I've been nearly spit on twice in the last couple of weeks. Not spit on intentionally, but I just happened to be near somebody spitting for spitting's sake. The first time I was walking down the Third Street Promenade in lovely Santa Monica, and as I strolled near one of those sunglass vendor carts, one of the vendor guys hawked a loogie directly where I was stepping. My reflexes must be wired tightly or something because I managed to delay my step a half second, narrowly avoiding a loogie on my blue Pumas. The vendor guy quickly looked me in the eye (my sunglasses really) and said "My bad." Really.
The next time I was nearly spit on I was walking by the fire station on 7th street in lovely Santa Monica. Just coming back from the library, or lunch, or buying those foam insert pads for Judah's bike helmet. Something. Minding my own business and enjoying the lovely Santa Monica perfect weather of 75 degrees with a light breeze and then BAM! Spit coming my way from a guy walking the same direction as me, but just slightly in front of me. This time it wasn't reflexes that saved me, it was sheer luck. If I had been walking a half second faster, I would have been slimed.
As I figure all things happen in threes, there's gotta be another spit encounter coming my way soon. Unless you count the time I inadvertently spit on someone walking out from behind a bus shelter. Just minding my own business, enjoying a lovely San Francisco morning, standing right next to the wall-ish part of the shelter where the big advertisement usually hangs. Hawked a loogie and spat out toward the street, when BAM! A lady walks out from behind the ad and right into my flying loogie. All she could say is "ugh." Ugh indeed.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Touch Me, I'm Sick
The germ-induced loopyness in my head won't allow me to write anything worth reading. See you next week. Ack.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Space Oddity
We've been living in The City of Angels for 1 whole year now. I still haven't made the adjustment to needing a car like I need legs, but I'm getting there. And because we made it over the 1 year hump, I figured we weren't going anywhere soon. Therefore it was time to get all the boxes out of our apartment.
After going through the motions of trying to get rid of excess stuff via Goodwill and the trash dumpster, I searched online for storage units. There's a storage facility about 2 blocks away from us in Venice, but that one cost about double what another one did less than a mile away in Marina Del Rey. I got a 4' x 5' unit for a bargain, especially considering we'd be getting more than that space back in our apartment, and the little boy would have more room to push his toys around.
Taryn at the storage center office had me sign documents saying: I wasn't in the military, I wasn't storing a car in a 4' x 5' space, or that I wouldn't live there or house animals or food in the unit. It felt like I was signing my life away when I was really only trying to rent a tiny piece of California. One of the last things to sign for was insurance, and because I already had renters insurance, I told her I didn't want it. Taryn told me that I get the first month's insurance free, but I'd have to come back into the office to cancel it later. I really didn't want to come back, but I thought: What the hell, it couldn't hurt.
So I loaded the boxes I had with me into the 4' x 5' space. I figured that was enough excitement for a Saturday and I'd bring the rest tomorrow. Besides, we had to go to Pasadena to meet Judah's brand new cousin, Siena.
The next morning I made at least seven trips up and down the stairs loading the wagon to take our boxes to the storage space. When I got there I did the routine of grabbing the cart, loading the boxes from the car to the cart, and going up the elevator. When I arrived at the third floor I saw some guy who looked like Borat with a couple carts of his crap blocking the hallway. I looked for an alternate route to get to my space, but another guy had blocked the hallway with his crap. I left my crap sitting on the cart and asked Borat-guy if he wouldn't mind moving his cart so I could get mine past. He was annoyed and told me to look in my space first because there was a flood last night, and I might not want to put my crap into a wet storage unit.
I walked over to my storage space, unlocked the padlock and looked inside. At first glance it looked fine. Then I touched the floor. Damp. Damn. I looked at a couple of the boxes and they were soggy near the floor. Luckily Taryn took care of me and got me a new, dry storage unit that was even better because it was near the entrance and the carts. She even gave me some new boxes to replace my soggy ones. Nothing was damaged too badly except the box that the microwave was in.
And the microwave is pretty sog-proof. Now I can cancel that insurance. What are the odds of lightning (or a flood) striking the same place twice?
After going through the motions of trying to get rid of excess stuff via Goodwill and the trash dumpster, I searched online for storage units. There's a storage facility about 2 blocks away from us in Venice, but that one cost about double what another one did less than a mile away in Marina Del Rey. I got a 4' x 5' unit for a bargain, especially considering we'd be getting more than that space back in our apartment, and the little boy would have more room to push his toys around.
Taryn at the storage center office had me sign documents saying: I wasn't in the military, I wasn't storing a car in a 4' x 5' space, or that I wouldn't live there or house animals or food in the unit. It felt like I was signing my life away when I was really only trying to rent a tiny piece of California. One of the last things to sign for was insurance, and because I already had renters insurance, I told her I didn't want it. Taryn told me that I get the first month's insurance free, but I'd have to come back into the office to cancel it later. I really didn't want to come back, but I thought: What the hell, it couldn't hurt.
So I loaded the boxes I had with me into the 4' x 5' space. I figured that was enough excitement for a Saturday and I'd bring the rest tomorrow. Besides, we had to go to Pasadena to meet Judah's brand new cousin, Siena.
The next morning I made at least seven trips up and down the stairs loading the wagon to take our boxes to the storage space. When I got there I did the routine of grabbing the cart, loading the boxes from the car to the cart, and going up the elevator. When I arrived at the third floor I saw some guy who looked like Borat with a couple carts of his crap blocking the hallway. I looked for an alternate route to get to my space, but another guy had blocked the hallway with his crap. I left my crap sitting on the cart and asked Borat-guy if he wouldn't mind moving his cart so I could get mine past. He was annoyed and told me to look in my space first because there was a flood last night, and I might not want to put my crap into a wet storage unit.
I walked over to my storage space, unlocked the padlock and looked inside. At first glance it looked fine. Then I touched the floor. Damp. Damn. I looked at a couple of the boxes and they were soggy near the floor. Luckily Taryn took care of me and got me a new, dry storage unit that was even better because it was near the entrance and the carts. She even gave me some new boxes to replace my soggy ones. Nothing was damaged too badly except the box that the microwave was in.
And the microwave is pretty sog-proof. Now I can cancel that insurance. What are the odds of lightning (or a flood) striking the same place twice?
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Double Vision
Do you ever receive industry schwag? You know, the stuff with whoever's company logo on it, handed to you so you can sell their company logo or whatever it is they sell by wearing the stuff they give out for free? In the industry I'm in, you get schwag everyplace you go. I can wear a different t-shirt from a different production/post/design company every day of the week and not wear the same thing twice.
Do you ever have those days at work where you might be wearing a similar outfit as a co-worker, only to be ridiculed by some other co-worker about not getting the memo that "We were supposed to wear the red polo shirt with the black jeans today. LOL!"?
Well I had the misfortune of wearing some industry t-shirt schwag to work, only to see the guy who sits right next to me walk in an hour later wearing the exact same t-shirt. Too bad that nobody else was there to make the "memo" joke. I couldn't resist, so I said it myself.
Do you ever have those days at work where you might be wearing a similar outfit as a co-worker, only to be ridiculed by some other co-worker about not getting the memo that "We were supposed to wear the red polo shirt with the black jeans today. LOL!"?
Well I had the misfortune of wearing some industry t-shirt schwag to work, only to see the guy who sits right next to me walk in an hour later wearing the exact same t-shirt. Too bad that nobody else was there to make the "memo" joke. I couldn't resist, so I said it myself.
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