Critical Attack on Critical Mass

I've written about it a few times before, but just recently found out there's a critical mass in other cities. Namely, New York.

The idea is, if you have a bike, use it on Critical Mass day, instead of a car. In San Francisco, this is popular. This is accepted. One of these days I will get my shit together and take some pictures for you so you can see that even on non-CM days, there are still lots of people on bikes in the street.

Anyway, this morning I found out a cop in Manhattan body slammed a guy biking along, making him fall over. I watched the video, and during the slow-motion part you can see the cop actually runs to make contact, despite the biker trying to veer away from the cop. The cop is now on desk duty, but I don't think that's enough. Let's say the biker called out, "Fuck you, Pig!" as he tried to ride by. Even under that scenario, the cop still is not within his rights to do what he did. Maybe the biker gave the cop the finger. Still.

A cop's job is to serve and protect. (Insert your own joke about serving here.) I am not really clear as to why this police officer wasn't suspended without pay. Damn, I wish I worked at the law firm that represents the PBA so as to find out the details.

Can a person get away with making a citizen's arrest on a cop?

Okay, so the article has been updated. Apparently Critical Mass is not a protected program in New York the way it is in San Francisco and it seems NYPD feels right about arresting bikers. If I am remembering correctly, there are bike lanes to the right of the car lanes in New York. That's where people on bikes are supposed to ride, I guess.

So if the bike riders are not staying in their little bike lanes I can see why they are being arrested. Obstructing traffic and all. Okay, that's fair. However. Are you really supposed to be pulling people over for arrest by body slamming them to the ground? No, no you are not. What if that boy had hit his head wrong and broken his neck? What if in the midst of body slamming the biker, the cop caused the biker to fall into an innocent person on the sidewalk?

Is anyone else offended that Christopher Long, the guy on the bike, is mentioned by name, but the cop's name was not released? I am having a hard time seeing the fairness of all this.

Red-Headed Stepchild

This has been a hard week. Five days, five desks. Today I was scheduled to be at a specific desk, but the attorney is home sick with a cold so they decided to reassign me. Eventually. I sat at that desk pretending to read some secretarial procedures handbook while waiting. I feel like the red-headed stepchild of the secretaries. Often forgotten and not accounted for, plopped at whatever desk is available, often last minute.

Finally they asked me to go to a different floor - a secretary had called in sick. I was told it's a busy desk. I get up here, and bitch is all ergonomical up the ass - fancy mouse that looks like it belongs on Star Trek, partially split keyboard, gel wrist pads, etc.

There is no guide here. Every secretary is supposed to have a floater guide for when a floater (me) is covering their desk. This way I will know things like whether or not I'm supposed to answer the attorneys phones, who gets mail, how the attorneys work, etc. It can be very useful. Back in the olden days when I worked for Tuna and Nice Partner, I went so far as to put on mine that if a woman called for Nice Partner and simply said, "Hi, is he around?" that was Nice Wife.

So I'm guideless here. I looked up who this secretary works for and found out the senior paralegal (who the bulk of the work comes from) is out today. Then there are two associates - one of whom has been on the phone since 9:30, the other of whom is pregnant and did not seem very friendly. Obviously she is excused from being friendly what with being pregnant and all, but she was sitting when I introduced myself and I did not see that she was all knocked up, so at first, just thought she was a bit aloof. For anyone wondering, no, she does not have the pregnancy glow the secretly pregnant secretary at the other firm had.

I also want to mention that I ran out of yogurts accidentally (yes, this is not all an act - I eat yogurt about five days a week and wear green regularly and am in fact wearing a green shirt today) and have not had breakfast. I am hungry. But not hungry enough that I want to eat the congealed mess of whatever the hell is in the purple M&M-with-bunny-ears-on-it coffee mug left on the desk.

Okay then. Just wanted to share. For those of you who are able to do so, please eat a healthy breakfast, and think of me. Thank you.

SYTYCD - I Want to Marry Joshua

Chelsie seems like she's got a new confidence now that Kherrington is gone. Comfort has GOT to go. Surely she's getting kicked off, right? And, is it me, or does Comfort have weird posture? Not weird exactly, but ... not proper posture for a dancer.

You know what's funny? (Now, the psychoanalysis portion of the post.) I think they made it crystal clear to Comfort that she needed to lose the attitude. Somewhat impressively, Comfort has actually tried to do that. However, does anyone else think that in her efforts to squash the attitude, her confidence has plummeted? It's as if she only has confidence when she's giving off attitude.

Thankless Jobs

About ten feet from me, there's a dude on a ladder wearing Dickies and a short-sleeved shirt with a patch on it. Dude's name is Gary, and he has a beard like Santa Claus. He's doing something to the wires in the ceiling.

A woman wearing mom jeans is standing right near my desk looking at Gary angrily. I think she's a paralegal, and I think she's upset about the temperature of her office. Gary is patiently trying to explain how the thermostat works.

She is not listening. Gary says her computer adds to the heat in her office. She doesn't care. Gary sighs.

I feel for Gary. She just looked at me to get support, but I looked away before we made eye contact and am now pretending to be oblivious to their issue.

People only call Gary when there's a problem. Nobody is ever happy when they need Gary for something. At least I have a day devoted to thanking me.

My Weekend of Out-of-Towners

Even though there have been little stresses here and there in coordinating schedules and parking and the like, I've had a lot of fun with all my people in from afar. I got to hang with Charlie and Nina (and Cedric) on Friday night. The warmest people ever. And I'm not just saying that because Charlie let me play with his iPhone. Nina and I stayed up late talking, and by the time I stumbled home my voice was gone for the night.

Yesterday my aunt and uncle were in town and we met up for lunch, right near the ballpark (during a game). I don't know what caused the dynamic to change but I had a much nicer time with them Saturday than I ever did growing up.

Tomorrow I meet my friend Caz, in from Vegas. I feel for Caz - she lived here for years and has tons of people to see. I remember what that's like - rushing to see everyone who'd be offended if they didn't get face time. Feeling like there's never enough time to do everything you want to do, no matter how many days you're in town. I'm honored that Caz is taking the time to meet me for lunch in between all her other obligations.

And Jennie, although we don't have plans, you are an out-of-towner and I have lost your blog somehow, please let me know what it is.

Really? You Care?

By now everyone knows Starbucks is closing a slew of their stores. What I don't know, is why this is such a big deal. Granted, I don't drink coffee (I'm Mormon, don't forget). But I do drink hot chocolate and let me tell you, Starbucks' hot chocolate sucks. Dunkin Donuts is best, followed by Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf.

What blows my mind even more, is that as of last count, 151 people felt compelled to COMMENT on the story in the SF Gate about the closing of the stores. What the hell could there possibly be to say? It's JUST coffee. You can get coffee in other places. If your addiction is so great, maybe you really SHOULD become a Mormon and stop drinking it.

Thank you, that's all.

Wherein My Shit? It Is Cracking Up

In first grade I joined the Brownies. So did a slew of other girls. My parents thought I just wanted to join things simply because I wanted the uniform/team shirt, so they let me join, but refused to get me the Brownie outfit. The Brownie uniform was ugly. UGLY. Tan and brown and orange. Like the 70's. Ugly.

Brownies was lame, and I, along with all the other girls, wound up quitting. The only girl who progressed on to Girl Scouts was the girl whose mother was troup leader. We all felt bad for her on Girl Scout day. Poor Caryn. Boy Scouts was considered equally lame, and by second grade there was only one boy still participating, and we all got screamed at by Mrs. Firestone when we'd roll our eyes watching Damon, clad in his navy blue Boy Scout uniform, salute the flag during the Pledge of Allegience instead of "crossing his heart" like the rest of the class.

When I moved to Florida, in talking with a group of secretaries, someone said "Yeah, but we'd expect better. He's a Boy Scout." I smirked. Boy Scouts were lame where I came from, remember? They explained that in Florida, if you were in the Scouts (Boy or Girl) you were considered a Good Kid. Trustworthy, dependable, responsible, all that shit. "Oh," I said. "In New York it just means you're a loser."

That particular boy went on to be physically abusive to his mother, our coworker, run away, and ultimately get arrested for stealing. Trustworthy my ass.

So I'm sure you're not surprised to hear that I smirked when reading about the Girl Scout camp that had marijuana growing there.

Everything I Need to Know In Life, I Learned From Brandon Walsh

Lately I've been watching episodes of the first season of 90210 after work. I don't quite know how to convey this without losing any remaining shreds of credibility I may have with you, so please forgive the next few sentences. The thing is, Brandon Walsh is a genius. The guy could talk his way out of or into any situation. This is a guy who punched Dylan McKay and the next day had Dylan begging to be his friend. He had the perfect answer for every situation. Brandon Walsh is my hero. Or, he would be, if I were the type of person to have a hero.

There's that saying "What would Jesus do?" but I think of it as "What would Brandon Walsh do?"

I have been really upset the last five days or so. Basically, intelligent people were saying outrageously stupid things that went against things I believe apparently more than I ever realized, and that threw me. You know how when you're in a great mood you can trip in front of a cute boy, skin your knee, and break a dozen eggs bought with the last money you had, and you'll still be in a good mood? But when you're in a bad mood god forbid you forget to put your Netflix movies in the mail - it'll make you cry?

Well I think this thing kind of set the tone for me to see everything in the most awful light possible, and I was stuck in that rut, not able to get myself out of it. Tonight I was chatting with a friend, and mentioned both that I've been watching 90210 and that I'm still upset about what went down last week. And she said the most brilliant thing.

"Brandon Walsh would never stand for that. Mrs. Walsh would leave Jim." It's true. Brandon wouldn't put up with it. Somehow this makes me feel worlds better. That a fictional character agrees with me.

But you know what? If I can finally sleep through the night because of this, then I'm okay with looking up to Brandon.

Myriad of Stuff

*Today on the walk to work I saw a bald guy wearing a mezuzah. This is worth mentioning simply because it's so unusual here.

*Next week I have to sit at a different desk every day. Yes, I know that's exactly what I signed up for when I agreed to be a floater, but it's like being a mail-order bride. It'll be a better life than what you previously had, but there'll still be complaining to do.

*The attorney I'm working for this week has the strangest way of wording her instructions. It frustrates me. And you may have noticed, this is not my best week. "I need one copy of this, front and back." Any normal person would think that means to copy the front and back of whatever she just handed you. But what about when the back is blank? When you review the instructions you were given, she clarifies that what she meant was, it's currently a one-sided document, but when you make the copy, make it two-sided.

*During July I've been finding a slew of new blogs to read and that really excites me. Keep writing, people - I have 7.5 hours of downtime each day and reading your blogs gets me through the workweek. One of you people wrote something about liking the = sign, so I've included it in this post for you. You're welcome. Now update your blog again.

*9am and I were having a discussion last night about the people who grade bar exams. He told me sometimes they are given actual bar questions to practice their grading capabilities. To which I said, "Yeah, from prior years" but 9am insisted sometimes it's questions from upcoming exams. (I discussed this with Golden Boy - 9am is wrong, and it's prior tests.) 9am then went on to say if I know anyone who'll be grading the bar and thus, has access to what questions will be on it, perhaps I could just jot those down on a post-it, and maybe leave it laying around where he might see it... Lovely. I would like to think he's just going slightly crazy from the stress of such an important test in the near future.

*There was something I was going to say about how I viewed my father's shoelaces when I was little, but can't recall the details or the point.

*I have been a bit out of sorts since late last week, when some basic things I thought were a very obvious given were not only questioned, but argued against, vehemently. The thing about getting into a bad mood over one thing is, then you start viewing every other little thing as a terrible disaster. Everyone around you looks at a baby and agrees he looks just like his father. I think he looks like a meatloaf, and want to cry. Turns out the socks I wanted to wear are dirty? Shit, why does life have to be so cruel? Me + upset = ridiculously dramatic Green.

*The water at home is no longer cloudy and can now get hot.

Thaws My Cold, Dark, Angry Heart

Where's my hankie?

Letters

Dear Leasing Office,

Often you leave a notice on my door that you are turning off the water the following day for a few hours. I am not being dramatic, and you know it. Once every two weeks or less. Today was one of those days. When I came home and put water in a pot to boil for dinner, the water would not get hot. Also, it was cloudy. What the fuck, Leasing Office? I have never lived anywhere else where they can't fix whatever the water problems may be. Have you considered hiring someone new to fix the water, since whoever you keep having is not solving the problem?

Just a suggestion.

Dear Attorney I'm Working For This Week,

You seem very sweet. However. We keep having communication problems, because you continue to leave out key words when you ask me to do things. For instance, today you left out the part about copying the document before three-hole punching it. I don't know how long you've worked with the secretary I'm covering for, so maybe she knows these things without you saying them. I do not. Please give me full instructions so that I can do a good job for you.

Dear World,

You are disappointing me with your horrid cruelty and pathetically low standards, both for yourself, and others, some of whom you claim to love. You are making me hate you. Maybe you don't care, I don't know. But in case you do, know that you are fucking killing my spirit and making me seriously hate you. Do with that what you will. Just want you to know how your actions are affecting those around you.

The Wackness

The Wackness is a hilarious movie. I am not sure it meant to be, but it really is. I didn't just like it simply because the main character is living in New York and graduating from high school in 1994, just like I was.

Before moving here I never understood how people found out about obscure movies. Independent films. And nobody would ever talk about it. At some point while living in Florida, I finally figured out that there was this thing, called independent theatres, but I didn't know where they were, and was too intimidated to look into it further.

When I moved to San Francisco, I was lucky enough to work right near an independent theatre, and started going to see these obscure movies. That's how I came to see The Wackness. You should see it. Even if you're not from New York. Even if you didn't graduate in 1994. Even if everything.

The music is great, the acting is great, and after a few minutes I didn't even mind the sepia tone to the whole thing.

Ask and Ye Shall Receive

For you, Mama Nabi. And just know I feel exactly the same way when I go to check your blog. "What is she DOING over there?! Write, already! Doesn't she know I'm bored?!"

SYTYCD: Comfort Makes Me Uncomfortable

Comfort - you have no heart whatsoever. If you were an accountant or something, that would be fine. But you can not have a creativity-based profession and have no heart, no spark. Your eyes are dead. I truly hope you are voted off so you can go become something that requires no fire at all.

Katee & Joshua - you're both fabulous. Mostly you, Joshua. But really, these are people who are loving their craft. Individually and as a team, they're great. To see them tonight, a black man, an Asian woman, performing this ... Bollywoodesque dance, fantastically ... how can we have things like this going on, and yet still have people thinking this country is not ready for a black president?

Thayne - good work, keep it up. I just want to point out that Thayne is 27. Not only that, but he didn't start dancing until he was 21.

Oh Kherington. That's all.

Snippets

Sitting on crowded bus yesterday. Next to me is an Asian baby and mama. The baby keeps poking me and then hiding her eyes. I hold out my finger like I'm going to poke her, and she squeals with laughter. When it's my stop people won't move out of the way for me to get off the bus. All of a sudden the mama is yelling in another language and the sea of people part.

Bad seats at the Curran Theatre are still good enough to love the show. My cheeks still hurt this morning from smiling so hard last night.

Heatwave. It's hot. You know the rest.

I am totally thrown off by Italians who are not from New York (and not, you know, from Italy).

BlogHer is soon - this weekend, maybe. It's blocks from my house. I wish it were over already so people would blog about other things finally.

I've been asked about my availability through the fall. When I told the floater coordinator I'd be happy to work through the fall, her response was "Yipee!" I would be thrilled to work here permanently.

Have barely seen 9am lately - now on his hardcore studying regime of four hours a day to prepare for the Bar.

My much loved* iPod seems to be broken. It won't turn on. Last time this happened the battery had run out but I tried charging it overnight to no avail. I'll be visiting the Apple store soon. Please think fixable thoughts for me.

*If you haven't read how I came to have an iPod, please read this. It's the most awesome thing ever.

You'll Need To Turn Up the Volume

Yogurt. What else could a woman need?

Just want to point out that while I do have a gray hoodie, I am not married, and since normally when I'm having yogurt it's at work, I am not wearing the afore-mentioned hoodie while enjoying my yogurt. Thank you.

July 4th Announcement

Attention Bloggers!

I will be working tomorrow, Friday, July 4th. I will be covering the reception desk. I have been warned to bring books and to plan on being bored. This is not an invitation for you to call me at work, but a request.

PLEASE UPDATE YOUR BLOGS THIS EVENING OR TOMORROW MORNING.

I will bring a book that was just started today, but can not be sure that will last me through the work day tomorrow.

If you have updated your blog please comment. If you don't have a blog, but can suggest one I should read, please comment.

Thank you. Have a happy and safe July 4th.

Blue

Last Friday I accidentally said some things to someone I shouldn't have. Not mean or hurtful things, just over-sharing things. A friend suggested some specific damage control, which I did Sunday night, but it included using the word estranged, and that makes me really sad. The person hasn't responded.*

It's not a big deal in the scheme of things - it's someone I have never been close with, I didn't hurt her feelings, I didn't ruin her life, and this won't negatively affect my life.

Except that I can't help but think she hasn't responded because she doesn't want to be involved. Which is fine. That's her right. Absolutely her right.

It just makes me sad. On multiple levels.

1. I very badly need to talk about, and talk through, some big things. And I can't. Because there is noone there to listen. As that need builds and builds like a snowball falling down a steep hill, I wind up accidentally talking about these things to people I shouldn't, which is what happened on Friday.

2. I hate that people only want to know you when life is good. Nobody ever wants to be involved when things are difficult. On one hand I understand - I don't want to get involved with people who have big problematic dramatic lives. (I do not have a big problematic dramatic life.) But on the other hand, it just sucks to be disappointed in people. Maybe I'm expecting too much, and should lower my expectations. California is so damn hippydippy, with "if you put it out there, the universe will bring it back to you." And I really, really want to believe that. So I put it out there all the time. Because I could really use it coming back to me. Only it almost never does. And that really bums me out.

3. I don't like thinking of myself as estranged from people. I don't like being unable to resolve the estrangement. I don't like the phoniness involved in pretending the estrangement is not there.

To recap. I am feeling sad. I am feeling alone. I am feeling sad about feeling alone. Which makes me feel even more sad. And it makes me sad that nobody seems to care enough to do anything to help me not be sad. Not that it's anyone else's job but my one. When I worked in downtown Fort Lauderdale, across the street from my building there was a church. It had a daycare with a yard, and a few steps leading up to the door. A homeless man was often sitting on the steps asking for change. "Change comes from within."

Some changes do. But some don't.

*I wrote the above at work this afternoon. I do that often - write at work and e-mail it to myself, and then post at home. Tonight I found that the person I'd written to had in fact written back. Her very first sentence was an emphatic apology for having taken so long, and despite not knowing me well, immediately addressed my core feelings, saying she never wanted me to have had second thoughts about the note I'd sent.

Other things were said too, and ultimately I got all teary over it. In a good way. I feel better now.

I Have Genital Herpes

Okay, not really. But I have no problem saying that (probably because it's not true). I was happily playing Scramble on Facebook* while the television was on, when 9am asked if I had just seen "that commercial." I wasn't watching and tried to think about what I'd heard. "About genital herpes?" Yes, he says, and he asks if I would say, "I have genital herpes" on television for $10,000. No, wait! For ONE MILLION dollars!

Me: Sure.
9am: WHAT?!
Me: What? It's a commercial. You're playing a character. It's not real. Everyone knows that.
9am: Well not me.
Me: Why not?
9am: Because!
Me: Because why?
9am: Because I don't want anyone thinking I might have it!
Me: But it's a character! Entire Friends episodes have revolved around this very issue.
9am: No way. I wouldn't want anyone making the mistake of ....

I put down my laptop and went over to the kitchen to drive my point home.

Me: Look. Do you consider yourself smart?
9am: I can be dumb.
Me: Do you, or do you not, consider yourself to be smart?
9am: Sure
Me: Okay, would you say you're attracted to smart people?
9am: Sure
Me: So don't you think intelligent people are capable of seeing an actor in a commercial on television and knowing they are doing and saying exactly what they are being paid to do and say? When you see a man in a white coat sitting on a stool in front of a dentist's chair talking about gum do you really believe you're seeing a dentist?
9am: Yeah, but...
Me: No. Look, consider this: Saying you have herpes on tv would actually HELP you. Because any asshole dumb enough to think anything you say in a commercial is true will obviously be someone you won't be interested in. Right? It's a weeding out process!
9am: ...
Me: Thank you and good night.

For a smart guy, sometimes 9am is not the sharpest tack out there.

*My little cousin is on Facebook and posted her phone number. Freaked me the hell out and made my heart drop until I realized her profile is private.

Props to the Smelly Stuff

That lotion I used yesterday that smelled too flowery and overpowering? May smell bad, but gotta be honest here - it kept my hands pretty soft throughout the day. I only put it on that one time in the morning, and it lasted through half a dozen handwashings and past dinner time.

In case you were considering it.