this blog

The ramblings and observations of a kidney transplant recipient, although not necessarily for that reason.

probably smarter than me
book i'm reading
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole (recommended by Killer)
Blog Of The Day Awards Winner
I guess I'm gonna have to go with Trick.....give me the best you got, punk!
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Ding-Dong. "Think anyone's home?"

"Try again."

Ding-Dong "I don't think anyone's here."

"Is there a self-serve bowl on the porch somewhere?"

"Dude, there isn't even a pumpkin. This guy is not very festive. We may have to teach him a lesson."

"Let's try pounding as hard as we can on the door." ::::POUND POUND POUND::::


"OK ASSHOLE, YOU ASKED FOR IT!!!" ::::egg smash:::: ::::shaving cream spray:::: ::::paint thinner splash:::: ::::Molotov cocktail explosion::::

Little do they know, I'm home. Every year. Listening to them knock. Silently pretending I'm not home. Laying in my bed, watching TV with as little volume as possible. Remembering what it was like to be 5, standing on the next porch, dreaming of yet another beautiful piece of candy, waiting to scream "Trick or Treat" and then look a cute as possible in your Bumble Bee attire, hoping that if you looked better than the other 50 superheroes and princesses that came by that night, he will dump the whole bowl in your bag, because "your costume is WAAAAY better than all the rest!", and having that dream crushed because no one at that house was home.

That's right bitches, I was home last year, hearing your pleading knocks on the door and eating a whole bowl of Milky Ways by myself and watching Jeopardy.

This year I am going to miss those fun times because I have to attend band pratice, so my one-legged roommate is going to have to fend for himself. I hope he lays by the door, pours ketchup all over his stump, opens the door and screams "JESUS CHRIST! DON'T JUST SIT THERE LOOKING ALL CUTE IN YOUR BUMBLE BEE OUTFIT! SOMEONE'S CUT OFF MY FUCKING LEG, GO GET HELP YOU LITTLE SHITS!"

posted by othur-me @ 4:05 PM   13 comments
The Forge In The Forest
Monday, October 30, 2006

So, I got this puppy last week and because I had forgotten how hard they are to take care of and because my roommate is doing a little back-peddling on his promise to help, my friend April offered to take my older dog, Soldier, for the week. I drove down to Monterey yesterday to drop him off and April and I decided to get some lunch and see a movie while I was down there.

I got to April's house about 1:30 pm and after a few minutes of letting April play with the new puppy, we left the dogs in her house and went to get some food. We did the usual responsibility-shuffle over who decided what and where to eat. You know the dance. "What do you want to eat?" "I don't care, I can eat anything, what do you feel like?" Rinse and repeat. No one really wanting to take credit if it was a bad choice.

As we were driving aimlessly, trying to decide, April had this great idea to call and see if The Forge In The Forest (TFIF) was open. TFIF is in Carmel, the home of Brad and Jennifer while they were together. It's a cool little (and super wealthy) beach town just south of Monterey, famous for being the only town in America brave enough to let the outlaw, Josey Wales be its mayor. The Spanish also built a famous mission (Mission Carmel, duh) there, since the arrival of Brad and Jennifer and the mayorship of Dirty Harry, the Mission does almost nothing for Carmel's modern tourism trade.

Carmel also fancies itself a dog-friendly city. The beach in carmel has poop bags for your convenience at every entrance and all the shops downtown allow dogs inside. There are also many dog friendly restaurants. We decided to turn around and get the dogs. TFIF is an upscale restaurant which has a dog patio where you can dine while your dog sits at your table. When they bring you your water service, they also bring a bowl for your dog(s). They give away free dog biscuits and they even have a doggy menu, which is actually reasonbly priced considering its for your dog. It includes grilled chicken, hamburger, and sirloin steak.

I was a little worried about Soldier, because he gets nervous and aggressive when he's on leash and other dogs are around. He likes to be able to go wander around and play with other dogs and it upsets him to be restricted. At first I left him in the car until I could see the conditions and when I saw that we weren't TOO close to other dogs, I brought him in. He did really well, especially when his hamburger arrived.

Rebel wasn't bothered at all he just sat there chewing on his Kong, which I kept restuffing with chicken and hamburger. He got a lot of attention from the waitresses at the restaurant. Puppies are a total chick magnet.

April and I split two appetizers which I thought were only mediocre. We had fondue in a sourdough bowl with apples and bread for dipping. I thought it lacked flavor. I had to add salt to every bite and I'm not a big salter. We also had a deep fried onion flower and I thought it was cut too small. Every time you tried to grab a bit of onion, there wasn't enough substance to the piece of onion to pull it off before the batter slipped off the petal and left the onion on the stem and the fried batter in your fingers. It was annoying and I think both Chili's and Outback Steakhouse do it better and I hate those places.

We also split a sand dab sandwich which was just okay. I think we may have just ordered wrong. They probably have food on their menu that was better than what we ordered. It sucked that we managed to pick three bad ones. I really hope those are the only bad ones, because I do like the idea of the restaurant. I also have friends who have been there before and loved it. So, I say give it a try....pooch or no pooch.
posted by othur-me @ 5:01 PM   4 comments
Slow Week
Friday, October 27, 2006

I haven't posted much this week because:

A) Work has been super busy.

2) Puppy has been demanding much of my time.

& 4) Nothing brilliant on my mind (not that everything I post is brilliant, but I haven't even had any mediocre thoughts this week).

I have come up with a pretty good Halloween costume that I'm not going to use, so if you are looking for a last minute costume that will make everyone laugh and give you a good shot at winning the Halloween costume contest at your local pub, then try this:

The Human Twister Board - wear all white, T-shirt or Turtleneck, white pants or sweats, if you can find an all white rain poncho even better (but not necesasry). Write or wear a sign on your shirt that says "Human Twister Board - //opposite sex// players only". Make a spinner or get one from a twister game you don't want or need anymore. Make a hat into the spinner or wear it on your back. Make all the spots on the wheel green and on each divided quarter of the circle write "Right Hand". You want to make it so the spinner ALWAYS says "Right Hand - Green". Then put a big green dot on your crotch (for women you could also put a couple dots over your boobs).

There you go. Go out and win yourself some free drinks.

Have a good weekend. Don't forget to set your clocks forward.
posted by othur-me @ 12:08 PM   7 comments
My Itunes Thinks It's Funny
Friday, October 20, 2006
I listen to my Itunes at work and I keep it on shuffle. I like variety and the randomness of the shuffle feature. Today, Itunes thought it could prove to me that I have two songs on my Ipod of which I can't possibly like both.

I'm sitting there listening, working, not thinking much about it, humming (not singing) along to Jim Croce as he tells us he's "gotta get outta here" 'cause New York's not his home. And I can totally get into what he's talking about. Too many people, too much bustle, too many lessons to learn.....just too much city for country boys like us. Umm...I mean him. I grew up in San Francisco, so I hardly count as a country boy. But I totally get it.

Then as I'm about to get on with my day of work and New York-hating, the next song comes on and I hear the tinkly little piano intro from my friend Billy Joel, because you know...I'm in a New York state of mind. WAIT! No I'm not....just a second ago Jim and I were despising New York. But then...Billy and I have so much in common. And by so much I mean only that we've both been high in the Rockies under the evergreens (everything else not so much, except that maybe we've both had deep feelings for Christie Brinkley at some point in our lives).

So, now....I can't stop humming (not singing) along with Billy and realizing how much I like New York, despite the rough times the Jim and I went through there. Instantly, I'm thinking "HA HA HA Itunes! Veeeeerrrryyyy funny!" My Itunes is trying to prove me a hypocrite!

So you tell me....who's right (or more right) Jim or Billy? You can't say both.
If you don't have an opinion on that or if you have an opinion in addition to that, tell me what songs make the most compelling arguements for going to or staying away from a particular place. Does Tony Bennet make you want to visit his heart in SF? Did Frank Sinatra make you believe Chicago is your kinda town? Is it possible that Carole King actually made you want to go back to Caanan, if you've even been?
posted by othur-me @ 3:14 PM   8 comments
Yup, He's A Puppy! (4 mos)




UPDATE: I think this post may be corrupted. More than one person had problems commenting on it. If you want to tell me what cute puppy I got, feel free to do it on any of my other posts.

posted by othur-me @ 10:19 AM   0 comments
A new family member!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
As of today, Soldier has a baby brother. He's a mix, but we're not sure what....maybe shepherd. He has a brindle coat and his new name is Rebel.

Sorry Lisa, I can't post pictures until tomorrow, maybe the next day. You'll just have to wait.

posted by othur-me @ 8:52 PM   3 comments
Apparently a half sandwich is nothing more than it claims to be!
Wednesday, October 18, 2006

I actually had the following conversation with the guy who runs the deli at my gym today (and he was serious):

Me (only wanting half a sandwich, but not seeing that option on the menu, and settling on buying a whole one): I'll take a turkey sandwich with jack cheese on sliced wheat, no onions or peppers.

Deli Guy: You want half or whole?

Me: I didn't realize half was an option. I'll take half.

Deli Guy (Doing his best Charades version of making a sandwich, then chopping in half with the side of his hand): You know you only get half. Is that ok?

Me: Uhhh? Yeah? (thinking "Wait, no... expain that to me again?")

posted by othur-me @ 5:02 PM   6 comments
Your Questions Answered
Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Because your google searches led you here, I don't want you to waste your click without having your questions here you go:

"what's in your wendy's chili - finger"
That was a scam. You don't need to worry about eating a finger. At least not a human finger. Maybe rat fingers, but they're tasty, especially with cheese and onions.

"careers to avoid after a kidney transplant"
1) Professional Kidney Donor
2) Ultimate Fighting Champion
3) Suggestions anyone? This might be good for me to hear, too.

"tj dancing, mexico, dance studio"
The closest Arthur Murray Studio I can find to Tijuana is:

San Diego
8303 Clairemont Mesa Blvd. #205
San Diego, CA 92111-1326
Phone: 858-499-0180
Fax: 858-499-0150

But if you are having problems crossing the border for your mambo lessons, you could try this one:

15 Bloco G, Acesso 74Salas 101-110
Brasilia, DG, Brazil 71,635-550
Phone: 55-61-248-6814

Sorry there isn't one closer!

"bass player wanted"
Sorry, dude, we found one. Know any good drummers?

"doctor said to take nystatin and spit out"
I think that question answers itself. Are you certain you know what a google search is for?

"boobs at papas and beer"
Yup, they got em.'re all welcome!
posted by othur-me @ 5:43 PM   5 comments
What makes you sing?
Monday, October 16, 2006

No really....and I'm not talking about the few of you that read this that fancy themselves "singers" (although I won't ban you from commenting). I'm also not talking about karaoke-ers, where some drunk friend in a bar writes your name down on piece of paper with the song "Baby Got Back" written underneath it, so that the KJ (Karaoke Jockey) calls out your name and a bunch of people try to push you up on stage to hear your masterful rapping styles.

I'm talking about when you pull up to a stop light, window rolled down, with your favorite song on the car radio blaring, the rest of us in traffic experiencing hearing loss while you sing along louder than the original. Or when you're in the shower and you forget that you have roommates and the water flow from your RotoMassageJet hits the exact spot on your ass that makes you feel the need to test the reverb of the bathroom walls with your loudest rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner". Or when you're your just sitting in your office and eyeing the Post It notes on your desk makes you decide to sing out "The Post will come out TOMORROW!" intentionally butchering the lyrics for no apparent reason.

I just wanna know what it is that MAKES you sing? I don't get it. Once in awhile I may be caught mumbling the melody of one my favorite tunes as it plays on the radio, but putting it out there for the world to hear me never happens. Did you just fall in love? Quit the job you hated for the last 10 years? Watch your child walk for the first time? Eat a really good piece of baklava? C'mon give it....what's up with you?

Is there something wrong with me? Seriously, I've been looking for a reason to sing but nothing does it. And I'm not saying there aren't great things in my life to sing over, I just don't do it. I use to?

Next time your catch yourself singing, ask yourself "why?" Then tell me the answer, please.
posted by othur-me @ 4:40 PM   12 comments
The Talentedest People I Know
Thursday, October 12, 2006

As a child, your natural talents earn you labels. Jimmy "The Soccer Kid", Emily "The Painter Girl", Killer "The Farter"....and so on. From age 8 or so I was always Jerry "The Musician". I was happy to have a talent to be associated with, but at age 15 when I met my friend Brendan, I instantly felt underserving. While I had a natural talent to pick up many instruments and play them with extreme mediocrity, I never had the ability or drive to put mastery to any of them. Brendan was the complete opposite as a musician. Anything he did musically, and many things he did otherwise, he always did with amazing command. He was a better musician at age 15 than most people that have been playing music for decades.

Brendan and I became great friends. Though music was our main connection, Brendan possesed many endearing qualities that were hard to find in people. Endless happiness, mild naivety, honesty and openess with no limits to everyone. Always putting forth an extra effort that limits the distance in friendships. He would call when you hadn't spoken for a while. He would make plans with you when you hadn't seen each other in awhile. He always showed more interest in events of your life than his. He was the only completely genuine person I knew.

We had played in various incarnations of rock bands together, but Brendan had musical interest beyong that. He wrote a musical in high school that he performed his senior year and asked me to play in pit band for it. I could not imagine a time, then, that we wouldn't be playing music together. When I was 19, we put an original band together and made a demo in a extravagant SF recording studio. We (probably more me) had great hopes of success with that project.

I and the other bandmates were let down hard when Brendan abandoned the project to go to college in Southern CA. I mean, sure, it was the right thing to do. It was a safe move. Ask anyone what's smarter, go to college or try to play in a rock band? C'mon, no brainer. It was more of let down, that Brendan wouldn't even give us an opportunity work on it while he was in college. Maybe we could move to LA and he could do it on the side while in school. Its been done before. He (seemingly through his mother's encouragement) said he couldn't.

While he was in school, Brendan revamped his high school musical and performed it his college. Again he asked me to play in it. He knew I was hurt when he went to school and its seemed he was making it up to me by including me in projects he was working on . We had also managed to co-write some more songs during the summers and make demos of those. Brendan did most of the writing, but for my minimal input, Brendan gave me 50% credit for the song writing. He had written some amazing songs at 15, but his work was getting better with age. As his schooling progressed, Brendan made it more and more clear he was not going to pursue a career as a rock musician.

He had developed his own major at his school for "Musical Theater Composition" and that's the direction he wanted to head. I began to realize I needed to work on options in my life that didn't include trying to be a rock musician with my best friend. At age 25 I opted to work for the family business selling electrical equipment, limiting my music playing to a hobby. At various times it has been a more serious hobby than at others.

When Brendan graduated, he opted for grad school at NYU. A natural move for someone who was going to try to compose musical theater. Definately the right place to be. Our contact during these couple years was limited. I think I talked to him once before he left for New York and then again after he graduated. The funny thing was....Brendan got his masters in Musical Theater Compositon from NYU and then decided that wasn't what he wanted to do. He wanted to play in a rock band. In a conversation I had with him after he graduated, he effectively said "Why don't you move to NY and play in a rock band with me?"

Don't think for one second I didn't consider it.....repeatedly....for years. But I couldn't. I couldn't leave the only home I'd ever known, give up my job, medical insurance (which I needed), dissappoint my family and friends to move across the country and play in a rock band. Is this decision sounding familiar to you? I was faced with a similar decision at this point that Brendan had to make at when he was 18. Only now I had more security to let go of and a kidney disease. Fuck yeah I wanted to move to NY and play music, but ask anyone what's smarter? Give up a secure future or try to become a rock star? No brainer, I thought. It was ths same no brainer decision my friend made when I wanted HIM to risk something (and he didn't). There are those out there that will tell you "fuck that, follow your passion". Try following your passion when you have failing kidneys and presume you will need a transplant in the not so distant future. I couldn't. I regret not trying...and probably that regret most defines who I am today.

It doesn't reduce my regret to any degree that the following happened:

Brendan met a simarly, uniquely uber-talented musician, Valerie. She plays rock violin and sings like not many others can. They formed a band, Groovelily. They scratched and clawed at the rock/folk music industry trying to make a go of it. Got married. Caught glimpses of success. Shared stages with some very famous people. Then managed to make something of themselves in a very original manner. They brought the rock band concept to the musical theater stage. Apparently Brendan's schooling came in handy.

They wrote a winter holdiday musical, "Striking Twelve", about a lonely man on New Years Eve, home alone, reading the fairy tale "The Little Matchstick Girl". It is a cross between a "musical" and a rock concert. The story is told by the rock band through dialogue and song while on stage, Brendan on Piano, Valerie with her Flying-V Violin, and their drummer Gene. The three tell the story together each playing characters and narrators, all of them playing instruments and all of them singing.

The show had runs in various cities over the past 4 or 5 years. They have had so much success with this format that they have concentrated on writing new musicals in the same format. Last year their co-writer of "Striking 12" won a Tony for "The Putnam County 25th Annual Spelling Bee". Also, "Striking 12's" director won a Tony for "A Light In The Piazza". How cool is that? One of my good friends is working with not one, but two Tony Award winners.

This year "Striking 12" will be off Broadway in NYC for the first time. Every stage writer/composer's dream. I couldn't be happier for my friends. I have seen the show and can tell you its great! If you are in the NYC area this winter, please go see it. Not just to support my friends, but because it is a terrific way to spend a few hours.

What's with the friendship now? Well....I don't know. Last couple years, Brendan and I mutually made an effort to be more active friends. "Striking 12" was in Palo Alto a couple years ago and I went to see it. After one of the performance I went to drinks with Brendan. It was the first time he told me that he lost respect for me when I opted not to move to NY and play music (or make some other risk to do it without him) and that my consistenly choosing security over the years was a big let down for him (and the first of the deep wedges driven into our friendship). It was also the first time he heard that my kidneys were failing (so I mostly forgave it). It was hard for me let go of the fact that he'd chosen security when I was ready to take a chance and that it was at least mildly hypocritical for him to look down on me for making my choices, a point I made to him that night.

Then a couple summers ago I went to NYC and visited Brendan while I was there. I got to see his apartment and music studio. We also had drinks one night. It was...luke warm? On both our parts, I'm guessing.

Then next time I saw Brendan, was while he was touring on the West Coast. I went to see one of their shows in Marin. I had dinner with them. I also fucked up after the show and said something too personal to the wrong people and made everyone in the bad mad at me. I was embarrassed that I forgot for one moment that best thing and worst thing about me is that I usually don't say much. I think I lost my Unlimited Groovelily Backstage pass that night and drove in another wedge.

Brendan made a couple of attempts to contact me when their son was born. It was around the same time I was going through kidney failure and transplant. Due to that major event in my life and my inability to get over the fact that I fucked up, I have not responded in kind. I think I have sent him one email since.

I figured out that I love Brendan, who he was then and who he his now. And I miss Brendan, but mostly only the Brendan of 20 years ago. Many of the qualities about old Brendan (among them - endlessly happy, mildly naive, honest and open with no limits to everyone) seemed to have gone. My take on it is NYC will do that to someone. I'm sorry to those of you love the big city, I just think it has a way of adding layers of bitterness to people that didn't have it before they lived there. Native New Yorkers may be immune.

So....friendship? Probably not so much anymore. Love, respect, admiration without bounds for a person who deserves more of it then I can offer? Hell yeah. Go see the show, it's worth it.

I'm sure when Brendan finds this link on his site meter he will take it in all kinds of the wrong way.

Sorry man, the thing about you that rubbed off on me the most is "honest and open with no limits to everyone" including the wrong people at your show and including the internet.
posted by othur-me @ 5:05 PM   3 comments
That's one good fucking mop!
Tuesday, October 10, 2006

My former roommate, Anthony moved out about a year ago. I see him frequently at work because my company shares a building with his. Since he moved out, I may have spoken a total of 10 words to him, 6 of them being "What's up?" (three times). We have almost nothing in common outside of sharing a house for a year.

A couple of weeks ago, Anthony approached me with a very serious look on his face and asked me "Hey Jerry, you know that red bucket and mop I left in the garage? I was wondering if you could bring that into work so I could get it back?" Always the busy body at work, I didn't have time to give it much thought and told him it wasn't a problem. It was his mop. If he wanted it, he could have it. I told him I would bring it in the next day and quickly let that thought out of my head to get back to the project I was working on.

Either from the three years of massive pot smoking as a teen or from early senility, my short term memory isn't what it used to be. Said mop never made it to work with me and a few days later I was approached by Anthony again. "You got that mop?" I apologized for my poor memory and, not willing to commit to "tomorrow", told him I would bring it in soon.

A few more days past and I hadn't seen Anthony, but his mop was always in the back of my mind. Though it never quite seemed to make it to the front of my mind at the right time, which was just before I left for work everyday. I began avoiding Anthony's office, taking detours through the building and finding myself waiting until I knew he was gone before using copy machine. I managed to put the mop so far in the back of my mind, I think the thought actually had escaped out the back of my head. After several days had passed, I ran into Anthony in the parking lot. He put his hands together in front of him, grabbed an invisible mop handle, and did his impression of Marcel Marceau cleaning the black top parking lot with his invisible mop. As he was doing this, he looked at me and made a look that can only be explained as "Question Mark Face". I silently shook my head back at him, doing my mime version of "No I didn't bring your fucking mop." Some of my best work. He gave a frustrated chuckle and we both got in our cars and left.

Anthony then took to borderline harassment tactics as a way to get his $10 mop back. He left me a phone message about the mop (I took advantage of my caller-ID and didn't answer). Then he borrowed a phone from a mutual friend so that when I saw "Doug" appear on my caller-ID, I would pick up and Anthony could again bug me about the mop. Here's where I begin to take a new stance on the issue. Look Dick-wad, I have more important things to worry about every morning than your stupid mop. I just had a kidney transplant, I'm lucky to be alive (slight exaggeration). Mother-Fucker left his mop at my house and he knows where the house is and why is he giving me shit for not bringing him his mop when he could get the piece of shit himself. I turned bitter. I actually thought about bringing the mop one morning before work and decided I didn't want to. Bitch-face could get it himself or wait until I was damn good and ready.

It has now turned into a game for me. He approached me about it yesterday. I reached in my pocket offered him a ten dollar bill and said "Why don't you just buy another mop? I'll pay." I mean...I could give a shit about his mop. I don't even mop my kitchen floor myself. I have a maid, cause I'm lazy like that. I think I may have pulled the mop out one weekend when I was between maids and the kitchen floor was filthy, but I really have no desire to even own a mop, let alone use it. Except now I am really beginning like this one.

He explained that his mop was special and he couldn't find another like it. It has this cool twist lock thingy on it so you can really wring it out. I agreed that was a cool feature (although I never really figured out how to use it). I let him know it was a damn good mop, but as monumental as this floor cleaning device was, I always have other things on my mind in the morning and have a hard time remembering to bring it to work (today I actually had to move the mop away from my car door so I could get in).

At work this morning, my first visitor of the day was Anthony. "You look tired," he said,"You got that mop?"

"Ya know?," I replied, "You know where the mop is and you go near my house every day. Any reason you can't just pick up the mop on your own time instead of harrassing me about it on a daily basis? Paul is always at the house. One of us is there 24 hours a day."

"Yeah, I never thought of that."

He was smart enough to figure out how to disguise himself on my caller-ID, but didn't realize he could just stop by and get the mop anytime he wanted. Brilliant. I'm guessing the mop will be gone when I get home. Goodbye sweet mop.
posted by othur-me @ 9:41 AM   15 comments
From Hell To Hell and Back to Hell and Back Home Again (Part Eight)
Monday, October 09, 2006
(Its part eight because we're back in the USA now, not because I don't know that the word for eight in Spanish is ocho.)

The TV news on Monday morning indicated that planes had begun flying. There were many flights cancelled, though. There was such a long delay in flying, the airlines didn't have all the right planes in the right places to correctly accomodate all their scheduled flights. It would take them a few days to shuffle all the planes back to where they belong. When I called our airline, they let me know my plane would be going out.

Jim and I cabbed over to the airport and did all the usual things people do when they arrive at an airport to board a flight. Check bags, get boarding passes, get coffee while making your way to the gate, check in at gate. It was all very routine. I had spent so much time out of the country, participating in celebrations, and working out my plans that I never really thought much about how wierd it would feel to sit on a plane the first day they flew after 9/11. The very second I took my seat I cried. I cried hard and I wasn't the only one.

I was done making plans. The next part of my trip was already in order. Once the flight took off, there were no more question marks. I hadn't realized how much time and emotion the planning, helping, schedule correcting, etc. had occupied. Worrying about my plans and the plans of others had blocked me from giving too much thought to what was going on in the world and now I had a 3 hour flight to really let my brain air it out. I didn't read, watch a movie, eat, sleep, or listen to music. I just sat there and let my body and mind work out a week's worth of suppressed emotion. And it was impossible not to feel some connection to the passengers on the planes that died. As little as I will ever truly undestand about their pain, just the view of the seat-back and thinking how it was the last thing they saw was enought to make you think you somehow understand.

Sometimes, when I'm reading or listening to other peoples' accounts of their 9/11 experiences, I feel like they're telling me to say "look how connected I was to that day". That's exactly how I felt right at that moment on the plane, but now I think of the hours I sat their crying, connecting myself peronally to the events and I shamefully look back and wonder why I felt like I had any right to make such a connection. I don't feel it now. I couldn't be any more of an outsider to the events of that day. I don't know anyone who died and it feels selfish to think of my own pain on these days. I am hoping that by the morning of 9/11/2011, I can awake without this memory being my first thought of the day.

This is the last part of my story*.

*It will cost anyone who wants to hear about the 70 lb. tuna and the dangerous stripper incident a couple beers to hear the tales of Cabo San Lucas. And believe it or not, those are not the same story.
posted by othur-me @ 4:25 PM   1 comments
See why most people hate me?
Friday, October 06, 2006
Today my cell phone rings:

:::ring ring:::

Me: Hello?

Audrey: Is this //othurme's very official name//?

M: Yup

A: This is Audrey with Wells Fargo Bank.

M: Hi, Audrey.

A: I need to verify a charge on your account.

M: Okay.

A: First I'll need to verify your identity by having you give me your social security number.

M: Well, why don't YOU give it to ME? I called me. How do I know you're really with Wells Fargo Bank? I'm not in the habit of reciting my social security number to strangers that call me on the phone.

A: Sir, I can't go any farther with this phone call until I verify your identity.

M: And I can't go any farther until you prove to me you work for wells fargo bank. Can you fax me your 1099 and a picture ID with your name on it?

A: :::silence:::

M: See? Similary I don't want to give you any of my personal information. This could be an indentity theft in progress.

A: How about the debit card account number associated with this account.

M: First of all I don't know what account you're talking about. I have multiple accounts with Wells Fargo. Secondly, if you think I'm giving out my debit card number instead of my social security number, your thought process is moving in the wrong direction, unless you don't really work for Wells Fargo. Why don't you give me a phone number I can call you back at and I'll verify you work for the bank by having you give me the combination for the big vault and the hours that the security guard takes a break?

A: :::silence:::

M: No? Do you want to give your mother's maiden name?

A: :::silence:::

M: Do you even understand how ridiculous it is that you work in a high security industry and you call people on the phone and make them tell you their social security number?

A: Could you give me your birthday?

M: Not unless you are planning on getting me a present.

A: If I give you the account number and you just tell me the mailing address on that account, will that work for you? I don't think anyone can steal your identy with just your mailing address. If they stole on one of your statements, both of those would be on it.

M: Sounds good.

A: ///perferct recitation of othurme's checking account number///

M: ///perfect recitation of othurme's mailing address///

A: THANK YOU! Did you write a check to Joe Schmoe in the amount of $X? The signature on the check doesn't look like your normal signature.

M: Yes I did. Now, is there anything else I can help you with today? Can I interest you in a low interest car loan?

A: No thank you. Goodbye. :::hang up::: (The word "Asshole" echoed in the sound of her phone disconnecting)
posted by othur-me @ 5:53 PM   9 comments
For those of you that display your personal photos on FlickR for everyone in the world to warned....
Wednesday, October 04, 2006

There are bored, immature people like me in the world that will take your photos, put their own little personal graffiti on them, then display their work proudly on their blog.

Its what I did with my text books in high school. Its what I do now.

Just so you know.

And any of you who may know me from high school? Its what I did with your pictures in my yearbooks.
posted by othur-me @ 4:05 PM   4 comments
I knew I could reuse this picture someday*:

Today I received an email from a friend with the following subject heading:

Clicks Down From Last Year! Help Fund Free Mammograms Today

My first thought was "Fund them? Who needs funding? I'll give them for free!"

*And also because I'm too lazy to write anything serious today.
posted by othur-me @ 9:56 AM   2 comments
Old Loves (In More Ways Than One)
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
When I was a sophomore in high school, I couldn't have been cooler. Always walking around school in my ripped jeans and Salvation Army flannel shirts. The shaved head and skateboard rounded out the look. I practically had my choice of any girl I wanted. Well...any freshman girl. Well....any freshman girl that liked skaters (much less a fad then it is today). Well.....let's face it....there weren't too many willing to swim in my dating pool.

Though, there was a girl named Jen that was willing and I actually had to talk her into breaking up with her boyfriend to go out with me. Probably my biggest dating victory ever. Sophomore high school male that I was, we dated for about three and half weeks before I felt like I was being smothered. I didn't realize at the time it's not so bad to have someone love you too much.

My memories of that relationship have been frequent lately because I ran into Jen's best friend (best friend in HS, not anymore), Angela. She was always super nice to me and I think she had a crush on me while I was dating Jen. She always showed a little too much interest in our relationship.

I have spent the last couple Mondays hanging out at the bar where Angela works. You see, the tides have turned. The crush is now crushing the opposite direction. I will probably never do anything real about this attraction (I'm a little too passive in my love life, probably just life in general), but I want to put it out there because while this longing exists it will be hard for me to show affection for another.

Especially Dill*.

I'm sorry Dill, it won't work. I have too much invested in Angela to let go of it just yet. I didn't mean to mislead you . It was fantastic when you got down on your knees and serenaded me with "You've Lost That Loving Feeling". I know that hanging out in a karaoke bar just off Polk St. in San Francisco may have given you the wrong impression, but I'm just not up for a moustache ride (even as magnificent as yours was). Another time, another place, things could have been different. they couldn't have.

*Tales of Dill and I, with pictures, will surely begin to pop up all over the internet. Especially in the blogs linked on the left here. For those of you not in attendance tonight, I think I will leave a little mystery surrounding the episode where I left my comfort zone of Angela's bar and opted for Monday Night Blogger Karaoke Madness. I'm sure though She Walks and Jester will fill in all the blanks for you in upcoming posts on their sites. Jester will for sure?

UPDATE: Because my transition from Angela to Dill may have been a little too cryptic. The story of Dill is: Monday night some of my band friends and blog friends and their friends and I went to Karaoke at The Encore in San Francisco. A drunken night of singing madness it was. A highlight from that night was when a strange, old gay man with a huge moustache serenaded me on his knees with "You've Lost That Loving Feeling". Torture for me, hilarity for everyone else. See She Walks for the entire story of the night.
posted by othur-me @ 1:49 AM   11 comments
Because I'm Too Lazy To Write Today.....
Monday, October 02, 2006

Anyone else seen this? I like the story and love the performances of both lead roles. Though, I don't think the director did enough to achieve the effect he was looking for out of his ending.

Discuss amongst yourselves.
posted by othur-me @ 1:49 PM   2 comments
about me
Name: othur-me
Home: San Francisco-ish, California, United States
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so good the first time
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