What *NOT* to Say

At the grocery store this morning. Buying sparkling wine.

25-year-old male Cashier looks at wine, looks at me, and says: Oh, you look old enough.

50-something man behind me in line meets my eyes, and looks terrified for the 25-year-old cashier.

A-L: How old do I look?

50-something man behind me in line looks ready to drop his groceries and run.

Cashier: I'd say 35.

50-something man starts whimpering.

A-L: Nope, guess again.

Cashier: Higher?

50-something man feints.

A-L: You're not married, are you?

Cashier: Nope.

50-something man: Didn't think so.

A-L: What if I told you I'm 24 years old?

Kitty: Maybe in dog years.

Don't Strike ME With Lightning

Jewish downstairs neighbor/Sound Engineer Michael was regaling me with stories of his work at a private party on Friday night, the first night of Hanukkah.

Jewish Downstairs Neighbor/Sound Engineer Michael: The food at this private party was amazing. I was eating this mini pizza, and it was soooo good. I couldn't figure out what the secret ingredient was. But it was irresistibly delicious.

A-L: Wow. Tell me more.

JDN/SE M: It had pesto on it. And then it dawned on me why it was so good.

A-L: Don't say it.

JDN/SE M: That's right, it had bacon on it.

A-L: You ate bacon on the first night of Hanukkah?

DN/SE M: Everything's better with bacon. Even Hanukkah.

No Signs

The D-F and his handsome friend, Calvin, are moving up the street. I'm worried about Calvin's safety in a home where lots of people are coming and going. So I offered to make a sign for the door to inform guests/roommates about proper dog safety. IE: Don't let Calvin outside.

The D-F: What would the sign say?

A-L: Well, when Kitty and I lived together, I posted a sign on the inside of the door with a picture of a cat on it, crossed out. That let everyone know she wasn't allowed outside. I could do the same for Calvin.

The D-F: Usually a picture with a line through it means "NO", as in "NO CATS."

A-L: Oh. Do you think Kitty interpreted it as me being anti-cat? Is that why we were always add odds?

The D-F: At odds? Over what?

A-L: Her literary voice, of course.

The Miserable Johnsons

I don't know the full story, but I won't let that stop me.

In years gone by, my friend Dave's family celebrated Christmas with the Johnsons. Apparently the tradition went on for years. Too many years for one of Dave's siblings, who blurted out - at the Christmas table, mind - "You Johnsons ruin every Christmas!"

Some friends used to play the game "if you could eavesdrop on any conversation in history, which would you choose?" More enlightened folks chose historical events like the meeting where the JFK assassination plot was hatched, the Last Supper, the negotiations Prince went through to get out of his contract with Sony, blah, blah...

I'm not enlightened. I choose that Christmas Dinner at Dave's family's home.

This Thanksgiving, I received a text from Dave's Wife that said: "You Johnsons ruin every Christmas." That's all it said. Which made me think the Johnsons have expanded their work to include the Thanksgiving holiday. Hope that's not the case.

More Disappointment

I have found another person who was somewhat disappointed by "the breathtaking, amazing feat of engineering which is the Golden Gate Bridge".

Sara's reaction upon seeing this majestic structure: Oh, it's so short.

Six Degrees of NPR Correspondents

A few months ago a real-live reporter from NPR was at the cafe across the street from my house, The Velo Rouge, interviewing patrons about the Tour de France (say in a French accent). Of course I had to talk to him.

A-L (Holding out her cell phone like it's a microphone): Hi, who are you?

Reporter: Ummm, I'm conducting an interview for NPR.

A-L: You're a reporter for NPR?

Reporter: I'm an intern.

A-L: We all have to start somewhere.

Intern: I'm doing an internship at KQED.

A-L: Do you know Sylvia Poggioli?

Kitty Writes On

Public Safety Pete: I see you've resurrected your blog, A-L. And Kitty is back. He's as feisty as ever.

A-L: HE?!??

Kitty: Do I look like a man?



PSP: No. My sincere apologies. But I've noticed something odd in the photo above.

Kitty: The fact that I'm left-handed?

PSP: No.

A-L: That there's a cat on the table?

PSP: No.

Kitty: Is it that Wreckless Cousin Tina's spontaneously combustible dish towel somehow made it's way to Culross, Scotland?

PSP: Yes.

A Retro Post-Modern Tale (sponsored by Yertle the Turtle)

Sister Maria is reading Dr. Seuss to the pygmy marmosets.

Sister Maria: "Turtle on Typewriter."

Annais: What's a typewriter?

Aila: I saw one at the Children's Discovery Museum.

Kitty: I need a cigarette.

The Creative Process

A-L: I need your help finishing a blog post.

Neighbor JB (aka "The Dog-Father"): What are you looking for?

A-L: A witty closing remark.

The D-F: Who's the speaker?

A-L: The character who gets all the good lines.

The D-F: I can't think like a cat.

PSP & Wreckless Cousin Tina Cross Paths

Recently we gathered with the Irma side of the family to celebrate my uncle and cousin's birthdays. Someone invited Public Safety Pete...

PSP: Um, I don't mean to be a spoilsport, but Tina, you're doing something very unsafe.

Cousin Tina: That's unlike me. Do I have to guess what it is?

PSP: No, it's totally obscure and unlikely to ever result in an accident.

Kitty: The suspense is killing me.

PSP: You should never...

A-L: THAT'S the perfect title for Public Safety Pete's guide to life: "You Should Never..."

PSP: ... hang a dish towel on the top oven handle.

Kitty: I'd like to cancel my advance order for the book.

PSP: If there's a fire in the lower oven, and you open the oven door, that dish towel hanging above it will catch fire instantly.

Kitty: I'm going outside for a cigarette.

Como?

Sister Maria: Blah, blah, blah (in German)

A-L: Blahhhdee blah blah blah (in German)

Annais: Why are you speaking Spanish?

Birthday Wish

A-L: What does Aila want for her birthday?

Sister Maria: It's a white horse, with a tiara. From Target.

A-L: Of course. Get her on the line, please. I'd like to speak to her.

Aila: Hello?

A-L: Hi. Your mom said your birthday wish is for a white horse with a tiara, from Target. If I wanted to buy it for you, how would I find it?

(true story)

Aila: Ok, so you go to Target.

A-L: Uh huh?

Aila: And you to the toy section.

A-L: Yes.

Aila: And you look for the horses. And it's the one with the tiara.

Back to Craigslist...

Michael: I'm moving out.

A-L: You're not!

Michael: I am. But not far. I'm moving downstairs.

A-L: Like, under the stairs.

Michael: No, to Liz's studio.

A-L: Won't Liz's boyfriend mind?

Michael: She won't be living there.

A-L: You'll be living with her boyfriend?

Michael: I refuse to answer your ridiculous questions.

A-L: So are you nervous about finding me and Will a new roommate?

Michael: Craigslist has all the answers.

So once again, I turn to the internet. What could go wrong?

Upstaged

A-L: Hi! Happy Anniversary.

Public Safety Pete: Who is this?

A-L: Very funny. That only works once a year.

Irma: Hi. Did you call to wish us a Happy 40th Anniversary?

A-L: I certainly did. And I'll patch Sister Maria in so that she can send her greetings.

Sister Maria: Happy Anniversary. I have bad news. The elaborate anniversary party we've been planning for ages is canceled.

PSP: What happened?

Sister Maria: Michael Jackson stole your venue.

Irma: You were going to have our party at the Stapler Center?

A-L: Funny, my former colleague Hamid used to call the Staples Center that as well.

PSP: Looks like we'll have to settle for leftovers, an evening walk, and then fall asleep watching the 10 o'clock news.

Irma: Speak for yourself, I'm taking the red eye to Vegas and hittin' the black jack tables.

My Super Cute Neighbor

This is Calvin. My neighbor. He's even sweeter than he looks. His hobbies include chasing the ball, making friends, and napping. (He doesn't know he has one German Shepherd ear, and one Rottweiler ear.)

Kitty: He didn't.

A Man, A Plan, An Anniversary Party in Panorama City

Sister Maria: Cousin Judy had a great suggestion for the 40th Anniversary party.

A-L: Was it to seat Mrs. Meyer next to Mr. Meher, and vice versa?

Sister Maria: Close. She thought of the *perfect* venue.

A-L: I know exactly what I'm going to make you say.

Sister Maria: That's right, she suggested the Knight's Head Inn in North Hollywood.

A-L: The bar where Pete and Irma met?

Sister Maria: That's right.

A-L: You know Irma's mortified that she met her husband in a bar.

Kitty: Especially since it's really in Panorama City, and not the more-glamorous-sounding North Hollywood.

Sister Maria: Public Safety Pete says it's not there anymore.

A-L: Well, I Googled "Knight's Head Inn", and all I get are some posts from a woman who is looking for her birth mother, who used to work there.

Sister Maria: I'll phone Pete and Irma and ask them if they remember a waitress named Linda Turco.

Kitty: She's on Facebook.

Sister Maria: So we've reunited someone with her mother, but still no venue.

Kitty: Stay tuned.

Wedded Bliss

Sister Maria: What should we do for Pete & Irma's upcoming 40th wedding anniversary?

A-L: When is it?

Sister Maria: Forty years to the day after July 7, 1969

A-L: Wow. That's next Tuesday. Good thing we're planning ahead.

Sister Maria: We need a venue.

A-L: Everyone knows 40th anniversary parties take place in the couple's hometown, at the local hall.

Sister Maria: What do you mean by "hometown"?

A-L: The place they're from.

Sister Maria: Do you mean where they live now?

A-L: Or do I mean where they were married?

Sister Maria: Or where they were born?

A-L: Or the town they liked the best?

Sister Maria: Ok, so we've narrowed it down to Laihia, Finland; Compton, Camarillo or Sacramento, California; Las Vegas, Nevada; or Heusenstamm, Germany.

A-L:Who let Sacramento onto the shortlist?

Sister Maria: Public Safety Pete was born there.

A-L: That's ancient history. Can we strike that off the list? No one's going to fly half-way around the world to go to a party in Sacramento. And certainly not in July.

Sister Maria: Who are you planning on inviting?

A-L: Former colleagues, family, old neighbors, teachers, school friends.

Sister Maria: Public Safety Pete has worked at 43 different companies. Are you going to track down all of his former bosses?

A-L: He's worked for his old friend Ed Barker at six different companies, so that cuts it down to 37 bosses. And Don Ford from GE shouldn't be hard to track down. How many Don Fords can there be?

Kitty: 27,300. According to Google.

A-L: Thanks for volunteering to track him down.

Sister Maria: We have to invite the Meyers.

A-L: Who?

Sister Maria: Our old neighbors.

A-L: In Simi Valley, Somis, Heusenstamm, Mission Viejo, Camas or Camarillo?

Sister Maria: Heusenstamm.

A-L: Divorced.

Sister Maria: Ok. How about the Mehers?

A-L: Divorced.

Sister Maria: Doesn't mean we can't invite them.

A-L: Thanks for volunteering to do the seating chart.

Sister Maria: Maybe we should have started planning this last week.

Farewell

Kitty: Why aren't you blogging about the passing of a legend? It's the end of an era, and the homepage of your blog is a conversation you had three days ago about some juan.

A-L: Are you talking about the passing of Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett or Michael Jackson?

Kitty: Guess.

A-L: You weren't even around when Charlie's Angels was on television.

Kitty: I've seen reruns. What do you think the dog and I do while our assistants are at their day jobs? We act out scenes from Charlie's Angels. I'm always Kate Jackson. She's the smart one. But everyone knows Farrah was the sweet one.

A-L: Did you know that Sister Maria gave swimming lessons to Farrah Fawcett's son?

Kitty: Recently?

A-L: No, he's 24 years old now.

Kitty: In Dave and Caroline's pool?

A-L: It was in Los Angeles, not SE Portland. And years ago, before Dave and Caroline were "Dave and Caroline", before Caroline worked at the Macaroni Grill in Little Rock, probably even before the drug lord had the design vision for "1920s Portland architecture meets chain Mexican restaurant."

Kitty: So I image People Magazine has called Sister Maria for a statement.

A-L: Naturally.

The Pool Man

Caroline: Hi. I can only talk for a little while. The pool men are coming over.

A-L: Plural? You have more than one?

Caroline: There is the pool guy who installed the state-of-the-art pool cover, and then there's Juan.

A-L: Most people have just juan. Not two.

Kitty: Now THAT'S the dumbest thing you've ever said.

Caroline: The pool is such a hassle. I know that sounds terribly bourgeois.

Kitty: Um, you have an Arkansas accent and live in Oregon. But I can check with my French friends to see if you can get in on a technicality.

Caroline: I just keep telling myself, "I didn't choose the pool, I chose the pool owner."

A-L: So what's wrong with the pool now? Have the raccoons been laying eggs in it?

Caroline: Quite possibly. It's murky and green and looks like a koi pond, but I think Juan can fix it. He's been taking care of it since the Mexican drug lord lived here.

A-L: Dave used to live with a drug lord?

Caroline: Alas no. A drug lord owned the house previously.

A-L: Oh, right. He's the guy who turned one of the upstairs bedrooms into a huge bathroom with a jacuzzi tub, Mexican tiles, and turquoise walls. The paint color was the tip off that he was high on coke.

Caroline: It's known to all as the porn bathroom. It works really well with the hardwood floor in the rest of the place. The drug lord also put an over-sized roof on the house, which doesn't suit it at all. It used to have a flat roof.

A-L: Maybe he needed a place to store all the cocaine.

Caroline: Anywho, Juan of the pool men is calling me. Gotta run.

Happy Father's Day, Public Safety Pete

Happy Father’s Day to my dad who has given me a better life than he had

Happy Father’s Day to dads who can’t be with their kids this day, and to those who aren’t fathers by biology, but fathers all the same

Happy Father’s Day to moms who play both roles, to dads who think that paying child support is enough, and to those who have chosen their job, hobby, or drug addiction over their children

Happy Father’s Day to new fathers celebrating this day, and to fathers who have left our side

Happy Father’s Day to dads whose kids have long since forgotten that you did the best you could, and to fathers who learned too late you can’t make up for lost time

A Cautionary Tale, for Cats

One Friday evening, my friend P sent her 5-year-old upstairs, in pajamas, to brush his teeth. T came down 10 minutes later, wearing his swim trunks.

P: What happened to your pajamas?

T: I changed because they were getting wet.

P: Why were they getting wet?

T: Because I was bathing the cat.

P: Pardon?

T: I was bathing the cat. In the toilet.

P's husband had to hide in the next room because he was laughing so hard. So P went upstairs to rescue the cat, who was still in the bathroom. With wet hindquarters.

P: Next time we will bathe the cat in the bathtub. We don't put anything in the toilet.

T: Ok. But now she's clean.
...

A-L: Good story. What's the cat's name?

P: Funny you should ask. The five-year-old named her. It's Kitty.

Creative License

Different Carpool Buddy: So, um, are the conversations on your blog real?

A-L: I'll let Kitty answer that.

Kitty: What is it that you're really asking, DCB?

DCB: Is all of this made up? Is it in your head?

A-L: Let me turn your attention to the posts that involve a talking cat. That dialogue isn't verbatim, as such.

Kitty: True dat. I'm MUCH funnier than you make me out to be.

DCB: So, do you, like, have a split personality?

A-L: Are you asking Kitty, or me?

DCB: You.

A-L: Because I make up dialogue?

DCB: Uh huh.

A-L: You know, surprisingly, you're not the first person who's asked if the dialogue is made up. Which I find interesting, because, as above, there's a talking cat involved. Also, people have asked if Kitty is actually me. I'm not sure I know what that means.

Kitty: We look nothing alike. And you wouldn't be allowed to sit on the kitchen table.

A-L: For the record, the conversations are based on real events. Some are verbatim. Others aren't in Latin. And I get to determine what everyone says.

DCB: You're the best carpool buddy I've ever had, and I think the world of you.

A-L: See how that works? Any more questions?

Tea Time

Colleague P: Did you play with Legos when you were little?

A-L: Not professionally, but quite often.

C.P.: How about these days?

A-L: I haven't known my roommates long enough to set up the Amish Lego village in the kitchen.

C.P.: I went to the Lego store this weekend with my son, T, and I bought a pink Lego house.

A-L: Did T realize that you really bought it for yourself?

C.P.: Oh, I was up front about the fact that it was for me. But I promised to share. So we played Legos yesterday, and T's Assassin Droids came over for afternoon tea.

A-L: I keep forgetting you're Canadian.

C.P.: Eh?

A-L: An American would have invited them over for coffee and cake. Or a game of Scrabble. Never tea. So who exactly were the Assassin Droids visiting? Is it one of the Droids who lives in the pink house?

C.P.: No, it's a girl, who came with the house.

A-L: What's her name?

C.P.: I haven't named her yet. I don't identify with her because she's wearing a red shirt and orange pants, which is just wrong.

A-L: Did the Assassin Droids stay long?

C.P.: They ended up staying overnight.

No Parking

Cousin Judy: I have a handicapped placard for you.

A-L: But my friend told me that my passive-aggressive behavior doesn’t qualify me for a placard. Or is it for Kitty, who’s chronically manipulative?

Cousin Judy: It’s for your friend who’s going camping. It expired in July 2007, but you can “amend” the date.

Public Safety Pete: Do you know what the fine is for illegally using a handicapped placard?

A-L: Do you know what the fine is for being a spoilsport?

Public Safety Pete: It’s about $3000.

When Life Imitates Seinfeld

A-L: How was your camping trip to Angel Island?

Carpool Buddy: Great. I've rebooked it for September.

A-L: Sounds good.

CB: Do you know anyone who's disabled?

A-L: I'm passive aggressive. My friend Greg diagnosed me years ago.

CB: That doesn't count. I don't think you can get a disabled placard for that.

A-L: Why do you need a placard?

CB: I accidentally booked a disabled campsite at Angel Island, and I don't want to lose this prime spot.

A-L: So you're going to make friends with someone who is disabled, invite them camping, and use their placard to retain the reservation?

CB: Maybe.

A-L: Should I assume you're also looking for a new carpool buddy, who can get you better parking?

CB: Maybe.

True Story

Public Safety Pete: Hello?

A-L: Hi! Happy Birthday!

Public Safety Pete: Who is this?

Brutha From Anutha Mutha

Ananda (looking at a picture of Sister Maria and me): Who is that? 

A-L: That's my sister, Maria. She's known in the blogosphere as Sister Maria. 

Ananda: Is she your half sister? 

A-L: She's half as tall as me, if that's what you mean? 

Ananda: No. I mean "do you have the same parents"?

A-L: I think so. Although I've always dreamed that I was the long lost daughter of the owners of an ice cream factory. I love chocolate peanut butter ice cream. 

Ananda: You two look nothing alike. And my secret ice cream factory owning parents would specialize in coconut ice cream. 

A-L: We occasionally get asked if we're twins. 

Ananda: By whom? 

A-L: By people who think we look like twins. 

.....

One week later, Sister Maria and I are in a shop, talking to the very friendly shop owner.

Friendly Shop Owner: Do you two work together? 

Sister Maria: We're sisters. 

Friendly Shop Owner: You must look like the mom. 

And turning to me he said: And you must look like the dad. 

A-L: Are you saying I look like a man? 

Flustered Friendly Shop Owner: No, I'm just saying you don't look anything alike. 

...

Forty-five minutes later, outside the grocery store, a man approaches us and asks: Are you twins? 

Sister Maria: No, she's my dad. 

Bacon Flu

A-L: What's new?

Irma: I think that cough Public Safety Pete had for three weeks was Swine Flu.

A-L: You've been watching too much Fox News.

Irma: We don't get that channel. We only get ABC, NBC, and KTLA, on a good day.

A-L: Have you and Pete finally turned into hippies? Are you living off the grid?

Irma: No, our T.V. antenna isn't great, and I'm too cheap to pay for cable. We used the money we would have spent on cable to send you and Sister Maria to private school.

A-L: Was St. Bonaventure only $35.99 a month? Truth be told, I'd rather have had MTV and VH1 than a Catholic education. Have you ever seen Pop Up Video? That sh** rocks.

Irma: No, I'm not familiar with that program.

A-L: You should sneak into the neighbor's house when they're out of town and watch cable. I'd trade my straightened teeth for three years of the Discovery Channel.

Irma: Is it that good?

A-L: Better. Give them three months, they'll have a documentary on Swine Flu.

Irma: If we're still around then.

A-L: Do you really think you'll catch it?

Irma: I hope not.

A-L: Come on Irma, you're a nurse. You know how diseases are spread, and you and Pete just aren't in the target market. You don't live with pigs, and you wash your hands far too often.

Irma: You don't have to live with pigs to catch it.

A-L: You just have to come in contact with someone who has it, and then lick them. And I bet no one you see, or lick, has it.

Irma: You never know.

A-L: Well, just know that if you and Pete fall victim, Maria and I will handle the proceedings in a manner befitting your legacy.

Irma: You'll serve ham and cheese sandwiches at the memorial service?

A-L: Pork ribs. Happy almost Mother's Day.

Helpful Hints For San Francisco

My friend Laura came to visit San Francisco, from scenic Scotland. And she loved it here, but had these two pieces of advice for the city:

1. Turn up the evening temperature a bit.
2. Paint the Golden Gate Bridge gold.

Laura is possibly the only person EVER to see the totally breathtaking, amazing feat of engineering which is the Golden Gate Bridge, and register this reaction: disappointment.

"It's not gold."

A Growing Readership

A-L: Ohmigosh, people are reading my blog.

Kitty: They are? How do you know?

A-L: I just got a new comment, from the mysteriously named "Anonymous".

Kitty: Cool.

A-L: The message is cryptic, but good. I think. It's succinct, and quite poetic. I bet it's from a famous writer.

Kitty: What does it say?

A-L: "Boring. Dumb."

Kitty: About which post?

A-L: The most recent one, entitled "Bedtime for DJs".

Kitty: Hmm. That's not even close to being the most boring or dumbest post. Wonder who it could be. Does Annais have internet access at daycare?

A-L: She does, but she's a fan of the Ferocious Reader, and besides, she'd use a different moniker, like her ham radio handle.

Bedtime for DJs

F.D.: You'll never believe what the DJ upstairs said.

A-L: Try me.

F.D.: He said that he's trying really hard to be considerate, and turn down the music when it's late, but he's struggling with knowing what is "too late".

A-L: Are you saying that he doesn't understand the concept of "bed time"?

F.D.: He doesn't understand what time people who aren't DJs go to bed, and he needs help knowing when that is.

A-L: I have an idea.

F.D.: Uh oh.

A-L: No, it's a good idea. It's not one of my silly "I'll say this for a laugh" ideas.

F.D.: Ok.

A-L: Each night, when it's bed time, you could go upstairs and read him a bed time story. That way, there'll be no confusion about when bed time is. When the story is over, he has to turn the stereo off.

Michael: Or put on headphones.

When a DJ Lives Upstairs

Flatmate David: Have you heard the super loud music from the upstairs neighbors?

A-L: No. It might be my snoring that you're hearing.

F.D.: No, it's definitely melodic. But waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too loud, and waaaaaay too late.

A-L: Oh, actually I have. I forgot that I wrote a poem to the upstairs neighbor.

F.D.: Wow, and right on cue, he's turned it up again.

A-L: What song is that? Sounds like the Jackson Five.

F.D.: Not sure. I could Shazam it.

A-L: That's when you know the music upstairs is too loud.

F.D.: They just don't understand the concept of THIN WALLS + LOUD MUSIC + DIFFERENT WORK SCHEDULES = UNHAPPY DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBORS.

A-L: I think passive aggressive is the way to go here.

F.D.: Good idea. When I leave the house at 6 am, I'll leave really bad music on loop. Can I borrow your Phil Collins CD?

A-L: Which one? I mean, I don't own any Phil Collins. Honestly. I was thinking George Michael. But maybe that's so bad it's good.

Conversation Stopper

At the San Francisco Airport, after a few minutes of friendly conversation...

Friendly man: So, what do you do?

A-L: I'm an admin assistant.

(insert long pause)

Friendly man: Do you want a drink?

Location, Location, Location

A-L: I must be drunk. I'm filling in some information about a company, which is in Texas, and I put down the wrong country. Texas isn't in Canada!

SR: Texas is in Texas.

A Definite Red Flag

Caroline: I once broke up with a boyfriend because he had a Mariah Carey CD.

A-L: Really?? Which one?

Caroline: I think it was Daydream.

A-L: I meant which boyfriend.

Interview Saga - Part 1

This really happened. To someone I know. Names have been changed to protect those who need protecting.

Sally: I'm thrilled to be here, Nancy. Thanks for giving me an interview.

Nancy: No problem. I just want to start out by telling you that I'm leaving the company very soon. I'm going to get my MBA. I just thought it was fair to say that up front.

Sally: Great, then maybe I'll get your job instead of the one I'm interviewing for. I mean, what a shame. I'm sure I could learn so much from you.

Nancy: I have NO IDEA how they're going to find someone to replace me. They're never going to find what they're looking for.

Sally: Yes, you look like that rare individual who is indispensable.

Nancy: So, the salary's not spectacular for this low-level customer service position. How do you feel about that?

Sally: I've considered dog walking, nit picking and converting so I could become the mother to someone else's Jewish baby. I'm not particularly money motivated in this down spiraling economy. What's REALLY important to me is that I like the product I'm selling and that I work with nice people. And that I'm employed.

Nancy: Oh, I'm not nice.

Sally: Yes, I didn't not notice that. I mean, tee hee.

Nancy: I'm serious. I'm not nice. I hate training people. I'm really impatient.

Sally: Are you drunk? Did you just say that to me? I mean, I can understand that sentiment. I've been a manager, and training people can be challenging.

Nancy: Yeah, I'll show someone how to do something once, and if they don't get it, they're on their own and I get really aggravated.

Sally: Nit picking wouldn't be so bad. I could make my own hours.

Nancy: One thing that makes this mindless job very complicated is that we use many different systems, so you have to be very precise.

Sally: Well, I'm very good about admitting if I've made a mistake, and then going back and fixing it.

Nancy: That's a good trait, but, uh, we don't make mistakes. I'm serious. We don't make mistakes. We can't make mistakes.

Sally: You are the best thing that's ever happened to my blog. Are you kidding me? Did you REALLY just say that to me during an interview?

Nancy: Ok, come meet my boss, Bob.

Sally: Let's hope he's also a goldmine of interviewing no-no's.

-----

Bob: Scaaawwt-land, huh? How long did you live in Edin-bor-ough?

Sally: I'm not sure where Edin-bor-ough is, sir, but I lived in Edinburgh for five years.

Bob: I'm Scawwww-tish.

Sally: I don't believe you.

Bob: So, tell me about the retail job you had in Beverly Hills. I bet you had some demanding customers there.

Sally: That was seven jobs ago. Do you really want to focus on that one?

Bob: I'm just going to talk over you, and anything you say is wrong. My interviewing style is a mix of aggressive, condescending and confrontational. So explain how you would have dealt with an unhappy customer when you were working retail.

Sally: Well, I would have apologized, and then spoken with my manager...

Bob (interrupting): Let's say your manager's unavailable.

Sally: Well, I would have spoken to my manager's manager.

Bob: That person's not available either.

Sally: I didn't work alone at this high-department store. I don't think, sir.

Bob: Moving right along, prove to me that you're organized.

Sally: Uh, my resume is easy to read? I got here on time?

(At this point in the interview, Sally had given up, and already strongly disliked both Bob and Nancy. And never wanted to work near/with/for/against them.)

Sally: What, exactly, are you looking for in a low-level underpaid customer service rep reporting to self-important, inexperienced and unprofessional managers? I mean, what are you looking for in an employee?

Bob: I'm looking for someone who can "keep their head, when all about are losing theirs".

Sally: I like that poem.

Bob: Yes, it's Robert Burns.

Sally: Try again. It's Rudyard Kipling.

Bob: It's one of the two.

Yeah, the one I said.

And here concludes Part 1. Let's recap: Sally corrected her potential boss's boss in an interview because she can't bear to let it pass that he's attributed a Rudyard Kipling poem to Robert Burns. Will Sally ever get a job?? To be continued.

The Tao of Annais - Verse One

A-L: Good morning Annais. How did you sleep?

Annais (closing her eyes): Like this.

Q & A With Public Safety Pete

I received the following e-mail from Gemma, our Paris correspondent:

A-L,
Please forward this photo to Public Safety Pete for analysis.

Thanks, GL

Pete, can you rate this on the scale of 1 - 10?

The Tao of Annais (Rhymes with "The Tao of Niece")

A-L: You should drive up to visit me in San Francisco sometime. It's only a 10-hour drive from Coachella (aka The Surface of the Sun).

Sister Maria: That sounds perfect for the girls. There's nothing five- and three-year-olds like more than being confined to car seats for 10 hours.

A-L: Is it really bad?

Sister Maria: Hey, Annais, tell A-L how much you like the drive to Northern California.

Annais: What?

Sister Maria: Tell her about the drive up north, how fun it was.

Annais: The drive was ... (insert dramatic three-year-old pause) ... the plane.

A-L: Does she work for Southwest Airlines? Or is she Yoda?

Sister Maria: Both.

Police Custody

Public Safety Pete: Hi, I'm waiting for my fingerprints to dry.

A-L: Are you and Irma stenciling the hallway with your hand and foot prints?

Pete: No, I'm at the Channel Islands Police Station, I think.

A-L: What happened? Did you finally act out against the homeowners' association rules and put up a lawn ornament? I hope it's a life-size troll.

Pete: No, I'm getting fingerprinted.

A-L: And I was your first phone call? Unfortunately I'm pretty busy. Sister Maria and I are running errands. Can I call you back when you're eligible for parole?

Pete: I wish. I'm getting my paw prints taken so I can do that volunteer job you signed me up for.

A-L: The one counting birds for the Audubon Society?

Pete: That sounds more exciting. I'll be installing Life Alert systems in elderly people's homes.

A-L: Does that mean you get a free one? If so, can I have it? I'd love to get it connected to the Velo Rouge coffee shop across the street from my house so they could deliver freshly brewed coffee.

Pete: Um, pressing the Life Alert button means an ambulance, not a barista, shows up.

A-L: Oh, so it's broken. No wonder they need volunteers.

Are You New?

If you're a new reader, and I know there are tens of you, or you just need reminding, these are the characters who play recurring roles on the Ferocious Reader:

1. Public Safety Pete - My dad. Concerned with safety. Named Pete. Or Peter. Native to California.
   
2. Irma (aka "the Irma") - My mom, Irma. Married to Public Safety Pete for 39.5 years. Of Finnish origin.
   
3. Sister Maria - My sister. Her name is Maria.
4. Grandbrother Hector - Husband of Sister Maria. "Grandbrother" is Ted's (see Character 7) version of "brother-in-law".
5. Aila - Original niece. The elder of the MexiFinns. Fan of pygmy marmosets, hummingbirds and scarlet macaws.
   
6. Annais (aka "Cachetona", "Cache", "Eese") - Younger of the MexiFinns. PRONUNCIATION KEY: Rhymes with "geese". (Bonus information: Was named "Peter Marie" while gestating.)
7. Ted - Of Polish origin. Flatmate of four years in Edinburgh. Still in Scotland. Accident prone. Wife and two children in Poland, eagerly awaiting his return. New(ish) to English. Originator of the phrases "sister-in-love" and "grandbrother", among others.
   
8. Kitty - A cat. Lives in Scotland.
9. Others appear as convenient/necessary/funny.
   

I hope that's useful.

Mary and Joseph Live On

This is an open letter to the family that lives off the 101 on the Central Coast of California, between Gonzales and Soledad.

I saw your nativity scene yesterday. I know it's not lit up, but it's out. And still set up in the typical nativity configuration. I was going about 65 mph, so I couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like the cradle was empty. Did a Groundhog steal the plastic Christ Child? Or are you rotating the contents of the cradle to suit the holiday? I know where you can get a cute little leprechaun. That should tide you over until Easter, which falls on April 12th this year.

What you could do, is celebrate the phases of Jesus's life, starting with the Nativity, and culminating with the resurrection. I attended an Easter brunch a few years ago where my friends had rigged up a rising Jesus in the doorway adjoining the kitchen and living room. These are the supplies you'll need to set up an outdoor equivalent:

1. A Jesus figure. Think lawn ornament size. (Here's a link to a Jesus Statue Catalog.)

2. A rope and pulley system. (There's a helpful diagram here.)

3. Someone who can be the resurrector. (ie: the puller of the pulley.)

4. Easter brunch!

I'll be heading back up North on the 101 next week. I'll stop in and discuss the options with you.

Human Rights in South Central L.A., or The Olsen Twins

Peter the Greek: Wow, that documentary we just saw (Crips and Bloods: Made in America) was incredible. It's unconscionable that this urban warfare is going on so close to the media epicenter that is Los Angeles, and yet it's barely covered.

A-L: Too right, as the Scots would say.

P the G: How does this escape the attention of mainstream media? It's happening in their backyard.

A-L: It's not that they don't know about it, it's just that it doesn't sell magazines. We need to get the Olsen twins involved for People Magazine to cover it.

P the G: I don't think the Olsen twins are into gang warfare. That doesn't seem like their bag.

A-L: Oh, maybe you're on to something. They could date rival gang members, and then facilitate a truce. People Magazine would love that. And then Americans in dentist offices across the country would know about the conflict.

P the G: That could work, except one of the twins is missing.

A-L: Which one?

P the G: Uh, I can't remember their names.

A-L: I don't believe you.

P the G: Ok, it's Ashley. She's withdrawn a bit. Mary Kate is the one who's totally in the spotlight, and used to hang out with Paris Hilton, et al.

A-L: So, what's the next step?

P the G: In getting Ashley back into the spotlight?

A-L: No, in getting the Olsen twins to make people aware of the situation, specifically the origins of the gang rivalry in South Central, and working towards a solution.

P the G: Pass.

In Training

Cousin Tina: Hi, have you been training for the upcoming ride?

A-L: Of course.

Cousin Tina: What have you been doing?

A-L: I ate two slices of that delicious pumpkin bread you made, to practice getting my blood sugar up.

Cousin Tina: And?

A-L: And right now I'm eating a banana, which has a lot of potassium. Right?

Cousin Tina: Yes, that's right. What else have you done?

A-L: I watched Cousin Daniel do ski jumping on the Wii. That was stressful. But he did well.

Cousin Tina: Umm, how many miles have you ridden?

A-L: I drove to the San Francisco Airport and back yesterday. Does that count?

Cousin Tina: Not if you were in the Camry. Are you planning to ride your bike today?

A-L: Is this the time for me to mention that I don't own a bike?

Job Counselor

Kitty: Do you have a job yet?

A-L: No, not yet.

Kitty: How about now?

A-L: Nope. Do you?

Kitty: Paul got me hooked up with a gig doing stress tests on snowboard goggle boxes. It's boring, but it's steady work and I get free snowboarding gear.

A-L: Aren't you a skier?

Kitty: No, I'm a cat. I got a call from GW the other day. Their apartment has a mouse infestation, and he wanted me to come round and have a look. I gave him a quote over the phone, and he hung up on me.

A-L: That's surprising, I think.

Kitty: He wanted fast service, and I was going to put my best man on the job. I've trained Ted to catch mice bare-handed. He's a natural.

A-L: Please tell him I say hello. I miss that guy.

Kitty: Oh, can you tell Cousin Tina that I probably can't join her on the bike ride in April?

A-L: Ohmigosh, that would have been so fun to have you pulling my bike! I bet someone would sew you a little spandex outfit. (Hint, hint, readers who sew.)

Kitty: Which is precisely why it's perfect timing that I'll probably be in D.C. the weekend of the Wildflower.

A-L: Sorry?

Kitty: I don't want to bore you with the details, but the Obamas are begging me to come stay with them to help "the dog" transition into public life.

A-L: Have they chosen a dog?

Kitty: It's not public yet, but I've sold the dog who lives with me.

Cheap Laugh

Paul: Do you remember those snowboarding goggles I got for my 30th Birthday?

A-L: No, that was AGES ago.

Paul: It wasn't that long ago. Anyway, the other day I found the picture of Kitty in the goggle box. Poor Kitty. I shed a tear.

A-L: Why "poor Kitty"? Because you stuffed her in a goggle box, or because now she's living in the Scottish countryside and is miles away from the nearest theatre and decent Indian food?

Paul: I didn't stuff her into the goggle box. She stalked it, circled it, and then put it on, as it were. And there's really good Indian food in Culross.

A-L: Why didn't anyone tell me she looked like a boa constrictor?

Boot Camp

Cousin Tina: We're going for a 17-mile bike ride today.

A-L: Do you want me to pass that message on to someone?

Cousin Tina: Um, yourself. We're leaving at 11 a.m., and you're riding Daniel's bike.

A-L: Cool. I hope Daniel can see past me sitting on the handlebars. Or am I riding in one of those carts?

Cousin Tina: Daniel's staying at home.

A-L: Oh, I see. It's remote control. Is it a new Wii game?

Cousin Tina: Call it what you like.

Mile 2 -

A-L: I'm HUNGRY.

Cousin Tina: I'm AUSTRIA. Keep pedaling. We're almost to the 1/8 mark.

Mile 3.5 -

A-L: I have to pee.

Cousin Tina: We're almost to the spot where I won't be lying if I say we're getting a bit closer to the half-way mark.

A-L: I hate word problems. Holly, are we there yet?

Cousin Holly: I don't speak 'whining'.

A-L: Tina, Holly won't talk to me. I have to pee.

Mile 5.5 -

A-L: Is it time for our banana bread snack yet?

Cousin Tina: I can tell by looking at you that your blood sugar hasn't dropped that low. Keep pedaling. We're getting closer.

A-L: By my calculations we're getting farther away from the house. And bathrooms. Did I mention I have to pee? And can a dietitian really tell someone's blood sugar level just by looking at them?

Cousin Tina: I can. And I have the power to determine when hypochondria has set in. You're in the advanced stages.

A-L: Does that mean I get to travel home in one of those carts? Is Cousin Gary coming to pick me up? And is the only cure a chocolate and peanut butter milkshake?

Cousin Tina: I need to observe you riding the bike for a couple more miles before I can clearly diagnose the situation.

Mile 7 -

A-L: I think I'm going into shock. If I pass on here, tell my parents, and Sister Maria, Grandbrother Hector, Aila and Annais and the rest of the Finn-family Sandstrum trolls that I loved them very much. And the $30.78 that's left in my 401(k) after the stellar stock market performance of 2008 should be divided evenly between Aila and Annais, and their boxer, Binx.

Cousin Tina: Noted. We have 1.5 miles to go until we're at the turn-around point.

A-L: Can I pee when we we get to the turn-around point? And are there hot tubs there? And wine and cheese?

Cousin Holly: Plenty of whine along the way.

Cousin Tina: Lincoln Airport is our turn-around point.

A-L: Are we only in Nebraska? We've been riding for days.

Cousin Tina: It's been 40 minutes. And we're not in the Midwest, technically. We're 7 miles away from where we started. Still in California.

A-L: Will search and rescue be able to find us out here?

Cousin Tina: I'm going to let Holly field that question.

Radio silence.

Mile 8.5 -

Cousin Tina: We'll, we're here.

A-L: Where are they hiding the hot tubs and the buffet table? This looks like a cul-de-sac next to an airstrip. And I have to pee.

Cousin Tina: You can pee here.

A-L: With low-flying aircraft overhead?

Cousin Tina: It's either that or hold it all the way back to the house.

A-L: How far is it back to the house?

Cousin Tina: Divide 17 by 2.

A-L: I didn't bring a calculator. And the suspense is killing me.

Cousin Tina: It'll take us just as long to get home as it did to get here.

A-L: If I can keep up that same pace.

Cousin Holly: Really? Do you think you could possibly ride your bike more slowly than you did on the way here?

And by some miracle we made it back to the house, on bikes.

A-L: Tina, do you think I'll be in shape by April to join you on the Wildflower 60-mile bike ride in Chico?

Radio silence.

A Poem

It's probably poetry week somewhere at a library in the Midwest, so in celebration, here's the poem my upstairs neighbor might have written to me.

A Poem To My Downstairs Neighbor, If I Wrote One

Why must you dry your hair, at 8 a.m.?
Which is the middle of the night.
Practically.
They make silencers for hair dryers.
I think you should buy one.
A nice one.
Or just go for a bike ride.

Why must you laugh, ever?
Your laugh is so very shrill.
Stop hanging out with funny people,
Or better yet, stop laughing
at your
own
jokes.
So loudly.

Why must you cook with garlic?
Please stop.

Why must you listen to that CD again?
Get an iPod.
And press shuffle.

When is your sub-let over?

The end.

Missing: Jeffrey

Sister Maria: Do you remember Jeffrey?

A-L: I know a couple Jeffs, but no one who refers to himself as Jeffrey. Give me a hint.

Sister Maria: Aila's giraffe, Jeffrey?

A-L: A stuffed animal, I take it. I don't think I ever met him, unless he was a guest at one of the elaborate tea parties Aila hosts. Perhaps I sat next to him. Must have been a quiet fellow.

Sister Maria: Well, Aila took Jeffrey to kindergarten, to cuddle with during nap time.

A-L: And Jeffrey converted to Presbyterianism, and wouldn't come back home with her to the Catholic/Lutheran home you and Hector have so lovingly built?

Sister Maria: No, she took Jeffrey to school, on a Friday, and left him there. By accident, of course.

A-L: Don't tell me, the Presbyterians sacrificed him on Sunday.

Sister Maria: What is wrong with you? Irma and Public Safety Pete didn't raise us to be hateful people.

A-L: Sorry. I have too much time on my hands. And now Jim Morrison is singing the soundtrack to the video of the stuffed giraffe in flames on the altar.

Sister Maria: Anyway, when Aila returned to kindergarten the following Monday, Jeffrey was gone. One of the kids at Sunday school must have taken him. She was devastated.

A-L: I can imagine. She's such a sensitive little soul. Did you make a missing poster? I had a friend whose dad lived in Columbia, and his pet parrot flew away, and he put an ad in the local paper. So people started calling him and imitating a parrot voice, which is ironic. I think. Although being American, I'm not supposed to fully understand irony.

Sister Maria: Are you drunk? Do I look a woman who has time to make a missing poster, for a stuffed giraffe? We asked in the school office if anyone had turned Jeffrey in, but no dice.

A-L: Is the moral of the story that you wish you had sent Aila to a public school, where you expect people to steal things from one another, because they're heathens?

Sister Maria: When did you become so self-righteous? Don't answer that. So this morning, Aila said she really wanted to take a stuffed animal to school, because she wanted to cuddle with something during nap time.

A-L: Don't we all.

Sister Maria: So, I told her she could take a stuffed animal, but she is responsible for it, and if it gets lost, she'll be really sad. So do you want to know which stuffed animal she chose?

A-L: Don't tell me it was Annais's blue puppy? or the giant Elmo that Aunt Chrissy bought them?

Sister Maria: No, it was Kitty's horse.

A-L: I have a confession. That stuffed horse never belonged to Kitty. It was mine, a joke present a friend bought me when I told him I wanted a pony. I just told Aila that it was Kitty's, and that Kitty had asked me to pass it on to her because, uh, because I like to make stuff up. And because Aila never got to meet Kitty.

Sister Maria: The phone line was breaking up there. I missed all of that.

A-L: I just said that I know Aila will look after Kitty's horse. And I'm sure he'll come home with her this afternoon, safe and sound. He's pretty street smart, and I don't think he'll let himself be fooled by any Presbyterians trying to lure him to Sunday service.

Sister Maria: Well, I hope not. But I told Aila that she has to look after Kitty's horse very carefully, and that she doesn't want him to end up where Jeffrey ended up.

A-L: You're such a guilt tripper.

Sister Maria: I know. So Aila's reply was, "but I don't know where Jeffrey ended up."

A-L: Ohmigosh, that's heart-breaking. I wonder what she imagines. Is Jeffrey lying in a ditch somewhere, or is he now an indentured servant for the altar guild?

Sister Maria: So, of course, now I'm worried sick about Kitty's horse. I put a name tag on him, with Aila's details.

A-L: While we've been talking, I e-mailed Kitty, and she's sent me the link to the place where she bought her horse. Douglas is his name, and if you click here, you can see a photo of him. (He's the tan fellow, with the white mane.) So if the Presbyterians take him hostage, we'll send in a decoy.

Sister Maria: Good idea.

Overheard at Cafe

Man at cafe: My first job was delivering laundry.

Lady at cafe: Dirty laundry?

Safety First

Caroline: Hi, I can't talk for long. My friend is coming over to watch The Real Housewives of Orange County. Have you seen it?

A-L: Is the Pope German? I don't have a television, but maybe they'll be showing it on the big screen at the Abbey Tavern on Geary, where I watch Scottish football matches.

Caroline: Probably not. Different target market. The show's about to start. Let's talk tomorrow, after the pool electrician leaves.

A-L: Why would one need a pool electrician? Are you having an intercom installed so when we're in the hot tub, we can summon Dave to bring down drinks from the kitchen? Or is it a loudspeaker to scare the raccoons out of the pool?

Caroline: No, nothing scares the raccoons. We've surrendered to them, and they're now living downstairs, in the man cave.

A-L: In Dave's man cave? I thought you said I could stay there when I come up to Portland?

Caroline: Oh you can. They've put in bunk beds. Lots of them. The pool electrician is coming over to install an electronic pool cover.

A-L: Cool. Can we surf on it?

Caroline: Um, no. Bring rollerskates.

Maybe Next Year...

Gemma, dear readers, is the Paris correspondent for The Ferocious Reader. She is one of the Publishing Ladies, and an expert on Auster-Doyle syndrome.

Gemma: Were you at the annual Valentines Day pillow fight in San Francisco?

A-L: No. I'm Protestant. We don't celebrate pillow fights.

Gemma: Why not?

A-L: Because they're frivolous. And messy.

Gemma: And?

A-L: And because I was raised by a woman who lived through WWII. Pillows are not just for Valentines Day. They're for a lifetime. Especially for the Finns.

Gemma: How so?

A-L: Well, everyone knows the Finns used some brilliant tactics - like the Molotov Cocktail and white uniforms which camouflaged soldiers in the snow - to humiliate the Russian army during the Winter War, but it's a little known fact that their greatest weapon in defeating Stalin's army was...

Gemma: The pillow?

A-L: That's right. And that's the REAL reason why I can never attend the San Francisco Valentines Day Pillow Fight.

Gemma: And because you didn't know about it until someone in Paris told you.

Quiz

Here's what I learned when I was apartment hunting in San Francisco:

1. (Two cats) x (casual/non-existent housekeeping) + (super nice owners) = (pervasive cat pee odor)
Please note that the addition of (super nice owners) does not negate cat pee smell, no matter where in the equation it sits. This equation can also result in (more cats), which means you can square (pervasive cat pee odor).

2. (A stovetop wrapped in tin foil) + (doormats outside each of the bedrooms) x (nervous apartment owner) = (perpetually feeling like you're 11 years old and about to spill hot chocolate on mean grandma's white sofa)
You can substitute (grandma) with the following for the same result: (relative, neighbor, or piano teacher); and (hot chocolate) can be substituted with: (red wine, coffee or molasses).

10 Points Extra Credit
3. Including the following information in an ad for a sublet: (I am a thirty-one year old woman originally from NYC. I am a professional chef and freelance writer who moved to the Bay Area from a farm-based restaurant I ran in Georgia to cook at Chez Panisse, where I spent a year and a half. I currently work from home, writing full-time about food and culture, but spend many nights and weekends at my boyfriend's house in the Mission. The rest of the time I do yoga, cook, read, and work on sustainable food projects with Slow Food Berkeley.) =

A. (General confusion about why work experience at Chez Panisse is included.)
B. (Am I going to be tested on your hobbies?)
C. (Is it relevant that your boyfriend lives in the Mission?)
D. (Other answer, listed in comments.)

Poem for my Upstairs Neighbor

Dear upstairs neighbor,
I don't know you
Just your footsteps
How many feet do you have?
Many, many feet
Heavy feet
Running, jumping feet

Dear upstairs neighbor,
I don't know you
Just your thrash metal
Turned waaay up
Even after midnight
When I get a job
I will buy you headphones
Nice ones

Dear upstairs neighbor,
I don't know you
Just that you're learning to play the bongos
Against the wooden floor
Which acts like
One
Big
Giant
Bongo drum
Especially after midnight

Dear upstairs neighbor,
I don't know you
Just that you go to bed at 4 a.m.
And I lie awake
And dream of new hobbies for you
Like stamp collecting
and
Coloring.

The Skirt of Many Colors

A-L: Should I be insulted that a woman came up to me on Thursday and asked if my skirt was recycled?

Kitty: You’re not still wearing the patchwork skirt you bought from Joey D. in Edinburgh?

A-L: Of course I am. I like it.

Kitty: Well, let’s think about this. It is San Francisco, so “recycled” has positive connotations. Even if the undertone is “your skirt looks like Dolly Parton’s mom made it from the box of rags”.

A-L: Thanks. You always make me feel better.

Off Center Piece

Kitty suffering under the house rules at Perth Street:












Kitty enjoying new, more cat-centric, house rules:

Dress Rehearsal

Kitty: What is it now?

A-L: I need your help practicing for interviews.

Kitty: Ok. We'll start with my favorite question, "What's your biggest weakness?"

A-L: I'm a perfectionist?

Kitty: Try again.

A-L: Uh, I'm not very good at parallel parking?

Kitty: Are you applying for a job as a valet again?

A-L: No. How about this, I'm selfless and am always putting other people's needs ahead of mine, which isn't healthy.

Kitty: Are you reading that off of something? You can't take a script with you into an interview.

A-L: It's a brochure about co-dependency. I've put it away. Ok, for real, here's my biggest flaw: I'm too funny, and it can be distracting because everyone loves working with me.

Kitty: So you're delusional and self-obsessed. This is good. We're getting somewhere.

A-L: This isn't therapy. We're supposed to be practicing for an interview.

Kitty: You're the one reading off a mental health brochure. Why don't you stick with the parallel parking answer? And good luck.

Edinburgh v. San Francisco

Kitty: I'm dying to know how San Francisco compares to Edinburgh.

A-L: You are?? That's so sweet. Are you thinking of getting a passport and coming to live with me? I'd love it.

Kitty: Hell no. Jenny lets me chill on the dining room table. And there's a dog here. He does whatever I tell him. I'm just curious. Besides me, what do you miss about Scotland?

A-L: Well, I miss Kebab Mahal, and that crazy ecstatic feeling you get in Scotland when you see the sun.

Kitty: You read The Sun?

A-L: That too. We see the sun here almost every day, which gets boring. Kind of.

Kitty: So you miss me, some hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant, and??

A-L: Uh, cobblestones. And IRN-BRU. It's made in Scotland, fae girders. And I miss watching Scottish football at a decent hour. And I miss hearing the Scottish accent.

Kitty: Wow, I never realized how shallow you were.

A-L: You've always known how shallow I am. I only stole you because you matched the color scheme in the flat on Perth Street.

Kitty: So, you don't miss any people? What about all those communists you knew?

A-L: They were Lefties, not Leftists, you foolish cat. And of course I miss my former colleagues, left-handed or not, and the servers at the Christian Center (where you can get a baked potato for 3.00 or 3.50, depending on who's working the cash register), my flatmates, friends from Napier, and friends picked up along the way.

Kitty: And?? Which is better?

A-L: It's too early to tell. I haven't found a cat that matches the decor yet, and I've only met one Lefty (who is a publisher, of course), so it's early days.

Kitty: Wow, you're shallow AND wishy washy.

Privacy

A-L to 3-year-old Carley, daughter of friend Kate.

A-L: Hi Carley, how old are you?

Carley: I'm three.

A-L: Wow. When are you going to be four?

Carley: On my Birthday.

Mom Kate: I'm going to start saying that when people ask me when I'm going to be 40. "On my birthday."

The Job Hunt - Day 300

A-L: I found the perfect job.

Sister Maria: Under the refrigerator, or inside the vacuum cleaner bag?

A-L: Good guess.

Sister Maria: I imagine it's in the Etc. portion of Craigslist. Are you converting to Judaism so you can donate your eggs to a loving Jewish couple?

A-L: I don't meet the minimum requirements: Irma's a Gentile. And my Math score on the SAT wasn't exactly stellar.

Sister Maria: And it's a bit of a race against the clock. You've only got 4 months before some couple thinks you're too old to be the biological mother of their Jewish baby.

A-L: That's why I'm going to apply to be a Private Investigator.

Sister Maria: Ok, let's do a practice interview now. And the following CANNOT be used as answers to the question "What qualifications do you have?"

1. I watched Murder, She Wrote when I was in elementary school
2. I LOVE Cold Case Files
3. I only have six more episodes of The Wire to watch.
   

A-L: Pass.

Sister Maria: Ok, next question. The job requires "sitting patiently" for hours. Is this something you could do?

A-L: Pass.

Sister Maria: They describe the ideal candidate as having "strong common sense". Can you comment on that?

A-L: Define "strong".

Sister Maria: I imagine you would have to maintain confidentiality, and be pretty selective about when and how you use binoculars.

A-L: Can you please restate the question?

Sister Maria: Technically that's the answer. You wouldn't be able to blog about a) seeing the job on Craigslist, b) applying for the job, c) getting the job, or d) any of your adventures on the job.

A-L: That's B-O-R-I-N-G. I mean, I think I'm overqualified.

San Francisco Tourist Attractions

A-L: Hi Emma, when are you coming to visit me?

Emma: Soon. I'm dying to see the Nutcracker.

A-L: Bad news. He's dead. Or hibernating.

Emma: You killed the 3rd Avenue Nutcracker?

A-L: Uh, I think so. Public Safety Pete and cousins Tim and Tom were in town last Wednesday. We went for dim sum, and of course we walked back to my house via 3rd Avenue. I think we were the last people to see the Nutcracker alive.

Emma: How did you kill him?

A-L: We went up and touched him to find out what he's made of.

Emma: You didn't! You touched him?!

A-L: He's made of fiberglass.

Emma: Was made of fiberglass. I think I'll schedule a trip to San Francisco to coincide with the birth of the next Nutcracker. When do you think that'll be?

A-L: Shortly after Labor Day, I'm sure. It's supposed to be lovely in San Francisco in Autumn. The leaves turn and the Nutcrackers hatch.

Premonition

Annais: I had a dream that there were angels at Momma's (Irma's) house.

Sister Maria: What were the angels doing?

Annais: Cleaning.

Raucous laughter from Sister Maria.

Happy Birthday, Sister Maria

A-L: I can't believe you're 38! Happy Birthday. It seems like yesterday that we had your 10th birthday party at the house in Germany.

Sister Maria: Yesterday?? It was Reagan's first term.

A-L: Nancy Reagan was president?

Sister Maria: You're so predictable.

Signs

A-L: Hi Kitty, I miss you.

Kitty: Have you found a job yet?

A-L: Not yet, but things are looking up.

Kitty: I knew things would turn around. You know, until last Sunday Mercury was in retrograde.

A-L: Is that near Glasgow?

Kitty: No, it's a planet, and its position was impeding your job search.

A-L: I didn't know you believed in that stuff.

Kitty: Of course I do. I'm a typical Taurus.

A-L: What makes you think you're a Taurus?

Kitty: My birthday is May 11, 2005, and I exhibit all the Taurus traits. I'm stubborn, reliable, a financial wizard, and I like a comfortable life and expensive things.

A-L: I hate to break it to you, but no one knows when you were born, or even how old you are. I made up that date. You could be 14 years old for all I know. And a Capricorn.

Kitty: But I'm twelve days older than Annais. And I was a tiny kitten when you stole me.

A-L: You were small, but I always attributed that to cigarette smoke having stunted your growth.

Kitty: I never smoked.

A-L: Yes, but you always lived with people who did. I bet you've got a half-pack-a-day secondhand smoker's habit. It was Paul's plan to stunt your growth, and market you as a Shetland Kitten, online.

Kitty: Then maybe the Obama family would want me.

A-L: As if. The last thing they need on their family holidays is a stubborn cat complaining that the thread-count on the hotel sheets isn't high enough.

San Francisco: Nutcrackers Welcome

I love Christmas as much as the next Christmas-loving person, and I have a high tolerance for yuletide lights and trees that survive into early January, but I think it's reasonable that when February dawns, all outdoor Christmas decorations should be fast asleep in their plastic crates under the stairs/in the attic/in the guest bedroom closet/in the garage. Especially the two-story tall Nutcracker that stands guard outside the house around the corner (on 3rd Avenue between Anza and Geary, if you're up for the drive). Yes, of course there were originally two Nutcrackers, but his partner who was stationed to the right of the front door collapsed a couple days after the Inauguration. In relief, I think.

I haven't gotten close enough to see what Mr. Nutcracker is made of, but it's something strong. He's now survived Chinese New Year, the Super Bowl, the worst recession since 1945, and has a little more than a week and half to go until Valentines Day. It's a testament to the live-and-let-live nature of San Francisco that he can stand tallish (he's tilting a bit) and proud well into February.

Inspection

Sister Maria: Hi, what are you doing?

A-L: I'm exhausted. I've been cleaning all day.

Sister Maria: Aren't you supposed to be job hunting?

A-L: I thought maybe I'd find a job under the refrigerator. I scrubbed the bathroom, and even vacuumed the vacuum cleaner.

Sister Maria: Is Irma coming to visit??

A-L: Close. Pete will be here tomorrow.

Sister Maria: Public Safety Pete is coming to visit and you wasted a whole afternoon cleaning? You know the first thing he's going to do is a fire safety inspection. You don't have any battery-less smoke alarms in the place, do you?

A-L: Maria, I live in an old Victorian house that's been converted into a maze of apartments. My bedroom is what used to be the dining room, a couple lives in the garage, and the lights flicker when someone upstairs uses the garbage disposal. There is NO WAY this place is going to pass Pete's safety inspection. So I thought it was best to dust door jambs and mop the kitchen floor.

Sister Maria: You've got it all wrong. Pete wouldn't notice a dusty door jamb unless it had a sparking wire on it. He'll be focused on overloaded sockets, fraying wires, a malfunctioning oven fan, obstructed exits, and slippery stairs.

A-L: I'll keep the lights low.

Sister Maria: How long will it take you to find a new apartment?

Dispatch from the Field

E-mail from friend AC:

Hi, Here's a new one for your blog: "My company just hired 5 people today, despite the lousy economy." OK, what's the message here? That if her company hired 5 people, why can't I get a job too? That the economy really isn't THAT bad? That I'm not trying hard enough? What? What, already!?"

Dear AC,

Yes, take the hint. The job market really isn't that bad. We're just of a generation that is content sitting at home and blogging (or in your case, e-mailing) about our woes. What we should be doing is pounding the pavement, knocking on doors. Which is exactly what I will be doing if I get a job working for www.census2010.gov. Apparently they're hiring.

And the woman you describe above must have been at the Super Bowl party I attended yesterday, disguised as a man. Here's the conversation I had with her (him):

A-L: Hi, what's your name? Are you hiring?

Mr. You're-just-not-trying-hard-enough: Oh my gosh, I'm sooo busy. I could totally use more help.

A-L: So, you're hiring? Where do I apply?

Mr. YJNTHE: Oh, I'm not hiring, I'm just really busy. I already have an assistant. She makes about $50 an hour. That's pretty good, huh?

Of course I didn't know how to reply. Was that supposed to make me feel better? or worse? or was it just an arbitrary question? Anyway, I feigned a heart attack (after lots of chicken wings, half a burger, a gallon of spinach dip, and 32 butterscotch haystacks) and walked away.

So, I went back to the dining area, where a friend deduced that all of the companies that were advertising during the Super Bowl must be hiring. So after EVERY commercial, she turned to me and said, "So, they're hiring." There are lots of commercials during the Super Bowl. After a commercial from a wind energy company, and the subsequent "so, they're hiring", I turned to her and said, "Now I can finally put to use that PhD in Sustainable Energy that I've been sitting on all these years." I didn't have the energy to be aggressive, just passive aggressive.

AC, the moral of the story is don't go to Super Bowl parties. Stay at home and job hunt.

Your friend,
A-L

Was a Bit of a Fuzzy Line

Kitty: Hello?

A-L: Hi Kitty, it's me.

Kitty: Are you calling collect?

A-L: No, I borrowed my roommate's mobile phone. How are you?

Kitty: I'm good, thanks. You're not using me to generate material for that web site, are you? You know it backfires. You end up alienating about three quarters of your readership when you give a cat a speaking part. Especially when you do it at 9pm on a Saturday night. Are you out on the town?

A-L: No, I'm not "out on the town". I'm at home, job hunting. How are things in Scotland? Are you loving your new home in Culross?

Kitty: Yeah, it's great. I'm totally spoiled here. They let me sit on the kitchen table, which is something I only ever did in Edinburgh when you were asleep, or in the living room, or in London, or anywhere but the kitchen. Have you found a job yet?

A-L: No, I'm still looking. But it turns out you were right all along and I should have done that online course in Bankruptcy Law you suggested. I met a bankruptcy attorney yesterday who said business is booming.

Kitty: The Scottish economy is robust, as far as I can tell. Is it really that bad there?

A-L: It depends on who you ask. I hear lots of anecdotal evidence of a strong economy. Today someone suggested I should apply to companies in the Silicon Valley because "they're totally still hiring". (Emphasis is mine.)

Kitty: Have you looked on Craigslist?

"Intellectual" Property

My roommate, MWM, and I got to talking about Alzheimer's and dementia the other night. My favorite (can I say that??) dementia story is of an elderly Finnish woman who would not leave her house, and move into an assisted-care facility, despite the fact that she could no longer take care of herself. She was only convinced to move when someone told her that the Russians were coming, and they knew of the *perfect* hiding place.

So MWM said: That's what you call The Lighter Side of Alzheimer's.

A-L: What a great name for a blog. I'm going to register that.

MWM: It was my idea.

A-L: Thanks, MWM. Keep the good ideas coming.

Things Could be Worse

"Things Could be Worse" is another school of thought. Yesterday evening, my friend Yang and I met a toothless saxophone player*. (This is San Francisco, after all.) Yang dragged me out of the cafe before I could suggest that the man take up piano.

*Do I need to add that he's unemployed?

Are you hiring?

If you're serious about a job, don't put "PICK ME! PICK ME!" in the subject line of the e-mail to the hiring manager. Apparently it's not very professional. Also, include a cover letter.

Dear Jobless Readers

I have some advice for you, which I have collected with the help of some new (also unemployed) friends. Below you will find a list of the most commonly reoccurring pieces of advice from the gainfully employed:

1. Don't hang out with other unemployed people. It will give you the false impression that everyone is unemployed, and that it's ok not to be working.

2. You should apply for the (insert low-paying mindless) job. Dog walking and espresso making are two suggestions I have heard. (This is part of the "take any job you can while there are still some left" school of thought.)

2. Keep checking Craigslist, because no one else knows about it, so employers are posting well-paid jobs up there and *no one* is applying to them.

3. Have you thought about applying to Google? It doesn't matter that you didn't graduate at the top of your class from Harvard, Yale, Stanford or MIT, you have *good* experience. You should go for it. Or gopher it!!

4. And, finally: Don't forget to include a cover letter.

Round One Elimination

I like the jobs that I can eliminate (on craigslist, where else?) by just answering 'NO' to the headline. For example:

Do you like Video Games? - (SOMA / south beach)

No. One less cover letter to customize.

Can You Sell The Super Bowl? - (financial district)

Not if I'm in Vegas, at the craps table.

The Job Hunt (continued)

Back to craigslist.org, only because it is funny and good.

Now, what does it say about me that I clicked on the job advertisement titled "Nitpicker wanted"? As I clicked, I thought "I'm about to find my perfect job." Honestly.

Here's what was really lurking behind this title:

The Hair Whisperers Lice Removal service is looking for someone based in San Fransisco to remove lice and eggs from people infected with lice. Qualified candidates should have valid driver's license, great close up eyesight, feel comfortable going into people's homes, be personable, good with children, and extremely detailed oriented. Squeamish people need not apply. A good sense of humor a plus! A background check is required, and references will be checked as well. To be considered, all applicants must include where they live, and what times and days they are available. Travel is not paid for. No Weekend Only please.
Driving is a large part of this job, and the longer you are willing to drive, the more you will work. Driving is unpaid. You can set your own hours, and choose when you work, but should be available at least a few hours every day. No 9-5-ers looking to start work at 6 pm, as children often go to sleep at 8. We will train qualified applicants. This is an independent contractor position. Training is in Los Angeles. Training and travel to Los Angeles is unpaid and can take anywhere from five to ten hours.

This *has* to be a joke, right? Firstly, why is Los Angeles the ideal training ground for nitpickers? (Although driving down to Los Angeles and advertising a rideshare on Craigslist would open up a whole new avenue for comedy.) Secondly, who has references for this sort of thing? Would they call my former boss, the Sales & Marketing Director at a UK publisher, and ask her to confirm that: a) I can drive, b) I am extremely detail oriented, fastidious, and, er, a bit of a nitpicker, and c) I am comfortable going into strangers' homes?

But no. It's not a joke. Here's their web site.

San Francisco (Day 12) - Saturday, January 17

I love San Francisco because, if you see a 30-something man on the bus, and he's wearing a baby carrier with *something* in it, the following is a totally legitimate question:

"Is there a baby in there?" which is what two people asked him. Because it is equally possible that he's carrying a squirrel, or a couple of kittens, or a half dozen avocados. Turns out it was a 7-week old baby human boy, and not a huge vegetarian burrito (which was my guess).

The Job Hunt

A-L: Hi Maria. I need your help. Looking for a job in San Francisco is impossible.

Sister Maria: Is the economy really bad up there too?

A-L: Uh, I guess, but I just keep getting distracted, and I find that there are too many jobs. How do I narrow it down? Today I found the *perfect* job on craigslist.org under "retail/wholesale jobs" -

Now hiring for all part-time positions at our new Sanrio store (Hello Kitty) in Japan Town San Francisco. We are looking for candidates who are friendly, energetic, dependable, courteous, motivated and customer service oriented.

A-L (cont.): I meet all those requirements, AND I love cats. But it's only part-time.

Sister Maria: Wow, that does sound good, I think. I guess stickers and pencils and glittery Hello Kitty lip gloss are recession proof. But you need something full-time.

A-L: Here's another good one -

Need 2 people to stand on the corner of Mission St. between Ocean and Geneva and simply WAVE to people. Will have to dress up in a Statue of Liberty costume.

A-L (cont.): I can do that. I'm friendly, and good at waving. And I think they meant to say "will get to dress up in a Statue of Liberty costume".

Sister Maria: I don't think you'd look very good in a crown.

A-L: Maybe I could do that job, while I'm doing this one:

Great dog walking position open!! Established dog walking service looking for the right person to work outdoors with great dogs. The job can be really fun and rewarding for dog lovers. You must own a large vehicle, truck with a camper shell, van or an SUV (sorry sedans are too small).

Sister Maria: Sorry to be the spoilsport again, but you drive a sedan. And Kitty would hate you.

A-L: Kitty who?

Sister Maria: The cat you left in Scotland. Remember her?

A-L: Vaguely. Was she the really affectionate one who lived to purr and be held?

Sister Maria: No, that was the cat you left in Sherman Oaks. Puppy was his name.

A-L: Oh yes, that's right. He was a little gem. Anyway, you're right, I have a sedan so I'm not qualified for the dog walking job. How about this -

Looking for a left handed person to demonstrate and sell product in our fun store, LEFTY'S SAN FRANCISCO on PIER 39- we cater to tourists who appreciate interaction and we require that you provide it--- very small store, you can't be the type to bounce off the wall in a small space--- resume not required, please respond with a letter telling me about your experiences as a left handed person and relevant retail selling background.

Sister Maria: Ummm, there are a couple of problems with this one, but I think I should let you work it out for yourself. I can't hold your hand, your right hand, through life. I know you'll find the right job for you.

A-L: You're totally right. And I've gotta go. I'm late for this -

Gay Mens Science Fiction Book Group Are you a gay man? Do you like science fiction? Are you interested in meeting new friends? Are you interested in talking about the books you read? Do you read one or more books a month? Can you come to a book club meeting once a month?

If you can say yes to these questions then please join our group! We are a small friendly informal social group. We meet on the second sunday of the month at Borderlands books. We will be discussing Queen of Angels by Greg Bear on Feb 8.

I'm Pretending This Blog is Facebook

These are my Facebook status changes:

A-L loves that when she calls her sister, who is now in the same time zone, the lady on the voice mail gives her the option 'to page this person', in case they have just travel(l)ed back to 1988.

A-L loves listening to Neutral Milk Hotel in her house in San Francisco across the street from Golden Gate Park.

A-L is wondering if you have heard that she is living in San Francisco?

A-L's mother is Finnish.

San Francisco - Day 6 (Sunday)

There's a windmill (?!) at the end of Golden Gate Park, right across from Ocean Beach (actually, there are two, but more on that later, maybe). I wandered down there on Sunday, and started talking to a man and woman who were dressed, as David Sedaris might say, like they had come to 'mow the lawns of San Francisco': comfortable white tennis shoes (trainers, for you foreigners out there in the Empire), circa 1989 sunglasses, and multiple layers of clothing.

A-L, standing under sign that says "Dutch Windmill": What is this thing? (Meaning: why is it here?)

Tourist man: It's a windmill.

A-L: Wow, you're right. (Meaning: Wow, what's wrong with you?) I wonder why it's here? (Meaning: Why is there a windmill in Golden Gate Park?)

Tourist lady: Well, windmills were usually built near water, to provide electricity.

A-L: Uh huh. (Meaning: Wow, what is wrong with you?) Maybe this sign will tell us something.

So tourist lady proceeded to read the sign to me, in case I can't read. Which was nice of her, I suppose, although she read a bit slowly, for a docent (that means guide, for you foreigners). The sign told us only who paid for the restoration, and not why there's a windmill in Golden Gate Park. So we're back to square one, and now I'm stuck talking to Tourist Man and Lady who think windmills are powered by water.

A-L: So, are you on vacation here?

Tourist Man: Yes, we're from Los Angeles. Where are you from?

A-L: It's a long story, but now I have a vaguely fake Scottish accent and I'm hoping it'll help me get a job at a British-themed pub. I came back to the U.S. because Obama got elected.

Tourist Man: He's just going to continue Bush's fiscal policies. Nothing's going to change. I've been briefed.

A-L: Perhaps you're right, but at least he's articulate and intelligent.

Tourist Man: As long as the tele-prompter is on.

Tourist Lady: That's right.

A-L: You said you've been 'briefed' on his policies. What do you do? Or would you have to kill me if you told me?

Tourist Man: Um, let's just say I'm a consultant.

A-L: Oh, you're unemployed too?

And that's the story of how I managed to find the only two Republicans within the San Francisco city limits, AND accidentally start a political conversation with them.

The End.