Theatre That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 5

Honestly... pretty much any play at La Val's Subterranean in Berkeley.

Now, I have seen several shows at La Val's in the past, and they all stank. Every one. But it really didn't matter because the beauty of La Val's is that it is actually a pizza place with a theatre in the basement. So you can eat pizza and drink Bass or Newcastle while you take in the live action. Who wouldn't enjoy that, regardless of the caliber of the play in front of them? That's what Paul, Denise, Ann Marie and I thought when we decided to hit La Val's on Thursday night.

But the good news is that Impact Theatre's Money and Run: Episode 4 is currently running at La Val's, and it is really fun. And I'm not just saying that because my friend Carolyn is in it; believe me, in my day, I've both been in and seen many friends in some really bad plays. I actually did a rather decent show with Impact about 100 years ago (also known as 1998), and now they're the theatre in residence at La Val's. Money and Run is a high caliber, frenzied comedy punctuated by deliciously horrible 80's music. We're talking Journey, Eddie Money, Loverboy, Heart and Bonnie Tyler. I maintain the only reason I recognized any of the songs in the show is that I had to get very cozy with all that music for a job I had in 2001. Trust me, I wasn't listening to that crap twenty years ago. Or today. But it worked for the play, and I have to admit that, thanks to an upbeat remake and another job of mine about ten years ago, I do know all the words to "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Ann Marie and I were singing along with that little ditty during intermission, much to the entertainment of a young gentleman sitting two rows ahead of us. He looked about 19, so we decided he must have been shocked to see anyone old enough to actually know the words.

As we were congratulating Carolyn on her fine performance afterward, who should walk up, but the actress who played Kim Deal in the Pixies play I saw a few weeks ago! I was so thrilled, I immediately gushed and told her how much I had loved the Pixies play (okay, it was really more about the Breeders, but I like the Pixies better). You'd have thought I was talking to the actual Kim Deal. Actress Kim Deal was very polite, but I probably scared her a little bit.

And if last night's pizza dinner wasn't delicious enough, it was a co-worker's birthday today, and we had pizza to celebrate. We put a candle in one of the pies and sang "Happy Birthday" to him, and then I proclaimed we are all really happy he'd been born. This guy embarrasses kind of easily, which made our birthday display even more fun. I'd better be careful though; between last night and today, I've eaten so much that I'm going to look like a pizza soon. Or at least my thighs will.

Given that I've gone out the last two nights in a row, and I'll be going out tomorrow after work, I've decided to stay in tonight and hide from the Cinco de Mayo amateurs. I've curled up with my tv boyfriend Peter Krause, thanks to a "Six Feet Under" double-header on cable. Much more satisfying than stepping over a bunch of drunks who have been sucking down margaritas since 3:00 this afternoon.

Wicked Hung-ovah

I cannot party like I did when I was 25. Hell, I can't even party like I did when I was 30. Oh, who am I kidding? I can't party at all anymore. I can sit quietly and have a few cocktails, but even then I have to be careful.

Since thousands of people were filling the streets all over the country yesterday, we had kind of a busy day at work. So last night I decided to unwind with exactly one drink at Favorite Bar. The end of that last sentence would be what's commonly referred to as famous last words. A friend I hadn't seen in months was also there providing entertainment from his collection of 78 rpm records (yes, 78's), and I ended up chatting extensively with him. So three hours and four beers later, I pulled myself off my barstool and went home.

Everything was fine until today. To my credit, I managed to go running before work. And for the record, I usually find exercise to be an excellent hangover antidote. Not so much this time. At about 2:00 this afternoon I succumbed to my fuzzy-headed fatigue and completely lost focus. Everything began to move in slow motion, making the last four hours of work seem like about four days. It didn't help matters that after work tonight I was committed to participate in a playwriting workshop where I read scenes aloud so the writers could hear their work. I'm sure they all loved how well my hungover self brought their characters to life.

All this because of only four beers over three hours. I become more and more of a lightweight as I get older. But now I'm back home, and all is well. I've been reunited with my couch, and I'm about to have some chocolate chip waffles. Perfect hangover food in my opinion. And since it's now my work weekend, I can sleep as late I want tomorrow. Gotta love that.

Champagne Smoothies

My friend Emily is brilliant. On Saturday I worked a later shift than normal, so she and I met at the Ferry Building for brunch. Over snacks at Market Bar, I regaled her with tales of the recent spate of older men who have been hitting on me. And by older, I mean 60 and above. Cases in point: the 70-year old who chatted me up after Glass Menagerie at Berkeley Rep, and the two members of Freda Payne's band who didn't even pretend they weren't checking me out as they flagrantly stared. Then, on my way to the Ferry Building that morning, I was approached by a gray-haired gentleman who invited me for coffee, saying it didn't matter to him whether or not I had a boyfriend. Yes, old man, I'm sure it doesn't.

Let me remind you, gentle readers, that I am 36 years old. Not exactly super-young, but not yet ready for the geriatric set either.

Well, after hearing these stories, Emily offered me what she called a silver lining. She believes that much older men, as well as their insane and just plain classless counterparts, will often be so bold with women they don't know because they have nothing to lose. But what drives these men to behave this way is that they have noticed how attractive the women are. All men are affected by this attractiveness, according to Emily, but most, including the smart, fun, age-appropriate men we would actually be interested in, aren't quite so forward. But we should take note that those men are thinking the same flattering things about us that the old coots are. I told Emily that if she bottled and sold that thinking, she would be a millionaire.

Her brilliance did not stop there, however. I also happened to mention that if mimosas were non-alcoholic, I would drink them everyday, as they are one of my favorite beverages. The always-thinking Emily suggested that maybe adding protein would cut the alcohol's effects, and she immediately began trying to create a champagne smoothie recipe. Champagne smoothies! I don't know about you, but I can't think of anything more fabulous. At that point I decided that Emily and I should open a spa featuring champagne smoothies and her way of perceiving the unwanted attention of old men. Our spa would become the so popular, even the founders of Canyon Ranch would flock to it. Just wait and see.

Champagne smoothies, aside, I have a little sad news. Generally, I keep this space upbeat and only report my bouncy, entertaining, seat-of-your-pants adventures. But the mother of a dear, dear friend of mine died a couple of months ago, and he was just this weekend able to tell me about it. With all due respect to my other amazing friends, all of whom I am incredibly lucky to know, it's possible I may love this fellow more than anyone I am not related to. So please think of lots of happy thoughts for the incredible and talented Schleevin as he works through his mourning process. And his mom, Susie, was super-neato; so I bet they're all thrilled with her company in heaven.

By the way, I have been hesitant to create any new posts for the last couple of days because I wanted Nephew Sassy's photo to remain front and center. So why not scroll down and have another look at him? You know you want to.

He's Here!

Nephew Baby Sassy made his grand entrance this morning! His full name is Mikey Jet Sassy; doesn't that sound like a superhero? Mikey Jet was born at 6:11 a.m. after 20 hours of labor, which I guess makes my sister-in-law Maki the superhero. To quote my brother Michael's birth announcement: "Mom and baby are just fine. Dad's a wreck." It's a little hard to believe my brother Mike actually has a child, given that he's still, at almost 40 years old, just a big kid himself. I haven't spoken to the new parents yet, but I did hear from my sister, The Fabulous Patti. FP said that she talked to Mike today and promptly told him that Baby Sassy is far cuter than she thought he would be. And that he must get his cuteness from Maki. Ah, family. We Sassys actually do love each other a lot, trust me. FP also told me our brother was considering the names Mikey Boink Sassy and Mikey Pooh Sassy. Seriously. I think everyone is happy they settled on Mikey Jet; he certainly will be when he hits junior high school.

My friend and co-worker Angela also had a baby this week. Her son Luke was born Tuesday morning. This has been a good week for superstar debuts.

Although not producing any new humans, your sassy Gal-Friday About Town had a pretty good couple of days herself. On Wednesday afternoon I met Gretchen and we walked across town to Zeitgeist. You haven't lived if you haven't spent a sunny weekday afternoon sipping Chimay on Zeitgeist's patio. It's a hipster, urban version of heaven. After chatting about work, music and Gretchen's husband (we love you, Paul) for a couple of hours while soaking up the Mission sun, Miss G and I took off to Street on Polk for a delicious dinner of cheeseburgers. Street is a little too high end to actually call them cheeseburgers, but their "ground sirloin" is one of the best cheeseburgers you can find in the City. Delicious.

Today I didn't have any social plans, so I took the opportunity to drop far more money than anticipated on new running shoes and exercise clothes. Endorphin addiction can sometimes be an expensive habit. Then I took another cross-town stroll to the Haight and went record shopping. I love walking across this city; it's actually small enough that I can walk virtually anywhere from home as long as I give myself an hour to an hour and a half.

Tonight I'll be heading to bed early before embarking on another fabulous work week tomorrow. I hope Mikey Jet is having sweet dreams tonight and reveling in his first day on earth.

"Oooh Baby, Band of Gold": Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 11

Freda Payne at the Plush Room

Right about now I bet you're saying, "Uh, Sassy, Freda Payne had... what... two, maybe three hits? Exactly how is she going to fill an entire evening at the Plush Room?" Well, it just so happens Ms. Payne is paying tribute to Ella Fitzgerald with this show, and she does a tremendous job. Pitch perfect renditions of "A Tisket, A Tasket," "Miss Otis Regrets," "You've Changed" and Ella's take on "Mack the Knife" fill the performance. She also satisfies her fans with "Band of Gold" and "Bring the Boys Home" at the end of the night. All in all, this was one of the best shows I've ever seen at the Plush Room (all of Paula West's performances notwithstanding). I even bought a cd afterward and had her sign it. It's something to get a jaded media-type like me to actually ask for an autograph.

Two of Freda's musicians ogled me as I walked through the lobby of the York Hotel on my way out the door. I took the opportunity to tell them how much I enjoyed the show, but really now. I guess it wouldn't be my life if some much older, inappropriate man didn't think he could behave any way he wanted toward me. Ah, well. Such is the burden of being sassy, I suppose.

In other music news, I have officially become addicted to iTunes. Over the past few days I've downloaded everything from the Grass Roots to the Clash to the La's to the Knitters. Soon I will be like Ann Marie who claims to spend $50 per visit to the Apple music site. I already have a decent-sized cd collection, but there's just so much music and so little time.

Yes, Virginia, there really is...

... such a thing as too much chocolate.

I was feeling a little melancholy when I got up this morning, so I decided to make myself some chocolate chip pancakes. Given that my culinary skills are not as well honed as my other many talents, I ended up putting too many chocolate chips in the batter. Of course, that did not stop me from eating the ooey-gooey, chocolately goodness I had created, and my pancakes made me a little bit sick.

To pass the time while my body tried its best to metabolize all that sugar, I loaded a ton of songs into my iPod. Some are from cd's I already own; others I downloaded from iTunes. But all are very fun. I then took my newly fattened iPod to the gym where I ran five miles on the treadmill and walked another mile as a cooldown. That cheered me up far more than my diabetes-inducing breakfast had. I think I'll stick to the anti-depressant effects of endorphins and leave the emotional eating to those who cook better than I do.

Good news! I was finally able to post the photo of myself and Ann Marie from last week's blackout at Favorite Bar 2 and its surrounding neighbors. I think the problem may actually have been my computer and not Blogger, which is a mildly disturbing idea. Regardless, I know you've been on the edge of your seat waiting to see us in all out blackout glory. So scroll down and have a look.

Toes, Tunes and a Blackout

I must say, I certainly made the most of my one day off this week. First I went to the gym yesterday morning and had the most fabulous workout. If you are not a person who indulges in exercise endorphins, you are truly missing out. After that, I took advantage of the warm sunshine and got my first pedicure of the year! I usually get pedicures every few weeks, but it has been so rainy since December that I haven't bothered this year. Why pay for cute toes if you're just going to shove them inside a pair of boots everyday?

After my pedicure, my newly-painted, exposed toes and I hit Amoeba Records where I dropped far too much money on cd's... although, on second thought, is it really possible to spend too much money on music? My first purchase was the brand new Matthew Sweet-Susannah Hoffs album, Under the Covers, vol. 1. Matthew Sweet is a terrifically talented singer-songwriter type whose tune "I've Been Waiting" is one of my favorite jingle jangle alterna-pop songs of the early '90's. And Susannah Hoffs is, of course, from the Bangles, who were, for the record, an extraordinary band before that "Walk Like An Egyptian" nonsense was released. It was all downhill from there, but they have some great early work. Anyway, Sweet and Hoffs have put together a collection of 60's pop covers, and it's super fun. While still in the store I noticed that one of the covers on this record is of Love's "Alone Again Or". In that moment I was reminded that I was introduced to this song in the 80's by the Damned's version (sorry, original artist purists), and I decided I had to have a copy of that one. So I found a rather expensive because it is out of print used Damned cd and added it my purchase list. I had downloaded the Love version of "Alone Again Or" from iTunes weeks ago, but today I own all three renditions I know exist. Because apparently, unbeknownst to even me, this is my favorite song in the world, and I have to acquire as many versions as possible.

After cd shopping and touring several Haight Street vintage clothing stores, I met Ann Marie at Favorite Bar 2. While we were there a short blackout hit the neighborhood, plunging the bar into darkness. Most of the FB2 denizens paid little attention to the lack of lights and calmly continued to sip their cocktails. But Ann Marie and I jumped into action, falling into a fit of giggles and taking photos of ourselves with her cell phone. I have finally been able to post the very attractive shot that you see to your left. Aren't we just lovely? Actually, I think the photo turned out okay, considering we really couldn't see her black cell phone very well in the extinguished light of the bar. Our amusement may sound lame to you, but we enjoyed ourselves. Ann Marie and I have a keen knack for turning an ordinary evening of sitting in a bar into an Olympic event of fabulousness. Add a blackout, and we become gold medal champions of fun.

Plus, the bartender working at FB2 last night displayed her incredible sense of memory and told me she recognized me from seven years ago (!) when I spent a couple of sessions in the acting class she was taking. I had decided her acting teacher's style wasn't for me, so I think I only attended two or three classes... again, seven years ago. She also said she had seen me in a show but couldn't remember which one. Regardless, it was quite likely a play I did at least six years ago, as I only act very occasionally now. That is one impressive memory. I had vaguely recognized her, but I decided it was just because she looks a little like my friend Camilla. Anyway, our bartendress then participated in Ann Marie's and my funathon for a bit, and she and I compared notes on who we know in common from theatre and other arenas (we came up with Morris, Dawson, the folks in the Rough Theatre Company, Pete and Jeff). San Francisco is one tiny city.

I Made It!

I got to the ceremony a little late because I didn't get up until 4:50, but I was, in fact, at Lotta's Fountain at 5:12 this morning, exactly 100 years after the great San Francisco earthquake struck (okay, almost exactly.... technically the ceremony was an hour early because the U.S. didn't set the clocks forward for daylight savings time in 1906). The fountain's surroundings look a little different today than they do in this photo, but I figured an image of what had been was more appropriate.

I had to jog to the fountain to make it in time, so it's a good thing I love to run. And since 5 a.m. is not exactly the ideal time for a woman to be walking the streets, jogging was probably the safer option anyway. The commemoration was super fun; being there kind of felt like being part of history. I had to hold back a stream of tears when a vintage horse-drawn fire truck was driven down Market Street, and the city's emergency warning sirens were sounded after we observed a moment of silence at 5:12. After all the speeches were done, our movie star mayor interviewed the 11 earthquake survivors who were there. Even though I generally like them a little geekier than him, I certainly hope a man as charming as Gavin flirts with me when I'm 100 years old.

And because this is San Francisco, at one point during the ceremony the aroma of marijuana wafted by me. Well, it was a celebration of the city's spirit, and a lot of people who live here love their pot. Also, because it's me, I not only saw two people I work with who were covering the event, but I ran into three other people I know. My friend Grant and his girlfriend told me they had stayed up all night because they didn't think they'd be able to get up for the ceremony. Now, that's intense. And yes, they looked really tired.

By the way, if you don't know, Lotta's Fountain was the location for the commemoration this morning because it not only survived the 1906 quake but served as a meeting place for people in the days following the disaster. There's a survivor ceremony there every year, actually, but it's not usually as big as this one.

After the ceremony I went home and crashed on my couch until I had to get ready for work a few hours later. But tonight my work week is over, although I'm going to have an abbreviated weekend this week. I have to work on Thursday, but I get to do my absolute favorite part of my job that day, so I don't mind. I'm going to have to cram an entire weekend's worth of fun into Wednesday, but I think I'm up for the challenge. If not, I'll just have a Power Bar.

Thanks, Easter Bunny!

Well, Peter Cottontail took his annual trip down the bunny trail yesterday, and we celebrated by metaphorically donning our Easter bonnets and gathering for brunch at the Rex Cafe. An incredible cast of family and friends attended: my sister The Fabulous Patti, my aunt Mary, my uncle David, my little cousin Anna, Denise, Paul, Emily, Brad, Jack and Jim. Mimosas, Bloody Marys, delicious food, brilliant conversation and two treat-filled Easter baskets all made for one marvelous holiday. I took some commemorative photos, which I will post once I get them developed. Knowing me that could take a while, so don't be surprised if you see Easter photos in September.

However much fun we had, though, I think my mother trumped us. Diva Mommy lives in Hawaii and told me that she enjoyed an Easter sunrise service on the beach with Diamond Head in the background and warm, soft winds kissing her cheeks. Now that is an Easter deserving of a diva.

Today I struggled through both fatigue and an Easter candy hangover while at work, but I managed. As I have mentioned before, I work kind of late Sunday nights and have only ten hours before I have to be back at work Monday mornings. Some weeks are better than others, but tonight I am exhausted. So I'm off to bed in just minutes... literally. I may rouse myself at 4 a.m. so I can go to Lotta's Fountain for the centennial celebration of the 1906 earthquake tomorrow. 4 a.m. will come awfully early, and we'll be awash in earthquake stuff all day at work. But then, who knew I'd live here for this anniversary? This may not be something I want to miss. I'll let you know how that goes for me.

Here Comes the Sun

Guess what? Something completely glorious happened today: the sun came out! And it was warm! To celebrate I broke out my flowy vintage spring dress and went to Mario's Cigar Bar to meet Gretchen and Paul for a late lunch. We sat outside and chatted while munching on fabulously satisfying delectables. Gretchen had to work at 7:00, so she and Paul went on their way at about 6:30. But Ann Marie had called me, and she caught up with me at Mario's where we continued to enjoy the early evening sunshine while gazing upon Washington Square Park from our outdoor seating. At about 8:00 we made our way to Favorite Bar where we met Brad and a friend of his. Actually, his friend is a recent ex-girlfriend, and frankly, she's... well, let's just say a handful. Given that she chatted up several other men while Brad was left to hang out with us leads me to believe that perhaps they shouldn't stay friends. I know they've broken up, but her behavior was a little tacky, to say the least.

But this post is not about this woman's strange antics; it's about how spring made a rare and very welcome appearance today. This very coy season may well not stay long; it's supposed to rain on and off all weekend. But the taste we had today was delicious.

Tomorrow it's back to the salt mine to start my work week. Weekends go by so fast.

Theatre That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 4

The Glass Menagerie at Berkeley Rep

Really I should say that the second act of The Glass Menagerie made me happy, as I was a little preoccupied through the first act. You see, Terry and I arrived about 10 minutes late, as we had gotten stuck in hideous traffic approaching the bridge. Now, I have both attended and acted in enough plays to understand that it is really distracting when late-comers grope for their seats in the dark. However, when we arrived, a woman I assume was the house manager instructed an usher that we were with the press, so we needed to be seated immediately, despite our tardiness. The usher griped as he lead us to the appropriate door, but once we walked through that door, he told us we would have to stand in the aisle for the entire first act. And then he walked away.

At first Terry and I just shot each other stunned looks, but then I found the usher again and asked him if he was serious when he told us we would have to stand for an hour and fifteen minutes instead of finding our seats between scenes. He said we could wait for the late seating opportunity, but we would have to sit in the back, and then we could move to our assigned seats at intermission. We took that option. And when the late seating opportunity arrived, he took us, along with six other curtain-missing delinquents, outside into the rain, up some stairs, through the staff break room to a back door. When he opened the back door and let us into the very back of the audience he merely said, "Find any open seat," and, again, walked away. No instructions as to where any open seats may be. I'm sure eight people fumbling for seats as our eyes adjusted to the light was not distracting at all.

So I was still digesting that experience through most of the first act. Not to mention that Tennessee Williams seems to spend the majority of act one establishing the relationships between the characters. But the pay off for all that set up definitely comes in act two, which absolutely sings. If you have ever felt shy, insecure, unworthy or otherwise less than fabulous (and I know you have), you will not be able to help but be affected by the second act of The Glass Menagerie. Rita Moreno stars in Berkeley Rep's production, but the amazing Emily Donahoe, who plays Laura, absolutely owns the show. She is that good.

And if our late seating experience wasn't surreal enough, after the performance a 70-year man flagrantly hit on me at the opening night reception. Welcome to my life.

That was last night, and in just a few minutes I am going to meet Ann Marie for a zinfandel tasting. Fine theatre, fine wine. These are good times, my friends.

So Cool It Almost Hurts: Theatre That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 3

My friend Carolyn makes me cooler.

Last night I met her for an early dinner, and then we went, on her excellent suggestion, to see the new Elastic Future play, The Unauthorized Autobiography of Kim Deal. This show is a one-two punch of music and theatre that are both making me happy today. It features not only actors living out the script, but a live band playing Pixies and Breeders songs to complement the story. Okay, obviously it's a cover band because the actual Kim Deal, Kelley Deal and Frank Black have not been cast in the show. But the songs are still fantastic, and the musicians do a very good job.

I said in an earlier post that you have to appreciate the cool that is Frank Black. Well, the same definitely goes for the amazing Kim Deal; that goes without saying. And this rock and roll theatre extravaganza does justice to that cool. If you're curious, the show is running at Amnesia (yes, a bar... where else?) in the Mission through April 15th. Of course I was the only person among the hipsters in the audience last night wearing pearls, but what can you do? I'd like to believe I give pearls a sort of cool cachet. Anyway, thank you, Carolyn, for making sure I caught this show.

Today a co-worker of mine called in sick, and I was pulled off the job I was supposed to do so I could fill in for her. It was super-fun, and I ended up getting home two hours earlier than I would have otherwise. So I'm now gearing up to take a happy nap before I meet Emily and Brad later tonight. We're going to dinner and Favorite Bar, but I also hope we make it to a film release party featuring Persephone's Bees, creators of yet more music that makes me happy.

Expanding the Clan

There's going to be a new Baby Sassy! As evidenced by the photo to the left, my sister-in-law Maki is pregnant and due this month. Aside from teasing my brother about how his soon-to-be-son will be his own "Mini Me," this hasn't seemed all that real to me. Until now. All of a sudden I'm very excited about the debut of this new person. I may have to trek down to Southern California soon so Baby Sassy can meet his new favorite auntie.

And for those of you keeping score at home, this baby will be Japanese, Caucasian and African-American with a dash of Native American thrown in for good measure. We Sassys are definitely doing our part to realize that whole great American melting pot concept.

In other news, I have found another favorite bar. Chris, Tom and I went to this very fun, retro-chic place last night, and I am in love. While Favorite Bar 2 will never completely trump the original Favorite Bar, I think it will give it a run for its money. I actually used to live near FB2 in 1999 and have been there before, but in my foolish youth I didn't fully appreciate it. Back in those days so many years ago, my interest in bars was solely as a means to meet boys and be part of some scene. I'm still a fan of boys and of going out, but my "bar scene" days are long behind me. Now I'd rather relax and enjoy a place like FB2 without concern for who else may be there. With tactful vintage neon, excellent live music (you know I love that) and a tasty signature cocktail, FB2 is an excellent place to while away an evening with friends. The staff and regulars there will definitely see more of me in the future.

Venus and Mars

My friend Brad always says that men are stupid and women are crazy. Honestly, I tend to agree with his assessment, especially the part about women being crazy. I know we're insane. But one thing I will never understand is the male ego.

Last night Helen and I went to Favorite Bar where we ran into this man who is a regular there. I met said fellow about a year and a half ago when I was in the midst of a gargantuan crush I had on a bartender who used to work there. I know, I know, falling for a bartender is a total rookie move, but that's an entirely different story. Anyway, Regular knew I had a thing for the cute, semi-nerdy man behind the bar; he even commented on it when we met. But that late December night in 2004 Regular and I did talk about our respective New Year's Eve plans, and we exchanged email addresses with the intention of possibly combining plans. I didn't even give him my primary email address; I offered some third-tier email I usually reserve for mailing lists and the like. And I pretty much immediately forgot all about our inebriated exchange until I cleaned out my purse a few weeks later and found the scrap of paper upon which he'd written his email.

I now run into Regular at Favorite Bar probably once every three or four months. He's nice enough, but does have a tendency to be overly touchy. What starts out as a hug usually develops into a mauling session. And he behaves this way toward all the women who frequent Favorite Bar, not just me. He's always seemed harmless, much like another regular who has hit on me for nearly three years with a never-ending tenacity, even though I'm not even nice to him. But sometime around last October or November, I decided I'd had it with being pawed by this dude. So the next time I saw Regular, I rebuffed him when he tried to hug me. Rather rudely, I must admit. But as the months have passed since then, we again chat on the really rather rare occasion we see each other, and he no longer touches me so much. A victory in my book.

Well, last night, Regular and Helen went outside to smoke while I took a call on my cell phone. When they returned, he went to talk to some other people he knew, and Helen proceeded to relate to me the conversation they'd had while smoking. He apparently told her that he and I had exchanged phone numbers (huh? Since when is an email address your phone number?), and that he never called me. According to Regular, I had been really disappointed and upset about that, but he believes everything is okay now. I guess I must feel better about his lack of interest in me.

I'm sorry.... What??!! Aside from handing him an email address during a time in which he knew I was infatuated with someone else, I have never done anything to indicate I was interested in Regular. Not once. So can someone please explain to me how rebuffing the physical attention of a man you barely know is a sign that you have the hots for him and are so disappointed he does not feel the same way about you? This isn't a rhetorical question; I'm actually interested in an explanation. If only I had a strong enough ego to believe a man who rejected my advances did so because he was actually into me.

Good Things About Spring

The first good thing is that I left work tonight at 7 p.m., and it was still light outside. I don't care if we lose an hour of sleep, and the people in Hawaii and Arizona think it's weird, I love daylight savings time. Yes, the days would get longer anyway, but there's something a little magical about that first week or so after we set the clocks forward.

Another good thing is baseball season, and today is opening day! As previously proclaimed on this space, baseball is the only sport that matters to me. I don't see the appeal of other games, nor do I understand how anyone could not love baseball. The world is definitely a happier place when pitchers take the mound, the infield fly rule is invoked and my baseball boyfriends return to play.

Both of these things have put me in a rather good mood this evening. Of course, spring also is supposed to mean the end of the rain in the Bay Area, but no such luck this year. However, that's a complaint for another day.

And finally, I end this missive of whimsy with a cautionary tale for anyone who may feel blue about being single. Earlier tonight I got together with a girl friend of mine. She related to me the story of a guy she recently went on one or two dates with. For various reasons, primarily his inebriated condition, he ended up spending one night at her apartment last week, even though they were not actually on a date that night. While she was able to set a solid boundary where fooling around was concerned (in other words, there would be no nookie for him), she was unable to stop him from urinating in her bed. That's right. Granted, my friend certainly isn't interested in this man now. How could she be? But I just have to say: I'd rather be single.

Media Night at Favorite Bar

Last night the lovely and talented Gretchen and I decided to meet at Favorite Bar for champagne. And earlier in the afternoon my friend Steve happened to call me asking for a bar recommendation, so he came along as well. I used to work with both Steve and Gretchie, although not at the same job. We took three power seats at the bar and were off and running when a TV guy who worked with Steve years ago and currently works for the same company as Gretchie came in. Between the four of us, it was like media night at Favorite Bar.

A fabulous time was had by all. In fact, I had too fabulous a time. I didn't do anything to embarrass myself and honestly didn't even realize how affected I was by the champagne until I got home. But things went downhill quickly from there.

Sometimes I'm a complete amateur.

So tonight I'm staying in to continue recovering from my champagne adventure and to watch my amazing actor friend Assaf on television. He's got a guest spot on that show "Numbers." I've never seen it before, but then I never had a reason to watch until now. They certainly are lucky Assaf has graced an episode.

San Francisco Afternoon

First of all, the Noise Pop show last night was very fun. Ann Marie and I actually missed the first band and most of the second, but the third band was excellent. They're called The Ex-Boyfriends and play quite the fun punk-infused power pop. We were not at all impressed with the headliner, but given that we'd never heard of any of the bands playing, I consider it a success to have found one we enjoyed.

This afternoon I met my friend April (or Lirpa, as I call her) for lunch at the San Francisco Ferry Building. Lirpa and I used to work together, and I remember the day I knew we'd be friends. It was just over four years ago, and I was in some crabby mood about something or another. Lirpa was reading Rolling Stone. At one point I walked out of the studio, and when I returned, I found the lovely Lirpa had cut a photo of Scott Stapp from Creed out of her magazine and posted it right in front of my chair, along with a dialogue bubble reading: "Sassy Hair, I love you. Give me a kiss." Given that Creed is one of my LEAST favorite bands EVER, this visual sent me into hysterics and propelled me out of my stupid bad mood. And the funniest part is that I believe said picture is still posted in that studio, complete with thought bubble, even though I haven't worked there for more than two years.

So Lirpa and I dined at the Slanted Door, where I also had a glass of sparkling wine that reminded me of carbonated, alcoholic fruit punch. It was tasty, but I can't imagine having more than a glass or two of that stuff. And of course Lirpa and I got a chance to catch up about all things in our lives: work, boys, whatever.

After lunch I got some of those delicious French macaroon sandwich cookies at Miette for dessert before I ran a few errands. And to top off a wonderful afternoon, I went to Kate Spade to buy a purse I have been eyeing and found it on sale! Sometimes the little things in life just go my way. Tonight I was thinking of going to see one of the a cappella groups from Brown perform (they're on tour during spring break), but it's so chilly and gloomy outside that I think I'm in for the night. I bought Cadbury Mini Eggs on my way home; what else do I need?

Pop Goes the Noise

It's Noise Pop time again! Noise Pop is an annual independent music festival in San Francisco, and you know what that means: lots of live music! Now, one could go to the Noise Pop website and look for a band he or she may have heard of. But the truly daring among us just pick a venue and show up for the performance. That's what Ann Marie and I are doing tonight. We have heard of none of the bands playing, but that's not stopping us. We'll be making a pit stop at Kate's birthday celebration beforehand, which should also be fun. I believe Kate turned 12 today (okay, 27, but she's still a just a wee babe), so I bet we're in store for quite the fete.

And for the record, this is the third Tuesday night in a row Ann Marie and I have gone out to see live music. Tuesday is the beginning of my weekend, but Ann Marie has a regular work schedule. That girl is quite the rock star, isn't she? Even the guy she's dating remarked on how many music shows she attends. I bet he is giddily overwhelmed by how lucky he is to have her.

In other news, I had an excellent day at work today. I had to cover three stories, but none was terribly stressful, and I got out on time. Gotta love that.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 10

"Crush Story" by Too Much Joy

This song is so cute and so accurately describes what it's like to be crazy about someone ("Everything you've ever said is brilliant... Anything you want to do is fine with me..."). I own this ditty on cd and have heard it a million times. But while driving around for work yesterday, I was listening to Live 105, and the DJ said: "If you were in college in 1991, you were probably singing along with this song" before she played "Crush Story." Not only was she very right, but I don't think I've heard it on the radio since 1991. Well, it may be 2006, but yesterday I sang along with Tim Quirk's lyrics with a gusto that rivaled anything that clown in Pagliacci has mustered. I'm loading this song into my iPod today.

After work last night, I went to Medjool where I met Sheela, her husband Ben, our friend Maya and some other friends of Sheela's. I spend so much time at Favorite Bar, I have completely forgotten what it's like to spend a Saturday night in an overly crowded, trendy nightspot filled with scantily clad women and bug-eyed boys. When I left (before midnight, by the way; I'm getting old) there was a line of potential Saturday-night Medjool denizens outside the door that stretched down the block. Even though I'd just spent two hours there, I had to wonder what all these people were waiting patiently to find inside. Regardless of the trendiness and the crowd, I still had fun with my friends. Sheela and I giggled and devised evil plans all night... just like any good girls would.

Best Friend... Star of Stage and Screen

Or at least stage, in this case.

I was just a little theatre tramp this week. Fresh off my trans-bay voyage to Berkeley Rep for Zorro in Hell, last night I went to the San Francisco Playhouse to see my friend Stephanie in a show. I met Stephanie about a year and a half ago when she and I were in a play called 411. Steph would absolutely crack me up during rehearsals, and at one particular moment of hilarity, she turned to me and said, "You so want to be my best friend, don't you?" In fact, while I have far too many friends to honestly call one the "best," she was pretty much right. And it has so been worth it. In addition to offering sparkling conversation over dinners and friend-discounted singing lessons, Best Friend threw one mean all-girls slumber party last year. The six or so of us sang karaoke, watched Flashdance and Mean Girls, ate tons of snacks, drank cosmos and crank called boys. A better time could not have been had, especially by the boys who received our phone calls.

Anyway, Best Friend is currently in a production of Our Lady of 121st Street, which features many laugh out loud moments along with some excellent acting. And Best Friend was, of course, phenomenal. Afterward, I joined her and some of her castmates for cocktails, which was much fun. And the odd thing was that several of them seemed to recognize me from my days as an actor. Prior to 411, the last time I had graced a stage was in 2001 for two one-day play festivals, and the last full production I had done was in 2000. But I guess I'm memorable in some way. Weird.

And tonight, after going out three nights in a row as well as facing a long work day tomorrow which will be followed by more socializing, I am staying in. Erin, Jack and Helen are all out and invited me to come along, but I am happy as a clam in my pajamas and out of the rainy weather. Plus, I had macaroni and cheese for dinner and found a couple of episodes of Six Feet Under on cable. Sounds like a great Friday night to me.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 9

Belle and Sebastian at the San Francisco Concourse

Remember when Roberto Benigni climbed all over the seats at the Academy Awards and proclaimed during his acceptance speech that he wanted to make love to everyone? Well, I feel a similar enthusiasm for Belle and Sebastian. I might have preferred to see them in a more intimate venue, but this group of Scots filled the Concourse at the San Francisco Design Center with their clever melodies Tuesday night. Imagine the Beautiful South combined with the Flying Machine or the Beau Brummels, and you have Belle and Sebastian.

Ann Marie and I found ourselves an elevated spot against the railing and watched the show above the sea of people that was the incredibly large audience. And of course, I ran into three people I know: Nick, Chris and Joo-Eun. I would say that was because I run into people I know every time I go out, but there were so many people there, it would probably have been hard not to run into someone I know. You were likely there, too, weren't you?

It was truly a fabulous show. Do yourself a favor and go out now and get yourself a Belle and Sebastian cd. Now. Really. Go.

Tonight I went with Terry to Berkeley Rep for opening night of Culture Clash's Zorro in Hell. I have great respect for Culture Clash and wanted to love this play, but alas, I can't say that I did. While it features some very funny lines and excellent cultural references, the show is a little long and seems unfocused at times. Of course, I haven't written even one play, let alone been creating works for the stage since 1984... as Culture Clash has done. So who the heck am I to criticize, really.

Welcome Home

I have made it back home safely, but I thought I'd post one more photo from my jaunt up north. This is me and Father Sassy at the waterfront in Tacoma Friday evening. Father Sassy is not the world's tallest man, is he?

My mini-vacation was fun, but I'm very glad to be home. Last night I celebrated my safe passage from Washington state back to San Francisco over champagne at Favorite Bar. I was joined by my friends Tom and Chris, and we chatted and laughed and watched Tom drink too many Manhattans. I love drunk Tom, so that was a true bonus.

But today it was back to the salt mine. Luckily Sunday is my favorite work day. I have three different jobs at work, and I enjoy the one I do on Sunday best. Plus I worked an earlier shift today, so I'm already home. I have to rest up because I have a big week ahead of me: the Belle and Sebastian show, the Culture Clash show at Berkeley Rep, my friend Stephanie's play and meeting Sheela, her husband and some other friends for cocktails. Oh, and at some point during all that I have to go to work and go over my taxes with my accountant. It's very inconvenient when responsibilities take energy and time away from socializing.

Greetings From Puget Sound

Here I am in at the waterfront in Steilacoom, Washington. Beautiful, isn't it? Yeah, well, it's about 48 degrees, and despite that smile on my face, I am freezing. Even though I checked the Seattle-area weather forecast before I left the Bay Area, I managed to pack nothing warm enough for the climate up here. But aside from the chill, my vacation has been positively joyous. I've gone running every morning, and yesterday Father Sassy took me out for a tour of the towns and beaches near Gig Harbor.

Oooh, and Father Sassy's house features a place as close to heaven as I will ever see while alive. It's a small room with a chair positioned right in front of a stereo and surrounded by shelves and shelves of books. The stereo has this huge amplifier that looks like something out of a 1950's science fiction movie. One of the many careers Father Sassy has had, in addition to personal trainer and poet, involved building speakers and dealing with stereo equipment, so he knows how to enjoy his music. There are also photographs of jazz musicians carefully placed throughout the room. And Father Sassy loves his reading, too. He and I have already talked authors, with him shaking his head in disbelief when I told him I don't like Zadie Smith (White Teeth was one of the most boring books I have ever tried to read). He's given me Goats by Mark Jude Poirier, and so far it is pretty good.

Imagine an entire room devoted to music and books. He is so my father.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 8

Frank Black at Cafe du Nord

I will come right out and admit that I don't know much... well, any, really... of Frank Black's solo music. But I love the Pixies and have much respect for the cool that is Mr. Black Francis. You've got to respect him. And the Pixies. If you don't, I hate to say it, but you're a moron.

Denise, Paul, Ann Marie, Emily and myself asserted our not-moronic status last night by traipsing over to the super-swell Cafe du Nord and taking in the vocal styling of Mr. Black, who just stood before us and sang as he strummed his guitar. At one point he did call up a keyboardist, but basically, the show was all just him. And it was pretty great, whether you knew any of the songs beforehand or not. And just for the record, if you're looking for age-appropriate, seemingly heterosexual men who also happen to be damn hot, a Frank Black show is apparently the place to find a lot of them. Emily, Ann Marie and I certainly enjoyed the floor show as well as the one happening on stage.

That story told, I should let you know that I am talking to you tonight from Seattle. Sort of. I'm actually in Gig Harbor, about an hour outside of Seattle. I've taken a little holiday and am visiting my dad and his wife. I'll only be here a few days, but this is the first paid vacation I've had in years. I was let go from my last fancy full-time job in December, 2003, and then I spent a year and a half freelancing. I've now been at my current job long enough to cash in some vacation time, and I am stoked. I wiled away my first day in Seattle proper where my dad, his wife and I enjoyed cocktails and snacks at a delicious Caribbean restaurant for happy hour. My dad and I then took off to allow me some tourist time. The Experience Music Project was already closed, but Father Sassy and I did go up to the top of the Space Needle. It was fun, but can someone please tell me what the point of that thing is?

I'm not certain what we'll do for the next few days, but what I do know is that I'll be making money while relaxing in the great Pacific Northwest. Gotta love that arrangement. And I'll especially love it when I visit my mother in Hawaii this summer.

When Work Feels Nothing Like Work

When most people have to sit in traffic for more than an hour, they get annoyed. I did it joyfully today because I got paid for it. You read that right: for almost two full hours, I was paid to sit in traffic.

Now, I did have to sing a little bit for my supper. This was not your ordinary Saturday traffic, so I had to talk about the hideous congestion, along with the moods of the other drivers (a bit of a challenge as we were all in our own cars) and the basic atmosphere on the automobile soaked Golden Gate Bridge. The other drivers seemed to be handling the situation with gracious patience, even though we were all being left in the dust by the pedestrians walking across the bridge. And I think the drivers' moods would have soured if they'd known I was being paid to do what they were doing for free. So I kept that to myself.

Once Highway 101 reopened the traffic recovered quickly, and I'm sure everyone was quite happy and relieved. Well, everyone except the actor I met who had missed his audition in Marin because he was stuck in the back-up. And then his car died. Plus, his towing company told him they wouldn't be able to get a truck out to him right away, so he was stranded with a only few hours until he needed to be onstage for his current show. I doubt he was having a particularly good day.

Sometimes my job is almost surreal.

You Know Too Many People When...

Or this post could be titled: "You Go Out Too Much When..."

So this being my "Saturday" night, the Lovely Laino and I went out. First we hit a totally dead bar... at my request. I was doing a little research for a writing project I'm taking on. After one drink at Dead Bar, we went to the Balboa Cafe. There we ran into the Head Boss from work, a guy who works at our sister station, a former trainer at my gym and a former co-worker of ours. All at the Balboa. I would expect this kind of thing at Favorite Bar, but I rarely ever go to the Balboa.

Clearly, I have lived in San Francisco too long. But I love it. By the way, other than running into a bunch of people we knew, the Balboa was boring. Or more accurately, it was full of boring boys we didn't having any interest in meeting. Yawn.

Ah, To Be A Target Demographic

I say this a lot here in Sassy-land, but once again, you know you're old when...There are no fewer than three television commercials currently airing that feature songs by your favorite band.

Yes, the Go-Go's became mainstream pop, but they started as punk rock chicks, for crying out loud. They were an all-girl band who wrote their own songs, played their own instruments and were not controlled by a Berry Gordy or Phil Spector type producer. Belinda can't sing to save her life, but who really cares?

Well, now they're glorified jingle-smiths. A re-recorded version of "Vacation" is being used to promote some travel company or another (it may be Orbitz). "Head Over Heels" now hawks Pantene hair products. And the most offensive... "We Got the Beat" has been changed to "We Got the Meat" for a pizza commercial. "We Got the Beat" may be my least favorite Go-Go's song (the original Stiff Records version notwithstanding), but it didn't deserve that. Now, this is not the first time Go-Go's music has been used to sell products; in 1998 "Our Lips Are Sealed" helped the marketing efforts of AT&T. But three commercials all airing at the same time?

Madness has also recently been featured in a coffee commercial, and Squeeze was co-opted by, I believe, Burger King a few years ago. But those are stories for another day.

So it's official. Any efforts of mine to deny that I'm getting older will be countered by ad agencies' insistence that I am now part of some kind of desirable demographic. I guess I don't blame the Go-Go's members for making a little cash by selling their songs to advertisers, but I never thought I'd see the day when I missed those ridiculous California Raisins commercials. Granted, the genius that was Marvin Gaye didn't deserve jingle status either, and he didn't make any money off those ads because he didn't write "I Heard It Through the Grapevine." Um, and he was already dead. But that's another generation's battle.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 7

"Catch My Disease" by Ben Lee
I have to give Ben a little love on this space because he is playing tonight at the Great American Music Hall, and I am not there. I could be, as my friends Denise and Paul are going and wanted me to come along. But Monday nights are a bit of a challenge for me since I work a late shift on Sundays and have to be back at work a mere 10 hours later Monday mornings. In other words: I'm pooped and am already in my pajamas, which likely would not be a good look for a concert. Luckily for me, I have seen Ben twice before. In December I caught him at the Independent with the aforementioned Denise and Paul. And about three years ago he captivated a bunch of us Fountains of Wayne fans when he opened for that band at the Fillmore. So I think I'll be okay getting some sleep instead of singing along with cute little Ben's show tonight.

And since the hooky goodness of "Catch My Disease" makes it my favorite little Ben ditty, it gets the specific mention in this volume of music that's making me happy.

In other news, this past weekend I caught up with my college friend Bert's sister Emily (did you follow that?). Emily recently moved to San Francisco for her fancy job, and I had the pleasure of introducing her to Favorite Bar on Friday night. Jack and Helen were there, too, and we all had much fun over many cocktails. Emily even met a gentleman that night. I'm not certain how long their connection will continue, but the magic of Favorite Bar is powerful. Even if only for one night or so.

Theatre That Is Making Me Happy Today, vol 2

The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee at the Post Street Theatre

Well, now isn't this just the cutest little musical I have ever seen.

I must admit, I went into Spelling Bee with fairly low expectations. It looked a little dumb to me, and I have seen some bad musicals in my time. But I had media passes of my own, and I am not one to turn down a theatre opportunity. Well, as it turns out, I was quite pleasantly surprised. Hysterically funny and a little poignant, Spelling Bee had me laughing out loud and at times a little choked up. Yes, I said choked up; any story about kids has the potential to get to me. In fact, when I saw Spellbound, that documentary film about kids in the National Spelling Bee, I didn't just get choked up... I folded like a cheap paper airplane under the pressure of watching kids under so much pressure and cried. Hard.

But back to the musical comedy about spelling. There are shows out there that can be called "better." Nine Parts of Desire, for example, which is running for a couple more days at Berkeley Rep (see February 11th post). And Spelling Bee is unlikely to change anyone's life. But I have learned that it takes talent and artistry to create fun theatre, and the high caliber singing and acting in this show, including what must be some improvised lines, work together to produce an incredibly enjoyable experience. And while I imagine a few of my theatre-snob friends would dismiss this show, I say there is no crime in entertainment for entertainment's sake. Some local references have been infused into the story, and I think at least one of them is a little over the top, but that's my only criticism.

My super-talented actress friend Mary also really enjoyed Spelling Bee. And she recently had free tickets for Cats but hated it so much that she walked out in the middle of the first act. So there you go, Spelling Bee really is better than Cats.

Fat Tuesday

This year Fat Tuesday has been followed by Hangover Wednesday. Well, I'm not actually hung over, but boy did I do my share of Mardi Gras reveling last night. Truth be told, I just think I'm getting old. I had four glasses of champagne over four hours, and I was dee-runk by the end of the night. I can't party like a 25-year old (or even a 30-year old) anymore.

To add to the fun, it was also my sister's birthday yesterday. The Fabulous Patti turned 47, but she looks about 35. At the oldest. Anyway, I met Fabulous Patti and her friend Lisette at the wine bar in the Ferry Building where we toasted the anniversary of FP's birth over glasses of champagne. Then FP and I took off for Favorite Bar to meet my friend Sheela and her friend Scott. More champagne was consumed as we donned Mardi Gras beads and chatted about travel and film-making. Sounds pretentious, I'm sure, but it was really fun.

Not bad for a Tuesday night, I must say.

And I have a very fancy evening planned for tonight. First I'm going to a Commonwealth Club event. Not one of their usual lectures, but some tony cocktail and dinner thing. I have to leave the dinner early, though, as I'll be meeting my super-talented actress friend Mary, along with Terry and our co-worker Patti (not to be confused with FP, although this Patti is pretty fabulous, too) for the opening night performance of a The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. It's very hard being in such demand.

Sniffles

I have been sick since Thursday evening.
I have been in denial of this fact for approximately the same amount of time.
Only today, when I used half a box of tissues as arsenal against my sniffles, did I admit to myself that I am, in fact, a bit infirm. I feel fine, but sneezing seems to have become my primary form of communication. This state of affairs is not at all surprising, as many people I know have been sick lately. Plus, my workplace tends to be petri dish for festering germs. Once one of my co-workers comes down with something, we all eventually get it. I feel like I'm getting off a little easy this time, though; I can beat down a case of the sniffles. The copious amounts of zinc help.

Huh... now that I think about it, I kissed a friend of mine on Saturday night. It was a relatively innocent, friendly kiss, really, but I bet he won't feel so friendly toward me if he gets sick, too.

But speaking of work, something very exciting happened right at the end of work today. The power went off, and everything went dead. Everything. Usually when the power goes, a back up generator immediately takes over, but not this time. We had no phones, no computers, nothing. That would be bad enough in an office, but imagine, if you will, this happening to a media outlet. There is something a little thrilling about being rendered completely helpless, even if only for a short time, by a black out.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol. 6

X at the Great American Music Hall

I may be only 36, but still I say you know you're old when...
1. You wear pearls to an X concert, and it doesn't occur to you that such an accessory might be out of place.
2. You and your friend lament the fact that you forgot your earplugs.
3. You are recoil in horror when people start to slam dance.
In my defense on that last one, is there anything more pathetic than a bunch of 45-year old men slam dancing? Survey says no. I know we were all at a punk rock show, but pull yourselves together, people. You're closer to AARP membership than you are to the halcyon days of your youth. Slam dancing maniacs aside, the show was fabulous. I got to sing along with "True Love, pt 1," "Johnny Hit and Run Pauline," "Los Angeles," "Devil Doll," "White Girl," "Hungry Wolf" and so many other greats. Unfortunately, they didn't play my absolute favorite X song, "The New World," but I suppose no concert is perfect. And they were tremendously fun to watch. Billy Zoom mugged for everyone's cell phone cameras and seemed to be channeling a less manic version of Jerry Lee Lewis. Exene was significantly less drunk/high/whatever than she was at the Knitters show last year. DJ Bonebrake looked happy as a clam behind his drum kit. And John Doe was... John Doe. Need I say more?

And finally, you really know you're getting old when you're happy that the band members are also so old that they finish the show before midnight, allowing you to get to bed at a halfway decent hour.

Happiness

Here I am once again with two days off from work, and I feel like the world is my oyster. The sun is shining, and we in San Francisco seem to be coming out of the deep freeze temperatures that gripped our City by the Bay last week. Thank goodness. You might think I dislike my job, given how I revel in my weekends. Actually, I love my job, but they call it work for a reason. I just happen to love my weekend playtime more.

Right now I'm doing laundry. Glamorous, I know. And then I'm going to clean my bathroom and clear out all the toiletries I don't use. At this point I imagine you're wondering whether the show "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" knows about me. But I intend to load up my cd changer with Belle and Sebastian, Ben Lee, Nedelle and Thom, The Beautiful South and X while I clean, so I'm very much looking forward to it.

I also added "Ana Ng" by They Might Be Giants, "Take Me With U" by Prince and "Whole World Lost Its Head" by the Go-Go's to my iPod last night; so I can't wait to go running after my date with the bathroom.

Later this afternoon I'm going to meet my friend Daniel in Hayes Valley. Daniel is so much fun, and I don't see him nearly enough these days. He is decidedly snobby and judgmental. While those may seem like negative qualities, somehow, on Daniel they become incredibly charming. Then tonight I'm going to a film screening and a party. Yes, on a Wednesday.

Tomorrow I'll be interviewing a high school senior who has applied to Brown. I used to do these alumni interviews all the time when I lived in New England, but this is the first one I've done in San Francisco. I imagine the applicant will appear to me to be too young to even be considering college. Then I have plans to get together with Gina, another friend I don't see nearly enough anymore, for a cocktail. After that I might actually watch the Olympics. I haven't been paying much attention to the Winter Games this year, but last night I got sucked into the women's figure skating competition, and the conclusion is tomorrow.

The "Rich and Famous" couldn't possibly live better than this.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 5, Plus My Fours

"Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane
I have loved this song since the first time I heard it in 2004, but recently it made it onto my running soundtrack. Because it's only mid-tempo, I usually skip this track if it pops up on my iPod while I'm indulging in my daily endorphin rush. But for whatever reason, I decided to let it play one day last week, and now the mere wanting in Tom Chaplin's voice as he almost wails the lines "If you have a minute why don't we go... Talk about it somewhere only we know... This can't be the end of everything... So why don't we go..." keeps my adrenaline going strong. This morning I listened to it over and over again for almost my entire run.

The Boy With the Arab Strap by Belle and Sebastian
I must admit I'm late to the party where this band is concerned. I've heard their name bandied about for years, but only recently have I decided to check out the music. They have a brand new album out, but I decided to start earlier in their career with this collection from 1998. And I love it. I'll definitely be procuring more Belle and Sebastian recordings.


And now, lest Terry think I'm a spoil-sport who wouldn't play along, I present to you my tag-mandated list of fours:

Four Jobs I've Had: Music/video store clerk, Professor's summer research assistant, Live dj at some bar in Rhode Island and Actor.
Four Movies I Can Watch Repeatedly: That Thing You Do!, Love Actually, Meet Me in St. Louis and Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
Four Places I've Lived: Pasadena, CA, Providence, RI, Glasgow, Scotland, and San Francisco.
Four TV Shows I Love: Arrested Development, The Daily Show, Gilmore Girls and My So-Called Life.
Four Places I've Vacationed: London, North Carolina, New York and Las Vegas.
Four of My Favorite Dishes: Shaking Beef at the Slanted Door, Basil Tofu from the Chinese place near work, North Beach Pizza with ground beef and fresh tomato and the Rex Salad with chicken at the Rex.
Four Sites I Visit Daily: I'm not sure I visit four websites every day.... hmmm... my email provider, a media industry website, Queen of the Dorks and All Music (okay, I only visit that last one about once a week or so).
Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now: A warm beach, the spa, a great concert, visiting my mother in Hawaii.

So those are my fours. Now I must scoot. I'm going to see Jack's roommate perform at Blondie's and I'm tardy.

A Mind Is a Terrible Thing To Waste

Just ask Dan Quayle.

Anyway, if you don't mind me saying so... I fancy myself really good at math. I was a literature major in college and have always been drawn to the arts, but math was by far my favorite subject in high school. Followed in a close second by physics, believe it or not. But since I have not pursued a career in math, my current skills are pretty much limited to being able to calculate the tip at restaurants with just a quick glance at the bill (a skill which my friends love, by the way). Well, that plus all the general logic and reasoning math teaches us. But this morning as I was reading Prep...

... And I will interrupt my narrative here and say that I imagine it seems like I have been reading this book forever, given that I have mentioned it in three different posts now. It almost seems that way to me, too, but I promise I'm almost done....

... I was reading Prep, and the main character is now failing pre-calculus. In this part of the story, our heroine offers a simple pre-calculus problem which she can not solve. I now can't remember exactly what the equation was, but what I do remember is that I wouldn't know how to solve it either. Me, stymied by math? Granted, my own pre-calculus days are almost 20 years behind me, but still, I find the situation highly disturbing.

Also along the lines of my own stupidity, before work today I washed the new squishy bath towels I just bought. But I washed them with the rest of my laundry, which was consequently subject to major amounts of towel lint. Luckily I was mostly washing exercise clothes. The t-shirts made it out okay, but not so much for my exercise pants and shorts. One pair looks like it was attacked by a shedding polar bear being chased by a newly sheared sheep still trailing remnants of wool. I think I'll be giving that particular pair another wash.

But that's all behind me, and because I worked an earlier shift today, I'm off to meet Jack, Helen and Erin for a Sunday night cocktail. We probably won't land at Favorite Bar because Erin isn't a huge fan, but really, is there actually anywhere else worth patronizing?

Weekends Were Made For...

... getting things done! And for the record, they were not, contrary to popular belief, made for offensive American swill-beer that happened to have really good marketing in the late '70's.

I have had the most productive weekend ever (remember, my "weekend" happens mid-week). On Wednesday, I got up, went to the gym, had a doctor's appointment, went grocery shopping and did laundry all by 4 p.m. And I cooked myself dinner. That's right, cooked. It was a simple recipe, but in no way did it involve any frozen entrees or my microwave oven. After all that, I got my hair trimmed, did a little record shopping in the Haight, hit Macy's to get some new, deliciously soft towels and stopped at Victoria's Secret for lotion. Boy, I'm tired just typing all that. But I didn't stop there. I then met Jack and Helen at Favorite Bar for a glass of champagne before returning home to curl up with my book and get a good night's sleep.

How much would you pay for a weekend like that? But wait, don't answer because there's more! Yesterday morning, I got up and again headed straight for the gym where I topped off my workout with a relaxing spell in the steam room. And I've got to wonder who is in charge of the music at my gym. On one hand, they feature the same disco-mainstream pop combo you hear at all gyms. But I've also heard the dulcet tones of Marshall Crenshaw, Nick Lowe, Weezer and the Untouchables over the sound system. Who would have thought such music would be featured at a gym nestled in a fancy hotel? Anyway, after the gym, I scooted to lunch with an editor friend of mine, and then I met Terry for margaritas at the watering hole near work. Why, you ask, would I go to a place near work on my day off? Well, the margaritas are on special and the bartender is so charmingly moody, we've nicknamed him Crabby. That's worth hanging out near work on a day off.

To bring my weekend to its grande finale, my super-neato friend Carolyn and I went out to Walnut Creek to see Playhouse West's production of Oleanna. At this point I'll just come right out and admit... and this is utter blasphemy for anyone who is or has ever been part of a theatre community... that I'm not a huge David Mamet fan. There, I've said it, and I'm not taking it back. I only went for the opportunity to hang out with Carolyn and to support Playhouse West, which has a special place in my heart. But Oleanna was actually better than I thought it would be. While it is, in my opinion, flawed, it was enjoyable through the first half. The second half left a little to be desired, and as the story grew more ridiculous (that's not a criticism; it's supposed to be ridiculous), the flaws became more obvious. Not to mention, that in 2006, a play that eviscerates political correctness just seems a little bit quaint. Maybe it was terribly provocative and stunning 15 years ago, but now, not so much. To me, anyway. But the production was good, and the actors did a nice job. And at the end of the day, what more can you ask for?

After all that, I feel like I need a weekend from my weekend.

Happy Valentine's Day!

It's the day of love, and I'm in a very good mood. First thing this morning I sent a little email blast of joy to everyone in my address book. So I'm a geek; it's fun to spread the love. Then we had all kinds of treats at work. Plus, per his annual tradition, one of my co-workers left all of us women See's candy in heart shaped boxes. Yummy and fun!

When I was in my twenties, I used to think that if I wasn't in a relationship with my dream man, I needed to dread Valentine's Day. But now I realize that attitude was thoroughly ridiculous. I have tons of love in my life, and I bet you do, too. Plus, on Valentine's Day we get to wear red, eat lots of chocolate and smile all day without having to explain ourselves. What's better than that? And for good measure, it's my lovely and talented friend Wendy's birthday! If all that doesn't convince you... remember that on the day after Valentine's Day, all the chocolates Walgreens has stocked up on since early January go on super-sale. Now, that's something to look forward to.

So tonight, my friend Michael is hosting a little "Love-In" at the Tonga Room. I'm going to swing by that, and then I'm going to the Lovemakers concert with Ann Marie and Elizabeth. If that doesn't sound like a night even Cupid would enjoy, I don't know what does.

Generosity

This is me with my friend Gabriella at Cafe Royale in 2004. Gabree and I became friends as second graders in 1977 when we bonded over having the same Holly Hobby lunchbox. And she lives in San Francisco now, too.

As I briefly mentioned in an earlier post, I was in Gabree's neighborhood on Saturday evening, so I stopped by her apartment to say hello. What I discovered when I got there was that she had a belated birthday present for me... which was a little embarrassing for me since Gabree's birthday had been a few days earlier, and I had arrived empty-handed. Mine is in December. But the point is that my very generous friend had selected the perfect gift for me.

The thing is, I love cards. As in, greeting and note. I send about 100 Christmas cards every holiday season. Literally. And in recent years, I have become queen of the thank you card. I even sometimes will send my friends cute little cards just to tell them they're fabulous. Because in this age of quick email, IM's, text messages and voice mails on the run, who wouldn't want a goody hand delivered to them by a U-S government employee? We all like to get snail mail, so I like to spread the love that way. Well, the very sweet Gabree got me personalized note cards with my name and a sassy little pink shoe on them! It may not seem like much to you, but I can't wait to start writing stuff on them and sending them out.

And if that isn't enough, my former co-worker Liz has these two really cool part time jobs where she gets free books. That's right: free brand new books! And over the years I've known her, she has always set aside books for me that she thinks I'll like. She'll even order extra copies for me if she thinks I'll like a book she wants to keep. She does this for a lot of people, but I'm certainly glad I'm one of them. She just gave me this really cool looking novel set in 1940's Hollywood. I'm not done with Prep yet (which, by the way, is getting a little slow-- we get it, the main character feels out of place at her snotty prep school, resulting in teen angst; is she going to do anything interesting about it?), but once I'm finished, I'm going to tear into this one.

The point of this post is that my generous friends are very good to me. Maybe I should send Liz a thank note written on a personalized note card....

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 4

This afternoon I found myself humming a couple of songs that my "band" would have covered, had my rock star aspirations not given way years ago to other interests like broadcasting, writing and acting.

"All I Wanted" by In Tua Nua
Apparently this band out of Ireland was discovered by Bono in the mid-80's. Who knew? What I know is that this tune from their 1988 album The Long Acre features vocals wonderfully belted by singer Leslie Dowdall. Who wouldn't want to sing along?

"Understanding Jane" by Icicle Works
Most American new wave fans will know Icicle Works for their fabulous "Birds Fly (Whisper To A Scream)," but a few years later "Understanding Jane" was a hit in the U.K. and popped up on college and commercial alternative radio stations (what few of them there were then) on this side of the Atlantic. Catchy guitar pop like this wins my heart every time.

By the way, I live out those old rock star aspirations of mine for about 45 minutes or so everyday when I go running or hit the gym. Cardio goes by much faster when you imagine yourself performing all the songs on your iPod. And sometimes I think about reviving the muscle memory I taught my fingers in junior high and high school by taking up guitar again. But that said, I'm pretty much content to remain a music fan; my arts-infused media life treats me pretty well.

Theatre That Is Making Me Happy Today, vol 1

Nine Parts of Desire at Berkeley Rep

Admittedly, it feels decidedly wrong to say a play about the lives of Iraqi women is making me "happy." But seeing amazing theatre is a rush for me, and Nine Parts of Desire is the definition of amazing theatre.

Written by Heather Raffo, Desire is the product of interviews with Iraqi women whose stories are told in a 90-minute one-woman show. Raffo performed the show herself from its 2003 debut in Edinburgh to runs in London and New York. The Rep's production features Mozhan Marno, and while I can make no comparison to Raffo's performance, I can say Marno is phenomenal. She seamlessly transitions from character to unique character, all while maintaining a consistent connection with the audience. And she does this for 90 straight minutes. The stories are overwhelming enough, but as a former actor, myself, I couldn't help but get lost in the power of Marno's work. Her program bio says she holds a MFA from the Yale School of Drama, and I can attest that her degree is well earned. There are few things that affect me the way watching the work of a good actor does.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the show is pretty good. Thanks, Terry. Gotta love that girl's media passes. Desire runs through March 5, if you're interested, by the way.

And because good things all seem to happen at once, it just so happens that Fox also showed four new episodes of the fabulous, if ratings-challenged, Arrested Development last night. I taped them all and can't wait to watch. Huh... Nine Parts of Desire and Arrested Development; I guess I have varied tastes. I'm not sure when my Arrested mini-marathon will happen, though. I had to be at work before the crack of dawn this morning, and then, after running, I met Cheryl and Maya for snacks and tea. After that I caught up with my friend Gabriella for a little while. And I'm about to go out again to see a little live jazz.

I wonder when I'll sleep?

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol. 3

It's another gorgeous day here in San Francisco. After I do laundry and take my run, I'm going to meet Gretchen and see what kind of trouble we can stir up. We may grab lunch; we may shop; we may check out the patio at Zeitgeist. I also need to make a trip to Amoeba at some point to pick up Ben Lee and Belle and Sebastian cds. To that end... let's talk about music that has popped into my mind this morning.

"Can't Help Falling in Love," written by George Weiss, Hugo Peretti and Luigi Creatore
I almost got permanently sick of Elvis Presley's recording of this song ten years ago when I used to hear it almost daily because of work. But this morning I caught Andrea Bocelli performing it on the Today Show, and it was positively gorgeous. I'd say the Lick the Tins version from the film Some Kind of Wonderful is my favorite, though. Not necessarily a song I would listen to all the time, and there are a lot of recordings of it that truly stink... but schmaltzy romance does not get better than this.

"The Very Last Time" by the Maydays
I'm not 100% sure this San Francisco band still exists. Pat Johnson, who wrote the song and sings lead, plays in about 600 other bands, plus his solo work. And I imagine the other guys involved all have dance cards filled with other projects. But they did press a single, and Pat says he's re-recording the song with some other musicians. Propelled by a thoroughly contagious 60's pop hook, this song is basically two minutes and twenty-three seconds of joy. Experience it for yourself, courtesy of the Wally Sound website, by clicking here.

Twenty five years of U2
Between Coldplay, Green Day, the forced Kelly Clarkson-horrible Gwen Stefani record education afforded me by one of my part time jobs last year and U2, I knew much more of the music in last night's Grammy ceremony than I thought I would. And as I watched I found myself thinking that, by all rights, U2 should be nothing more these days than four washed up musicians reliving their former glory and practicing for their Behind the Music interviews over Guinness pints. But nothing could be further from the truth. This band continues to produce music that, in my opinion, continues to be top notch. Something to be truly thankful for.

Good Day Sunshine

I am in the middle of my work-weekend, and so far it's been pretty lovely and has featured more evidence of this charmed life I seem to lead.

To kick things off last night, I met my friends Elaine and Franny at my Favorite Bar. Over the past couple of years, I've become an official regular at Favorite Bar... a hip little place that, while sometimes too crowded on the weekend, is delightfully inviting during the week. I used to be uncomfortable with the idea of being a regular patron there. The allure of a Cheers-like life seemed lost on me, and I feared that "regular" status was probably a sign of alcoholism or some other ilk of anti-social behavior. Then I remembered that several years ago I became friends with the owner of Blondie's in the Mission because of my frequent patronage there. And in 2000, my friend Gry and I fell into a Wednesday evening happy hour habit at Casanova. We kept up that tradition for over a year and only stopped once Gry moved to New York. So I guess I should have no discomfort with my affection for Favorite Bar. And compared to others, I'm pretty much an amateur regular anyway, as I tend not to go there more than once a week or so.

Champagne at Favorite Bar is always fun, but things got really good today when my friend Denise and I decided to take advantage of the amazing sunshine kissing the Bay Area and hop a ferry to Tiburon. Once there, we slathered on sunscreen and set ourselves up on the waterfront deck of Sam's Cafe where we chatted up a storm over sandwiches and Sam's pink "lemonade." And to think so many others were stuck inside offices working today.

So here I am happy as a clam after having spent a fabulous day in the sun. Tonight, I will likely curl up on my couch and either read or perhaps watch the Grammy Awards so I can marvel at how many of the artists I don't know and how much of the music I've never heard.

Victory!

I was feeling a little low this weekend.

Not so low that it interfered with my overall enthusiastic demeanor or ability to get things done (which is a good thing, since I work weekends), but I was feeling low nonetheless. And the ridiculous part is that my negativity was triggered by something that is, at the end of the day, so meaningless and inconsequential to my life that it doesn't even bear mentioning. In other words, I basically walked around in a low-grade funk over... for all intent and purposes... nothing.

But then I decided to stop endowing this meaningless nothing with so much power. I looked those insipid little insecurity and funk monsters right in the eyes and showed them what kind of kick-ass superhero I really am. And I stand triumphant; I have been declared champion! Even the French ice-skating judges have given me a perfect 10. And while the funk monsters may dare to rear their ugly heads again, they'll never forget who they're trying to mess with.

In other words: I'm feeling much better, thanks for asking. And in honor of my newly restored funk-free existence, I'm going to take a cue from Terry and post some things in life that make me happy. So in no particular order:

1. The endorphin rush running produces.
2. All the music I love and the excitement of discovering new favorite songs and bands.
3. Spending the day, or even just a few hours, at the spa.
4. Candy.
5. The first kiss with a boy I have nursed a crush on. Even if he later behaves like a jerk, nothing can erase the delight of that moment. Cue Jay and the Americans song here, please.
6. Champagne.
7. Being so involved in a book that I even look forward to spending time on MUNI because it will give me a chance to read.
8. When I used to act (and on the rare occasions I grace the stage now), the times when my connection with the other person in the scene would create a moment so truthful and unique, it could never be replicated... and it would feel like I was flying.
9. Watching other actors create amazing moments, be it on stage, film or tv.
10. Jimmy Fallon's character in the movie Fever Pitch. How could I not love him? He was cute-- hell, he looked like Jimmy Fallon-- he loved baseball, and he taught math. Math! If he'd played an instrument, too, I would have crawled into the movie and tried to steal him from Drew Barrymore's character.
11. My years at Brown.
12. Laughing and making people laugh.
13. Girly dresses that fit perfectly.
14. The time three and a half years ago when a friend of mine told me I light up a room when I walk into it. He and I actually aren't friends anymore (it happens), but I'll always remember him saying that.
15. All the people in my life who love me. When I take a moment to think about how many there are, I get a little overwhelmed by how lucky I am.

And, hey... speaking of people in my life, something potentially glorious is brewing in my friend Ann Marie's world right now. It's not my business to tell you, but Ann Marie is one fabulous chica, so I'm very excited for her.

Backfield in Motion

I'm not a football fan.

In the vast and varied sports promenade, my one suitor is now and always has been baseball. I'm a rather girly girl, but nonetheless, I know what a designated hitter is and which league uses that position. I can tell you all about the suicide squeeze, and I even know the infield fly rule. I went to spring training in Arizona three years ago, and I'm considering going again this year. My overall love for baseball is so strong that one day I may forgive the Giants for letting my baseball boyfriend J.T. Snow go play for the Red Sox. Not that the Red Sox are a bad team, objectively speaking. In fact, the eight and a half years I lived in New England cultivated enough Red Sox loyalty in my heart that I actually cried when they won the 2004 World Series. But my boyfriend J.T. now plays for a team three thousand miles away, and I'm not into long distance relationships. It's a good thing Mike Matheny is still a Giant...

At any rate, with the exception of an annual passing interest in the Rose Bowl because it is played in my hometown, football has never been my thing. It has always just seemed like a convenient way to distract sports fans until baseball season starts again. So it's just a tad ironic that football has taken even a slightly prominent role in my life this weekend.

Yesterday John Madden was voted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame, so for work I got to spend a chunk of my day talking to Raiders fans at a Raiders-focused sports bar in San Leandro. As it was 12:30 in the afternoon, and the Raiders are done for the season, there were only about seven people in the place. But the guys I talked to were very nice, including the 80-year old man who rolled out his best flirting moves when he chatted with me. And talking to fans was definitely better than having to immerse myself in football history as it relates to John Madden's career.

Now yesterday alone would be enough football to tide me over months, but today I am going to my friend Anjolie's house for a Super Bowl party. Anjolie is awesome. She was a year behind me at Brown, but we didn't know each other then. We met at Blondie's in the Mission about seven years ago. The vague recognition from our college days had us eyeing each other, but the ice was only broken when Anjolie's then-boyfriend came on to me. What a peach, huh? Anyway, Anjolie merely sees the Super Bowl as an excuse to watch the commercials and have people over, and I support her perception. Besides, big things happen when I go to Anjolie's. The last time I went to her Super Bowl party, Janet Jackson exposed one of her breasts and as a consequence turned the FCC into modern-day Salem witch hunters. Coincidence? You be the judge.

Absolutely Fabulous!

And no, I'm not talking about the tv show.

Just a few minutes ago I was on the last leg of my run...
... And I'll pause here to tell you that by "last leg of my run" I mean the quarter to half mile at the end of my run where I walk. I could call it a cool down. And I could defend it by reminding you and myself that by that point in the route, I've already run about three to three and a half miles. But frankly, the last few blocks of my running route are uphill, and while I run up a steep hill at the beginning of the run, by the end I'm over it.... Anyway, I was on the last leg of my run this morning when I noticed a man standing in the middle of the sidewalk doing something very curious.

Frankly, it looked like he was lighting a crack pipe.

I asked myself who on earth would light a crack pipe in the middle of a relatively crowded sidewalk in a nice neighborhood at 9:15 in the morning? And then I remembered this is San Francisco; who knows what people will do or why they do it.

As I approached the man with my gaze unabashedly fixed on him... because who wouldn't want to watch someone light their crack pipe at 9:15 a.m.?... I realized he wasn't holding a crack pipe at all. It looked like he was trimming his nose hairs. In public! This was an even better train wreck to watch, so I kept staring. As I actually walked past him I realized that he was not, in fact, trimming his nosehairs. But he was doing some sort of grooming maintenance on his upper lip with nail clippers.

Still a little disgusting, but completely awesome nonetheless. I love living here... and I suspect it's going to be a very good Friday.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 2

Paula West live at the Plush Room.

Last night I went to the Plush Room with my friend Terry, who is on their media list. Terry is actually on a lot of media lists, and she very generously shares her wealth of free culture. She takes me not only to the Plush Room but to press night performances at Berkeley Rep and ACT. She takes our other friend Patti to Best of Broadway shows and Cirque du Soleil performances. Patti and I are going to be very disappointed when Terry gets married again, and our gravy train ends.

Anyway, the Plush Room is one of the coolest places in the City. It's in the York Hotel and hosts absolutely scrumptious cabaret shows. And my favorite performer there is Paula West; I think I've seen her six or seven times at this point. She's performing with the Eric Reed Trio this time around, and the show is a jazz and pop standards concoction featuring tunes by Oscar Hammerstein, Johnny Mercer, Cole Porter and Nina Simone. Plus, Paula threw in great arrangements of "'Hey Mr. Tambourine Man" by Bob Dylan and "Folsom Prison Blues" by Johnny Cash for good measure.

Drinking champagne while seeing Paula West perform a jazz arrangement of Johnny Cash at the Plush Room... Does life get any better than this?

You Know You're Old When

This is a photo of me with my friends Tom and Eric at the Black and White Ball last June. Are we not cute? Tom was my date. I have no idea where Eric's date was at that moment; maybe she snapped the picture. Why I am writing about an event 7 months ago? Well, I didn't have this blog back then... so open your mind and pretend it's still 2005.

Anyway, the Black and White Ball is a bi-annual fundraiser for the San Francisco Symphony. The Symphony plays under the rotunda at City Hall, and there are lots of live bands. Well, the headliner at last year's ball was the Violent Femmes.

Yes, you read that correctly. The Violent Femmes at a Symphony fundraiser.

On one hand, it was really cool. On the other, seeing a band that was part of my formative years at such an event made me realize something: I have entered the demographic targeted by the organizers of these sorts of fundraisers. In other words, I'm officially old (and apparently am supposed to have money). As I was watching the influential Femmes perform while we audience members donned tuxedos and cocktail dresses, I realized we were just like the people who would go to Herman's Hermits reunion tours 20 years ago. Now, I go see bands from my youth all the time. The Go-Go's tour every year, and I'm always there. I've seen Dave Wakeling from the English Beat and General Public about 10 times in the last five years. And I'm going to see X later this month. But something about the Black and White Ball - Violent Femmes combination made me feel very middle aged, despite the fact that I'm only in my mid-30's.

I so was affected by this experience that when I got home from the Ball I turned on my computer to email my older brother Peter, a rock star who lives in Germany (literally... okay, the phrase rock star might be slightly overstating the point, but he is a musician). Peter introduced me to the Femmes in 1983 when he pointed my attention to the video for "Gone Daddy Gone," and in my opinion, he needed to know this band was now doing the symphony fundraiser circuit. So I composed a short note and hit send, feeling satisfied that I was spreading the evidence of our advanced age. He would be stunned, shocked and incensed.

Peter never responded. Maybe it was because he turned 40 last September and, even though still a rock star, already felt old enough. Or maybe he just didn't care.

Books That Are Making Me Happy Today, vol 1

I'm addicted to bookstores. I always say Borders and Cody's are like crack to me, and sometimes I have to force myself to stay away. Often I'll go in just to browse and come out with four books my bookshelves have no room for. Anyway, I noticed the book Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld in the bookstore last year, but I vowed to wait until it came out on paperback before I bought it. So I'm cheap; I still love to read.

I'm only on page 77, but so far I have not been disappointed. Okay, there have been a couple of things about the book that haven't thrilled me, but I have forgiven them. You see, I went to private school my whole life. And while my small high school was a day school in suburban Los Angeles, as opposed to a New England boarding school... several details in this narrative have taken me right back to those college preparatory days.

I'll let you know if it takes a turn for the worse, but so far, this novel is living up to its critical praise.

For the record, I was actually in a book club a few years ago. And we were ambitious: we read political non-fiction. But honestly, Heidi, Sheela, Maya, Cheryl and I spent more time talking about boys than we did discussing the books. Much more. But then we branched out a bit and threw a couple of very successful parties. Who says smart girls don't have fun?