that rosebud girl

i’m semi-famous!

this video was taken at bazaar bizarre in san mateo a couple of weekends ago. i was interviewed by vanessa of Etsy and was totally stoked!

my segment is near the end, and you can see some of the stuff we had for the sacramento craft mafia, plus some of the craziness that was maker faire/bazbiz!

you can read the original etsy blog post here.

what’s in a number?

i’m perusing homeboy todd’s phillies blog and he’s got this great post about why certain phillies wear the numbers they do. the post contains a link to his original story, plus the unadulterated comments from the players.

read here: numbers, numbers, numbers.

i always love how players buy numbers and stuff. i wish i had that kind of cash. i also liked cole hamels’ take on not wearing a number in the 50s (he’s no. 35): “At least it?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s not 50 something. So I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢m glad I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢m not in New York or San Diego because it seems every pitcher there is in the 50s. I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢m happy I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢m not a football player.”

if you’ve ever played a sport, you will no doubt know that your jersey number means the world to you.

my favorite number was 3. i worship at the altar of john starks, and that was his number with the knicks, so it was my favorite number. sadly, i never got to wear my number when i played soccer in high school. i was trumped by a star freshman (i started playing on our team when i was a sophomore).

damn biatch.

i also liked 10, 7 and 17, but those numbers were also taken before i could get them. it sucks being a scrub. i think i wore 4 one year and 11 another year and i can’t remember my number for the other year. i think i still have the jerseys though. they’re in my closet in my parents’ house in guam. for giggles, i should ask my bro to pack those babies up and give them to me this summer.

that reminds me — 10-year h.s. reunion is a little less than two months. not going, though — you try hauling 8,000 miles back for your reunion. again, i ain’t got that kind of cash.

ah, detox.

nothing like a bike ride to clear your mind a couple of hours after you were a raving lunatic.

a new park opened up in our general vicinity. it’s nice. tennis courts and basketball courts and wide green space. hopefully, ed and i will play catch this weekend.

i also like my new bike. i got it from marie (she’s moving tomorrow to SF … which saddens me greatly). but marie is also way taller than i am, so the seat is a little high. i almost fell off while trying to get on the bike after i checked the mail. how embarrassing.

it is a beach cruiser, so i also have to get used to the fact that i have to pedal backwards to hit the brakes … and that i have to push down hard.

i also inhaled a bug. gross.

i hate jerks.

(you thought yesterday’s rant was bad? wait til you see this one.)

i really hate people who pass on two-lane country roads. especially when i’m already speeding along around 60-70 miles an hour. it’s a fucking country road! would you like me to run into a fence or tree or off the fucking road?

so today, i’m driving home from dance class. my usual route home (when there’s sunlight) is down what is basically a two-lane country road. occasionally, people pass other people. that’s fine. just don’t pass me when i’m already going far above the speed limit.

anyway, there is a curve at some point, and i usually slow down for it. curves make me nervous. i drive a top-heavy car. i don’t want to flip over.

but i usually recover real fast.

well, some guy behind me decides to pass. now, passing in general is not bad. but this fucker has the audacity to pass me on a DOUBLE-YELLOW LINE! and mind you, i was probably going 70 or something close to it (i may not have hit top speed yet.)

so i am pissed. really pissed. i hate being passed on country roads in the first place. i think people who do that are stupid. so i am flaming pissed, and decide i’m going to ride this fucker’s ass. because i don’t appreciate being passed like that. especially when you know, going any faster than i’m going is probably unsafe.

so i am riding his ass. and i near my turnoff. and there are cars in front (a big ol’ construction vehicle and a guy towing a jeep. so i slow my ass down. and i have my signal going.

well, this asshole slows down at the same time i do. and he swings out into the oncoming lane. and i flip him off as i make my turn. he sees me turn and pretty much tries to cut me off at the bend.

all right now. i am really pissed. so we’re playing this cat and mouse game kind of and he gets in front me and i stop because he’s basically trying to block my path.

so fucking asshole here, who probably feels his dick just shrank and fell off, swings a u-turn and we roll down our windows. and the cussing begins.

i am too pissed off to form any coherent thoughts and i basically tell him i don’t fucking appreciate the way he passed me. and he’s all up in a knot because i was tailing his ass. it’s very short and whatnot, but if i had the presence of mind, i would have pointed out the fact that he passed me ON A DOUBLE YELLOW LINE!

i was so pissed that i was ready to step out of my car and handle this shit ghetto-style. i had the following weapons within easy reach: the Club, a big ass thick metal ruler, a wicker basket full of shit, the headrest for one of my back seats (the seats were folded down because i had a bike in the back), and a glass soda bottle. i would have gone toe to toe with that fucker and i would have FUCKED HIM UP. i would have walked out of the car still in my shorts and t-shirt and ballet tights and beat the living shit out of him. cracked his kneecaps or something. (you know, nothing fatal.) i would have shown him why people do not fuck around with me. i do not play fair. i fight real dirty. i can handle shit ghetto-style if needed.

of course, i didn’t.

we went our own ways and i was still flaming pissed. note to all drivers out there: do not pass someone on a double-yellow line! and watch who you mess with. you may piss off someone who will tail your ass and scare the living shit out of you. and the person you piss off may be carrying improvisable weapons in the car.

turd asshole was driving a dark green toyota echo (probably one of the earliest models of the echo, maybe a 2001?). white dude with a tan, brown sort of spiky hair. either blue or green eyes (very light eyes). stocky-looking. looks like he works out. probably in his mid-30s to 40s. actually looks like one homeboy i know from sac city. and his echo looked like he’d gotten in a scrape (which would probably explain his asshole-style driving — people with messed-up cars always drive like jerks).

i hope that asshole runs off the road, hits a tree and dies.

(rant over.)

eff you, dmv.

i really hate incompetence, and today’s trip to the dmv just reminds me what a crock i think our government is.

so a month ago, i go to get california plates at the neighborhood dmv and think everything is fine. but i get a letter from them a week or so later saying that i need to provide either my old delaware registration card or some sort of proof of previous registration in delaware.

well, dammit, i gave the lady my delaware registration card. so i have no idea what’s going on and resolve to yell at someone at the dmv.

i finally get a chance to go there because i have to clear up a traffic citation (my license doesn’t have the right address — big effing deal … well, i guess it is to the chp). anyway, i get the citation cleared up and then ask about my registration.

man at counter: well, it appears that the registration card never got to them.

me: but i gave it to someone here. i was at window no. 24. (i happened to be at window no. 25 today).

man at counter: well, we have no way of knowing what happened to it.

(well, that’s a fucking comforting thought. oh, there’s nothing important on that card except my vin, name, old address, and what my goddamn car looks like. jerks.)

me: so what do i have to do?

man at counter: you’ve got to call the folks in delaware and they’ll send you a letter and you bring that back here with your stuff.

me: (pointing to large stack of registration papers in hand) can i just drop this off or something?

man at counter: no, you’ve got to get in line and come up to the counter and we’ll clear it up for you.

me: jesus. another inconvenience in my life. (walks away in a huff.)

incompetent bastards. haven’t you ever heard of using a fucking stapler?!

why should i have to inconvenience myself because you incompetent jackasses lost my registration card?!

[/rant]

bestest. weekend. ever.

ok, maybe not ever, but it was pretty damn cool and fun.

i just got back from bazaar bizarre this weekend in san mateo. big ol’ crafty extravaganza, if you’re not familiar with it. it was part of maker faire, which was geeky and cool in general, even though i didn’t get to walk much of the exhibits.

anyway, the sacramento craft mafia had a booth at bazbiz and of course, i was reppin’ hard core. i personally didn’t sell much (one wallet!), but the mafia as a whole did just fine, so that was nice. and i met oodles of people. and i got hooked up with a business opportunity (can’t say much about what it is yet) that would be freakin’ sweet.

so here is a sampling of my very first bazbiz (i hope to do it again ’cause really, it was awesome):

sacramento craft mafia booth.

sweet stuffed ham (yes, it’s a plush toy) from meat is sweet.

incredible-looking crocheted atari game set from jack rabbit.

free booty from lion brand yarn, who had a booth at bazbiz. dude, it was a wicked ton of yarn. big thanks to those guys.

there were a lot of exhibition/diy booths in the building, and i made this whale print at one of those booths. the interactive stuff was fun. making stuff is fun in general.

so yeah, lots of free stuff, great people and fun. can’t really beat that.

more pix on my flickr set.

what a whale.

sometimes i doodle at work. here is a doodle of a whale, inspired by the whales stranded in the port of sacramento.

poor whales.

the ticket fairy …

… shines upon me!

earlier this year, ed and i were lamenting about how we got shut out of usc season tickets again. you’d think that after a loss or two that the bandwagon might empty a little bit. but it didn’t. and we were left up a creek again.

until thursday.

ed found out we could get a “nickel package,” which was basically all the home games except for fucla. so we jumped on it. and got the tickets. (oh and got tix for jorge and another one of the rayos too).

sweet.

i’ll get to watch football after all.

vino bueno.

you got me over a barrel?

ok, these are actually wine barrels. lots and lots of wine barrels at frog’s leap winery in napa.

kim was in town for a couple of days, and we went to napa on wednesday. visited four wineries and drank wine all day. freakin’ sweet.

frog’s leap was our first stop, and they had the best tour. for reals. nice property, too. they were really nice and we even got to shoot hoops while slightly drunken at the end.

we then went to prager port works, where i bought an awesome riesling and was introduced to the joy of port (kim likes port … she insisted we go to prager).

we also went to louis m. martini and clos du val. and some nice ice cream joint in downtown napa where they had belgian dark chocolate port sauce.

yes, we were a little tipsy by the end of the day. but it was all good fun.

betting + horses = blah.

so the one year i decide not to place a win bet for the kentucky derby, my choice wins.

bastards.

i bet an exacta only this year and got only one half right. (my exacta was street sense and nobiz like showbiz — street sense won.)

oh well … that’s the way the game goes.

at least i made some cash from a craft show i did today … and i bought the cutest stuffed owl on earth (he’s the brown one):