Blog Master G

Jen and I woke up ass-early this morning at 4:30am so that we could beat East Bay traffic to get Jen to Oakland Airport. She’s off to NY today for a quick trip to go to her friend’s wedding. I’m gonna miss her this weekend. It will be nice to have a relaxing weekend for the first time in awhile, though. I’m planning on sleeping a lot, maybe having some friends over, working on the wedding Web site, cleaning up the office, and maybe even looking for a second dog to adopt.

Yesterday was the all-day off-site in Tiburon with my new Web Services team. It was really cool to meet everyone, talk about our mission, and enjoy the gorgeous views from the Bay Conference Center. A few of us went out for some drinks afterward at Sam’s Cafe, which had incredible views of the Bay and the city. It was absolutely perfect weather.

And now, here’s the cool link of the day (courtesy of Brad): Interactive undressing girl. (Yes, this is pornographic, so don’t click on the link if you’re at work, don’t like seeing naked women, or are offended by porn.)

Wow. I just learned from this Web site that my WRX has a top speed of nearly 180 MPH! (With computer-control removed, of course. It’s only 140 or so stock.)

Vehicle Speed at 7000 rpm redline with WRX 3.9 differentials:
1st gear 3.18 ratio = 41.79 mph
2nd gear 1.94 ratio = 68.51 mph
3rd gear 1.35 ratio = 98.45 mph
4th gear 0.966 ratio = 137.58 mph
5th gear 0.74 ratio = 179.60 mph (remains stock)
(bone stock WRX is “drag limited” at 140mph)

Jen and I had quite the weekend. Spent a couple days in Sacramento with the family cleaning out the garage — or at least trying to. We only managed to create one truckload of stuff. Mom wasn’t quite ready to let go of a lot of stuff, so we put a bunch of stuff back into the garage. Saturday night Jen and I saw XXX, which inspired me to finally purchase The Fast and the Furious DVD yesterday at Target. Ben came over last night and we watched it. I also learned today what double-clutching is and that it is good. I will start learning how to do it.

Sunday while parked at The Villages at Corte Madera for some shopping, some asshole in a newer black Impala opened a rear car door into my car and put a dent in it. I got the license plate number of the car and left a note with my number (well, Jen wrote a nicer version of the note than the one I had written). No word yet from whoever did it. Still need to look into how much it would cost to fix and if it would even be worth the trouble (and if I’d even be able to track down person based on license plate number). It just makes me mad. But I’m also working on becoming less attached to things.

Tomorrow we’re going to see the Giants play the Rockies.

According to a new report in Time Magazine, my hometown has been dubbed “America’s Most Diverse City.” Pretty cool. I never really thought of Sacramento as the ultimate boiling pot (San Francisco typically has that reputation), but thinking about it now, it makes sense — except, of course, at my mostly-white high school alma mater, Jesuit.

Feeling like being insulted? Try out the insult generator.

As if spending several hours doing our final cleaning on TI Wednesday night wasn’t bad enough, I had to go back there one last time last night to pick up a handful of things that we forgot. Aside from a pile of trash that the garbage collectors didn’t take, which I’m done worrying about, that’s it! No more TI.

After the stop at TI, I headed into the city to pick up Jen from work. We then had a nice dinner under heat lamps overlooking the Bay at Kelly’s Mission Rock. We remembered having gone there with Nana once, so the one-time hot spot for dot-com parties will always hold fond memories. After dinner, we headed to SnoDrift (also in China Basin), to meet up with some friends for a Maker’s Mark Ambassadors’ special event — grub and drink specials. The drinks were yummy, the place was really cool — mounds of ice behind bar, trippy light projections on walls, fireplace in middle of lounge area, plastic lawn deer — and it was fun hanging out with folks.

It only took us a half-hour to get home to Larkspur, which was nice — to know we’re not too disconnected from the city in our new place.

Today is an exciting day here at work. Change is good and there’s plenty on the horizon for me. Officially beginning tomorrow I have a new job and a new title: Web Services Product Manager (Training & Support). I still have the same boss, but we’re both moving into a new organization. We both move to a new building on Tuesday and for the first time ever I’ll have my own office! I’m really excited about that, too. There’s going to be lots of cool stuff that I’m going to be working on and I think the future is bright.

Last night Jen and I took a break from the unpacking/building entertainment center hoopla and walked to the theater to see Signs, the latest flick by M. Night Shyamalan. (It’s still such a cool feeling to walk out the door 5 minutes before a movie starts and not have to worry about arriving late or finding parking!) Ever since The Sixth Sense, there’s been this inflated hype around Shyamalan, whom Newsweek recently touted on its cover as the next Steven Spielberg. Riiight. The guy who’s had one good movie (Unbreakable was so bad i can’t believe I didn’t walk out of the theater) compared to a master of film. Although, as Jen pointed out, not all of Spielberg’s movies are good. Many of them appeal to the masses (Jurassic Park and its too many sequels come to mind).

But back to Signs. The movie was OK to watch and mostly entertaining and funny, but pretty ridiculous overall. It was nothing special, was designed to appeal to the masses, and depicted every played-out extraterrestrial stereotype that humans have ever dreamed up (UFOs, lights in the sky, ubiqutous crop markings, and, of course, the requisite green alien). There was even the tell-tale scene common in every dumbed-down movie that makes it clear the filmmaker has no faith in his audience: Zoom in a small clue then do a flashback to the scene that refreshes our memory just to make sure we get it (in this case, think alien with no fingers and flash back to Gibson cutting them off).

We get it, Shyamalan. Now get this: Your first movie was good. Your next two weren’t. Better luck next time, when I’ll wait to see your movie on video.

After getting my car washed at lunchtime, I went home to install my new bumper cover on the WRX. It’ll take some getting used to, but I think it looks pretty good.

As of today, Vassar is ranked number one on the Princeton Review’s Happy Student list. Woohoo! Go Vassar!

Jen and I had a whirlwind weekend. Running on just 9 pints of blood, I’m surprised I’m not more tired today.

Friday night we whisked off to a really fun birthday party for Ben at his and Jess’ place in Alamo Square. I drove around for nearly 20 minutes looking for parking. When I finally settled into a sketchy spot on Divisadero, I was so ready to be done circling that I went a bit too fast right into the curb and scratched off another section of my passenger-side wheel (at the back). I have to learn to stop doing that! I’m still not used to this whole having-nice-wheels-on-my-car thing. Regardless, the party was a blast. We hung out mostly wilth Katie, Jeanine, Isaiah, and Enoch, who, in true E-Dog form, arrived to the party a full hour after Katie arrived and said that she thought she had seen him wandering around outside before she came in the building (I still don’t know what he was doing for that hour). We met a few of Ben and Jess’ friends, which was a cool experience. I finally met Ben’s older brother Chris as well.

Saturday we did some unpacking and cleaning around the house, then headed out to explore Larkspur. Due to crowds and construction, we weren’t able to access our local dog run in Piper Park, which was the first dog park in Marin County. (As of this morning, I’ve still not seen it, since the whole park was closed today for road work!) So we continued on to San Rafael and the Field of Dogs. That night we got all fancied up and headed to the wedding of Jen’s coworker Joe and his now-wife Jennifer at the UC Berkeley Faculty Club. The service was really beautiful and brought a few tears to my eyes. It was a sure-sign that I know I won’t be able to hold it together when Jen and I get married next year. I will cry. I know it already. We had a good time and even danced the polka. After the wedding we headed to Treasure Island for another carload of goodies.

Collecting goodies from TI proved to be the theme of the weekend, as we did it again Sunday afternoon after freeing ourselves of three boxes of Vassar Club archives at Jeff’s place in the city and before meeting up with dad for some food at the Emeryville Public Market. The original plan was to hit Ikea to pick up a new TV stand or entertainment center. After seeing the heavy traffic flowing directly toward the massive blue-and-yellow structure, we momentarily had decided to do it on a weekday when the place isn’t as nuts. But we ended up going as planned.

Of course, even after proclaiming that we would run in, find a small TV stand to match our Ikea coffee table (whose style of wood is apparently last year’s model since it seems to be the only piece of furniture that color — even though they still sell it in the store), and run out again, we ended up staying there upwards of an hour and going through several decision-making cycles. What we came out with was a monstrous $400 entertainment center/bookcase/wall unit (new to the Ikea line) known as the Amiral (in oak veneer).

The thing is a beast and it’s a small miracle we were able to load it in the Scoobie (a true testament to the power of sport wagons; as Jen said as we drove down the freeway practically balancing the three long boxes on our heads, “Anyone who says they need an SUV is full of shit!”) on top of a bunch of stuff from TI that already took up a good deal of space — oh, and a new matching coffee table, too. I chronicled the moment and may even send the photos to Subaru (I think this feat is comparable to loading a calf into an Outback Sport, as shown in a recent issue of Subaru’s magazine). With the help of just one neighbor, we managed to unload the boxes at home and even began the 37-step assembly process last night. I think we made it to step 2. Hopefully it will be ready to go by the end of the week.

Today is mine and Jen’s 11-month wedding reversary.

I just joined the 1-Gallon Club. I have now donated a full gallon of my blood over the past 7 years since I started giving (wow, it’s hard to believe it’s been that long since I started college!).

Top three reasons why I like giving blood:

1) It saves lives.
2) Free doughnuts.
3) The little sticker I get to wear on my shirt the rest of the day that says, “Be nice to me. I gave blood today.”

Blood Centers of the Pacific comes to Autodesk every couple months to collect blood from me and my co-workers. In the five months that I’ve worked here, they’ve come for my blood twice. I’ve donated twice.

Today was my 8th time giving blood since the first time I donated as a wee freshman at Vassar on October 10, 1995. I know the exact date because I never forget a date. Actually, it’s because I keep track of things like this in my Yahoo! Calendar. I like to track dates and record my own history. Just like writing in this blog most days. It’s fun to look back and read about my own past. And sometimes it comes in really handy to know dates. Like when you go to the doctor’s office and they want to know the last time you saw a doctor. With my online calendar, I can simply do a search and find out the exact date. So Friday, August 23, 2002 goes down in the history of my life as the day I joined the 1-Gallon Club.

The donation was very fast and easy today. There’s really no reason why I shouldn’t give blood — especially when they come to me and I only have to walk a few steps down the hallway. It’s my little way of giving back to those in need. Only once did I nearly pass out while giving blood — in college, of course, when I slept too little and drank too much. So for a few years, I was afraid to donate again. But then on October 29, 2001 — shortly after September 11 when blood supplies were low and everyone wanted to do his part to help out fellow Americans (although, sadly, those needing blood turned out to be few and far between) — I sucked it up and donated again (which was my 5th time). And today became my 4th donation in less than a year. And I feel really good about that.

You no longer have to go to Pakistan, where in June 2002 a woman was gang-raped as the punishment for a crime her younger brother allegedly committed, to find a society that treats its women with no respect. Nope, you just have to go to that faraway land called Florida (ruled, of course, by one of those brilliant Bushes), where women who want to put their babies up for adoption are now required by law to pay for an ad printed in the newspaper that discloses their full names, measurements, and sexual histories.

Leave it to the Bushes to push social change in the wrong direction.

Still settling into the new place, Jen and I watched Say Anything, the ’80s classic with John Cusack, last night. I’d never seen it before and really enjoyed it. I now own the DVD. The other day I guess I was in an ’80s mood, as I bought that and another classic from the decade of my childhood, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Today I went to see my new physical therapist for the first time and am really glad I finally went to treat my knee. She gave me some exercises to do a couple times per day on the foam roller. She said that my posture leans to the right, so there’s a lot of pressure on that side of my body. My knee is also hyper-extending. I go back to see her again next Wednesday.

Tonight is a first: Jen and I get to walk to our hometown movie theater, Century Larkpur Landing, to see Possession with Karen and some of her friends.

Cool links from today:

– Powers of Ten puts humans and Earth in a global perspective.
– The Official Ninja Webpage pays tribute to the ultimate fighting machines.

Today’s catchy jingle: “Brown is the color of a dog I know!” (See Gabe or Jen for appropriate tune.)

This morning is the first workday that began at the new home. Jen joined me for my usual 6am wake-up call this morning and we were out the door by 7. I dropped off Jen at the Larkspur Ferry Terminal, where she cruised successfully across the Bay for the first day of her new commute; then I headed under the freeway to Bon Air Center, where I grabbed breakfast and coffee from Noah’s Bagels; next I drove a quick three exits to Bianco Subaru in Corte Madera for my car’s 7,500-mile service (oil change, tire rotation, etc.), even though it still has just under 7,000 on the odometer. All that and I walked into the office at 9am on the dot. It’s great to live so close.

I forgot to mention in Saturday’s post that not only did the move go over quite successfully, but the digital phone installation and blazing-fast Internet connection were both installed on schedule (early, in fact) without any hitches. Now it’s just the DirecTV installation left to go, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the satellite will pick up service while sitting on our northern-facing deck (the satellites in space are in the southern sky). It’s just a sliver of hope, though; we may end up with AT&T Digital Cable (which would be a lot of AT&T in one house).

While waiting for the WRX to be serviced, I read a disturbing story about the archive of al-qaida videotapes aired by CNN over the weekend. I didn’t see the footage and am glad I didn’t. Just reading the description of the chemical tests performed on dogs was hard enough. It disgusts me how sick and demented these assholes are. Of course, after September 11, I don’t know why I’m surprised.

On a lighter note, Rob Morse’s column about secession is hilarious — especially to think about the Tenderloin seceding from San Francisco. I can picture it now: A city whose primary residents would be prostitutes, drug dealers, and the homeless, where no one wants to live or even walk — right smack in the middle of a city where everyone wants to live. ‘Tis the sad irony of our social, economic, and class system: A city so small in geography (a mere 7-by-7 miles), so rich in culture, and with so much wealth also contains such stark poverty at its center.

Moving day is coming to a close. Jen, Stella, and I are settled in here at Larkspur Shores. The new place is great and is growing on us (and Stella) by the minute. Delancey Street Movers were great. They came in at less than half their estimate (just under 4 hours of work, 9am to 1pm) and did a great job. After being a bit disappointed by the lack of intense (direct) natural light (our townhouse faces south, porch looks to north, no east-west windows), Jen and I are really enjoying the new pad. We’ve done a bit of unpacking and have quite a ways to go, but it’s beginning to feel like home.

We set up our outdoor table and chairs on the patio this evening and enjoyed some nice champagne (top-shelf half-bottle from our local Mollie Stone’s, where Jen encountered more than one sixty-year-old woman with stretched face today) with Stella by our feet and dogs romping around on the unofficial city dog park below. In the neighboring apartment building, we could hear classical music while a small pup sprinted in circles around the field, big dogs by his side. What a change from the blaring bass, screaming children, and cracked-out Treasure Island life! (Especially in contrast to Jen’s fitting send-off yesterday morning on TI when one neighbor came running out of her house, screaming “Fuck you! You did me wrong!” to the calm man watering the lawn, prior to jumping in her car, driving 45 miles per hour around the parking lot, and slamming on her brakes just before crashing into his golf cart.)

There’s so much greenery here. The air feels great. The breeze is refreshing. It’s absolutely beautiful. And quiet. It’s quite a welcome change from Treasure Island. We’ve been talking about moving for so long. It’s still hard to believe the day has finally come (and is about to come to an end).

We have another trip or so left at Treasure Island, but the majority of our stuff is here. Mainly junk to clear out of TI before the house cleaner comes. Tomorrow it’s more unpacking, settling in, buying shower curtains, and more.

It will be wonderful to start the morning by walking to our local coffee shop, JR Muggs, which we’re quite pleased to learn is not a Starbucks in disguise. Rather, it’s one of two shops privately owned by two women.