cola red. You have to realize that with our hills in San Francisco, two things are an adventure here; phone coverage and radio reception. Email was a far more effective tool in reaching her, though it was sent a bit late on my part.

My original idea was for Beth, Beth's mother, The Missus, Procrastinator Junior, and myself to meet up at
John's Grill. That way we could all have a drink and I could show off the offspring. Unfortunately, Beth didn't get my phone message and she received my email a bit late for all of us to go, as we were having dinner when she called. No problem, we all adjusted and I should've emailed her before she left the hotel that morning.

The Missus and Junior stayed home, and I was to meet Beth at John's because of its close proximity to her hotel and the fact that they have the Maltese Falcon allegedly, what is known to be one of three falcons that they used in the flick. Beth warned me that there was a pep rally crowding up
Union Square and I was counting on taking a taxi anyway.

Speaking of taxis, I called a certain company at 7:49 PM for a cab. Now I know from previous experience that three of the cab companies use the same dispatcher...keep that in mind. I called Beth at 8:o1 and said I should be there in about twenty minutes. Then at 8:10 PM, there was no taxi and I called them again. The dispatcher half-ass apologizes and asks me where I was going, mumbles some nonsense to the cab driver that I'm a regular customer (he meant someone else in the building, because he knew the cross street without me telling him) and for someone to get there soon.

At 8:22 PM I gave up and drove, despite knowing that I would have to contend with the drunken alumnae of the University of Spoiled Children and their pep rally. At 8:25 I called the cab company and said to cancel it, because I was driving and as I said "thank you," they hung up. Wonderful people, them. I called Beth, updated and apologized, "we're not a hick town, honest. Just our cab companies are small town."

I drove through and over the pep people (kidding) and found a great parking place by Macy's.

The wonderful Miss Coffey was outside of John's, catching up with her cell phone voice mail. Now I know I've said this before, but it seems that every blogger that I've met looks much better in person and Beth is certainly no exception. She looks infinitely prettier and younger than her pictures and she had to dress up to the point that I am still self-conscious about my casual attire for the event.

John's is a wonderful place, though it almost as dark a tunnel. We sat down at the second floor and ordered only appetizers, much to the waiter's irritation. He was even more ired when I ordered a "virgin sunrise, please. I'm driving."

"A what?"

"Uh, orange juice and grenadine."

Obviously no Eagles fan, this waiter. I tipped him two dollars past fifteen percent and he neither said thank you nor "goodnight." May he catch something particularly painful and bothersome from Britney.

At any rate, the end of the negativity and on to what you the reader, came for...Beth, Beth, and more Beth. You know, Ms. Coffey knows all and can discuss all. She knows obviously knows music and literature if you've ever read her blog, but she knows much about life, too.

We talked about everything from "Top Chef," to food chains, from shopping to staying home, from commuting to the cost of living, from work to retirement, politics to pep rallies, and from our blogs to yours...don't worry, it was all polite, I said that was the end of the negativity. We talked of everything except The Walrus and The Carpenter. I almost brought up wrestling, but I bet that Beth would somehow know about that too, because you can't stump her.

We talked about what is was like living on our respective cities, some of the places we traveled, Tom Colicchio, and what the Bloggers Three were like in person. Alas, the night wore long and Beth had an early flight, so we departed. Just before we did, Beth inquired as to the whereabouts of the Maltese Falcon, a busboy said it was
stolen. I thought they had replaced it, but I had neglected to read the part about it being replaced after Thanksgiving.

I took these pictures of outside the restaurant...

The "Headquarters of The Dashiell Hammett Society?" I thought that was my house.

The "63" is for the address, though Beth pointed out accurately that they will be celebrating their centennial next year. I pointed out to Beth that her attention for detail is why we have such things at central heating and clothing, because attention to detail is how great minds create great things.

Then it was time for the obligatory behind the back pic...

The first came out blurry, so "take two"-

...which was taken by man of northern European extraction, I couldn't quite place his accent. He cracked us up by saying "smile!" Note we almost have the same curls and you get to see the tip-top of my gray beard.

I had a great time, though Beth will remember more details and she absolutely tell a better version of what happened, as she got a whole lot more sleep than I did. I hope to see her on her next trip through here and certainly I'd love to see Atlanta real soon, as I had promised her that I would have the hypothetical publisher book a stop there on my first book tour.

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Tune In Tomorrow

I've just met a girl named Maria

Um, no, actually her name was
Beth and let me just say, that she is a true Southern treasure and a real delight to talk to. I'll fill you all in tomorrow.

But in the meantime, here is a picture of me having to struggle my way through the boosters of a certain university that was in town. They were particularly tenacious, dragging their knuckles as they wont to do. I had the misfortune of trying to cross their pillaging of Downtown San Francisco and I almost didn't get to meet Ms. Coffey.

So I have to get some sleep, else I will not just be singing Zevon's "I'll Sleep When I Die," but actually living out the song.

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Thursday, November 08, 2007

"Cool Air"

The JDC makes his first appearance at Six Sentences, go check it out!...

What are you still doing here? Will you click it already?

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An Old Television Show Revised

Cow is a cow, a cow, a cow
But nobody can talk to a talking cow
Unless of course that cow
Is the famous Mister Chow

People will yakkity-yak a streak
And waste your time of day
But Mister Chow will never speak
Because he only understands Mandarin and Canton-eeeeeze

Cow is a cow, a cow, a cow
But nobody can talk to a talking cow
Unless of course that cow
Is the famous Mister Chow

我,是 Chow 先生!
(I, am Mister Chow)

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Saturday, November 03, 2007

The critics though not so outspoken this time, have spoken again.

Francis Ford says "shhhh, keep it a secret, he still owes me money."

J.K. Rowling says "seriously, Cormac Brown has a new story at Six Sentences."

Then she ruins the mood by saying, "it's not for children."
Then she really ruins the mood by saying, "and children? If you pull my finger? A million pounds sterling will come out of my bum."

Stephen King says "I don't care what you all say, he still creeps me out.!"

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Thursday, November 01, 2007

Not So Scary Monsters

Even though this happened Tuesday, I was going to post it on Halloween because other than work, this is about as horrible as the week has gotten. Things just turned hectic around the Procrastinator household and I'm getting to it this morning.

So I was driving home on the same street where I had 86'd the pigeon and I stopped at the red light. A woman pulled up next to me in a Miata. She was tastefully done up in business attire and had her hair up. She stuck out, because frankly, women like that do not drive in reverse commute on this street.

As a matter of fact, this time of the morning, this direction is strictly for newspaper delivery trucks, bread delivery trucks, carpenters, cabbies, and people that should not be behind the wheel, because they are coming down rather poorly from whatever excess they shouldn't have been overindulging in.

You know and I know what happens when you pull up at a stoplight and the person next to you thinks that they are invisible...that's right, you see them for what they truly are.

Most of the time, they are yakking away on their cell phone and you want to say to them, "you know the person on the other side of the conversation can't see your gesticulating, right?"

They shift in their seat. You know what that shift means and you are glad that you're not riding with them, because they've just cut more cheese than all the dairy farms in Wisconsin.

They belch so loud, that you can actually, though faintly hear them through their windows and yours.

They...well, let me preface this by saying by back around '88, I saw a Popeye cartoon in the morning.

That very afternoon I had three lady friends with me in the car and we saw the guy in the car next to us, going for the full dig. I mean, he had almost the bottom knuckle of his index finger in his nostril. He was on the verge of hitting gray matter and as the women were about to shriek, I quoted Olive Oyl singing to the tune of "Early In The Morning"-

Here we go gathering nuggets in May
Nuggets in May
Nuggets in May
Here we go gathering nuggets in May

Cut back to last Tuesday and I see Miss Executive Miata's left hand go up. I'm thinking it is going to go higher, but she stops short just below her mouth. Is she going to do the bulimia-thing without a toilet nearby? Jeez, at least roll down the window before you...nope, she went for her chin.

She popped a zit.

With the exception of this kind of crass woman that I dated some two decades ago, I've never seen a woman pop a zit and wow, that's...just...ugh! What if she gets pus on her fancy clothes? Jeez, I don't want to be her dry cleaner and oh, the light is finally green, thank God. My hypnotic impulse to rubberneck is saved by my heavy right foot.

Somewhere tomorrow, there is a dry cleaner saying out loud, "do I really want to know that this is?"