Frat Guy Philosophy

When people ask me where I'm from I almost ALWAYS say "LOS ANGELES", no abbreviations or nicknames. Then they usually respond, "Oh, L.A. huh?" Followed by some sort of deprecating remark about southern California.

I cringe when they say, "L.A". I don't know why.

I remember in college a frat "bro" once saying that he would NEVER call his Fraternity a "Frat" in the same manner that he would never call his House a "Ho".

I can't believe I remember that.

Loot! Soup! Broke!

Being unemployed doesn't make people broke. Being bored and going shopping to pass the time is what makes people broke.

The good news is, I'm spending most of my money at thrift stores. Most of you already know this, but for those of you who don't here's a little fact about Los Angeles: the thrift stores suck. ESPECIALLY the ones on the Westside.

Thrift stores ANYWHERE else have a lot more to offer. Here's what I found last week:



Highlights include: Owl cookie jar, squash cookbook, bag of misc giftcards.

Sometimes I would play the intellectual and peruse the book sections at these thrift stores. It was interesting to see the kinds of books people wanted to oust from their lives. After the third thrift store I began to detect patterns. Here are the top 5 types of unwanted books in countdown style order:

5. Christian fiction (Left Behind-esque) dealing with the apocalypse and second coming etc.
4. French cookbooks where all the food is covered in sauces and silly decorations.
3. Bibles
2. Oprah book club books (oprah sucks!)
1.


I bet the "Chicken Soup" guy eats his "Gold and Money" soup with a "Gold and Diamonds" spoon.

East Baybies

It's no surprise that hippies raise their kids differently. They name their kids something ridiculous like Snowpepper and let them have boy/girl sleepovers in junior high.

East bay hippie parents raise their kids to be snobbish baby-hippies. They wear matching Crocs and go grocery shopping together.

Monterrey Market (my favoritist market) is baby bonanza. All the progressive East Bay parents come out with their kids and babies in strollers or, better yet, one of those snazzy hippie baby slings. You know, the kind that you'd see in those National Geographic images of subsaharan African mothers.

I was in the bread aisle and this typical East Bay mom (glasses, kind of greasy but stylishly messy hair, rolled up khaki pants, tribalish necklace) walks by with her kid. This little boy was YOUNG, like could barely walk YOUNG, maybe 2 or three.

Mom says: Sweetie, what kind of bagel do you want? White? Wheat?
Baby says: Uhhhhhhh....sesame.
Mom says: Alright we'll get the sesame.


Joanne says: Whhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat??!!

Sesame wasn't even an option! He wasn't just repeating what mom wanted! He was asking for what HE wanted.... because he actually KNEW what kind of bagel he was in the mood for!

This is all very dangerous. The day will come when Mom will ask, "Will you take care of me now that I am old and vulnerable."

Baby will say, "I can't. I'm currently focusing on all of the business ventures I had the confidence to pursue thanks to my first rate upbringing. Sorry ma!"

Home is Where Your Shit Is

After toying with the idea for hours I decided to drive down to LA last Thursday. I spent most of the time with my mom who was feeling under the weather.

I spent time with my family and saw some friends but in the end, I missed "home" a little bit. Home meaning that place where I keep my clothes and cooking appliances. Its weird that a place, Oakland, where I have no family and no close friends can still feel like home.

After 5 weeks of making it my own, here are some aesthetic changes:

Here's the Livingroom. Good place to pound fists furiously into futon while watching NCAA basketball. Just ask Suneal.



Dining Room - pretty much the same except I bought a vinyl tablecloth



View from the front door. The little plants in our plant vestibule are real.



This is the crap nook where we put all the orphaned, unwanted, and displaced shit in our lives. If only there was an emotional crap nook.



My room




My TWIN (ugggh) Bed



Old Briefcase turned KnickKnack holder

BANG! You're Dead!

So here's the deal with the ad agency I really want to work for:

They are cool.
I met with the HR woman.
We hearted eachother up the ying yang. Instant BFF.
She fixes me up with an interview with the Creative Dept.
I spaz out during the interview, fiddle with my hair and eff it all up.
HR woman calls me and tells me Creative lady is going to pass on me. ( I cry, a little bit)
HR woman calls and says that another position is opening.
HR woman fixes me up with Accounts dept.
I get my bangs trimmed.

HR woman calls to pass along message from Creative Dept: "Don't hide behind your hair. You seem distracted with it"


So basically, my long bangs cost me a job. Losing my long bangs cost me $50 bucks. God, throw me a bone wouldja!!

GaoPham

When Yessie Penny told me that she and Jpham were coming to visit me I peed a little bit in my pajamas from the excitement.

It was a spectacular weekend spent eating delicious food, laughing at dad jokes, and playing several rounds of "what body part am I touching you with?" with jessica on the futon. she might not have been awake while we played but it definitely happened.

Highlights!!

New friend Jason Shiga showed us his Lego Arm Wrestling device. The two opponents furiously crank the knobs at the side to move their respective arms at the top. Winning the game means focusing on turning the knob as fast as you can without slowing down or breaking the knob. Cranking too hard and breaking the knob results in a default loss.



We found and fed this groundhog at Golden Gate Park. He would've been much cuter had he worn a tiny yellow construction helmet. I know he has one.



This is what a Peking Dinner for 10 looks like:




All in all, a great weekend. Can't wait for Jgao and Jpham to come back. We'll hit up the taco truck on International again. It's no KT but it'll do.

Popscene

The last time I attempted to go to Popscene (SF version of Cinespace) was in 2003. I was supposed to see the Zutons and then pass shit out after the concert, all courtesy of Filter. Lo and behold they didn't have my name on the list and even though I was holding Zuton promo items IN MY HANDS they didn't let me in!

So when I found out that Albert Hammond Jr was playing at Popscene last Thursday I was a little hesitant about going. I figured I'd give it a shot, if they didn't let me in I'd buy myself ice cream to cheer myself up.

The line was undoubtedly long but it moved rather quickly and sooner rather than later I was in! Reasons Popscene is better than Cinespace:

1. People dance during the concerts
2. Drinks are cheaper
3. Patrons are charming and polite
4. No aloof bouncer picking and choosing who gets in first
5. Disco ball

AHJ was very cute and fun. He kept pressing his lips against the microphone like he was frenchy kissing it. that was a little distracting.

Bigger is Better!

Okay, so in between darting around town for interviews I had a little fun in San Francisco. Paul was in town so he came along.

This is the arboretum in Golden Gate Park. Temperature outside that day was about 72 (too cold!) but INSIDE the tropical arboretum was just right at about 85.





They had a double headed cocount in one of the glass cases.



Upon closer inspection I discovered that "double headed coconut" is a euphemism for vajayjay.



There are a ton of plants and orchids and lilies and flowers and plants and plant and plants. So if you like that sort of thing, you should visit. Otherwise just skip it. Who wants to pay money to look at plants?

P.S. Ask for the student discount, even if you're not. They don't check.


**** Correction. The arboretum is ACTUALLY called the Conservatory of Flowers. Thanks Jenn!!

Bleh

After a very exhausting week of interviews (1 great, 4 whatevs, 1 awful) I'm very unmotivated and, I'm not gonna lie, a little depressed.

So i'll leave it at that. The jobs and their descriptions don't matter so I'm not going to get into it. But I will tell you this: Don't EVER, EVER get caught up with a placement agency. They might as well be scrubs because they ain't gonna get no love from me.

Would you rather?

Take a entry level job at a young, cool and successful advertising agency where you'll be groomed for a creative-type position.

or

Work for the marketing department of a tuna fish company for $17,000 more a year.

Weakend

So there is possibility I may have a kidney stone.

That's all I have to say about that.

My family came up this weekend and despite my best efforts to get them to hang out in the east bay we spent most of our time in San Francisco. We almost crashed twice because my dad refused to follow the traffic laws. He thinks turning lanes are optional, more like suggestion lanes.

My parents slept on a blow up bed in my room, giving them the chance to get to know Suneal, my MALE roommate.

Prior to my move, my parents fought me tooth and nail about living with Suneal. "You don't know him, maybe he has bad habits (code for drugee), maybe he is touchy feely (code for rapist) maybe he is narrow minded and disagreeable (code for racist against mexicans).

Upon finally meeting Suneal, undoubtedly one the coolest people ever, they wouldn't shut up about how nice he is, how great he is, how lucky I was to get such a amiable, respectful roommate etc.etc. Any and all of their grievances regarding my scandalous male roommate were replaced with variations of, "what a nice young man" and "he seems so sweet".

To top it all off my dad had a talk with me about how Suneal (who he has only known for 22hours) has such direction in his life! It's time for me to settle down and find direction too! can you believe that?!

On Saturday night my mom overheard Suneal playing his guitar in the living room. Knowing that Suneal is part Indian she leaned in and very earnestly asked me, "Is he playing a guitar or a sitar?"

Idle Wives and Their Lives

Now in my third week of unemployed bliss, I've settled on the idea that work just isn't for me. Sure, it may have once been the source of my self worth but is it possible to work a 9-5 AND take 3 hour long trips to Walgreens on Wednesday afternoons? There's nothing like walking up and down EVERY aisle just because I can, its not like there is anywhere I need to be.

Then there is Emeryville. Emeryville is yuppie shopping mecca. From what I've read and heard it used to be a shithole back in the day and they've recently renovated, built lofts, kicked out the bums and brought IKEA in. That's how you know you're on the yuppie consumer map: IKEA comes to town.

Here's what the Target looks like:



Nice huh? This Target is technically in Albany, not Emeryville but the two places are total BFF's.

The whole place has a very distinct Riverside-ness to it. Everything is new, no real history, cookie cutter housing projects, lots of parking. I spent most of this week running around buying shit left and right. But I wasn't alone. Housewives were out in droves, some with babies, most with bad outfits made worse by their Louis Vuitton purses. Much like me, they were pushing their carts as if they had nowhere else to be. I mean, does spending someone else's money really feel as satisfying as spending your own?

I'd like to be one of those women that considers "housewife" a real job and believes that a housewife is entitled to half of what her husband makes, but I just don't buy it. I need the check to have MY name on it. The only way I could be okay with the housewife bit would be if I invoiced my husband every month for services rendered. Then the check would have my name on it and I could do whatever I wanted with it. Buy baby chicks perhaps and put them all in gold lamé suits. Who cares? It's my money.

Eventually, the on-the-job sexual harrassment would become an issue and I'd have to take him to court. Luckily, the settlement check will cover the cost of the sweatsuits, LV purses, and scrunchies I'll need to fit in with the other crusty moms walking around IKEA.