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.
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.
Gabe Anderson // 9:19 AM
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!
Gabe Anderson // 2:11 PM
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 Jennier 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.
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.
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.
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.
Gabe Anderson // 9:37 AM
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.
This is it. The final day of packing and final night of living on Treasure Island! It's hard to believe, but the time for change is well overdue. The Scoobie is loaded with more stuff that I'll bring to Larkspur Shores later today. And tomorrow at 9am, the movers arrive!
Now I just have to hope my paycheck will continue to come so that I can pay the rent. But I do feel OK knowing I have a backup plan I'm excited about.
Gabe Anderson // 8:35 AM
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Thursday, August 15, 2002:
I just returned to the office from paying the move-in costs and picking up the keys for our new place at Larkspur Shores! I'm so excited I can't even stop to eat my Michael's Sourdough sandwich (second this week!). With Karen's help, we unloaded the first carload of stuff for the place. I can't wait for Jen to see it. We have great views of trees and green outside every window, plenty of storage, and, at long last, peace and quiet -- not to mention a place of our very own for the first time. The other cool thing I discovered in the move-in material is that the company that runs Larkspur Shores, Equity Apartments offers, as the name implies, credit toward building a new house anywhere in the country (through the company). I don't know that we'll be able to take advantage of that, but cool nonetheless. The big move day quickly approaches..two days and counting.
Gabe Anderson // 1:10 PM
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Last night Jen and I took a hiatus from the intense packing underway at good ol' 1147-D to hit our favorite Mexican food joint, Juan's Place in Berkeley. It rocked, as always. (Shoot! I just realized that i forgot to bring my burrito nub for lunch today.) Before going into eat, we managed to catch the Berkeley-East Bay Humane Society before they closed for the evening. In our quest for a second dog, we were pleased to find the building filled with wonderful dogs. There was a noble Siberian husky named Kobe, a good-looking malamute, and, out back, a cute little lab-boxer mix called Rusty. He was sick with kennel cough and sounded terrible, but we really liked him, so we took him out for a spin. He passed two important tests while standing on the sidewalk across from Juan's: passing biker and toeheaded little person; he barked at neither one. We still need to talk to Mollie to find out if any good ones have recently come into the SF SPCA.
While cleaning out the closet of the office last night, I came across my old Apple StyleWriter 1200. It barely worked back in the day, so I posted it for free this morning on Autodesk's internal classifieds. We'll see if anyone bites.
It's really scary that President Bush continues to make threats against Iraq. Saddam Hussein has now issued a warning that any attacks will be countered. Wonderful. Let's pick a fight with a country we fear has nuclear and biological weaponry so that they won't use these bad things. Of course, doing so will only have the effect we would be trying to prevent. Way to go, Bush. Your decision-making skills continue to amaze us all.
Gabe Anderson // 8:55 AM
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Wednesday, August 14, 2002:
Like the inevitable heart break following a teenager's entree into flirtations with the opposite sex, First Crush in San Francisco lived up to its name last night. Fifteen of us gathered at the Union Square wannabe-fancy restaurant to celebrate Katie's birthday. Thinking it was just a night out with the girls, she was quite surprised to find the private party room downstairs filled with friends. That part of the evening -- spending time talking and laughing with good friends -- was great fun and made the evening memorable. But the food and service were a different story.
Jen's risotto was drenched in olive oil and my prosciutto-wrapped chicken breast stuffed with cheese sounded delicious on the menu, but the real thing was dry, flavorless, and wrapped not with the light and tasty prosciutto I've had in the past, but with burnt and crispy pig skin. At one point, our Debra Messing lookalike waitress (as Rhys so gracefully told her) had a little standoff with Jen when she realized the kitchen had made the wrong risotto. Jen had already begun eating and had no problem continuing to do so. After the hostess-turned-waitress hovered for quite some time, wanting the dish back, Jen said to her, with plate in air, "Do you want this or not? I'm fine with it." And that was that.
The other annoying part of eating out at an overpriced joint with a large group is that you inevitably end up getting screwed when the check comes. Rather than paying for what we ate and drank (not much), Jen and I ended up carrying a lot more than our weight. Not only were we the only ones who had settled our wine tab at the bar upstairs (so far as I could tell), but we did not indulge in any of the bottles of expensive wine, multiple rounds of double cocktails, or, as Katie put it, the "Lemon Pledge" sorbet. Too bad there's no social custom to make it clear ahead of time how the bill will be handled. Had that been the case, Jen and I would have certainly partook in more of the libations.
But alas...social customs: awkward and frustrating. Wine tab: $23. Meal for two: $130. Dinner out with friends in the private party room of expensive San Francisco restaurant: priceless.
Gabe Anderson // 9:36 AM
At lunch today I hit my favorite sandwich place, Michael's Sourdough, then ran a few move-related errands: boxes from U-Haul, satellite tripod from Radio Shack. Here's the good part: Prior to going into Michael's, I was going to ask where the U-Haul place was (I knew it was right in the same vicinity as the sandwich shop). I didn't remember to ask until I was outside, seated at a table and eating my sandwich. Before I was able to get up to head back inside, I looked up from my sandwich and saw a parking lot -- separated from the Michael's parking lot by a chain-link fence -- chock-full of giant U-Haul trucks. It's a small world after all.
Gabe Anderson // 2:02 PM
Aries Horoscope (by astrocenter.com) You are in an introspective mood, which is most unusual for you, dear Aries. In addition, you find yourself drawn to classical music and the artwork of the old masters. What's gotten in to you? Could it be that as you become more enlightened, your tastes change as well. Likely so. Why not begin to keep a journal as part of your evolution? You'll find that writing is an efficient way to release ideas. On top of that, it's therapeutic as well.
I haven't yet found myself drawn to classical music of late, and got my fix of the old masters back in April while in Italy, but the bit about feeling introspective and writing in a journal (so that's what this is all about!) certainly fits.With each day, I feel more and more compelled to add an entry about my thoughts. I enjoy creating a written history as I live my life. As I said to Jen the other day on the plane while jotting down notes for the forthcoming redesign of my Web site: It's not so much for anyone else -- though it is cool when people stumble across my Web site -- but more for me and you (Jen). I like documenting my life as I live it, so that we can look back some day and reminisce. And share with our kids and grandkids. As for the introspective feeling, I think it may be partly caused by the big change on the horizon: Saturday's move, our first in three years. That, and my increasingly fiercer burning desire to get more into the planning of the business.
Yesterday I picked up Stella from Planet Canine. I was excited to see her and she was ready to come home. She seemed tired and happy, having played with other dogs 6-8 hours per day since last Wednesday morning.
At one point, I took a trip to the nearby magazine store and splurged for a $12.95 Chameleon Books notebook with a photo of the Statue of Liberty on the cover. I was scrawling notes for the redesign of my Web site on scraps of paper and decided I'd rather have a nice notebook for personal use. While in the bookstore, I searched and searched for the New Yorker and Harper's for Jen, and couldn't find them on my own. But then a nice customer handed me the New Yorker and the clerk guided me to Harper's, which was oddly placed in the business section (I don't think of Harper's as a business magazine).
When we eventually made it on the plane, the flight was long and the bathrooms ran out of water. Jen and I have decided that Continental really sucks. We will try to avoid that airline in future travel plans. The in-flight movie was Life or Something Like It with Angelina Jolie. It wasn't the greatest movie ever, but kind of cute (as any movie with Angelina inevitably is).
Back in California, it's nice to be home. Moving madness goes into full effect tonight.
Gabe Anderson // 8:54 AM
Today Jen, her mom, and I headed to Poughkeepsie to meet with the caterer for the wedding (Chris of Christos), to check out the gorgeous Vassar campus in the summertime (we managed to get into the chapel and scope it out), and decide on location for rehearsal dinner (and snap a lot of photos that we'll be able to use in our soon-to-be-created wedding Web site). After having lunch at Coppola's, we decided that the Alumnae House was the obvious choice. This is what I felt all along in my heart was the right choice. It's just such a great building with so much character. It will be far more memorable than the back room of a somewhat cheesy Italian restaurant.
Tonight it's off to Sue and Josh's rehearsal dinner at the Carolina House here in Kinderhook, then to their wedding tomorrow.
Jen and I are still a bit exhausted from flying all night Wednesday. We took cat naps the whole way back from Poughkeepsie.
A homeless man in Rome was arrested yesterday for having made a living out of stealing thousands of euros every few days from Trevi Fountain. When the cops hung out at the fountain at dawn to wait for him, he looked right at them and proceeded to sweep up his change from the fountain. I think that's hilarious. It's not funny, though, that he's been taking the money away from charities who would have otherwise received it. Why did it take Roman authorities so long to catch him? And why is Roberto Cercelletta the only man smart enough to have been doing this for nearly 40 years (since 1968)? Regardless, had I known there were several thousand dollars' worth of change in the Trevi when Jen and I were there in April, I might have dove in myself.
Yesterday I sent a letter to the editor of NextDraft, Dave Pell, following his obnoxious commentary and childish pokes at Anna Nicole Smith in his column on Tuesday (see original column following my letter). Of course, I've yet to hear back from him (and doubt that I will). I've subscribed to Dave's newsletters (first Davenetics and now NextDraft) for years and this is the first time I've been truly disgusted by him. And apparently Dave fails to recognize the importance of acknowledging his readers, without whom he wouldn't really have a reason for publishing his email newsletter. When I was editing Capitol Action Weekly for four years, I always responded to readers who took the time to write to me -- even if it was simply to thank them. Good or bad, feedback from readers is one of the most rewarding parts of editing a newsletter. Apparently Dave does not agree. Or he still has a lot to learn -- especially if he wants to make it in the world of journalism.
My friend and coworker Karen sent me this beautiful aerial view photo of the Golden Gate Bridge. Her friend was fortunate enough to climb to the top of the bridge yesterday. And what a day! He sure lucked out. But as Jen's dad would say, this photo is "like being there."
Today feels like Friday since Jen and I are off to New York tonight via red-eye flight. We'll be in Poughkeepsie on Wednesday to get reacquainted with the Vassar Chapel, where our wedding next year will be held.
Gabe Anderson // 9:50 AM
Urine on the living room floor. Dog fight in the hallway. Big ornithophobic Russian man in the kitchen. Shriveled carcass of fish creature on the perimeter path.
Yesterday was certainly a day for the record books. It all started with an innocent enough idea: A coworker was trying to find a new home for the adorable Rocki, so I cancelled my haircut appointment, loaded him in my car, and headed home for a compatibility test run. Jen and I introduced Stella and Rocki on neutral territory, the Field of Dog Dreams (FODD). After establishing her dominance, Stella seemed OK hanging out with the new guy. The two brown beasts frolicked around the FODD for a while, then we returned home.
Of course, when Rocki came into Stella’s house, it was time for Stella to make it clear all over again who the alpha dog was. So she did. Then they played. At least for a bit. In a strange sort of way. Stella tried so hard, but Rocki just didn’t seem interested. He’s probably older than her and doesn’t understand her crazy, energetic ways.
Then the pitter-patting began. Jen and I realized that there was some kind of creature stuck in the hood above our stove. So we called the Treasure Island after-hours maintenance line and stopped preheating the oven for the Chik Nuggets we were getting ready to eat. Then the noises stopped. So we told maintenance not to come. We resumed preheating the oven and threw the Chik Nuggets inside. Tap-tap-tap. Pitter-pat. We put it together: Having the oven on was cooking more than one Chik Nugget. So I called maintenance again.
The big Russian man arrived. He went into the kitchen, pulled open the hood, and a small bird darted past us and into the window. I managed to open the window and shove it outside, but not without screams from the muscular man: "Get it out! I scared of the bird! Get it out!" When things calmed down a bit and the bird was gone, the man repulsively said, "You cooked the bird! It smells like cooked bird! You must clean this grate! Put it in dishwasher." I never told him what was in the oven.
Meanwhile, Stella continued in her attempts to get Rocki to play with her. When he finally got fed up with her, he jaunted into the living room, lifted a leg, and watered our carpet. Rocki failed that part of the interview.
Several tiffs later, Jen and I took the two beasts for a walk on the path, where Rocki came across a fish creature carcass like those often dropped by seagulls this time of year (feeding time for the newly born). Of course, Stella quickly took it away from him and strutted her stuff proudly down the path before we were able to make her drop it.
Back at work, Rocki has been returned to his foster dad, my move to a new cube is complete, and I’m still trying to relax.
New York City’s plans for the one-year memorial of September 11 were released today. I’ve been wondering for awhile how the day would be commemorated. I’ve wondered if it would become a national holiday. But then I realized that December 7 is not a national holiday. September 11 is, quite simply, another day that will live in infamy.
Gabe Anderson // 11:25 AM
Friday night Jen and I went out ot a great dinner with both my parents at Farallon, mine and Jen's favorite fine-dining establishment in the city ranked by Gourmet Magazine as having the best food in the country. Farallon is usually ranked among the top two or three restaurants in the city. Jen and I had only been there once before, and again, the food was to die for. We both had Alaskan halibut, cooked and flavored to perfection.
Saturday it was off to pick up our new leather chair and ottoman from Steve in Twin Peaks, with the help of a man named Dave who drove a pickup truck (I had found him that morning on craigslist). Dave was only asking for $25 to help us transport the chair, but we gave him an extra 10 since he did it on such short notice, showed up right on time, and was really nice. He seemed taken aback that I was giving him quite a bit more than he had requested, and it looked like he was about to hand the 10 back to me.
Saturday night we headed to Glen Park with Ben and Jess for a fun-filled going-away party at Rhys' beautiful four-story home. The party was catered by Deeelicious Dishes, owned and operated by Rhys' friend Karen.
Sunday was a mostly relaxing day at home, with packing for the move now fully underway.
Gabe Anderson // 9:03 AM
Thank goodness DreamHost runs automatic backups every 6 hours! (One of the many reasons I left Pair Networks.) I've certainly been a big pain in the ass to DreamHost's friendly and helpful support team, but I'm glad they're so accessible. I'm currently waiting for the restore to happen (and keeping my fingers crossed!).
Last night Jen and I went to look at the amazing stuffed leather chair and matching ottoman that we're going to purchase tomorrow. The guy bought them from Macy's not too long ago, where the original price was more than $1,300! He bought them on sale for about $700 and is selling to us for $350. The chair is sooo comfortable it should be illegal. Jen and I will most certainly be fighting for daily sitting rights in the chair. Maybe we'll even have to create a seating chart. Rather than dealing with the hassle of renting a Budget van like we did last time (when we bought the leather couch), we're hiring a Bay Area guy ("Person with a Truck") who makes a business out of helping people pick up goods bought on craigslist. He's not a moving company, though, since the PUC has weird regulations about moving companies, as I learned on Monday when meeting with our movers.
Last night Jen and I took Shannon and Bobby out to eat at Green's in Fort Mason, overlooking the Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. A vegetarian joint, it was a bit on the expensive side, but delicious nonetheless. Opened and operated by the Zen Center, all the veggies are grown in Marin.
The dinner was a thank you to Shannon and Bobby for hosting the engagement party for me and Jen. The party eventually led to Bobby's being served a "get out" email two days later after his insane landlady flipped out at the last minute. Despite having actively participating in the planning of the party, this deranged woman left emails and voicemails for Bobby at 11pm the night before the party to tell him that he deceived her and that he couldn't have the party at his place after all. By that point, it was, of course, too late to reschedule a party at which 30+ people were expected. The crazy lady, Tori, wasn't even home at any point during the party. She arrived as we were finishing loading up my car at the end of the night.
This week has been one strange episode after the next for poor Bobby, with Tori leaving voicemail after voicemail for him and sending him inane emails (like this one) about broken hula girls and how he was trying to impress Shannon by throwing a party that resulted in his being evicted (clearly).
Bobby is certainly better off not renting from this crazy lady. Of course, she's even offered to let him stay after all this insanity.
