12.1.2013
Well I quit my job. I had it up to here with the jerks at the plant,
the tasteless lunches, the fatty snacks, the lousy (read: NO) coffee
situation, the soul-sucking commute, the dangerous walk, the rickety
bridge, the viscious dogs, the rabid beaver-squirells, the agressive
panhandlers, the corrupt cops, the way-too-friendly street whores, the
sub-average watering holes, the human, dog, and pidgey-widgey poop, the
stiff toll, the "going-up-again" bus and train fares, the broken bike
racks, the terrible wind, the ever-present clouds, the frozen
mini-KitKats™ (which I like, mind you) and the stultifying conversations.
I heard about a sexy new career on the radio, called the number it
listed and showed up that day for my interview. I was hired on the
spot! Hot damn that does a lot for a guy when he's havin' "One Of Those
Days." I got a clothing stipend from my new boss (a sexy,
silver-haired, 70-something granny), hauled ass to the Oakland Uniform
Supply on Broadway, scored a sweet deal on what's known in the industry
as "Car Salesman," WORE IT OUT OF THE STORE and hit the fuckin' bricks
sporting my new gig: Reputation Consulting.
You read
it right: Reputation Consulting. The multiple-choice test I took in my
interview indicated that I was a natural, so I wasted NO time. My walk
took me by my favorite "Donut & Things" and I ducked in and told
Pebbles (his real name is Hsiung, but he makes everyone call him Pebbles
(Why I do not know)) I told Pebbles he has the reputation of having the
best goddamn donuts and things this side of MLK Drive and he said 'No
shit Sherlock." I asked him if he would like to talk about it and he
asked if I would have my usual dozen glazed and mebbe a couple 52"
duck-brown replacement shoe strings or some replacement cheap-o plastic
dominoes or some various waxen numeric birthday cake candles or some
really crappy dish towels or some likely toxic crayons or a shitty
hand-held pinball game, or a grab-bag of toy barnyard animals or a
flawed German-made coloring book or a pinata buster (with blindfold) or a
Dick Tracy-themed 2-pack party hat or a 4-piece fruit magnet set or a
32-piece Jesus sticker set, or a garden knee pad or a 10-pack sponge
hair roller or a metallic car dashboard sun shade and I said no! I was
here to consult with him about his reputation and not donuts and, well,
things. He said his reputation for donuts was great and I agreed. He
said his reputation for things was great and I agreed with that too and
so I set my sights on another couple peeps I knew needed a little
reputation consultation: Linkey-Loo Coordinator, Porn Title of the Week
Coordinator and, you guessed it, Lee, Lee The Musical Bee. They did
not return my phone calls.
Tonight - on this projected frigid evening, come on out and warm up w/ your pals at The Lone Palm.
See you there!!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, December 05, 2013
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Nissan (REDUX)
11.3.2013
I subscribed to a magazine called Make earlier this year. It chronicles and is dedicated to "Do It Yourselfers" (DIY) and the hack-jobs, modifications and tweaks they do to everyday things. Like turning a cheapy single-use digital camera into a multi-use cheapy camera. Like building an electric guitar out of a cigar box. And like in this month's issue, hacking yr espresso maker.
You might think, WTF would anyone want to hack their coffeepot or espresso maker. Turns out one can add a web interface to one's coffeepot that can control on-off status, temperature and the like. There are directions on how to modify the espresso machine to produce shots with the maximum amount of crema (and if you know anything about espresso, you know the crema is the fuckin' bomb.) I am fired up to drill, grind, hack, wire and totally DIY me a Frankenstein espresso/coffeepot.
Coffee is a meaningful part of my life. I heard a pussy-ass "commentary" on the NPR the other day where the puss was lamenting Strbux kiosks in the Safteyway stores. She went on about how they destroyed her memories of sitting around cafes, sipping coffeemilksugars and reading the Washington Post, because, since she was in high school at the time, she felt "bitchin." Not once did the bitch say that she actually liked coffee, only that she liked the lifestyle. Got a word for that kinda person; word is poseur.
The coffee situation in my little family has been turned on its fuckin head in the last couple of weeks. I bought a ittybitty thermos offa the eBay and now grind/brew fresh Peet's (best goddamn coffee inna world) every morn and bring it in to the joint I'm workin'. I had no choice, really, b/c the coffee situation is abysmal. Buy it from the place with long line, the other place with shite coffee or the other place where it's way too $$. Buy it. By the cup. Every-fuck-day. I gave up buyin' by the cup and control my own daily coffee adventure, in 6061-T6 Kaiser aluminum-style.
So that's the good! The bad, (the really GRAVELY bad) was reported to me just this morning: The ad joint where my lovely wife works has been awarded a part of the Starbux ad-making. So in good faith, the owners of the ad joint CANCELLED THE INSTITUTIONAL PEET'S COFFEE SERVICE AND NOW HAVE STRBUX. I feel soooo sorry for her.
Tonight - The Homestead
(due to Thanksgiving preempting the final Thursday of the month, Homestead moves up a slot.)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I subscribed to a magazine called Make earlier this year. It chronicles and is dedicated to "Do It Yourselfers" (DIY) and the hack-jobs, modifications and tweaks they do to everyday things. Like turning a cheapy single-use digital camera into a multi-use cheapy camera. Like building an electric guitar out of a cigar box. And like in this month's issue, hacking yr espresso maker.
You might think, WTF would anyone want to hack their coffeepot or espresso maker. Turns out one can add a web interface to one's coffeepot that can control on-off status, temperature and the like. There are directions on how to modify the espresso machine to produce shots with the maximum amount of crema (and if you know anything about espresso, you know the crema is the fuckin' bomb.) I am fired up to drill, grind, hack, wire and totally DIY me a Frankenstein espresso/coffeepot.
Coffee is a meaningful part of my life. I heard a pussy-ass "commentary" on the NPR the other day where the puss was lamenting Strbux kiosks in the Safteyway stores. She went on about how they destroyed her memories of sitting around cafes, sipping coffeemilksugars and reading the Washington Post, because, since she was in high school at the time, she felt "bitchin." Not once did the bitch say that she actually liked coffee, only that she liked the lifestyle. Got a word for that kinda person; word is poseur.
The coffee situation in my little family has been turned on its fuckin head in the last couple of weeks. I bought a ittybitty thermos offa the eBay and now grind/brew fresh Peet's (best goddamn coffee inna world) every morn and bring it in to the joint I'm workin'. I had no choice, really, b/c the coffee situation is abysmal. Buy it from the place with long line, the other place with shite coffee or the other place where it's way too $$. Buy it. By the cup. Every-fuck-day. I gave up buyin' by the cup and control my own daily coffee adventure, in 6061-T6 Kaiser aluminum-style.
So that's the good! The bad, (the really GRAVELY bad) was reported to me just this morning: The ad joint where my lovely wife works has been awarded a part of the Starbux ad-making. So in good faith, the owners of the ad joint CANCELLED THE INSTITUTIONAL PEET'S COFFEE SERVICE AND NOW HAVE STRBUX. I feel soooo sorry for her.
Tonight - The Homestead
(due to Thanksgiving preempting the final Thursday of the month, Homestead moves up a slot.)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Detonation (Redux)
11.2.2013
Man I wish it wasn't such a National scandal to like the French because lately I'm finding myself liking a lot of French things. No I ain't talking about POO-JOEs or Eiffel Towers. And I ain't even talking about Audrey Tatou, even though I think she's great. I'm talking about Frog mustard and Frog cheese. I got no problem with the former but I'm developing a prob with the latter. Read on and hold on to yr frikkin seats!
The brie that the Ralph's up the street sucks.
Tonight - Club Deluxe (cash only)
Special request by TNSC founding member (and all-around nice guy) John Metsker. C'mon out and buy him a drink!! Also... we think (and some even hope) that it's Burlesque night, too. Just a heads-up. If so $5 cover.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Man I wish it wasn't such a National scandal to like the French because lately I'm finding myself liking a lot of French things. No I ain't talking about POO-JOEs or Eiffel Towers. And I ain't even talking about Audrey Tatou, even though I think she's great. I'm talking about Frog mustard and Frog cheese. I got no problem with the former but I'm developing a prob with the latter. Read on and hold on to yr frikkin seats!
The brie that the Ralph's up the street sucks.
Tonight - Club Deluxe (cash only)
Special request by TNSC founding member (and all-around nice guy) John Metsker. C'mon out and buy him a drink!! Also... we think (and some even hope) that it's Burlesque night, too. Just a heads-up. If so $5 cover.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 07, 2013
Do you understand?
11.1.2013
I remember when old-fashioned metal garbage cans - the kinds with lids - were the only kind of garbage cans around. That meant on garbage day, one garbage man drove the truck and one or two other garbage men clung to the back, stepping off at the next house to empty the cans into the gaping ass-end of the truck. It made for a slow, loud and stinky process.
I remember when those cans were phased-out in favor of big, heavy-duty plastic bins with hinged lids that the truck would grip with a claw and fling it over its "shoulder," emptying the contents into the gaping hole in the top of the truck. This technology drastically reduced the need for multiple garbage man teams, obviously. And in some places, neighbors share big bins, while others, like in my neighborhood, each household has medium-sized bins.
You're likely familiar with all of this, if you pay attention or, y'know, take out the trash. You might be like me and have three different bins. One green one for organic debris (grass clippings and fuckin' lettuce and shit from the kitchen), one blue one for recycling and one black one for "trash and not recyclables or grass clippings or lettuce and shit from the kitchen."
I have a mostly dead yard, and the guys who cut the dead grass don't get a lot of yard debris. So the green one is mostly empty when the trash guys come. I recycle almost everything: paperboard, cardboard, glass, plastic, rubber, metal, aluminum, homework, junk mail, etc., etc. Rounding out the bins, the black one gets ... kitty litter. Kitty litter and chicken bones. Seriously. That's about it. Damn-near everything goes in the blue bin. Even if I'm not sure that wire hangers are recyclable, I let the guys at the recycling plant sort that shit out (if the army of dumpster divers don't get it first).
On a recent trek through the neighborhood, I noticed one house had slim bins. Probably not even half the size of the ones I have. Sure enough, the bill for city services arrived that day. Solid Waste Disposal, as it's called, is expensive. I had an idea for saving some dough: If I got the slimmer bins like my neighbor had, could I save some dough? I would keep my blue, but ask for slim black and slim green. Here's how the phone call to the trash guys went:
"I'm looking to save some dough. Can I trade-in my big black and big green bins and get the slim ones? I don't come close to filling the big ones I have," I said.
"You can get a bigger bin," trash guy said.
"But I want a slimmer bin," I said, "Can I save money if I use a smaller bin? I don't fill the one I have."
"You can save money," trash guy said, "if you upgrade your bin to a big bin, then trade it back in."
"Is the big bin more expensive?" I said.
"Yes."
"So to save money, I need to upgrade to a bigger, more expensive bin, trade that back in, get the old one like I have now, and stop paying for the upgrade."
"Yes."
"That's saving money."
"Yes."
"Thanks," I said, "I'll just keep the bins I have."
Tonight - Special TNSC guests from near and far will be gathering at:
Royal Tug Yacht Club (formerly Yong San Lounge)
(Hey!! I used to live 2 doors down from this joint!! )
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I remember when old-fashioned metal garbage cans - the kinds with lids - were the only kind of garbage cans around. That meant on garbage day, one garbage man drove the truck and one or two other garbage men clung to the back, stepping off at the next house to empty the cans into the gaping ass-end of the truck. It made for a slow, loud and stinky process.
I remember when those cans were phased-out in favor of big, heavy-duty plastic bins with hinged lids that the truck would grip with a claw and fling it over its "shoulder," emptying the contents into the gaping hole in the top of the truck. This technology drastically reduced the need for multiple garbage man teams, obviously. And in some places, neighbors share big bins, while others, like in my neighborhood, each household has medium-sized bins.
You're likely familiar with all of this, if you pay attention or, y'know, take out the trash. You might be like me and have three different bins. One green one for organic debris (grass clippings and fuckin' lettuce and shit from the kitchen), one blue one for recycling and one black one for "trash and not recyclables or grass clippings or lettuce and shit from the kitchen."
I have a mostly dead yard, and the guys who cut the dead grass don't get a lot of yard debris. So the green one is mostly empty when the trash guys come. I recycle almost everything: paperboard, cardboard, glass, plastic, rubber, metal, aluminum, homework, junk mail, etc., etc. Rounding out the bins, the black one gets ... kitty litter. Kitty litter and chicken bones. Seriously. That's about it. Damn-near everything goes in the blue bin. Even if I'm not sure that wire hangers are recyclable, I let the guys at the recycling plant sort that shit out (if the army of dumpster divers don't get it first).
On a recent trek through the neighborhood, I noticed one house had slim bins. Probably not even half the size of the ones I have. Sure enough, the bill for city services arrived that day. Solid Waste Disposal, as it's called, is expensive. I had an idea for saving some dough: If I got the slimmer bins like my neighbor had, could I save some dough? I would keep my blue, but ask for slim black and slim green. Here's how the phone call to the trash guys went:
"I'm looking to save some dough. Can I trade-in my big black and big green bins and get the slim ones? I don't come close to filling the big ones I have," I said.
"You can get a bigger bin," trash guy said.
"But I want a slimmer bin," I said, "Can I save money if I use a smaller bin? I don't fill the one I have."
"You can save money," trash guy said, "if you upgrade your bin to a big bin, then trade it back in."
"Is the big bin more expensive?" I said.
"Yes."
"So to save money, I need to upgrade to a bigger, more expensive bin, trade that back in, get the old one like I have now, and stop paying for the upgrade."
"Yes."
"That's saving money."
"Yes."
"Thanks," I said, "I'll just keep the bins I have."
Tonight - Special TNSC guests from near and far will be gathering at:
Royal Tug Yacht Club (formerly Yong San Lounge)
(Hey!! I used to live 2 doors down from this joint!! )
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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