You have a beautiful egg

Here, read this Slate story "Did Human Pregnancy Evolve Because of an Infection?". You're not gonna read it, so I'll tell you what it's about:

HOW COME PEOPLE HAVE LIVE BABIES AND DON'T LAY MOTHERFUCKING EGGS.

Holy shit. MIND BLOWN. Can you fucking IMAGINE if people laid eggs? So, you'd like have labor and birth after a few months of being pregnant and then PLOP, "OK!! Here's your egg!" and then you'd leave the hospital with a pamphlet called "Caring for Your Egg" and it would have stuff like "It's best to wrap your egg in an electric blanket at night, especially if you live in a cold climate." No, even better, people would sell EGG COZIES on Etsy and you could get one with your baby's name on it.

For some reason, I'm picturing them about a foot-and-half tall and maybe 15, 20 pounds. Don't ask me about how that gets out, biologically. Gross.

There would totally be anti-abortion groups called, like, Don't Crack That Egg and Americans for Egg Integrity (AEI). And a whole underground of people who would like dispose of your egg if you didn't want it. There would, naturally, be a snuff film black market underground of people who ate human eggs and said they were "delicious, if a little gamey."

Custom shell-painting. Nuf said.

People would bitch about mothers who carried their eggs with them everywhere and they gave them an extra seat at the movie theater because they just couldn't stand to be away from their egg for a second. They'd be called "Penguin Parents" because they never leave their eggs alone. Other parents are happy to sometimes leave their eggs at the Egg Watchery at the mall while they go shop for hatching supplies, but not Penguin Parents.

Southwest, however, makes you buy an extra seat on the plane for your egg.

Don't even get me started on the people who hatch at home. SO UNSAFE.

Today in Giants/Bachelorette News

WORLDS COLLIDING. Take it away, Us Magazine:

Bachelorette contestant Ben Flajnik may not have earned Ashley Hebert's final rose, but that doesn't mean he's sworn off dating forever.



In fact, a source tells Us Weekly the 28-year-old winemaker went out for drinks with Jennifer Love Hewitt last week in San Francisco. "She began pursuing him right after the finale aired," a source tells Us of the Can't Hardly Wait actress, 32.

Incidentally, isn't "Us Magazine" the weirdest name for a magazine about celebrities? They're not "us" at all! They're them!!! I think I kind of assumed that "Us" stood for "U.S.," like the United States of Celebrities or something, but I have no idea if that's right. If it's just "us," like you and me, that's fucked up.



BACK TO THE MATTER AT HAND. Ben F. from the Bachelorette going out for drinks with the winsome Jennifer Love Hewitt is only a 1-star story. IT GETS SO MUCH BETTER THOUGH.

Indeed, Hewitt hasn't been shy about showing her love for Flajnik, who placed second behind JP Rosenbaum on The Bachelorette's August 1 finale. "Omg! Ben f except my final rose!!! Gotta book a flight to Sonoma !!!:):)" Hewitt Tweeted August 2. And when the pair cozied up at San Francisco's Lion's Pub four days later, the actress was similarly smitten.



Though Flajnik initially stopped by the bar with San Francisco Giants player Cody Ross, he made a beeline for Hewitt after spotting her from across the room.

HOLD THE PHONE. So Ben just happened to be out with his boy, weak-hitting Giants outfielder Cody Ross, when he stopped by known Lower Pac Heights Dudebro Cruise Pit Lion Pub (not "Lion's Pub," but who's counting) and then just happened to espy Jennifer Love Hewitt who just happened to be trolling for spiky-haired popped-collared Chads at Lion's Pub? WHAT.



I have a few questions.



1. So when you're the second-place finisher on the Bachelorette and you're walking off the set, they just hand you phone numbers of professional athletes? Or did formerly-effective lineup-saddening Cody Ross (+ wife Summer Ross, I assume) just like the cut of Ben's jib so much that they called up the Guy Who Has Everyone's Number and say "Hey, put me in touch with Ben F. from the Bachelorette. I needs to hit up some Fruity Drink Palaces with that boy"? Is that how it works?



2. And Jennifer Love Hewitt was just hanging out at Lion Pub? What was she, just back from visiting the Party of Five house? (2311 Broadway, if you're curious. About a 10 minute walk from Lion Pub.)



3. You know what's good about Lion Pub? Here, let Jessica C. from San Mateo tell you: "I asked the Gorgeous Bartender what to order. He made me the most amazing Watermelon Vodka drink! It was crushed up watermelon and vodka. What more could you ask for." NOTHING, JESSICA C. YOU COULD ASK FOR NOTHING MORE THAN CRUSHED UP WATERMELON AND VODKA FROM A GORGEOUS BARTENDER.



4. This isn't really a question, but Jen, sweetheart, I assume you meant "accept my final rose," not "except my final rose." Either one is weird, but only the former comes close to being grammatically correct. Ugh, I just turned into a guy who corrects people's spelling on the Internet. UGH I JUST CORRECTED JENNIFER LOVE HEWITT'S SPELLING ON THE INTERNET. HIT ME IN THE FACE. I EXCEPT THIS PUNISHMENT.



Fast forward to the next day:

Hewitt seemed ecstatic the morning after. Although she didn't mention her date by name, she Tweeted Sunday: "Morning lovelys! I got lost in the most amazing sat! Just when you think u can't be surprised.... You are and it's awesome!"

SOMEBODY GOT LAID.



And apropos of nothing except this struck me as funny:

Somebody doesn't like Cliff

2 blog posts in one day! I'm turning into Mission Mission over here.

Anyways, whilst out walking the dog yesterday, I came across this curious artifact on the sidewalk:

(Last name redacted in case Cliff isn't really a drunk driver or violent felon.)

WTF? It's one of those peel-off stickers that someone hasn't peeled off yet. Is this the Worst Nametag Ever or was someone planning on an Anti-Cliff campaign in my hood?

We walked another block and THERE WAS ANOTHER ONE, also not peeled. I picked 'em up, for sure. They'll be a hoot at parties.

The Wife found another one this morning when she was walking the dog. What the fuck is going on?

Insomnia, what a pain in the fucking ass

I had terrible insomnia last night. I almost never have problems sleeping. This was the worst case I've ever had. Could a second cup of coffee at 9 a.m. really render me unable to sleep at 11:30 p.m.? Is that even possible? Because that's the only thing I can think of that could have caused it. I must have the caffeine sensitivity of a white rat.

Anyway, the thing that sucks so much about insomnia is that it's SO BORING. There's nothing to do but lie there and think. I tried my usual falling asleep games:

Cities A-Z: Albuquerque, Butte, Coral Gables, Denver, El Paso.... I feel like I've played this one so many times that I keep using the same cities and it gets too repetitive. So I switched to:

Movies A-Z: Apocalypse Now, Bad News Bears, Chinatown, Death of a Salesman (that must have been a movie at some point, right? I gave myself credit for that).

At around 1:30 a.m., the dog got fed up with my tossing and turning and left to go sleep in the front room.

At around the same time, the bar down the street and around the corner had last call, I guess, so a group of about 8 guys was gathered on the sidewalk near my house smoking and YELLING at each other. Does this happen every night and I just sleep through it?

At 2:00 a.m., I turned the light on and read for a while.

At 2:30, I turned the light off. "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People was now stuck in my head on infinite replay. It's an insanely catchy song, but not exactly what you want running through your head OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER when you want to go to sleep. Just hearing it right now is making me feel kind of queasy and desperate.

At 3:00, I started rationalizing. "If I can fall asleep by 3:30, that'll give me 3 hours of sleep. That should be fine. People with new babies get less than that all the time and nobody dies."

Around 4:00, the dog came back in and got back in bed with me.

I fell asleep sometime after 4:00 and had a dream that I was helping a girl pour champagne for a party in my rec room. I lived in a house with a rec room in this dream.

I woke up at 6:20, 10 minutes before the alarm went off.

Other than some clearly noticeable bags under my eyes, I actually don't feel that bad. But I cannot figure out WTF happened. Weird.

The Mystery of the Sad Bike

About a month and a half ago (I want to say mid-February; it was close to then) somebody locked this bike to a pole in front of my house:


They never came back for it. There is sat, sadly, through the pounding rains of March and into April. Sometimes it would slide down the pole and sort of go cross-ways sticking out into the street and somebody would push it back up again. After a while, I started to idly wonder if I should do something about it, but it wasn't really bothering me and then it sort of seemed like a good experiment: What happens to a bike that is locked to a pole and then forgotten forever? I was wondering if it would slowly rust and degrade and eventually melt into the ground, like a very slow-motion ice sculpture or something.

Plus, I was hoping that it was bothering my parking-space hogging, garage-renting ridiculous request making neighbors, since it's more in front of their garage than my house. A man can dream!

And so it went, until this past Saturday. Whilst cleaning my house, I happened to glance out the window and THERE WAS A GIRL RIDING AWAY ON THE BIKE. I told The Wife excitedly about this development and she was all "What bike?" and I was all "You know, the bike that's been locked in front of the house for the past month and a half" and she gave me one of those looks that she gives me that looks like how you would look at someone who told you they were being abducted by aliens and subjected to strange tests. "Oh," she said.

I thought it was a pretty big development.

BUT WAIT. It gets better. Yesterday, I come outside and THE BIKE IS BACK. Locked to its customary pole.

WHAT THE FUCK. First of all, who leaves a bike chained to a pole for a month and a half, through pouring rain and freezing temperatures, comes back, rides it around for one day, and then locks it back to the same pole? WHO DOES THAT. Is that weird?

(Also, it's kind of amazing that no part of the bike has yet to be stolen. I live in a pretty safe neighborhood, but I didn't think it was THAT SAFE. Some places, this bike wouldn't last 15 minutes, let alone 7 weeks.)

Is this ridiculous? This seems ridiculous.

As part of my ongoing quest to try and figure out whether it's Me or Everybody Else, I present to you my latest quandary (which I happened to Twitter about yesterday): The Case of the Annoyingly Intrusive Garage Neighbor and Her Ridiculous Request.

Regular followers are already familiar with Annoying Garage Neighbor, as I have written before about her taking up the parking spaces in front of my house that aren't even in front of her garage. Maybe she figured out that was a total dick move, because now she only monopolizes one of the spaces full-time instead of two. Anyway.

(Basic story: She started renting the garage but instead of parking a car there she hangs out there sometimes and does God knows what. Sometimes there's hammering and loud music.)

ANYWAY, yesterday The Wife and I are coming out of our house on the way to go see "The Adjustment Bureau" (not bad, but might as well wait for DVD) and Annoying Neighbor is out there and she's all "Do you guys have a wireless network?" And she had just been interrupting my enjoyment of a 48 Hours Mystery on TLC bumping her shitty disco music so I was already irritated at having to interact w/ her. I go, "Yeah," and we're heading down the stairs and she goes "I was wondering if I could get on your network so I could work on some homework while I'm over here."

First of all, I don't know what kind of "homework" she does or why she can't do it in her own fucking house, but anyway, here's the point:

Isn't that a bizarrely intrusive request to make of someone you don't really know? I mean, really? Why don't I just give you the passwords to my bank account and email and you can just feel free to browse through those any time you want? Or maybe you'll just go Single White Female on us and change our password and lock us out of the network. Anyway, it's fucking weird, isn't it? I can't fathom asking someone I don't know something like that.

So I didn't really know how to react to this insane request and mumbled something about how it's a secure network and she goes "Well, I assume everyone has a secure network." Well OK then Miss Thing! You assumed right! I don't remember exactly what I said because the whole situation was so weird and now growing oddly confrontational and I was already going away to my Happy Place instead of staying focused so the only other thing I remember was her saying something about how she'd give us some money and I was like walking away and going "I don't think so," and then I said "Thanks," for some reason but I was already halfway down the block.

I don't know. Maybe this is totally normal and you'd gladly let the Parking Space Manipulator next door glom on to your wi-fi, but I really don't want someone strolling through my Personal Shit, someone I don't even know. Is that ridiculous?

(Then I couldn't really enjoy "The Adjustment Bureau" 100% because I was thinking about this whole weird interaction. Also, I hate going to movies on opening weekend. It's always too crowded and there are people wandering in 5 minutes after the start time and bumping around trying to find a place to sit and the whole thing's just annoying.)

ANYWAY.

UPDATE!!!!!!!!: Leslie might be in the running for Comment of the Year Award:

But you can’t because there is some garage-renting pop tart streaming episodes of Gossip Girl while she hammers away at some sort of Trojan Horse Armageddon Machine intended to exact revenge on her ex-boyfriend. Is a crumpled up ten dollar bill that smells like Clinique Happy at the end of the month going to satisfy you?

The next time you want to be this funny, Leslie, why don't you do it on your own goddam blog and stop making me look lame by comparison? OKAY????

Also, Chester has some intriguing technical ideas that are so far beyond the realm of what I'm capable of that they might as well involve building a rocket ship from household cleaning products or doing open heart surgery. But thanks, Chester! Oh, and FYI, it's not my garage; it's the garage immediately next door. We share a common wall, sort of.

Please forgive this brief foray into football

I don't usually write about football because I don't watch as much as I used to, having converted to baseball starting about 10 years ago when I first joined a Giants season ticket group. I leave football to Daisy. But this was just too hilarious.

[NOTE: The rest of this post will only make sense if you're an NFL fan in general and a 49ers fan in particular.]

From a Q&A with new Niners Head Coach/Franchise Jesus Jim Harbaugh, in today's 'Gate:

Q: What is your prototypical quarterback?

Harbaugh: "First of all, a competitive guy that's a winner, somebody that has great athletic instincts, somebody who is very accurate throwing the football, a quick-minded guy who can think fast on his feet and can make decisions quickly, someone who has leadership ability, an understanding of timing and can make really good decisions."

Q: Is potential free agent Alex Smith someone in the mix?

Harbaugh: "Yes, Alex Smith is definitely in it."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Wait, does Harbaugh not know who Alex Smith is? The total fucking bust who everyone agrees has no future with the 49ers? The one who failed when given chance after chance after chance? He's "definitely in it"?

Let me translate for you, in case you're not a football fan. Here, I found this Q&A with the Director of the Museum of Modern Art:

Q: What do you look for when purchasing a work of fine art?

A: It must have a bold vision and something to say. It should be edgy and dangerous and challenge your perceptions of what art is, but must also have an inherent beauty that can't be quantified or explained. It must speak to the soul, as well as the eyes.

Q: Is art by Thomas Kinkade in the mix?

A: Yes, Thomas Kinkade is definitely in it.

I certainly hope this is some bullshit that's part of Harbaugh's master plan, because if he's serious, and you're a 49ers fan, be very fucking afraid.

World Series Game 2: Are you fucking kidding me?

What the fucking fuck???

Remember your San Francisco Giants? They're the plucky, gritty, grind-em-out team of nobodies and castoffs. They scrape for every run, barely pulling out 1-0 and 2-1 wins. Their only hope is to keep games close and maybe pull it out due to their superior pitching.

So who the fuck are these guys? Yeah, the superior pitching is there, but HOLY SHIT WHAT'S GOING ON WITH ALL THE RUNS?

I've never been to a World Series game before last night. Here are my observations:

1. It's very crowded. VERY crowded. The listed capacity of AT&T is 41,000-something, and they announced that last night's attendance was 43K plus. All those people gotta pee at the same time. I waited in the bathroom line for a whole inning. Needless to say, I held it the rest of the game. Interestingly, The Wife reports that she cruised right into the Ladies'. At most Giants games, the M/F ratio is close to 50/50. It did seem like it was more 60/40 last night.

2. It's very fucking loud.


3. As you can see, our seats weren't anything to write home about, but they did have one specific feature I was looking for: they were inside the park during a World Series game.

4. There's a lot more standing up than in regular season games. Every time one of the Giants batted with anyone on base, everyone stood up. Any time Matt Cain had 2 outs, everyone stood up. And so on. Oh, and for God Bless America, natch. This Army chick sang it like she wanted to get dirty with America. After her come-to-me rendition, America must have been fanning itself and saying "DAMN, GIRL."

4. They didn't jack up the prices of any concessions, which is nice. The souvenir stands were fucking mobbed, though. Don't you guys know you can get all that shit at the Dugout Store any day of the week? Don't spend your WS waiting in line.

5. The scene outside afterward was crazy. Woo girls sticking out of the tops of limos, people yelling and jumping around, mandatory high-fiving, the whole 9. We took one look at the Muni stop and said "Fuck that" and walked up to Thirsty Bear and had a couple of drinks and some apps and then got on Muni around 9:30. I would recommend that procedure to others in the future.

You can read about the game itself in any number of reputable media outlets. All I will say is that it seemed like it was going to be one of those classic Giants nailbiters until that unbelievable, crazy fucking 8th inning with the walks and the walks and the walks and then AARON FUCKING ROWAND, who has been showing up in the playoffs, no doubt, doubling in 2. These big innings are a new thing for the Giants but I could learn to like them.

On to Arlington, where Bushes I and II will throw out the first pitch Sunday. Oh, Rangers, well-played. You know just how to fuck with us.

Finally, I'm going to address Top Tweets. Well, one in particular.

I kinda feel bad about making fun of the Top Tweets. It's like shooting fish in a barrel and I like to think I have standards. If you read the TTs, you know what I mean. They're a mashup of the most mindless, trite, inane platitudes, Bieber news, bad jokes, stupid quotes, and endlessly repeated memes about how Facebook is for the people you went to high school with and Twitter is for the people you wish you went to high school with and BLAH BLAH BLAH IT'S SO STUPID MY BRAIN JUST FUCKING EXPLODED.

So I resisted writing about it. But I can't take it any more. Here's the one that pushed me over the edge:


This is one of the "Top Tweets" in America right now.

OK, let's unpack this a little. Kirk Franklin is a gospel singer, Christian rapper, and sometime porn addict. Many of the most inane Top Tweets are vaguely religiously-themed, so that makes sense. But this one is just too much.

Let's start at the beginning. Kirk opens his thought with "Late lunch on your boy." WTF? I thought this might be some slang I'm not hip to so I looked up "late lunch" on Urbandictionary.com and the only definition is "When a guy walks past you while you're making a sandwich in the late afternoon and asks, 'Late lunch?', then walks into the toilet and proceeds to take a very loud dump." That doesn't make any sense. And it doesn't seem to have anything to do with this Tweet.

TELL ME, KIRK FRANKLIN, WHAT DOES "LATE LUNCH ON YOUR BOY" MEAN?

Moving on. "You will NEVER out sin-God's grace." I think he meant "out-sin God's grace," unless there's a new God in town and his name is "Sin-God," which would kind of fucking rock. ANYWAY. I guess that means that no matter what kind of depraved, vile, digusting thing you do, God will always forgive. Good news if you're Kirk Franklin! Oh, sorry, Kirk Franklin. That was a low blow.

But seriously, that's gotta be the killer app of Christianity. Fuck up however you want! There are no consequences! God will forgive you for ANYTHING! I think I'd prefer it if God held a grudge sometimes. Might cut down on the general douchebaggery afflicting the world.

"the mistake you made, He saw it before you did it." LITTLE HELP NEXT TIME, GOD. You could say, "WHOA, MR. .23 BLOOD ALCOHOL, TRY TAKING A CAB INSTEAD OF DRIVING" or "DON'T STEP ON THAT LAND MINE!" or "DON'T CRUCIFY THAT GUY, IT WILL CAUSE PERSECUTION FOR MILLENIA." I'm not asking for much here, God.

I have to stop reading these things.

The rising epidemic of Oakland animal "super-predators"

Oakland Police are gravely concerned, and justifiably so, about a new terror stalking the streets of the Bay Area's sixth most popular city: marauding attack animals, bent on killing humans for the sheer thrill of it.

We first noticed the trend several months ago, when Oakland Police cornered "Bambizzle," a small deer that was menacing an East Oakland neighborhood. OPD finally cornered the deer and managed to subdue it with seven shots from a .40-cal Glock. Fortunately, they were able to quell the threat before the deer killed again. We may never know the exact number of victims it claimed.

Artist's depiction of "Bambizzle," with suspected companion "T-Thump."

Anyone who thought that was the end of the Animals' War on Oaklanders was wrong, very wrong. Why, just yesterday, Oakland Police bravely brought down "Gloria," an arthritic, 11-year-old yellow Lab, who was obviously threatening their lives. This wild predator is now off the streets of Oakland. Or out of her backyard, whatever.

LET THIS BE A LESSON TO YOU, YOU FUCKING SQUIRRELS: Get anywhere near this picnic blanket and we will open up a fucking WATERFALL OF LEAD on your and your punk-ass companions. SAME FOR YOU, CHIPMUNKS.

TK meets the candidates. One of them, anyway. Oh, and goes to the Post Office.

Two days ago, I got a Visit from a Candidate at my home. See, in case you don't know, in San Francisco we elect supervisors by district and the districts aren't all that huge and in some cases (like for me, 2 days ago), you get an actual candidate knocking on your door with his campaign manager.

My dog was going FUCKING APESHIT and the candidate just smiled and laughed. I shut the little freak inside and went out on the porch and talked to the candidate. He was super nice. He wanted to know what issues concerned me the most. I had a moment of panic, like getting called on in class, because I hadn't prepared anything. Finally, I went with the standard SF answer, Muni. He agreed that Muni was fucked up, although he didn't use those exact words.

Meanwhile, directly over the candidate's shoulder, a recycling poacher was torso-deep in my neighbor's recycling bin, digging out bottles. I had kind of zoned out at that point and wasn't paying attention and I interrupted the candidate.

"What about recycling poachers?" I asked.

The candidate and his campaign manager looked startled and confused. I pointed behind them and they both looked at the recycling poacher. The recycling poacher paused momentarily and looked back at us.

"I'm not sure," said the candidate. "Walk me through it." So I explained that not only are they are fucking pain in the ass with the breaking bottles and smashing cans at 11:30 p.m., they're also taking money out of the city's pocket that it needs to sustain the recycling program. The candidate confessed that recycling poaching wasn't really Issue Number One on his radar, but promised to look into it.

So we all chatted for about 15 minutes about all kinds of stuff and he basically sold me. Me and The Wife are going to vote for him. I don't agree with everything he said, but he seems like a smart and normal person, which is more than you can say for most supervisors.

Oh, and how about this? Yesterday, there was a handwritten note in my mailbox from the candidate telling me he was looking into the recycling thing. I mean, that's pretty intense.

(If you live in District 8 and want to know who this wunderkind is, email me and I'll tell you.)

In other news, had to send some Important Documents via Certified Mail and so I fetched myself down to the Civic Center Post Office located in the beautiful Fox Plaza. This place is a Hotbed of The Crazy, let me tell you.

I'll set the scene for you: 2 bored, slow-moving clerks. 10 people or so in line. Well, "people" doesn't really do it justice. 10 of the most random, odd-looking circus freaks/escapees from a Bukowski novel you'll ever hope to see.

Freak #1 is mid-60s, bushy hair and beard, blue knit cap. He tosses a cardboard box up on the counter with the flaps folded down. Like you can just cross the flaps on any old torn-up cardboard box and send it off through the U.S. Mails.

The clerk examined it. "Sir, there's no address on this."

That's right! Not only did homeboy bring it in a falling-apart box that wasn't taped up, he forgot to address it. He got sent away with a roll of tape and, presumably, some basic instructions about how mail works. Just because you know who you want to send it to doesn't mean the Post Office knows!!!!

I'm not even going to get into the guy who had an argument with the Head Clerk about whether she should have let the Other Clerk go on break or not, or the guy who was paying with his debit card and the Clerk said, "OK, now your PIN," and the guy said "EIGHT...FIVE-" and the Clerk said "NO! No, just enter it on the keypad." Seriously, first time out with the debit card?

And in today's distressing polling news

About a third of the people polled by Time magazine think Obama's a Muslim. 46% of Republicans do. Wrap your head around that for a minute.

(It occurs to me that there's probably a huge amount of overlap between people that think this and people who thought Obama was under the thrall of Jeremiah Wright. You can't have it both ways, people. Either he's a Wright-Christian or a Muslim. Pick your poison.)

(You know what else about the whole Jeremiah Wright thing? Who the fuck listens in church? You and I both know Obama was sitting there going "Just 25 more minutes and I can get home and watch the fucking Bears. Oh God will this guy ever shut the fuck up.")

Muslims have to pray like 6 times a day and there's a whole thing with a rug and pointing towards Mecca and whatnot and do you think for a second that the President of the United States could get away with this without someone noticing and going "Oh, hey, I wonder why the President kneels down on his little rug with the Presidential seal 6 times a day. What's up with that?" The White House Press Corps is so far up his ass that they can report on what he had for breakfast based on personal observation from inside his duodenum. You think they're going to whiff on him worshipping Allah? Bitch please.

Personally, I don't want my President to be any religion at all. The last thing I want is for the one person who can destroy the planet to believe that the Afterlife is a good place to be. Fuck that, I want him to think that This Life is the best and should be preserved at all costs.

That being said, my best guess is that, religion-wise, Obama is probably like a lot of guys his age who went to Columbia undergrad and Harvard Law - basically agnostic, but goes to church because it's expected in his social circle. And if I'm right, FINE BY ME.

I guess we shouldn't be surprised. 48% of people believe in ghosts. LOOK OUT WHAT'S THAT BEHIND YOU!?! Just kidding, there's nothing behind you. 23% of people believe in "witches," whatever the fuck that means.

BUT WAIT! It gets even better! I love this shit:

When Americans are asked to identify the country from which America gained its independence, 76% correctly name Great Britain. A handful, 2%, think America's freedom was won from France, 3% mention some other country (including Russia, China, and Mexico, among others named), while 19% are unsure.

19% are unsure! Love it. That roughly correlates with the 18% who think the Sun revolves around the Earth. Teach the controversy, I say!

Why am I blathering on about this? I don't know. Let's go get a drink. It's Friday.

Who says San Francisco is expensive?

Got $450? Welcome to San Francisco!

$450 / 1br - Renting out down stairs (San Francisco)

Renting out down stairs
single large bedroom
one bathroom
one kitchen
plenty parking space

if interested, please call 415-879-1691
for English speakers, please call 415-608-8498

I like how this implies that the first number is for people who speak....what?? Your guess, I suppose.

Anyway, it's at 32 Flora in the Bayview. I think it's the one with the RV in front.




There'a always something creepy about an RV parked in front, isn't there?

But in the annals of the truly inexplicable, this one takes the cake.

$550 / 1br - Room for rent with bodybuilding (visitacion valley)

$ 550 Room for rent with bodybuilding, I have a nice 1 ½ room available, very nice place to live with laundry and stores on the same street. Parking behind gate for 1 car, I am a very easy going guy that lives a discipline life style with bodybuilding. I am looking for someone who lives straight life styles that pays there bills on time and the place is yours. High speed internet. The room is not real big but I have extra room also that come with the room that you can store a lot of things.

$550 + $50 Utilities each month
$350 Deposit

Where to begin. First of all, I'm not clear if the room comes with bodybuilding equipment or a bodybuilder. Second, there's the matter of the "discipline life style," but if that's your thing, more power to you. And I'm not sure I want to see the "lot of things" that are being stored in that extra room. On the other hand, high speed internet!

Oh shit, I almost forgot the best part! Thankfully, the bodybuilder has provided some snaps of your new room. Check 'em out!



I know what you're thinking: "Where do I sign?"

Someone made a malmistake! Or a corrupticon!

From the otherwise drab ""FTC Says Scammers Stole Millions, Using Virtual Companies":

The U.S. Federal Trade Commission has disrupted a long-running online scam that allowed offshore fraudsters to steal millions of dollars from U.S. consumers -- often by taking just pennies at a time.

The scam, which had been run for about four years years, according to the FTC, provides a case lesson in how many of the online services used to lubricate business in the 21st century can equally be misused for fraud.

"It was a very patient scam," said Steve Wernikoff, a staff attorney with the FTC who is prosecuting the case. "The people who are behind this are very valmeticulous."

Wait a second. Did you just say "valmeticulous"? What does that mean, like extra meticulous, or like the evil version of meticulous? Like James Bond villains are especially valmeticulous, right?

Oh, wait, never mind. Looks like it's some kind of fuckup and not a real word. That sucks! I wanted to be valmeticulous too.

Today in Missed Connections

Need help! Any Stanford Students? - 32 (NYC, NY)

Hi, I am looking for Stanford Univ. students, who can help over 100 thousand people out of the chaos.
What you have to do is just verify a couple information which will be provided thru email.
If you want to be a hero, please reply. Thank you.

Location: NYC, NY
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Are you a Stanford student? Well, why don't you help this guy out? Are you some kind of a douche, or don't you want to help 100 thousand people out of the chaos? Why don't you think about somebody besides yourself for once? C'mon, you can verify a couple information thru email, can't you?

I'm tempted to write this guy. I'm not a Stanford student, but I like helping people out of the chaos. Is it 5 yet? Can I have a beer at my desk? That would be bad, wouldn't it.

Have a nice weekend. Don't eat too much cake.

Today in Missed Connections

Programming note: None of these links will work about a week from now. Time is ephemeral. Seek peace within.

Outside of Serpentine's - m4w (potrero hill)

God, I fucking HATE IT when people put an unnecessary apostrophe-"s" on the end of a restaurant name. It's just SERPENTINE, OK? Not every fucking restaurant name ends in 's. It's not A16's or Spruce's or Slanted Door's or Maverick's, OK?

"The National" show at the Fox theater - m4w - 32 (oakland downtown)

You were there at the show with a date, he barely spoke to you the entire night... We had a nice couple of chats. I attempted to direct you to this site at the end of the show but I don't think it registered with you, but what the hey...

Damn, dude, you tried to pick up a chick when she was already on a date with someone else? That's pretty ballsy.

Has anyone gotten into The National's new album yet? I've only heard a few songs and I was like "Yeah, OK."

Stork Club - m4w (oakland downtown)

bartender, U R so hott.i want to pull ur white stripe and hit u until you love me.

What's with the who now? Does "white stripe" have some kind of sexual connotation I'm not aware of? What could this possibly mean?

Also, if this ad is successful, you should 100% rethink your dating strategy.

The Bachelorette: Froggy Went a-Courtin'

Ali Fedotowsky is a beautiful, willowy creature with bad extensions and a dress that looks like it has a pie plate attached to the ass. Instead of finding love like the rest of us do - over shots of Wild Turkey at last call or on Adultfriendfinder.com - she has become the Bachelorette, which means that she has a future making $1000 appearances at Tao Las Vegas or hosting a video game show on G4. She's from San Francisco in the sense that she's one of those chicks that moves here after college, fucks an I-Banker, throws up in the bathroom at City Tavern, and talks about how much she loooooooooves San Francisco until she moves back East 2 years later and starts having kids and voting Republican.

So in last night's premiere (amongst the obligatory shots of Al sitting at Crissy Field and staring REAL HARD into middle distance), we got the recap of how she found True Love with Jake on the Bachelor only to fall victim to that quintessential 21st Century illness, My Job Comes First, and take off only to realize she had made a terrible error after Facebook gave her extra vacation time and said they wouldn't fire her but by then it was too late and Jake had moved on to Fetal Alcohol Syndrome Vienna, who, to get a little tangential, is a hot mess who took all her ex's money for a boob job, and BOY AM I SURPRISED.

SO ANYWAY. We meet the guys. Do all guys except for me have terrible hair now or what happened here? The majority of them are just generic douches, like you couldn't see that coming. Lots of dead relatives this year! There was Phil, who spends his time staring at a picture of his dead brother. His ideal date would be visiting his dead brother's grave and talking about his dead brother. No, I'm shitting you, it would be "dinner on the deck of a yacht at sea followed by swimming, then soaking in a hot tub, looking at the stars while drinking champagne." Obvi!

Then there was Chris L. He moved back to Cape Cod to help his Dad out when his Mom was dying. Awwww. Then his Mom died. That's sad! Then Ali asked him if his parents were still together and he said "Yes," which I take to mean that his father sleeps next to his mother's mummified corpse. What?

I would be remiss if I didn't mention Jay, who obviously watchesd old episodes of "Three's Company" for cues on his look, which is the only way to explain the feathered-back hair. All he needs is a cop 'stache and a Camaro and he could clean up in 1976.

I don't even want to get into Rated R at this stage.

No, we need to devote all our attention now to Kasey.



Kasey looks pretty normal, no? In fact, he was identified by the women on our panel as maybe the best-looking one. And then it happened. He opened his mouth and spoke.

zOMG WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK!!11!1!!!one!!1!. He sounds like a frog trapped inside the body of a deaf person trapped inside the Well of Souls. I have never heard a sound like that. Admirably, Ali refrained from screaming or going "What the fuck is up with your voice" and even kept a straight face when he opened with "My Dad cheated on my Mom," like Is that really what you say to someone you just met? (Although I guess overshare was the order of the day, what with "Shooter's" little tale of premature ejaculation earning him a quick trip to the door, DUH.) So Ali and the Frog Prince bonded over their shared history of Broken Homes and I just can't wait to hear him talk some more.

What else? Oh, she kept Frank, who popped out of the roof of the limo like he was on his way to prom and in fact probably was like last year because he appears to be about 19 and also jacked up on the methamphetamines. And that douchey guy with the Wall of Hair. He's gonna be fun.

I am somewhat disappointed in the way "Lost" seems to be wrapping up. (Don't read this if you haven't seen last night's episode, duh)

I'm not saying anything that everyone else isn't saying, but let me just say it again:

FUCK.

So last night we learned that they OFFICIALLY GAVE UP. I was really excited to find out how time travel and weird magnetic shit and everything else was going to have some kind of cool explanation - my bet was on something quantum physics-related - and we get a magic fucking cave. FUCK YOU VERY MUCH. I could have come up with that. MY FUCKING DOG COULD HAVE COME UP WITH THAT, AND HE THINKS THE VACUUM CLEANER IS A SENTIENT EVIL BEING.

I mean, Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof or WHATEVER YOUR NAMES ARE, you could have sat down with a couple of physicists and FUCKING STEPHEN KING FOR ALL I CARE and said, a little sheepishly, "Look, we fucked up and put all these balls in the air and now we don't know how to get them down. You guys know about science and about plotting, so could you figure out a NONMAGICAL way to get them down that is SOMEHWAT PLAUSIBLE?"

But no. They punted and we got a magic cave. FUCK RIGHT FUCKING OFF.

Porn at work: No.

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Random thoughts on that movie award thing they had last night

- Quentin, man, wait until after the show. That cocaine's not going to get stale in 3 hours.

- I previously wrote about "The Hurt Locker" and how I think it's kind of overrated, but THANK GOD that won and not "Avatar." I know it's cool to hate on "Avatar" now and I'm not trying to jump on any bandwagon or anything, but man was that a bad movie. The 3-D was cool enough, I guess, but all those people who say it was like watching someone else play a Wii game for 2 1/2 hours are right on. Any movie that has the line "You're not in Kansas anymore" should be automatically disqualified.

- What the fuck was Sean Penn going on about? "I never became an official member of the Academy, but the Academy and I do have in common that we neglected to acknowledge the same actress in our own ways two years running. So I'm going to start fresh with the Academy and acknowledge these wonderful actresses." OK then!

- Those fucking speeches before the Best Actor and Best Actress awards: kill me now.

- "At Vanity Fair's bash at West Hollywood's Sunset Tower Hotel, a string of celebrities, including Lenny Kravitz and Jon Voight, sought out [snowboarder Shaun] White." Sometimes "celebrities" should be in quotes.

- This is the funniest thing I read all night, after (I think) the winner for cinematography said his parents came from Italy "with four suitcases and a dream":

Molls, you crack me up.