Monthly Archives: March 2007

Going Goth

Going Goth

I’m such the wannabe bad ass. I got sick of seeing my roots show through the red chunky streaks. It was time for a repair job. Unfortunately, the last time I had dyed my hair myself, I was a freshman in college. Yovanni helped me apply the “red currant” Natural Instincts. I remember I was supposed to leave it in for like 20 minutes. Instead, I did an hour. No fucking change whatsoever. Was a huge disappointment.

So this time, I anticipated similar problems. The lady at the store recommended the dark brown, even though my natural color was black. Fine, whatever. So I left it in for maybe 35 minutes. Turns out 35 was way too long. The result? Initially, I was pleasantly surprised by the uniform color and wonderful luster. But after I dried my hair, I could see, this “dark brown” was like goth black. It was weird: the hair had shine but something just looked off. But what could I do? The dye was permanent. No turning back.

The next day, I was stunned: many of the guys at work (there are only three women) noticed. Not in any flattering kind of way, but whatever. Who would have expected any comment at all, particularly since no one said a thing when I’d gone to work with uneven blond/orange chunks in January. My friend Derek was horrified. Gotta give it to him for being brutally honest, “OMG! What did you do to your hair? It’s so unnatural!” Uh hello, newsflash: did you think random red highlights was natural? Please. After his comment, I starting feeling a bit self-conscious. What if the strong black washed me out? I dunno. But when I got home and looked, it was fine. Yes, very obviously different, but black was black. As a joke, I considered punking it all out– wearing all black and putting on the combat boots, thumb rings, nose rings, and doing the black eyeliner. In the end, I was too lazy for it. Oh well, the take away lesson here? Going darker with permanent color works very well. Lighter– maybe not so well, but darker, watch the process time.

Hmm, I can really see myself getting hooked with hair coloring… so much easier than wardrobe or body changes.

Weekend Roundup

Weekend Roundup

Believe it or not, I’m actually in a decent mood today. The weekend was really good– after what had felt like weeks of incessant fighting, John and I finally called a truce and we had a really nice weekend hanging out. Certainly, the discovery of a good Chinese restaurant helped. I know, you’d think tasty Chinese would be a cinch in this area, but let me tell you, we’ve hit so many bombs it’s not even funny. Frankly, I’d given up on finding decent Chinese. But man, Oceanic was awesome: we ordered enough to feed a village (of course, for us it only lasted two meals). Tomato beef, lemon chicken, mu-shu pork, fried rice… And I got to bust out with my Chinese. God, it’s been too damn long for sure.

The next day, we went biking. Way too windy that day but at least the sun was out. And I’m glad I did something to combat this growth that is my muffin top. I gotta do something about my bike seat though– it is ultra narrow and rock-hard. I thought I’d gauge my level of committment before investing on a $40 gel seat, but at this point, who can suffer through a butt blister? Aside from the seat, this bike is really odd. It has this super bizarro front valve that’s either defective or made for the pro-biker, because I have a billion adapters on my bike pump and none of them can pump air into the front tire. I know, I should just take it in to the bike shop… see what the story is. Of course, I could also just get a new bike– a road bike and one that fits me properly. We’ll see…

On Sunday, I attended a rally: Unite to Fight Global Warming. The idea was that people would ride the train down with Carl Pope (the pres of Sierra Club) from SF to Redwood City. Karen and I would gather the people at the San Mateo stop. Uh, no one showed up. It was just Karen and me. And on the train? It was just Carl and Rafael. A bad start indeed. But once we arrived at the destination, there was a respectable turnout. And Carl was a really good speaker. I’m glad I went. But now I have to get back on track with regular postings on the climate action blog… I’ve been slacking.



No, I’m not announcing a Baby J in the oven… that’s not even funny. Actually, aren’t you weirded out by this mid-week post? Let me just tell you: I am so glad tomorrow’s Friday. This week is bleed week (you figure it out), so I’ve been especially impatient and cranky. That said, I’m doing a little better with the whole work compartmentalization thing. My latest obsession concerns my muffin top. Yes, you heard me right. I was doing so well and then wham! back up on the scale, and the muffin top is overflowing. Somehow I can’t enjoy my new $5 Target jeans (I know, sooo cheap but I swear they look good!) when I feel all this extra jiggle in my stride. Yup. Time for a program. For real. The problem is, unlike my very disciplined, marathon-running friend Joon, I’m an exercise-phobe. Not that I’m a sloth– I just don’t like to sweat. Yes, perhaps the pool is the answer. I’m waiting for it to warm up. The damn condo association doesn’t heat the pool in the winter. And they only heat the hot tub Fridays through Sundays. Fuckers. Sure, they’re saving electricity but damnit, I need my daily soak; otherwise, I’m a raging beotch. But, back to my earlier point: TGIF tomorrow!

Going by how great the weather’s been this week though, I’m hopeful for a nice weekend. Maybe we’ll even go biking again. I was thinking of checking out the horse races too at Bay Meadows, near our former apartment. Not sure what I think about horse racing though… somehow it carries a negative vibe for me, as does dog racing. Am I retarded? Need to look into that. Well at least it’s not like dog fighting or boxing or something ridiculously violent. I should check out the races regardless. I read an intro brochure on it though, and is it me or is betting super complicated? How many degrees do I need to figure that shit out?

What else. Oh, I found my stash of music (well it was on my old lappie)… burning my Jay Chou CDs now. Aw yeah. Ride in tomorrow is going to be rockin’. Speaking of rockin’, have you heard the new Avril song? Ah, to be young, gorgeous, talented, and bad ass. Sigh. Can you feel it? Very soon, I’m going to turn into one of those resentful, crusty, old hags. Might as well start smoking like chimney now. Anyway, I was putzing around Shanghaiist tonight (in my moment of nostalgia), and apparently Avril’s done a version with the chorus in Mandarin. Word on the street is that her Chinese totally sucked, but I actually thought it was decent. And hey, she says it super fast. Gotta give props for not getting tongue-tied. I seemed to have trouble with the lines myself (not that I was boppin’ in front of the computer or anything).

Ok, enough with the chitty chat. Going for a long walk with the pups. They say “hi.”

The Curmudgeon

The Curmudgeon

My grad school roommate was in town visiting this week… Like me, Grace is very low maintenance: she doesn’t have a list of demands regarding things to do, where to eat, and where to go. When I visited her in August, we went shopping, ate grilled cheeses for dinner, and watched a DVD. And it was fine.

Although work’s been super busy lately, we still squeezed in some chill time: watched some TLC WNTW, went through some magazines, shopped (no luck), etc. During the day, she slept in, went running, got sucked into Comcast On-Demand (those bastards!), worked on the computer. She also hung out with some friends in the city– all in all, a full couple of days.

This trip though, I sensed she was a little bothered by my B.A. (bad attitude) on life. She’s an optimist– always has been. On the other hand, I’ve always been the “glass is half empty” kind of gal… but she says this time my attitude is worse. Is that possible? Yes. Certainly, I’m disgruntled and disappointed: idealistic yet pessimistic. She suggested that I look into CBT, cognitive behavioral therapy. I’m not sure what to think. I’m a realist and cynicism just goes hand-in-hand with that. It’s not as if I walk around hating everyone and everything. I just don’t get that excited about things… none of this is anything new, really. I’ve just always been a somewhat drab and depressed soul. I don’t mean to drag everyone down; I just can’t relate to exuberance and I refuse to feign it. Is that so wrong? Is that why I’m losing blog readership? 😛 Too much complaining and not enough action? Hmm. Are they complaints or matter-of-fact reports on happenings? I admit: I do let things get to me. Definitely need to work on that. Step back and chill out about things that cannot be controlled. Jesus, the amount of self-work is endless.

Anyway, in other news, I started listening to Pimsleur Spanish on the drive in. At first I was skeptical about the audio only format, but it’s not bad. And Grace was impressed by my progress (in one short week). I’m on to the second set of CDs now. Hehe. I should pat myself on the back for making it this far on a few of my New Year’s resolutions:
– Stop eating out for lunch everyday at work (they go to the same boring places)
– Start learning Spanish
– Cook more at home

I still have a long way to go with self improvement but all in due time.

So yesterday John and I took the pups to Fort Funston Park in South San Francisco. Fort Funston has an off-leash dog park right on the beach. Remy waded in the Pacific Ocean! She’s such a goober though– she kept snapping at the small waves and she ended up swallowing a bunch of salt water. But the pups had a fun time running up and down the beach. There were so many dogs– we saw an Irish Wolfhound who wouldn’t stop licking Martin’s ‘nads. Poor Marts. Gets harassed every damn time.

Today’s shaping up to be a good day. I’m going to hit the hot tub (gotta start the day off right). Then we’re going to Costco to get a HEPA air filter. My allergies have been really really bad lately… and we now think there’s something in the new house that’s triggering it. Maybe the former tenants had cats upstairs. I dunno. But John was determined to pinpoint the problem. Consequently, for two days, I was not allowed upstairs. He brought everything downstairs for me– my clothes, my contacts, my laptop. The idea was to see if that would stop the serial sneezing (15-20 in a row). It did. So now we know it’s something upstairs… John and the scientific method. Freak.

On Monday, I’m scheduling a visit to a different ENT. I may opt for the full-board allergy test just to know more about my “condition”… already I’m a pretty big wuss, with allergies to pollen, grass, and cats. I just hope I’m not allergic to like wheat or pizza or cheese… that would be a total killer.

Running on Fumes

Running on Fumes

Contrary to popular belief, winters in California can get surprisingly cold. As John, Derek, and I experienced that Saturday morning at the Muir Woods restoration project, the rain plus cold was a real bitch. So last Thursday, as the crap weather continued into my morning commute, I noticed my gas gauge was down to three bars. Normally, my gas level doesn’t dip much below half (thanks to my OCD) but this time, I had let things slide. I opted to get into work early, so I procrastinated on filling up. After work, the rain never subsided… I thought about filling up before driving home, but I could hear John’s voice telling me “Three bars is plenty to get you home, especially at 40 mpg.” Maybe I did need to let the OCD rest. Again, I passed off on filling up.

Well serves me right for pushing it to the limit: I nearly shit my pants on the way home. Traffic was worse than usual, thanks to the rain. As the battery bars disappeared one by one, I dreaded the worst: Fuck. Stranded on the goddamn bridge without gas. The angry commuters would probably ram me off the bridge so they could get going! I was about to get screwed. I turned off everything: radio, heat. I don’t know if such things even rely on the gas, but at that point, I wasn’t chancing it. I finally made it across the bridge… just two more miles to go to the ARCO gas station. Then, there was a backup at the exit before mine. There I was, less than one exit away… my palms started sweating. The gas indicator light had been on for way longer than I had wanted AND the final bar was gone. Uh oh, I was running on empty. Running on fumes!! I started wiggin’ out big time. Never again would I ignore my OCD! I should have trusted my instinct. Surely, this day would be my downfall.

Eventually, I did make it to the gas station: the engine choked up it’s final breath just as I rolled into the lane. Whew! As soon as I got back in business with a full tank of gas, I called John. He laughed and called me a “Drama Queen.” Whatev man. I definitely couldn’t expect someone who lives 0.5 miles away from work to understand.

Several days later after the trauma died down, John located the fuel tank size in the manual. I always figured the tank was 10 or 11 based on my receipts. Last week when I filled up, I put in like 9.8 gallons or something. Yup, 0.2 gallons left– I really was cutting it close.

Well turns out Honda doesn’t trust its drivers. The car’s tank is like 13.5 gallons! So the gas gauge is based on on 10 gallons, but there’s 3.5 gallons in padding. 35% backup? Seems a tad extreme, but I suppose that’s good to know. And certainly, in my case, I shouldn’t be complaining. 🙂