Thursday, May 29, 2008

So Wrong, But Oh, So Right

Okay, I might officially be a huge geek.

I have mentioned on this space before that I rarely, if ever, see movies in the theatre. The only film I've seen on the big screen this year is Juno, and that was back in January. And frankly, I can't recall if I set foot in a movie theatre at all last year.

Well, my 2008 tally is about to double because the Sex and the City movie comes out tomorrow, and you bet I'm going to see it. In fact, I am going tomorrow night. And I already have my tickets.

That's right, I purchased tickets in advance. For a movie.

I will, in fact, be spending more than two hours on a Friday night, prime cocktailing time, in a dark theatre.

This isn't like me, but it's Sex and the City, for cryin' out loud. Maybe I'm the cliche of an urban single girl, but wild horses wouldn't keep me away from this film. I was feeling a little embarrassed by my advanced ticket purchase until I learned that my friend Megan is going to see Sex and the City tonight at midnight. Plus my coworkers Christine, Angela and (the other) Christine all have an enthusiasm for the film similar to mine.

So at least cosmo-swilling geekiness loves company.

***Edited on May 30th to add*** What a shame the movie turned out to be such a disappointment. It doesn't do the series justice. However, before the film, I saw one woman slap another... hard... because she thought the second woman had taken her seat in the theatre. Needless to say, the slapper was removed and the police were called. This at an 8:30 p.m. screening of Sex and the City in San Francisco, the city of peace, love and happiness.

Monday, May 26, 2008

Fifteen Pounds of Bacon

Everyone has traditions. Some people take the same vacations every year; some stick to the same holiday rituals. As for me, one of my traditions is to attend Tom, Chris and Nick's annual Memorial Day weekend barbecue. They've had eleven so far, and I've been to every one.

Between the three of them, Tom, Chris and Nick generally invite about 400 people to this party, ensuring it is always a well attended affair. Snacks are plentiful; libations flow; and kids and pets are always a hit. Easily the most popular guest this year was the puppy pictured above with Elena, Dave, Katya and Eric. That dog probably got more love than all us other partiers combined.

The rest of us did have fun, too. And as the afternoon became the evening, several things happened: it got a little chilly (read: downright cold); we continued imbibing with everything from vodka punch to beer to hot toddies available; Roach, Tom and I posed for this photo; and Kevin threw fifteen pounds of bacon on the grill.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Apparently, another guest brought bacon to last year's party (I have no idea); so Kevin took upon himself to make sure this year's soiree was similarly stocked. After finding a $100 bill on the street, he spent 44 of those found dollars on fifteen pounds of bacon purchased from a Mission butcher. Don't worry, he didn't try to cook it all at once. The bacon was grilled in the very civilized manner one would expect of barbecued bacon. I have to admit, it looked kind of gross, but it tasted delicious.

There are occasions when I always seem to eat things I never would otherwise, like hot dogs at baseball games. And barbecued bacon at Tom, Chris and Nick's party.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

The Sub Rosas Take the Mission

We came, we saw, we rocked the house.

Okay, not really. Given that the Sub Rosas play music more of the emo/indie and pop genres, there was no rocking involved at all. The closest we came was getting our legions of fans to bop on their barstools and even dance a little to our renditions of "Someday, Someway" and "Different Drum." That's close to rocking the house, isn't it?

Whether we "rocked" or not, the Sub Rosas debuted at the Blondie's Volume One Music Showcase on Monday night. No three-song open mic appearance here; this was a full 40-minute set gig. I have to admit, I was a little disappointed in our performance, but it's possible I'm being overly critical. Especially since Doug, who joined us on bass, hadn't really practiced prior to 24 hours before the show. Given that, we probably did really, really well.

Rosa sang several of her original songs and one cover, while I played the role of a low-rent, indie-type American Idol contestant by singing only cover tunes. It's because I don't write music. Yet. You never know what might happen tomorrow. As I mentioned, Doug played bass, and Jackie generously offered us some lead guitar lines.

Regardless of what I thought of the performance, the audience loved us. Yes, the audience was mostly comprised of our friends, and a few of my friends were drunk, but still. We'll take the love. I will tell you that after our set, I was approached a random guy who wanted to know when our next gig was or if we have a MySpace page. Embarrassed that my answers to those questions were "I have no idea" and "Um... no," respectively, I took the guy's email address and promised to add him to our mailing list.

I guess I have to start a Sub Rosas' mailing list.

Regardless, given that he was a stranger, I'd call that guy our first official fan. Yay! Unfortunately, I'm serious when I say that I don't know when the Sub Rosas will perform again. Or if we'll perform together again.

In the meantime, I'm headed back to the open mic circuit, bolstered by the knowledge that I, as a member of the Sub Rosas, have one fan.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

The Best Policy?

Sometimes being honest is quite the challenge.

I should know this already, as my tendency to be honest actually has gotten me into trouble in the past. In fact, it caused a whole bunch of drama about three years ago, but that's another story. (For the record, I stand by my choice to be upfront and honest in that situation.)

Anyway, this particular tale involves money. A major, upscale department store, which shall remain nameless so as not to embarrass anyone, seems to think I have a credit on my charge card bill, when, in fact, I owe them money. It's kind of complicated and not exactly an exciting story, but it boils down to a swim suit I bought for my recent trip to Hawaii. The suit is quite lovely, and I wore it very well in Waikiki. For reasons of pre-sales and gift cards, I ended up getting said swim suit for just $45.26, down from $96. Yay! However, due to a mistake made during the convoluted sequence of pre-sale charging, returning and re-charging to accommodate my gift cards, the store has not only forgiven my actual debt but has credited me $43.28.

Now, I imagine many people would just take the credit and run. I believe this because I was tempted to do that, myself. After all, it wasn't my mistake; I got my bill and trusted it to be accurate. However, in the end (or at the beginning, I perhaps should say), I decided that I should be honest and not allow this store to pay me for donning a new swim suit on a Hawaiian beach.

The first thing I did was call the 1-800 number on my bill. I carefully (and charismatically, if I do say so, myself) explained the situation to the agent who answered the phone. She understood where the mistake had been made but didn't know how to fix it. After thanking me for my honesty, she put me on hold so she could ask her supervisor what to do. When she returned to the line, she told me that there was nothing that could be done at billing headquarters since apparently, this was a mistake made at the store. So I'd have to go there and clear everything up in person.

I bet at this point you're hoping I just decided to take the credit. Nope, no such luck.

This afternoon (my last weekday off before my work schedule changes, by the way), I trotted over to the upscale department store to explain the error. It didn't go quite so well this time. A tiny language barrier forced much repetition of my story, and the customer service rep still thought I was trying to tell him I should have a bigger credit. When I finally was able to explain clearly that I actually owe the store money and would like to pay it, he told me not to.

Not yet, anyway.

In this man's opinion, it is "likely" that the error will correct itself. How, I'm not sure, and I don't think he knows, either. Regardless, I am to wait through another billing cycle, and if I still have a credit, I can come back to the store and have it fixed. He did tell me he'd never had a customer come to his desk to correct a billing mistake made in her favor. I guess he'll tell me that again if/when he sees me in 30 days.

Being honest certainly can require of degree of tenacity. And it can give you a headache.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Some Kind of Monday

Have you ever asked for something really good, gotten it and then felt overwhelmed? Almost like you're in shock?

Just wondering.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Romy and Michele Have Nothing On Us

Twenty years ago this June, I put on a beautiful white dress, carried a bouquet of flowers and.... graduated from high school. (Well, what did you expect me to write?) This weekend, members of Polytechnic School's Class of 1988, many of us pictured in this post, gathered at our alma mater in Pasadena to celebrate our 20-year reunion. And it wasn't just about high school. Poly, as we call it, is a private prep school; so many of us, like me, spent most of our secondary education there. I put in 11 years at Poly, from 2nd through 12th grade, and literally grew up with my classmates. There is something really great about connecting with people who have known you since you were seven. Some of these people I still see and talk to regularly; others I haven't seen since the last reunion. Or since they left Poly back in the 80's.

Just to make sure my reunion experience was as authentically high school as possible, my skin decided to break out. Okay, it wasn't that bad, and I'm probably the only one who even noticed my blemishes, but still. How appropriate. Otherwise, I'll risk arrogance and tell you that I looked great, especially compared to my overweight adolescent self. It's so nice that adulthood lasts so much longer than our teen years. Especially if you look better as you get older.

The reunion began with courtyard cocktails and mingling. Actually, there had been a picnic earlier in the day, but I skipped that. As I told many of my classmates, I saw no need to begin my reunion until the liquor started flowing. After cocktails, there were class pictures and then dinner. Officially, the reunion ended after dinner, but do you think we Class of '88 partiers stopped there? Oh, no. Once dinner was done, many of us took off for the bar at the former Huntington Hotel (I'm not sure what they're calling that hotel this week).

It was at the Huntington that our collective composure really loosened up, as you can perhaps tell from the composition of this particular photograph. Champagne and wine flowed, enlightenment was shared and bonds were strengthened. As Saturday night turned into Sunday morning, the crowd thinned, but the party didn't die. Those of us who closed down the reunion (that would be Gabriella, Vince, Ella, Bobby, John and myself) finally wrapped things up at about 3:45 a.m.

That's right, a bunch of near 40-year olds out until almost 4:00 in the morning. Does it get better than that? I think not. The drinking aside, of course, high school itself should be this much fun.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

First Stop: Tiki Ti

I mentioned before that I planned to take a little mini-vacation to L.A. this month, right?

Well, that's where I now am. I arrived yesterday afternoon and will be in the Southland until Sunday morning. What has brought me to the City of Angels this time around is my 20-year(!) high school reunion in Pasadena. There are several reunion activities scheduled, but I likely will only attend the cocktail and dinner parties on Saturday night. I should probably go to everything, given that I'm on the reunion committee, but there's only so much high school I can take. I liked high school and all, and it will be nice to see my old classmates, but really, now.

One thing I already have done is pay a mandatory visit to Tiki Ti. Tiki Ti is a teeny, tiny tropical drinks bar on Sunset that I was introduced to a year ago by a Bay Area acquaintance. These days it doesn't exactly look like it did in this 1961 photo, but it's still in the same location and still offers dozens upon dozens of different tropical drinks. But no beer or wine, so don't bother asking. My sister Fabulous Patti and I went last night and enjoyed Lemonhead cocktails, as well as the excellent Tiki Ti atmosphere. I love it there.

Tonight I'm going to see the Morning Benders at the Echo. The Morning Benders are a Bay Area band I really like, but I haven't managed to see them up north. So I've traveled 350 miles to finally check them out. A friend of mine (and by "friend," I mean a guy I met at the Good Luck Bar the last time I was in L.A.) who works at the Echo put me on the guest list for tonight's show. So I get the pleasure of music for free. Yay!

Other than the Morning Benders and my reunion, I suspect it's going to be a pretty mellow visit. Several of the friends I usually see when I come to town are otherwise engaged this weekend, and I kind of feel like laying low, anyway. My sister and I want to check out the 4100 Bar, also on Sunset, but we'll see if we get there. I intend to go shopping this afternoon for a reunion outfit, but I feel a nap coming on.

Once I get back to the City by the Bay, it will be all about rehearsals. The big Sub Rosas show is coming up on 19th, and we have to make sure we're ready.

Friday, May 02, 2008

Seriously, Why Isn't Life a Beach?

So here I am, home safely after eight glorious days in Honolulu. And my question for you is: why? The lovely photo to the left is Waikiki Beach in the late afternoon. I snapped a whole bunch of shots like this one because the reflection of the setting sun on the water is just so beautiful. How could any sane person leave that?

Well, I have no idea because I did leave, but I certainly had a blast while I was there. I think my vacation can best be summarized using the following categories: exercise, beach, food and singing.

Exercise. I know I've mentioned this before, but it bears repeating... there is nothing more lovely than a morning run on a tropical island. Every day of my vacation began with a jog or visit to the hotel gym. The outdoor runs were a little more satisfying than the gym, given that it is always warm by 7 a.m. in Hawaii. Living in San Francisco, I'm not accustomed to running in 75-degree temperatures or higher before noon. But I certainly enjoyed it.

Beach. Every time I go to Hawaii I threaten to move there. What stops me is the idea that if I lived there, I likely would have to get a job and have a life that didn't necessarily revolve around laying on a beach and playing in the ocean all day long. There are never enough hours in a day for the beach. After my morning endorphin rush, I'd wash up, slather on the sunscreen and head for the waves. And most early evenings found me walking along the water as the sun set. Should I ever write a personal ad, I could say that I enjoy walks along the beach and actually mean it.

Food. There was a lot of food, and I ate it all. Yum.

Singing. So I mentioned in the previous post that my mother found some Waikiki karaoke. It's every night at the Shore Bird, in case you're wondering. However, in addition to that, my friend Emily and I stumbled upon a karaoke room nestled inside a bar in the basement of our hotel. The bar itself was pretty horrifying, but the karaoke room was great. Singing set us back $1 per song, but it was so worth it. On Monday night we stuffed the machine with $30 and sang our hearts out. After a more traditional karaoke experience at the Shore Bird on Tuesday, we were back in the basement karaoke room on Wednesday night, our last night. We didn't sing as many songs on Wednesday, at least I didn't, but we still gave our inner rock stars a work out. Emily has told me several times since our Monday marathon that she doesn't think she knows anyone else who would have been game to sing for so long with her. Good thing she recently started doing karaoke with me.

I suppose there could be other categories to describe my vacation activities, like boys. They were everywhere, but none were really that interesting to me. Emily had a field day (or days), but I wasn't really into any of the boys we met. Another indication that when I go to Hawaii, it's all about the beach. Also, while San Francisco may have cold, bitter beaches, the boy selection here is rather lovely.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, including vacations, and yesterday saw my return to the Bay. Before bidding Oahu farewell, I took a run/walk and strolled along the beach one last time. That's where I posed for this self portrait. I wasn't as sad to leave as I usually am, but I think that's because I'm going back to Hawaii in just four and a half short months. Yay! Also, now that my vacation is over, I can move on to my mini-vacation next week. That's right, next Wednesday I head to L.A. for jogs along Los Feliz Boulevard, live music in Echo Park and my 20-year(!) high school reunion in Pasadena.

And after that, we have the Sub Rosas show! Then, Tom and Chris' annual Memorial Day barbecue, as well as the Black and White Ball. Lots of good things happening in May, and when they're all done, I'll be that much closer to my next Hawaii get-away.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Notes From A Beach

I haven't even been in Hawaii for 24 full hours, but already I have tidbits to share.

1. It took less than three hours from the time my plane touched down for some man twice my age to hit on me. At 38, I'm no spring chicken, myself, but I have to wonder what a man who looks 70 thinks he's going to get out of chatting me up. Seriously. He was polite and nice enough, but really, now.

2. The first thing Diva Mommy and I did upon my arrival was hit the patio at Duke's Canoe Club. I landed at 3:15, and we were seated at Duke's with lava flows in hand by 4:45. Plus, our very favorite Waikiki live musician was playing. Yay! He played "Beyond the Sea" for me, even though he doesn't really know it. It sounded good to me; so I was happy.

3. Later in the evening, the Diva and I found ourselves at another beachfront bar/restaurant, and the musicians there treated us to a rendition of Joe Jackson's "Is She Really Going Out With Him" between Lynyrd Skynyrd and Neil Diamond covers. I didn't know whether to be happy or horrified at the inclusion of Joe Jackson, but I sang along. (Besides, "Is She Really Going Out With Him" is being used in the commercials for a really terrible-looking Patrick Dempsey movie. So if I'm going to be horrified, I should probably start there.)

4. Diva Mommy has found me some Waikiki karaoke! Oh, little does the sweet Diva, who was a professional singer in her day, know. It was getting kind of late by the time the karaoke began, but not too late for me to warble through "Different Drum" and make a whole bunch of friends in the mere three minutes it took for me to sing it. Don't think I won't be back there for a few hundred more tunes.

Okay, that's all for now. I have my new bathing suit on, and the beach awaits....

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

The Countdown Begins

Less than 24 hours from now, I will be here, basking in some serious Aloha spirit.

Do you need anything from Waikiki? A lava flow from Duke's Canoe Club, perhaps? How about if I take a dip in the warm Pacific and soak up some sunshine for you? I'll be sure to tell Diva Mommy you say hello, and when Emily arrives on Sunday night, we'll party in your honor.

Or you could come along. Think about it...

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Dance Party USA

Little did Chris, Tom, Andrey, Angela, Joey, Phil, Terry and I know when we gathered at the Attic last night, we soon would find ourselves in the middle of an out and out dance party. I'm not talking a few folks bopping to the music over their cocktails. I mean clothing layers thrown aside, beers ignored and abandon embraced as people shook their groove things and got waaay down.

Even though I have proclaimed the Attic to be one of my favorite bars these days, I am still a newbie there. It's my understanding that they have DJ's every night of the week, and I am learning just how varied the music styles spun by these mad turntable scientists can be. When my friends and I began to trickle in at about 8:00, the man providing the music was playing indie rock tunes seeming to befit a semi-dive bar in the Mission. It was the perfect soundtrack for our imbibing and chatting.

However, a couple of hours later, after several of us went on a much-needed burrito run, the beat had changed, and what there is of a makeshift dance floor had come alive. The music was a mix of cool classic soul played alongside awful top 40 and techno/disco. It was all just so oddly schizophrenic: I'd be enjoying one song only to have my buzz killed by the next. However, the hipster version of American Bandstand taking over the place didn't care in the least. The crowd was loving every note and eating it all up. Even if I didn't dance, myself, or particularly like the music, the energy of the place was pretty great.

So a few cheesy songs hasn't dampened my Attic love, and it's good to know that a relatively small, dark bar can turn into a buzzing discotheque at a moment's notice.

This afternoon I went to Berkeley to rehearse with Rosa and Jackie for the upcoming Sub Rosas show. Things are coming along, but suffice it to say, I'm quite glad the show isn't happening for a few weeks.

This is why we practice.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Working On Material

One of the great things about living in San Francisco is that occasionally you can, if you're quick enough to get tickets before they're scooped up by others, see Robin Williams live, as he tests out new material at Bimbo's 365 Club.

Well, I was fast enough this time, and that's what Denise, Paul, Carolyn and I did tonight. Robin was, of course, hysterical, and the historic, intimate Bimbo's was the perfect venue. So much fun.

The show tonight was an excellent end to a lovely day that saw me take a nearly six mile run/walk (I ran four miles, walked just under two), get a much-needed haircut, and day drink in the sunshine at Zeitgeist with Bill, Katie and Steve. What's better than Wednesday afternoon Chimay and hard cider on Zeitgeist's beer patio? Nothing.

Well, maybe seeing Robin Williams live later in the evening is a tiny bit better.

(Psst., guess what? Just one week until Hawaii! Emily and I are going to rule Waikiki. Yay!)

Monday, April 14, 2008

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 36

Nick Lowe at the Fillmore

I've always liked and respected Nick Lowe, but over the years our relationship has been of the casual variety. "Cruel To Be Kind" enjoys a strong rotation on my iPod, but I only own one album (Jesus of Cool). However, after seeing him this weekend, I am officially in love. And certainly ready to make a serious commitment.

Imagine a brilliant songwriter, a guitar and you, safely nestled with a few other fans at a legendary San Francisco rock club. Now, imagine yourself surrounded for about 90 minutes by a sea of perfectly crafted three-minute pop songs. My new music boyfriend, Nick, is touring with Robyn Hitchcock, but I have to admit, I can take Robyn or leave him. He's a good songwriter, too, I suppose, but nothing to write home about (sorry, Robyn).

Nick serenaded me, Bill, Kim and Katie, along with the rest of the crowd, for over an hour, and when he ended with "What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love and Understanding," (yes, made famous by Elvis Costello but written by Nick), I was so happy, I was near tears. For an encore, Nick brought Robyn back and they treated the audience to several cover tunes, including the Beatles' "If I Fell." Then sadly, the lights started to come up, and the house music began to play.

Not so fast.

Forget about little, lovesick me, Nick quickly learned that he couldn't just just walk out on the dozens of stoned Baby Boomers and their Gen X friends who populated the Fillmore that night. About five minutes of continuous cheering and clapping later, we had all succeeded in bullying Nick Lowe back onstage for two more songs. I don't think I've ever seen a second encore begin after the house lights and music had come up.

He may be almost 60, but nonetheless I repeat, Nick Lowe is my new music boyfriend.

Another new boyfriend of mine is DJ El Guapo, the man in charge of Teenage Kicks at the Attic. Tom and I took residence on a couple of barstools there on Friday night, and it was a delicious experience. Once the music started, poor Tom had to deal with me repeatedly stopping the conversation mid-sentence to bop my head to the beat and proclaim how happy I was. I didn't even know most of the songs Mr. Guapo (okay, his real name is Victor) played, but I loved them all just the same. The songs I did know were choice, too, including the Records' "Starry Eyes," which you never hear anywhere these days. I probably scared Victor a little bit because I had to gush over his song choices more than once, but everyone likes having a fan, right?

I think Teenage Kicks happens the second Friday of every month. Well, whenever it is, I intend to be there for it.

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

The Best Laid Plans

Remember when I said this afternoon that I was going to go running... in the opposite direction of the Olympic Torch. (You don't? Scroll down; it's at the end of my previous post.) Well, I did just that. Or so I thought.

About 15 minutes into said run, I encountered a closed street. Why was the street closed you ask? That's right: the Torch. Officials aborted their original route plan and took the Torch directly across my running route. The bad news is that the spectacle delayed my run by about 15 minutes or so, and I never regained my momentum. As a consequence, I ended up going on a shorter "run" than planned and walked most of it.

The good news is that I did see the Torch in person. Without all the mayhem. I will say, however, that had I gone down to the Embarcadero, as originally planned, and waited for hours to see a Torch that never showed up, I'd have been highly irate. Just like I bet a lot of people were.

The Little Things

Sometimes little things make me very happy.

Case in point: hearing "Echo Beach" by Martha and the Muffins on my gym's sound system yesterday. I don't know who is in charge of the music at my fancy workout den or what satellite system they subscribe to, but when I hear a little New Wave ditty like that as I'm doing ab exercises, it makes me feel like all is right with the world.

Unfortunately, my music high was cut short when I later heard Men at Work and Greg Kihn's "Jeopardy." Ick. But all was okay again when the Go-Go's "Our Lips Are Sealed" wafted through the space surrounding the free weights, cardio machines and fitness addicts. While I'm always armed with an iPod full of my own song choices when I work out, it's still nice to see (or hear) the whole gym filled with good music taste.

Again, sometimes it's just the little things.

In just a few minutes the Olympic Torch relay will begin in San Francisco, and I was going to walk down to the Embarcadero to check it out. I've seen the Olympic Torch in person once before, when the relay took it right by my house in Pasadena for the 1984 Los Angeles Summer Games. However, between the protests and general hoopla this time around, I think I'm all "torched" out. So even though it will be happening only a couple of miles away, I'm going to watch the beginning of the relay on television and then head out for my own run. In the opposite direction of the torch.

And then tonight, I sing! Three jingle jangle pop songs, one open jam in the Mission and no waiting. Yay!

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Fancy Parties and Candy

I wish my life consisted of nothing but the above.

Okay, not really. But sort of. Well, last week I did my best to dabble in both, as I attended a fancy party and checked out the new Candy Bar.

The fancy party was a preview reception on Wednesday for the San Francisco Symphony's Black and White Ball. Have you ever been to the Black and White Ball? That is one super fancy party, and it is ridiculously fun. Sometimes certain parts of the affair can be overly crowded, and they seemed to run out of food at the Ball a few years ago, but I believe those kinks have been worked out. To that end, I am very much looking forward to this year's Ball. It can get kind of cold, too, given that much of the party happens outside, but that never bothers me too much.

Denise came with me to the preview reception, which in and of itself, wasn't all that fancy. However, we did enjoy the free cocktails and sparkling wine, as well as some free snacks. That's pretty much fancy enough for me. I think we had more cocktails than snacks, though. At least I know I did because I definitely needed the Thai food we found for dinner in the Mission after the party.

I think I'm becoming kind of a lightweight in my old age.

The following evening Kara and I went to Candy Bar, a new wine and dessert bar on Fulton Street. While there is no actual candy to be found at Candy Bar, I tried the dessert tasting menu and was very satisfied. Kara stayed healthy and had savory snacks, like asparagus and hard boiled eggs. They were also yummy. We didn't try any of Candy Bar's wine, sipping sparkling water instead, but the wine did look delicious. I guess I'll just have to go back.

Tonight I'm meeting Joey at Thirsty Bear for a flamenco show. Yes, you read that correctly. I'll let you know how that works out for us. I definitely am looking forward to the small plates and micro-brews.

Oh, one more thing: is it a problem that I had a dream that the boy I kissed last weekend is gay? Okay, probably. Now, I'm certain this gentleman is not gay, but the dream likely was my subconscious reminding me that, for a couple of reasons, he may not be the most appropriate match for me. But he was so pretty... just so, so pretty. And a very nice guy, too. Ah, well. Dreaming he was gay may have been a little wrong, but the real life kissing was very right.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Happiness Is....

... a warm puppy?
... all the jelly beans you can eat?
... Waikiki Beach?
... a three-minute jingle, jangle pop song?
... a day at the spa?
... the start of baseball season?

It could be any of those things, but I have to say that to me, happiness is my life overall right now. I'm good at keeping things in perspective and remembering that I have led a fairly privileged life, but that doesn't mean I can't find something to mope about. I can and will, if provoked. Go ahead and try me. However, I woke up this morning, or perhaps it was another recent morning, and realized that everything is going really well. Yay!

Nothing terribly earth-shattering has happened lately, just a lot of little positives. My singing habit is flourishing, as I continue to test the Bay Area open mic circuit (and remember, the Sub Rosas have an upcoming gig). Plus, last weekend Rosa and I made a recording of some of the songs I've been singing. The recording is pretty rudimentary, and I'm no recording engineer, but the good news is that I'm not horrified by what I hear when it comes to my vocals. I'm still an amateur, and I definitely need to keep up my singing lessons, but I'm getting better everyday. I've always had a decent voice, but given what I sounded like a year and a half ago when this singing endeavor began, I'm very happy with my progress.

Work is going well, too, and my work schedule has allowed me some free weekend nights lately. I spent Sunday night at the Attic with Carolyn and Dima, and it was super fun. I make no money hanging out at the Attic, but I had worked earlier in the day, so it was the best of both worlds.

There are also cute boys everywhere these days. Everywhere. No salacious stories, necessarily, but suffice it to say I'm in a pretty good mood where boys are concerned. And of course, there is my upcoming trip to Hawaii. Just thinking about that is a guaranteed pick me up. All of this is to say that, as we make our way through the spring, these are good days.

Unfortunately, something not so good has happened to a friend of mine. I was hoping I would wake up today to find it had all been an elaborate April Fool's joke, but no such luck. He'll be fine, but still. Sucky. Happiness is not watching your friends go through rocky times.

Sunday, March 30, 2008

The Road to Rock Stardom

This is what I believe I would look like if I were a rock star.

While it is very unlikely I actually will become a rock star, or any kind of music star, I am one step closer. I don't want to jinx anything by telling you too much, but... The Sub Rosas have a gig! I'm not talking three songs at an open mic or playing for my co-workers at Doug's house; I mean a real, honest to goodness gig. With a full set and (theoretically) people we don't know in the audience. This may prove to be The Sub Rosas last dying breath as Rosa moves on to other projects, but still. What a way to go.

Again, I don't want to risk ruining everything by spilling too many beans, but suffice it to say a date has been confirmed with the venue, and Rosa and I will soon go about the business of creating our playlist. I'll update you on this anticipated moment in music history as more particulars are solidified. And if you know me personally, I'll expect to see you there.

(I am so excited!)

On an unrelated topic, I am exhausted today. I went to a super fun party last night and stayed up way too late. Let me tell you, after being out until about 2 a.m., 8:15 came awfully early this morning. I was smart enough not to drink, though. So I'm only fatigued, as opposed to hungover. How much fun was this party? I have two words for you: bunny dance. Make of that what you will (but this is still me, so nothing terribly dirty is involved).

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Like 1997 Again

Well, it's not exactly like 1997, but sort of.

When I first moved to San Francisco, Blondie's in the Mission was my very favorite bar. It had quite the neighborhood feel eleven years ago, and I recall spending many a Saturday night sipping pint sized lemon drops and listening to live swing bands alongside Mission denizens. I also met a couple of really cute boys there back in the day, and that was enough to keep me coming back again and again. Plus, I became friends with the owner, Nikki, who is super nice.

I didn't live in the Mission, myself, however. I had come to Blondie's from another neighborhood, as would many, many people over the next several years. By, say, 2001 or 2002, the weekend crowd at Blondie's had grown exponentially, and the bar had lost it's live music license, meaning no more bands. The bowling shirt clad gentlemen who previously had filled the place were nowhere to be found; replaced by overgrown frat boys and the lingering happy hour crowd who now bounce to the beat of far too much hip hop and house music. So I turned my attention to other San Francisco watering holes.

Well, I just may become a Blondie's regular again, at least one day a week. Nikki got her live music license back about four years ago, and last month, Rosa and I made an appearance at Blondie's Wednesday night open mic. Then last night, I was back. Sadly, as I mentioned before on this space, Rosa's unforgiving work schedule is keeping her away from open mics these days, but thanks to the magic of Craigslist, I have found another guitarist.

With my barstool fan club of Suzanne and Zeina cheering me on, and several members of the house band joining in on my three-song "set," I treated the crowd to renditions of the Beatles, Icicle Works (again) and the Stone Poneys. Plus, thanks to some lucky timing, I think the bar was most crowded while I was singing, and people were actually paying attention. I even got the weirdo-chic punk hippy who had performed before me to sing along while he gave me a beer bottle salute. That, in my opinion, is a serious accomplishment.

I'll be back in two weeks, armed with more three minute pop songs. And there just may come a time when, if you want to find me on a Wednesday night, the open mic stage at Blondie's will be the only place you need look.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Hopping Down the Bunny Trail

I have a jelly bean hangover.

Actually, it's possible I am still riding a sugar high from the 16 pounds of Easter candy I have eaten today. It's been just so delicious.

In addition to my champion sweets consumption, I have established an Easter tradition: brunch at the Rex Cafe in Russian Hill. Little did I know in 2001, the first year I organized Easter brunch with my friends, that this would be become a not-to-be-missed event. Some years see more brunchers than others, but it's always a good party. We had a relatively small group this time around, with Tom, Suzanne, Steve, Katie and me gathering for mid-afternoon snacks and drinks. I brought the Easter basket, as always, and a good time was had by all.

Well, it's possible Suzanne had one bad moment when the waitress spilled a mimosa on her, but other than that, it was good time for everyone.

After brunch, I took a tiny nap, and now here I am at work. I like having a work schedule that allows me to celebrate a holiday before coming in to earn my paycheck. When I got here, I found a tiny marshmallow-Rice Krispie Easter treat left for me by my co-worker Megan. It was shaped like a bird's nest with chocolate eggs in the middle. Yum.

Did I mention that I've eaten 16 pounds of candy today?

Hey, guess what? One month from today I will be back in Hawaii. Yippee! I am so excited for the warm sun, my morning jogs, the beach and all the lava flow cocktails I anticipate drinking. And of course I'll get to see Diva Mommy. Plus, Emily is going to join me for about half of the trip. I'm also talking to Tom about coming, and he just may do it. Maybe. If you happen to be interested in a serious Waikiki party, let me know.

I suppose it probably wasn't a wise idea to load up on candy one month before I have to don a bathing suit, but oh, well. Happy Easter, anyway!

Saturday, March 22, 2008

The Return of Day Drinking!

Four years ago I found myself unemployed at the same time as several friends of mine. It began with Tom, who lost his job in September 2003, mere days before he and I went on vacation with our friend Chris to North Carolina, Tennessee and Georgia. Tom was very calm about his work situation and simply took the rest of the year off before beginning to look for a new job at the start of 2004.

I was let go from my job in December 2003 and was not nearly so Zen about my circumstances. I was rather well grounded at first, knowing full well that I'd land on my feet, but my positive attitude didn't last. I pretty much took the holidays off because you can't find a job during the last three weeks of December, anyway, and also began my employment search in early January. However, being a person who needs stability and a bit of control, I quickly became anxious. I had plenty of money saved, but spending it frightened me. And I began to wonder if I'd find a decent job in my chosen profession. As it happened, I found an even better job in my chosen profession, but back in those dark winter days of early 2004, who knew how everything would work out?

Since we were both unemployed, Tom and I did a lot of chatting during that time. One day he mentioned that he and his friend Jessica, who was also between jobs, had developed a semi-regular lunch habit during which they'd always have beer to accompany their meals. Somehow, that lead Tom and me to decide to take one day off from job hunting every week or two and find somewhere to drink during the day (forget lunch, you can eat at home). Day drinking came with some pretty specific rules: it had to take place in an actual bar on a weekday, and the imbibing had to begin by 2 p.m., at the latest.

Day drinking took us to a wide variety of watering holes, including the Gold Dust Lounge, the Phoenix and Zeitgeist. As winter turned to spring and then to summer, our family of mid-day partiers grew. Unfortunately, Jessica proved to be a short term day drinker when she landed a job within a matter of weeks. By mid-March, I began working part-time, but my employment was very part-time, and I certainly could still fit day drinking into my schedule. Sometime in the spring Suzanne jumped into the mix, and in May Chris quit his job. Even though she was employed full time, Gretchen would sometimes join us, as she worked at night. Even Irina, who lives in L.A. but was also without a job back then, would come up to San Francisco to day drink on occasion.

At some point, I'm not sure how or why, the other bars faded into the background, and the Orbit Room, with its floor to ceiling windows and cafe-like atmosphere, became our day drinking spot of choice. Over time, however, our schedules grew more congested, and eventually we all found gainful employment. Thus the end of day drinking.

Until yesterday, that is. Even though we all have full time jobs, Suzanne corralled us back to the Orbit Room for a few Friday afternoon cocktails. She and I are pictured to the left enjoying the return of day drinking. (For the record, my work schedule does allow me to indulge in the occasional Wednesday or Thursday day drinking, but it never involves the 2004 day drinking crowd.) Our day drinking this time around was more like a traditional happy hour, given that we are committed to our employers. I worked an early shift at my job and arrived at the Orbit Room by 4:15. Ronn, whom I know through Chris, was behind the bar and concocted a lovely beverage for me with fresh strawberries and basil (okay, and vodka). Suzanne showed up next at 5 p.m. with her coworkers Zeina and Alexandra. At about 5:30, Chris made his entrance, and Tom pulled up the rear at 6:00. More cocktails were enjoyed, including one with fresh peaches and ginger, and the day drinking tradition was revived.

While waiting for the others, I had chatted a little bit with a couple playing Scrabble at the bar. When Chris saw them about an hour later, he knew he had to meet them so he could play. We coaxed them to our table, where an intense game ensued. It was Chris and Zeina, pictured here deep in strategy, against our new friends Val and John. It turns out Val and John were either lightweights or several cocktails ahead of us because they were a bit tipsy. To the point that Val began telling us details of her sex life that definitely fall under the category of too much information. We were also a tiny bit scared when she asked us if we "like to party," but overall, Val and John were quite nice. Chris and Zeina won the Scrabble game, by the way.

After the sun set, Zeina and Alexandra had to go, Chris had a dinner date, and Tom, Suzanne and I hit Zeitgeist for Roland's birthday party. And here's what I learned: on a Wednesday afternoon Zeitgeist is one of the greatest bars on the planet, but on a Friday night it sucks. Between the wall to wall people and the incredibly rude staff (who were probably driven to said rudeness by the maddening crowd, but still), going home began to look like a very attractive option. The cold San Francisco evening didn't help matters; so after one beer and a two tamales from the Tamale Lady, I called it a night. That is the good thing about day drinking: you can have a full evening and still get home and to bed at a decent hour.

After all was said and done, however, I felt a bit like crap when I woke up this morning. I wasn't so much hungover as just very aware that I'd poured alcohol into my system. I think I've become more sensitive to liquor since I've only been drinking two days a week (by and large) for the last 14 months. And that crappy feeling kind of makes me want to quit drinking altogether.

Kind of, anyway. Day drinking just wouldn't work with lemonade.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

"Excuse me, are you Kamala Harris?"

I was at the gala opening celebration for the Rrazz Room, a new cabaret space in the Hotel Nikko, last night when a woman sheepishly interrupted my conversation and posed that question. Now, I happen to know and greatly admire San Francisco's District Attorney; so I was very flattered to be mistaken for her. However, I look nothing whatsoever like Kamala Harris. Nothing. Should you require more convincing of that fact, I have provided visual aids. Above is a photo of San Francisco District Attorney Kamala Harris, who is half African American and half Indian. Below is a photo of me. I am half African American and half Caucasian. As you can see, we really don't look alike. If nothing else, she straightens her hair, while mine is quite curly, and I am at least three inches taller than she is, if not more.

I mean no disrespect whatsoever to the woman who thought I may be Kamala; she simply made a mistake. I tell you this tale in part because I mean it when I say I admire Kamala Harris. To that end, I truly did enjoy the idea that someone thought I might be her. It also was just plain funny to me because I happen to know her. But this exchange does bring up a curious idea. Why did this woman assume I might be the D.A.? Is it because I was possibly the only mixed race woman in the room, and I happened to be standing four feet away from Willie Brown, whom I don't know, and wasn't talking to him? (If you live in San Francisco, you understand the Willie Brown reference.) My friend Terry suggested that a lot of mixed race women in San Francisco might be assumed to be Kamala Harris, but again, I ask: why? Especially if the mixed race woman in question really doesn't look like her. Halle Berry and Jennifer Beals are of similar mixed ethnicity; do people confuse them? Yes, that's a silly question because Halle Berry and Jennifer Beals are both famous, but still. Something to think about, maybe.

Or not. About a year ago or so a cab driver told me I look like Sonia Braga, and I don't. But I didn't over think that comparison. He meant it as a compliment, and I just took it that way.

The Rrazz Room gala was super fun, by the way. Kurt and I went, and we had all the cocktails and champagne we wanted while being treated to a whole bunch of cabaret singers, including Paula West, Wesla Whitfield, Freda Payne and Mary Wilson. I was introduced to Mary Wilson and Freda Payne, and Freda Payne remembered having met me before, which was pretty exciting for me. It was also neato to meet an actual Supreme. Kurt and I both had a fabulous time. Wouldn't it be nice if life were just one champagne gala after another?

After the gala, my evening went a tiny bit south. I was awoken in the wee hours of the morning by the booming voices of some drunken St. Patrick's Day revelers downstairs. It sounded like they were in my downstairs neighbor's apartment and in the downstairs hallway. Well, if the loud music and celebratory yelling weren't enough, I soon heard the front door of my apartment building repeatedly slam so hard the building shook. I thought about tip-toeing downstairs to investigate this obviously raucous party, but then I decided the scene was no place for a girl in her pajamas. The noise abated, and I went back to sleep.

Well, when I got up to go running this morning I found my building's front door frame so badly damaged, the door could not shut properly, let alone lock. Actually it wasn't just damaged; part of the door frame had literally been torn off. The property management company has since fixed it, but good lord. This is an apartment building, not a dormitory. Grow up, you morons.

On a final note tonight, I have become addicted to the HBO show "In Treatment." I didn't think I'd like it, and given that it's on five nights a week, watching "In Treatment" takes more of a commitment than I can make. But then I caught a couple of episodes and was hooked. The acting is just so good. And luckily, with multiple channels of HBO on my cable system, I can always catch an "In Treatment" mini-marathon and get reasonably caught up. So I'm not tied to my television set every night.

Is it wrong to use the term "addicted" when writing about an affinity for a show about therapy? Probably.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Wood Anniversary

This Wednesday marks, in my opinion, a rather inauspicious anniversary. I'm sure plenty of people would disagree with me calling this occasion inauspicious, and I respect that. I'm talking about the beginning of the Iraq War: March 19th, 2003. Since those first bombs hit, Saddam Hussein has been tried and executed; President Bush has been re-elected (good Lord); and a historic race for the Democratic presidential nomination this year could result in a fractured political party.

Five years.

I'm not terribly interested in using this space as a political soapbox, but I do find myself wondering how the lives of everyday Iraqis have changed during this time. That I can read about. Instead of writing about it, I've decided to behave like a typical self-involved American and steer clear of politics by looking at how my own life compares with what it was in March 2003.

Employment. Early spring 2003 saw me holding what I thought was the best job of my career. While it did provide me with a very good resume line, the job was far from perfect. For one thing, I worked for an incredibly dysfunctional company. For another, I was growing increasingly bored. When I went to my 15-year high school reunion that May, I found myself a little embarrassed to tell my former classmates what I did for a living. Well, I didn't have to be embarrassed for long; I was fired from that job at the end of the year. Now I work in the same industry but in a significantly better position. My current job also isn't perfect, but it's better. On every level.

Body. Oh, the glory days of 2003. I was so thin. I'm hardly fat now, but I was in incredibly good shape five years ago. I had lost a chunk of weight in late 2002 (due to depression, but whatever; I'm over it now), and before I could gain it back, I began working with personal trainers. Nine months of training combined with a newfound love of jogging and a much better diet than the one I currently maintain rendered me about 12 pounds lighter than I am today. Plus, I was much leaner. At least I still love running and my gym. And I still look good, if a bit curvier.

Boys. As the Iraq War began, I was dating a geologist eight years my junior. For some reason, I did a lot of shopping for men in the junior section that year. This particular gentleman and I had met just over a month before at a Valentine's Day party. I had volunteered, along with my friend Marissa, to man the party's kissing booth. It seemed like a good idea until I actually had to kiss a couple of guys. I quickly realized how horrible making out with totally random strangers can be. Ick. The geologist wandered over, and I latched on to him in an effort to scare off kissing booth Romeos. Happily, it worked, and the geologist and I hit it off. We didn't date very long, and it never got at all serious. In fact, I think it was over by late April or so when he faded away without actually telling me he'd lost interest. Typical, but the geologist was still a nice fellow. I stayed in touch with him off and on for about six months after we stopped going out, but I have no idea where he is now or what he may be doing. I should hit Google and look him up. I'll do that if I ever remember his last name. Had I been asked back then, I probably would have guessed that I'd be married by now or at least in a serious relationship. Not so much, so I guess my love life is pretty much the same as it was five years ago. Except that the boys and I are all older.

Home. I live in the same apartment that I did in 2003. I still love it, but the building, as a whole, is a little worse for wear. It was sold that September, and the new owners are not very good at fixing things or keeping up with improvements. I'd move, but I love my little home. Besides, rents have shot up in the last year, and I probably can't afford to live anywhere else.

Okay, that's all I can think of. I know my experiences pale in comparison with what the Iraqis and American soldiers serving in Iraq are going through. Let's just hope that we can soon mark the anniversary of the end of this war.

Sunday, March 09, 2008

Music, Movies and a Cooking Class

I don't cook. Proudly.

I imagine I could be a very good cook, but honestly, I just have no interest. People tell me I probably don't cook because I'm single; you know, it's no fun to cook only for yourself, etc. However, I suspect that even when I get married, we'll be eating out. Unless my husband cooks. I could be wrong, but that's my current prediction. I know how to make about three dishes quite well, and that's sustained me throughout my adulthood so far.

That said, somehow, last Thursday night, I found myself at a Brown alumni event that involved cooking. It was a Parties That Cook evening at Sur La Table, and a bunch of us Brown alums paid to drink wine while learning new recipes. Some of the dishes sounded fancy, some not so much, but when all was said and done, everything was delicious.

I attended this little cooking extravaganza with Paul, Denise, Jim and Molly, but I also ran into Mehul there. Mehul and I knew each other at Brown but haven't seen each other since we graduated in 1992. And neither of us knew the other lives in San Francisco. So even if I never cook again, I'd say running into him 16 years later was worth the price of the class/party.

After our culinary adventures, Denise and I went to the House of Shields to see my friend Pat Johnson play. Pat still insists that I am his only fan. I, in turn, still doubt that assertion, but I was certainly his fan with the most stamina that night. Pat played for two full hours, and I was there for virtually the entire set. Other fans came and went, but Pat had my attention the whole time. He's a pretty talented guy; so I'm happy to be his fan. But I'm totally not the only one.

In other news, I believe I have mentioned that I'm incredibly lazy about seeing movies. I rarely set foot in movie theatres, and I don't even rent films. I just wait for everything to come on cable. It's not that I don't like movies; I love them. I'm just lazy. However, I made an exception yesterday to see one of my very favorite movies, Paper Moon, on the big screen at the Castro Theatre. The Castro hosted a Peter Bogdonavich retrospective this weekend, and Mr Bogdonavich, himself, was even there to introduce the film.

After being charmed by the so-lovely Paper Moon, Tom and I went for tacos followed by cocktails at the Attic. The DJ's at the Attic last night were spinning awesome music, helping it regain it's position as my new favorite bar. I actually didn't drink last night, so only Tom indulged in the $5 Chimay, but the music and the atmosphere were good enough for me.

And tonight, after enjoying an extra hour of evening sunlight, I intend to soak up a few episodes of "In Treatment" on HBO and go to bed early. Tihanna and I are going to the spa tomorrow morning in advance of her move to Texas on Wednesday; so I have to rest up.

Thursday, March 06, 2008

Narcissus Would Be Proud

I am so wrong.

I have a little side job writing this Cool-Things-About-Town column for a neighborhood newspaper. I don't get paid for this "job," but it's only a monthly paper and writing the column is pretty fun. Anyway, I picked up a copy of the March issue yesterday and immediately turned to my own column. And that's when I found myself laughing out loud and delighting in my own cleverness. For several minutes.

I now officially have no retort if someone calls me self involved.

That said, do you know who is not wrong? Paula West. Terry and I went to see her at the new Rrazz Room last night, and she was awesome. As always. In addition to the jazz standards that usually comprise her set, she treated us to cabaret arrangements of Bob Dylan's "Don't Think Twice," The Beach Boys' "God Only Knows" and The Rolling Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want." I guess Paula is a classic rock fan as well as a jazz aficionado.

Paula West is the kind of singer I could only be in my dreams.

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

To Quote Diablo Cody...

... when she won her Academy Award last month: "What is going on here?!"

No update for six days?!? Okay, that's less than a week, but still, I feel like a big league slacker. My apologies, dear readers. While I wouldn't be so arrogant (or delusional) as to assume you hang on my every word, I do know that a few loyal souls check this space regularly. And frequently. So allow me to atone for my sins and write some nuggets of brilliance.

Or something.

First and foremost, a terrible fate has befallen me! This is a tragedy of gargantuan proportions. A turn of events so dismal, I don't know how I'll muddle through! (Gosh, am I dramatic or what? Clearly, I never should have quit acting.) What is causing my consternation, you may ask? Well. Rosa has told me that she won't be able to play music for a while due to work commitments. That's right, I temporarily have lost my open mic partner.

What's an aspiring chanteuse to do?

Well, it is with a heavy heart that I have begun looking for a new guitarist. Worry not, the Sub Rosas are still very much together and will play again, but I need to keep my singing going and my voice in shape. So I've been putting out feelers for any musicians willing to play 60's pop and 80's new wave/pop music. I have a few leads already, but it won't be the same as the Rosa-Melissa musical domination combo. Ah, well.

However, I will be able to console myself quite handily at my new favorite place in the world: the Burke Williams Spa. Burke Williams is the most luxurious spa I have ever been to in my life. I went there last Thursday, and I will never be the same. In a good way. This place takes pampering to a level I imagine as reserved for royalty. I have frequented the same spa for the last six years, but Burke Williams may have stolen my heart. What can I say? Loyalty only goes so far when it comes to relaxation.

That's about all from here. I'm annoyed about something happening at work right now, but I'm aware that perhaps I'm being a little unreasonable. But not really. But kind of. But not really. You can see how this situation is sitting in my brain. Imagine what a restful night's sleep I'm going to get tonight.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

One Song at a Time

A few months ago, Rosa and I decided to take over the world. Our domination tool would be music, and we were going to enact our plan one song at a time.

Well, tonight our musical domination fantasy took a tiny step closer to reality when the Sub Rosas made their San Francisco debut. I realize that the Sub Rosas had only played in Alameda and Oakland, making us an East Bay outfit, I suppose, even though I live in San Francisco. Well, we took the act across the Bay tonight to the open mic/open jam at Blondie's in the Mission. Technically, it was only 2/3 of the Sub Rosas because Doug wasn't available, but we just got Scotty, a bass player who was there, to sit in with us.

After a set by the house jam band, who I assume opens the Blondie's open jam every week, Rosa and I took the stage. I sang lead first, warbling my way through "Understanding Jane" (which I changed to "James"), "Someday, Someway" and "They Don't Know." People were very attentive and appreciative, and I even caught the eye of some guy who was singing the Marshall Crenshaw song along with me. We messed up the tiniest bit here and there, and we need to play the Icicle Works song faster, but overall, it went rather well. Then Rosa sang "Lay Down," "Fire and Rain" and "Wild World" and got several musicians to accompany her on the James Taylor and Cat Stevens numbers. Rosa didn't sing any of her original songs, but there will be time for those in the future.

Fabulous Patti is in town from L.A., and she thought we were great. Yes, she's my sister, but she's also really honest. Trust me. She told me that I have more of a musical theatre voice than a rock and roll voice because I insist on hitting all my notes and enunciating my words, but I take that as a compliment. For obvious reasons. While I don't necessarily want to sound like Julie Andrews when I sing jingle jangle pop songs in a bar (don't worry, I don't), I have always regarded musical theatre singers as more talented than rock stars. So bring it on. FP was also incredibly impressed with Rosa... because who wouldn't be?

Needless to say, I'll believe we'll be gracing the stage at Blondie's again. Musical domination one song at a time, my friends.

On another note, I'd like to offer you some advice on how not to be a sucker. When you get coupon in the mail for 15% off from, say, Bloomingdales, just throw it out. Because if you tuck it into your purse and swing by Bloomingdales "just to look around," you'll end up with a new $365 dress that you don't need and can't exactly afford. It will be terribly cute; so you'll love it, but you won't need it. And, because you've already been sucked in, you'll let the saleswoman talk you into opening a Bloomingdale's charge account even though you need another credit/charge card like you need a hole in the head because if you open one, you'll save another 15%. So when all is said and done, that $365 dress only will have cost you about $255 or so. A veritable bargain, right?

Ahem. I'll be wearing my new dress when we go out to celebrate Fabulous Patti's birthday tomorrow night. I'm a sucker, but I guess I'll be fabulously dressed.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Weekend Update

I impulse-posted last night after seeing my friend Barry on television, but otherwise, I've been a bit remiss this week in keeping up with this space. Just a little; I know some people who only update their blogs once every two weeks or so. However, I do value my gentle readers (virtually all of whom are friends who see and/or talk to me on a regular basis, but whatever), and I want to make sure the Sassy happenings stay as fresh as possible.

To that end, here are some tidbits from the last few days.

1. Last night I learned that the Attic is only my new favorite bar when there's a good DJ in charge of the turntables. Yes, the Chimay is still only five bucks no matter what, but if the soundtrack sucks, how can I possibly enjoy my libation? With all due respect to last night's music maven, the 80's rap made my drink a little sour and sent me and my friend Anjolie fleeing to the Latin American Club. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it, but it wasn't my thing.

2. On Wednesday night I went to see my musician friend Pat Johnson play at the Make Out Room, and he proclaimed me to be his only fan. As flattering as that was to hear, it is completely untrue. Pat is great, and lots of people far hipper than me know it.

3. I watched the Independent Spirit Awards on IFC this afternoon and was very excited when Juno won best picture and Ellen Page won best actress. Now, it's a little unfair for me to root for Juno since I didn't see any of the other nominated films, but I loved that little movie, particularly Ellen Page's performance.

4. On Thursday night Denise and I went to see Carrie Fisher's one-woman show, Wishful Drinking, at Berkeley Rep. It was pretty good, and I give Carrie a tremendous amount of credit for being able to laugh at her life and her problems. However, watching her chain smoke and swig Coke Zero while reminiscing kind of pales in comparison to Danny Hoch's solo show, which is about to close. They're two completely different pieces, but they still ran back to back at the same theatre, which invites comparison. For me, anyway.

5. Earlier on Thursday afternoon, I got together with Rosa to sing songs in preparation for our next open mic. After that, we watched the Democratic debate over pizza and salads at Bobby G's on University Avenue.

So now you're all caught up. The Academy Awards are tomorrow, and I'll be rooting for Juno. Despite the fact that I, again, haven't seen any of the other films. Or perhaps because of that fact.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Don't I Know You?

It's not unusual in my world but still fun: looking up at the television and seeing someone I know there. This time it was my old aquaintance Barry.

Barry and I were both in a production of Bertolt Brecht's The Resistable Rise of Arturo Ui back in 1997. It was the first play I did in San Francisco (these were the days when I was an actor), and I believe it was the first play Barry had ever done. Barry was and I presume still is a cool guy. He would give me rides to and from rehearsal, and he just had this sort of terminally suave swagger and aura. He also schooled me on the ins and outs of meeting men in bars, telling me that if I see an attractive man in a bar, I should chat him up because unless he has kissed a woman in the prior five minutes, the man is available and looking.

I tend to doubt the veracity of Barry's advice, but eleven years later, I still remember it.

I remember him hitting on at least one of my female friends who didn't really appreciate the attention, but Barry wasn't slimy. Not in my opinion, anyway. He was like an anachronism; a long-lost member of the Rat Pack somehow living in San Francisco during the dot-com boom. He would tell semi-drunken stories of running into Tori Spelling in the elevator of the Sir Francis Drake hotel and the like. And he wrote a column for the SF Weekly that would usually get him free meals.

Sometime around 1999 or 2000 Barry's acting career took a pretty big step forward. He was cast in a production of Mary Zimmerman's Metamorphoses that was running in Berkeley. He went with the show to the Mark Taper Forum in Los Angeles, and I believe he also may have traveled with the production to Seattle. Metamorphoses later went to Broadway, sadly with neither Barry nor Jessica, another friend of mine who had been in the Berkeley and Los Angeles runs of the show.

But the momentum was there, and Barry stayed in L.A. to pursue acting. I hadn't heard much about him over the last eight years, but there he was tonight in a commercial for Propel Fitness Water. I quick check of IMDB shows some episodic television and film work that Barry has been doing over the last five years or so. I should try to look him up the next time I go to Los Angeles; we could reminisce about our old Brechtian days.

It always makes me a little bit giddy to see one of my actor friends on TV, and I'll never grow tired of it.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Life's A Kick In That Town

Living in the Bay Area, I regularly cross paths with many a Los Angeles hater. Everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion, but look at the photo of Venice Beach to the right. How on earth could you hate that?

Okay, in all fairness, I know very few people who hate the beach. Most of the Los Angeles disdain I encounter focuses on traffic, pollution and the people. While I strongly disagree with the gross generalizations heaped upon millions of individuals who call themselves Los Angelenos, I do understand a lack of interest in smog and clogged freeways.

Regardless, I happen to quite like L.A. and just returned from another mini-vacation there. I took that Venice Beach photograph on Saturday evening as the sun was setting, and I must say, looking at it makes me very happy. But I'm getting a little ahead of myself here. My mini-vacation began on Wednesday afternoon, and a few hours after my arrival, my sister Fabulous Patti and I met my friends Kristie and Gabriella for dinner at Blair's in Silver Lake. I had salad, french fries and beer. Yummy.

On Thursday, I treated myself to Valentine's Day chocolates and a mid-day nap, after which I headed to Pasadena to see my nephew Mikey Jet. Oh, and his parents, of course. We read books and played cars, and I learned that Mikey Jet is awfully strong for a 20-month old. That fact became apparent when I wanted him to relinquish his grip on my purse at the end of the visit. Later that night, Emily and I (pictured above) went to the Backstage Bar and Grill in Culver City for a little karaoke. After being hit on by a very sketchy dude who initially enlisted his friend's sister to act as his wing man (what?), we met 22-year old Dennis, who became our karaoke fan and friend. It was a little unnerving for Emily and me to realize that we are closer in age to Dennis' parents than we are to him, but he was very nice. If rather young.

On Friday, I enjoyed a delicious lunch with Assaf at Lulu's on Beverly Boulevard. We talked all things L.A., including entertainment industry strikes, over big salads and sparkling water. After lunch, Assaf lead me to Melrose Avenue so I could shop for vintage clothes. I insisted on a pit stop at the Melrose Pinkberry, but after that I found the coolest vintage coat at a little place called The Way We Wore. It's red with (fake) brown fur trim, and I absolutely love it. I have a lot of nice coats, but this one might be my most glamorous. Assaf and I snapped this photo right before we parted ways for the day.

That night, Fabulous Patti and I went to Tiki Ti, which may be my favorite bar ever. I had been to Tiki Ti before, but my love for it was solidified on this trip. This tiny watering hole is only open a few days a week and serves a myriad of tropical drinks but no beer. So don't be like the clueless guy who asked for beer on Friday night. I had a brief conversation about basketball with another man at Tiki Ti who actually used the term "bitchin" without irony. Before you judge, however, I'll tell you that he was really cute and honestly didn't seem at all moronic. Unlike that guy who ordered the beer. After Tiki Ti, we went to the Good Luck Bar, which was also fun. There we met a musician who tends bar at The Echo. He and I talked music for a little while until he had to go meet another friend.

On Saturday, I dragged Fabulous Patti to Venice (okay, she was very willing to go), where we met my college friends Brent and Joanna at the On the Waterfront Cafe. I haven't seen Brent and Joanna in almost six years, and the last time was just a brief encounter at my ten-year reunion at Brown. They have a young son now who looks just like both of them and is an extremely well-mannered little boy. We spent the late afternoon catching up over many glasses of Erdinger on the Waterfront's back patio, which is where Joanna and I posed for this photo. Over all those beers, I recruited Joanna for the Los Angeles line up of my band. Whatever band that may be. Joanna sings really well; so I have to maintain my voice lessons to keep up with her. Now, given that I live up here, the Los Angeles line up of whatever band I have in mind may only exist at karaoke bars or in Joanna's living room, but whatever. Every band has to start somewhere.

All of this brings us to today, and after brunch at Fred 62 late this morning, I returned to the City by the Bay. I have no plans to visit L.A. again until May, but I think I can hold on until then. Especially since I intend to go to Hawaii in April. Los Angeles will be there when I return, and if I stay in touch with that Echo bartender guy, I should be well-informed of upcoming live music and 60's dance parties at The Echo, The Echoplex and Spaceland.

And you know I'll like that.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Love Song

In case you haven't noticed by now, I'm a bit of a music fan.

I've been known to stop conversations mid-sentence if I happen to hear a favorite song of mine. The conversation can continue at any time; I've only got scant minutes to sing passionately along with the song. I staunchly defend my favorite music, despite what anyone else may think of it. I have a very active, if wholly irrational, crush on Buddy Holly. Seriously.

I recently had drinks with a friend of mine, and when he told me that he doesn't really pay attention to lyrics and that most of his music is in storage and he doesn't really miss it, I can proudly say that I didn't just get up and walk out right then and there. I do think I looked at him like he was insane and asked how he could function in the world while separated from his music, but at least I stayed on my barstool until the cocktails were gone.

Anyway, you also may have noticed that this particular music fan has been a little restless this winter. To satisfy said restlessness, I hopped a Southwest flight to L.A. today. I chose as my airplane book a tome I have wanted to read for a while now: Rob Sheffield's Love Is a Mix Tape. I heard about this book almost as soon as it was published last year, but I'm a kind of cheap (although apparently not cheap enough to do something financially and environmentally prudent like set foot into a library), so I waited for the paperback release.

I'm only on page 72, but Love Is a Mix Tape is exactly the kind of book that makes me so very happy. I have spent all 72 pages full of emotion and on the verge of tears... not only because poor Rob Sheffield lost the love of his life when his wife died unexpectedly in 1997 at age 31, but because Sheffield is a man who gets it. With all due respect to his wife, the love of this Rolling Stone writer's life may very well be music, and that is a love I completely understand. Sheffield benchmarks the major events of his life with music he was listening to at the time. In fact, often the music is the major event. Plus, he knows the value of a good (or even bad) mix tape.

At one point during his recollection of the early years of his relationship with his wife, Sheffield writes: "I realize it's frowned on to choose a mate based on something superficial like the music they love." He goes on to say how music served as a bond between him and his wife, but.... I'm sorry, Rob, "superficial"? Music? Virtually all of the most intense love affairs and crushes I've ever had began because the guy had a passion for music. Maybe that could well explain why I'm still single, but still. There is nothing superficial about the love of music. Please.

Even though I suspect I may actually cry at some point, I can't wait to continue reading this book.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Music In My Headphones, In Berkeley and At The Attic

Little does Marshall Crenshaw know, he has provided the soundtrack for my life over the last several days.

Really, I'm talking about just one song: Crenshaw's 1982 hit "Someday, Someway." It should come as no surprise that this catchy little number has had such a presence in my world for the last week or so. For one thing, it holds a prominent position on my iPod playlist. I never skip "Someday, Someway" when it pops into my headphones during my runs, and sometimes I listen to it repeatedly.

However, I've also been singing "Someday, Someway" lately. Not only did I sing it with Mindi on Wednesday night, but this afternoon, I practiced it with Rosa at her place in Berkeley. Rosa's and my rendition was much better than my attempt with Mindi primarily because I left the guitar playing to Rosa. She and I are gearing up for another open mic appearance, which will probably happen in the next couple of weeks at a bar in the Mission, as opposed to Alameda. It's like we're taking the Sub Rosas on tour! Rosa also played me a couple of new songs she's written, and they're really good.

One day maybe I'll write music. Maybe.

In addition to all that, I sang along with "Someday, Someway" Friday night at my new favorite bar, the Attic. I know, I know, it seems like I have a new favorite watering hole every month or so. Recent favorites include the Easy Lounge, the Knockout and Coffee Bar. And the Attic is hardly new. I first noticed it a decade ago, when I used to live up the street from it (a ways up the street, but up the street nonetheless). My friend Joel was a big Attic fan back in the day, but at that time it was too smoky for me.

Well, the smoke is gone, and the Attic has found a place in my heart. For one thing, they have Chimay for $5. Need I say more? Probably not, but I will. Apparently, they have a really good happy hour, but we got there too late to experience that. I believe my friend Pat worked behind the Attic bar at one time, but I have no idea if he still does. What truly has endeared the Attic to me is the music. And if Friday night was a representative example, I'm talking good music. For a few years now, I've heard rumblings about music at the Attic. Evidently Sunday nights there see an oldies dance party, but I work Sunday nights, so I wouldn't know for sure. I finally managed to make it to the Attic Friday night for the Teenage Kicks monthly pop party featuring 60's pop, 80's indie and power pop.

In other words, a night of music designed for me.

Alongside Marshall Crenshaw, we heard Blondie, the Beatles and a host of music unfamiliar to me but intriguing and fabulous. I met one of the evening's DJs, Victor (excuse me, that would be DJ El Guapo), after passing him some requests written on a napkin. Sadly, he didn't have any of the songs I suggested, but he liked them. He mentioned that he worries when people make requests because he thinks they don't like what he's playing. I assured him that requests from me are the result of excitement about what I'm hearing and the subsequent desire to participate. He seemed happy to hear that, which is a good thing because he'll probably be getting more Sassy napkin requests in the future.

$5 Belgian beer and good songs. I guess it doesn't take much to keep me happy on a Friday night.

On a completely unrelated note, my friend Omar was quoted today in an Atlanta Journal-Constitution article on Barack Obama's presidential bid. Omar is so fancy. By comparison, I spent a chunk of time this evening discussing with my friend Phil who shot J.R. on "Dallas." That, by the way, would be Kristin, played by Bing Crosby's daughter, Mary. Yes, that bit of information has been in my memory since 1980.

My parents must be so proud.


***Attic photo by Norman O.***

Thursday, February 07, 2008

So You Wanna Be A Rock and Roll Star?

Seven years ago, three San Francisco friends gathered in a Potrero Hill apartment with the intention of starting a band. Mindi, the would-be drummer, had already come up with a name for the group, which would specialize in three chord pop songs: Blo Pop. Sassy would sing, and Adam would play guitar. They didn't have a bass player, but that could come later.

The original 2001 line up of Blo Pop made it through exactly two rehearsals, during which they never played a single full song.

Ah, the best of intentions. I may have told you this tale before, but I repeat it today because last night, Mindi and I got together to revive Blo Pop. Unfortunately, Adam has kind of been voted out without his knowledge, but we assume that, seven years later, he has better things to do than worry about us. He was officially replaced last night by Mindi's husband, Matt.

Mindi and Matt live in this great loft in the East Bay where they have a full rock and roll set up, complete with drums, two guitars, a bass, a microphone (with mic stand) and an amplifier. Yes, this is where they live. The new Blo Pop line up rocked through "Someday, Someway," "Understanding Jane" and "Our Lips Are Sealed" with Mindi on drums, me on vocals and guitar and Matt on a second guitar for OLAS. It was rock and roll history... right there in Emeryville.

Okay, so maybe we weren't that good.

For one thing, I don't really play guitar. I did, about 20 years ago, and I certainly remember basic chords. But two decades later, even simple songs present a bit of a challenge, and this morning, my callous-free fingertips are still upset with me. Not only are my skills not mad, they're not even the least bit bothered. But I can sing (at least pop music), and Mindi and Matt play well enough for the songs we took on. The long and short of it is, no matter our musical prowess, it was super fun.

After the Blo Pop reunion concert, we settled down a bit to play Rock Band. Yes, the video game. Now, that was one ridiculous good time. Mindi and Matt play music, be it themselves or gamer-style, in their little loft home on a regular basis, making them perhaps the cutest couple ever. Or at least one of the cutest; I'm lucky enough to know several darn cute couples.

Live music and rock star video games. I wonder if this is how the Beatles or Buddy Holly started.

However accomplished Blo Pop is or isn't, it was nice to play some music and sing again. Aside from exactly two singing lessons and a couple of karaoke evenings, I have been sort of allowing my musical muscles to atrophy lately. But all of that is over now. I'm meeting Rosa on Sunday afternoon for a Sub Rosas practice, and she and I will probably play another open mic soon after I return from my trip to L.A. next week.

There is no greater happiness than a three chord pop song.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

One Zolicious* Birthday

There is a reason this coming Tuesday is known as Super Tuesday. Contrary to what you may heard, however, that reason is not because Tuesday will see the multi-state presidential primary. Nor is it because this Tuesday is Fat Tuesday. Tuesday, February 5, 2008, will be a super day because it is my amazing friend Carolyn's 30th birthday.

Not wanting to overshadow the politicos or Mardi Gras revelers, Carolyn generously opted to celebrate three decades on the planet with a party last night at Cigar Bar on Montgomery Street. Donning a fabulous red dress and a tiara, the lovely and talented Carolyn welcomed family and friends and even took a minute to pose for this photo with me and her sister Aisha. Everyone who was anyone was there, including Carolyn's parents, her fiance Dima, the aforementioned Aisha, Dima's poker buddies, Valerie, Kevin, Paul, Denise, various other friends and me. Between the good company, delicious cocktails and gooey chocolate birthday cake, it may have been a perfect party.

I stayed up way too late after returning home from the celebration, but I think that's because I'd had a Diet Coke at 6 p.m. I almost never drink caffeine; so it provides me with quite the kick on the rare occasion that I do indulge.

Carolyn's party was but one highlight of an overall lovely weekend. On Friday night Kurt and I had cocktails at Tony Nik's, and this afternoon I got a pedicure and managed to avoid the entire first half of the Super Bowl as well as the half-time show. I definitely consider that to be a coup. Aside from the fact that it provides an iron-clad excuse to eat too much guacamole, there is pretty much only one thing I like about the Super Bowl: it means that football season is over. Thank goodness for that.

In other Sassy happenings, I have some excellent news! My dear friend Schleevin has just booked a job portraying Gentleman Caller (I presume) in a production of The Glass Menagerie opening at the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego next month. While San Diego is hundreds of miles away, it is much closer than New York City, where Schleevin lives. And given that he and I have not seen each other since mid-2006, I just may have to summon my inner jet setter and fly down to San Diego to see this show and hang out with him.

Such a jaunt would sandwich nicely between my next trip to L.A. and my intended April vacation in Hawaii.


*The brilliant Denise coined the term "Zolicious" to describe all things Carolyn, and it is incredibly appropriate.