Miraculously Heeled

Last Thursday I was freaking out about my first interview scheduled for 3pm the next day. I stupidly forgot any an all interview attire at home. And by "interview attire" I mean the ONE pair of black heels I own (but never wear) and some sad, cheap, clam digger length slacks I bought 2 years ago.

Jackie, professional shopper extraordinaire, came to my rescue and took me to the Stanford Shopping Center. Yes, it's just as upper middle class wasparific as you think it is, and it saved my life. The cosmos aligned and I found the perfect interview outfit including a pair of heels that I can actually walk around in for more than 10 minutes.



I don't have a printer at my apartment so the day of the interview was spent scrambling around town trying to print and copy my resume. THE FUCKING AWFUL PROBLEM WITH DOWNTOWN OAKLAND is the totally absurd lack of parking. Imagine that there is a Walgreens, a Ralph's, a Wells Fargo, a FedEx Kinkos, a Bank of America, a Coco's and a 7-11 all lined up next to eachother. Now imagine that there are only 15 parking spaces for all of them. Now give all of these spaces a meter. Now make each meter 5 MINUTES per QUARTER. That was my problem last Friday.

I finally get my shit done and I head over to the BART station to park my car and head over to the city for my interview. BECAUSE NO ONE DRIVES TO SAN FRANCISCO - THERE IS NO PARKING THERE. Guess what? there is no parking in the Oakland Bart stations either.

So I have no choice but to drive to San Francisco.
Brave the one way streets.
Park in a lot that charges 3.00 per 20 minutes. (But don't worry there is a 32.00 maximum!)

I stepped out of the parking lot and stomped down the street in my heels, pretending I was on my way back to the office from a leisurely lunch. It felt great to walk around in a ACTUAL city with cabs and bike messengers and hustle and bustle.

After all that trouble: finding the outfit, finding the printer, finally finding the parking, I walked through the big glass doors and into the marble lobby, completely convinced that it was ALL worth it.




Heading into the East Bay from the Bay Bridge. Traffic was slow enough for me to take this picture.

Older New Kid

When I first drove into Oakland two weeks ago I felt like EVERYONE was staring at me. It didn't matter than I was in my car and that the windows were wet and foggy, they all stopped to look at me when I drove by. And by everyone I mean every person in every other car, people on the street, people hanging out in front of their houses, people jogging, ups, fedex, little babies in strollers, people with blindfolds on, everyone. They were all looking through my car at me thinking, "She is new and doesn't know where she is going. We should rob her. I bet she just got into an accident last November and is really scared of rearending someone again. She looks like the kind of person who would neglect to put a new alarm in her car after the first alarm died. I bet she forgets to check her backseat before getting into her car."

I can thank my parents for this level of crazy.

Good thing is, it's getting a lot better. Me and my car feel more and more invisible with each passing day. Soon I'll be a mere ghost. Not that there is a shortage of those, seeing as how my apartment is full of them. But I'll save the rest of the crazy for some other time.

Ballin'

I've been scanning the radio since I got here (thanks Karla for teaching me what the scan button is for) and I've made a couple of observations:

1. Bay area loves the reggaeton
2. Apparently, there is no such thing as too much cheesy 90's R&B
3. Pussycat dolls "Buttons" is still considered a current hit.
4. The very prominent cowboy hat/cowboy boot wearing latino population can choose from dozens of stations to listen to mexican polka. used to be called 'quebraditas' in my day. I don't know what the kids call it now.

Judge me if you will, but I really miss Kevin and Bean.

Bum of all Fears

Los Angeles has its share of bums. Most of the LA bums can be sorted into two categories, Laid Back Bums and Don't-make-no-sense Crzzzzy Bums. Most of the Laid Back Bums ended up in California because they saw the beach in the movies, fell in love with the culture and had dreams of being called Moondoggie.

The Crazy Bums all hang out in Westwood and threaten to shank you if you don't tip them after they sing to you.

The bums I've encountered in the Bay are very angry, confrontational even. Generally, the statement, "Sorry I don't have any money" is understood as the end of the conversation. Angry Bay area bums, however, see this statement ONLY as a challenge. "Oh, yeah, if you got no money how are you going to pay this Taco Truck you're standing in line for?"

Touche Bum.

If you pretend you don't speak English and just shake your head, they are prepared for that too! "Hola amigo, por favor una peseta para un taco?" You can't say no to that. So I just gave him the damn money.

Downstairs Neighbors

Our downstairs neighbors, Tom and Laura, are a youngish married couple originally from Los Angeles. Tom is studying some liberal-type garbage at Berkeley while Laura works in an office and studies to be a nurse. They are some chatty cathy's.

Yesterday I decided to walk down (about a mile) to the nearest ATM in order to avoid having to find a place to park. At first I had planned on walking the perimeter of Lake Merritt but I wasn't in the mood for the 3 miles. I had dinner plans at 8 so walking the whole thing wasn't on the agenda.

Then I passed Laura on the way down. We did the requisite polite chit chat. Then she asked me what I was up to.

Now here's the part where I tell the truth, right? I just say, "well I'm walking down the ATM to get cash before meeting my friends for dinner". Right? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

I figure that's too long and involved so I say, "I'm going to take a walk around the lake." Concise. Not too much information. A LIE. Easy way to cut the chit chat and get on my way.

Then Laura says, "Oh, well I haven't done that in months! I'd LOVE to come with YOU!''

By this time I'm in too deep. Its just too late to say, "oh my bad, I meant I was walking down to the ATM, I don't have time to walk around the lake." So I just went.

It took only an hour and I had a good time listening to her stories.

My favorite was when she said, "I usually leave for work early so that I can look for free parking. You know how us Jews are, we're reeeeal stingy" Then she looked over at me like she wanted me to fall into her racial joke trap. So I played it cool and commented on how I would've never guessed she was Jewish, given her normal sized nose. Good thing I got my wits about me. That could've been awkward.

Neighbors

The last time I can remember being friends with my neighbor was back in the fifth grade. Her name was Claudine and she was a year older than me. She and I taped Fresh Prince of Bel-air when it first came out just so we could write down and memorize all of the lyrics from the opening credits. Her mom made the BEST spaghetti and when we became GOOD friends she introduced me to her grandma, who was a pile of ashes that sat in an urn on the mantle.


I haven't befriended another neighbor since. There really isn't a need or chance too since I rarely see any neighbors. Until I moved to Oakland.

This is the view from our diningroom.

"Hello there! My name is Joanne. I didn't mean to stare! It's just we are so damn close, I can't look out the window without seeming like a creep. I wasn't watching you wash your dishes compulsively. I swear I'm not judging you. But maybe you should get a girlfriend or something? Or you can come by and wash my dishes. ohhh, no I didn't mean that in the dirty way. Maybe you're gay. Okay have a good one!"

I doubt I'll actually befriend any of them but chances are very high that I will make a few enemies.

Tuesday, February 13th

Today was the first day on my own. I couldn't leave the house because the maintenance guy was scheduled to fix our microwave. So I just found things to do around the apartment. When he called (about 3:30pm) to let me know he'd be late I got pretty ticked off. After all I had waited around all morning.

Then he asked me if we had plugged in the microwave yet. Turns out nothing is wrong with our microwave. There IS, however, something wrong with two adults calling for maintenance help before thinking to plug the damn thing in!

I fixed my room a little, went to run errands and then got REALLY LOST trying to find a specific produce market. After being lost for about 1.5 I topped off the night by driving against traffic into a one way street. In my defense, this street was recently turned into a one way street and when I used to frequent this market it was a very successful TWO-WAY street.

Note to the Bay Area: Please use some of the gagaziliion dollars you charge for the bridges and repaint the names on your street signs.

Here's my apartment! I'll post pictures of the progress. It's still pretty raw.

View from Front Door!

View from green chair in the corner. Kitchen at far left. Front door at far right.

Kitchen!

Bathroom!

Dining Room!

My Room View #1

My Room View #2

Monday, February 13th

Today was a MAGICAL day of granted wishes and fulfilled desires. First I went to San Francisco to sign my lease.

Despite having my fair share of crazy landlords (507 Glenrock landlord: gave us a fake name, stole plants from across the street) , new landlord threw me for a loop. He is mild mannered and messy and looks like he hasn't bought a new tie since the reagan era. BUT he is a carnaval-head. Which is to say, he travels (a lot) to south american and carribean carnaval parties. His whole office is covered in carnaval posters and he received a call right in the middle of my visit where he described what a "fantastic time" he had when "a very popular band called the Black Eyed Peas" played in Brazil.

From there my sister and I drove around the city where my wildest dreams came true. I FINALLY got to go to Bubba Gump's Shrimp Co. For all of you haters out there (Alice Chen), I will go on the record and say that BGS Co. has the BEST friend shrimp I've ever had.

Did the whole place smell like a damp rag? YES. Were my fries stale and cold? SURE. Was the staff more interested in dating eachother than anything else? UH-HUH. But the plump little shrimps were perfectly battered and fried to golden perfection. So mama was happy.



Karla had New Orleans flavored. No not death and destruction flavored! With creole spices, silly!



PLUS they had this!





We ate our weight in shrimp and then rolled on home. I bid Karla farewell and dropped her off at the airport.

Sunday, February 11th

I don't have any pictures from this day.

Karla and I drove around a lot, ate biscuits at Inn Kensington, went to Target, went to Ikea, went to Home Depot, made dinner, watched the Grammy's. Don't even get me started on that coma inducing load of poophole. it was soooo boring. mary j. blige is boring. carrie underwood is boring. all three finalists of that justin timberlake contest are boring.

Saturday, February 10th

After a week of meticulous packing, sorting and labeling we packed up the Uhaul and headed north. My sister and I chatted the whole way up. I forgot to tell her the story mom had told me the about howshe had met my dad. Apparently, several of the Torres boys were into her and they all had their way of showing it. My dad showed interest by talking down to her and making her feel like she was invisible. This explained a lot about why I like the boys I do.

okay, so we arrived at about 2pm, just in time for the rain storm. We carried all of my stuff up three flights of stairs faster than any dykey softball team could have.

Our apartment is at the top left of the building next to the tower.



We had Chinese food with new roommate Suneal at a place on Grand. I don't remember the name of the place but I don't recommend the wonton soup. Each dumpling was stuffed with, what tasted like, four different kinds of meat. --- I guess you were right Ravi, I do kind of miss those lettergrades.

Greetings and Disclaimer!

I blog therefore I am. My dad always says, "in this country mi'ja, it's 'I buy; therefore I am." But his hippie talk doesn't pertain to this trip so... on we go!

What is a journey of self discovery and reflection without a public internet diary?

Right.

I promise this blog will be sometimes fun, sometimes boring, and always self indulgent. After all it is MY trip and nobody loves to hear more about me than me! Know your audience, I always say.

So here goes: My Oakland Blog.

*I'll start at the beginning and then work by way forward. Try to keep up.