It's like this.

2008-08-13T04:41:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I still have this blog. the ex created this a few year's back and titled it "the sexiest man alive", which at the time, I guess was true for her! so as most of my family and friends know, I got a divorce last year. it's been a difficult year for me, to say the least, but a very fulfilling and hopeful one. from making the decision to get a divorce, to uprooting our home, to moving back home with the folks, and missing quality time with my daughters, it's been a tough adjustment period. now, a good 10 months later, everything is starting to fall in place.

got an apartment in oakland which I love. near the alameda border and the oakland marina, it's so close to everything I need: peet's coffee, tucker's ice cream and a nob hills grocery store. I'm hitting my stride at work, which meant taking on an additional overnight shift at the group home and supervising naturalists during summer camp and preparing for the upcoming 10K and coastal clean-up. also helping to green our group homes by taking our kids on trips and activities that focuses on green practices. this is incredibly satisfying since I've felt like the only environmentally conscious overnight at the agency.

the gals are doing great in preschool and my ex-wife and I are finding a happy medium of making sure the girls are happy and keeping our relationship completely focused on their needs. they'll be going to disneyland in the fall with their mom and stepdad, and will be taking a gymnastics class on the weekends with their mom and dads. being a part of a mixed family is gonna take some getting used to, but we're off to a good start.

been working out and losing weight, taking the dogs out on more walks and hikes, and eating exceptionally well. been hitting the bag and doing yoga and y-dan. looking to buy a kayak and take it out on the water. playing ball with my boys consistently every week.

speaking of my boys, not being married has been great. it's literally been 15 years (8 years of marriage, 7 years of courtship) since I had the proper time to devote to my friends. in the past two days, I had lunch with alvin, my best friend since childhood, on my day off. usually, I'm fixing up my place or catching up on some sleep on my day off, but I've finally got some time to spend it with friends. alvin works in the emergency room at kaiser in oakland, so we went to a place in piedmont I've been wanting to try out, ninna.

played ball with my boys last night and then went and watched stepbrothers with my boy, ron. ron and I fixed up our bikes and got them ready for commuting. I'm lucky to have the BART station only a mile away from ny place. then he took me and my other boy, bob, to his work to hang out. he works at EA (electronic arts) and after touring the campus, I'm ready to switch jobs...j/k. 3 full court basketball courts, a sand volleyball court, a daycare, tons of game rooms filled with foosball, air hockey, shuffleboard, etc. and a top-notch gym, and I was convinced that I got into the wrong field.

then bob, ron and I went out to get our customary beers and watched olympic synchronized diving on the big screen. wtf? now, I'm watching the woman's gymnastics final at 4:30 in the morning, and about to take the dogs out. got the gals for the next few days, so I'm looking to spend some quality time with them. too bad it's a bit cold on the coast, because I was gonna pull them early from school and take them to the beach. oh well, the park will do.

finally hitting my stride feels good; now all I need is a girlfriend...hahhaahah

Christmas time is here again.....oh shit

2007-12-24T08:19:00.000-08:00

Ever since I was a kid, I never liked christmas. I asked my parents for a dog when I was 9, and sure enough, they got me a fake plush toy dog with a little button that mad it go "woof". Little did they know that my pre-pubescent years were spent violating that poor dog, as I discovered self-stimulation. Sounds gross, but turst me, all boys do it.

Then came our Christmas move of 1995 when my parents decided to up and move us within a couple of weeks' time to another house. Moving is a strenuous ordeal, and even moreso when you have parents who are packrats. I kept asking suring the move, "and we need this for what?" as I took an atrocious lamp out of the moving boxes or favors from parties going back to the 70's. It was also the time when I had to emcee my parent's anniversary party. My girlfriend and I had been together for 2 years and this is when I started to see the warning signs that mahybe we just didn't belong together. I worked hard to make sure that everyone at the party were greeted and taken care of, from my lolas to my little cousins, along with my girlfriend. But later, she came up to me bawling that I had purposefully ignored her and didn't attend to her. Between the move and my gf's emotional breakdown, I didn't have a very good christmas.

Fast-forward to this Christmas season...the past three months have been nothing short of hellish. First, my wife and kids move out because we've got mice in the house. Here I was setting out traps to catch these little fuckers, and they got all the way upstairs from the garage. Even with my two dogs, they got up there. Every day was like a safari hunt, looking for their droppings and trying to stomp them out. I finally got sick of fucking around, so I moved all the furniture out and set out nearly 50 traps in the house, with the help of my good buddies (damn, I love that those guys would spend their evenings setting traps with me). Needless to say, there are no more mice in the house.

A week after my wife moves out, she leaves a message telling me that she's leaving me. Holy shit. My jaw dropped, and after the inital shock, I just hid in a hole for nearly a month. Here I was in an empty house, I hadn't seen my kids in days, my wife is divorcing me, and I have no fucking clue what to do next. Evne more painful than the uncertainty of my future was the fact that my wife had given up on me. I truly thought that love was unconditional, but that kind of fairy tale thinking will just get you hosed hard. I sure did.

So now, my wife and I have decided to make sure that the kids are our #1 priority. We forgave each other for all of the things we did during our marriage, and now were truly committed to making our family work. She'll take them for half the week, I'll take them for the other half. I've been slaving away on the house to get it ready to be sold, which unfortunately will not get too much in today's real estate market. And now I'm thinking that love can be unconditional, especially if I find the right person for me. Who knows when this will be, but the future seems hopeful.

waiting for my pata

2007-10-11T22:09:00.000-07:00

damn, I hate filipino restaurants. in searching for a place to eat my dinner, I found a coupon for a crispy pata, a deep fried piece of hamhock, and quickly made my way to this filipino restaurant in san lorenzo. now, pinoy establishments are not known for their service, hospitality, and sad to say, their food. but I had gotten the same thing a few months ago, and it was damn tasty. after cleaning the garage and backyard all day, I needed something damn tasty.

so I walk in to the sound of a blaring middle-aged filipina singing show tunes and some old manong pounding away at the keyboards. if stereotypes were to persist, their should have been a dog soup at each table, rice on each plate, and the sound of popcorn-like staccato from the mouths of each pinoy. so I order my food, and expect to wait, at them most, 15 minutes. how hard was it to cut up a piece of pig thigh, prep it, and fry it? judging by how long I actually waited, about as hard as the US pulling out of Iraq, or maybe as hard as a prepubescent boy pulling out of his girlfriend when having sex for the first time.

35 minutes of pure hell - karaoke blaring, fat ladies in jogging suits dancing, some fat 20-yeard old fob trying to give me the googly eyes while I mustered every ounce of strength to avoid vomiting on the floor, and my favorite tv shows (the office and 30 rock) up on the big screen with no sound. I felt like a fat kid eyeing a slice of cake through the looking glass, but being completely broke, couldn't do shit.

when I finally got home, I opened a nice cold guinny, watched the last part of the office, and munched away on my pig leg

what's in a name?

2007-10-11T11:56:00.000-07:00

over the years, I've been called many things (among them, dickhead and asshole by the wifey). Here are a few of my aliases and the etymology behind them:

francois - my lesbian buddy from seneca used to call me that in her fake french accent. her name was gina, but I liked to pronounce it "ginah" as in vagina, a la 40-year old virgin.

frankie - my good buddy from the shoreline loved calling me that, maybe after frankie and johnny; he was a bear of a man with a good soul

franchise - modeled after the basketball player, stevie "the franchise" francis, this became my handle when I used to post on friendster forums and it stuck

franchizzle, chizzle, cheezy, french fries, frenchie, da franchise, franchise player, et al. - all derived from "the franchise"

frank n' beans - an allusion to a man's genitals and made popular by "there's something about mary"

fran - a shortened version of francis

franny - a feminine version of francis, that I adopted during college

franny the tranny - a convenient moniker alluding to my propensity to be gay as a motherfuck

st. francis - of assisi, especially considering my love for animals and po' folk(although the story goes that st. francis actually didn't like animals so much; he was just seen by someone praying out loud in the grotto and he/she thought he was talking to the animals; he actually went on record later saying that he didn't muck like animals)

call me whatever the fuck you want, just don't call me frank; frank the tank maybe, but not frank

paradigm shift part. 2

2007-07-17T12:18:00.003-07:00

I'm well on my way and won't even let a few stumbles along the way stop me. Thank you, God, for your guidance and strength.

paradigm shift part. 2

2007-07-17T12:18:00.001-07:00

sgnificant dates

2007-06-12T17:06:00.000-07:00

1/1
1/28
2/27
3/11
3/27
4/4
4/28
5/22
6/1
6/11
6/24
7/14
8/8
9/9
10/9
11/11
11/16
12/22

great season for the warriors

2007-05-16T07:36:00.000-07:00

warriors lost to the jazz last night, sending them home. it was a great season for the warriors, and I can't wait 'til next season!

we still believe

2007-05-15T09:42:00.000-07:00

warriors are down 3-1 to the jazz, and tonight, they're playing in mormon country....only one thing to say: WE STILL BELIEVE

warriors!

2007-05-09T13:23:00.000-07:00

the warriors experienced a set back on Monday as they lost their first game to the jazz. not out of lack of effort, they lost due to rebonding disparity and turnovers. try again today

paradigm shift

2007-04-10T22:13:00.000-07:00

I read Stephen Covey's book, 7 Habits of Highly Successful People, when I was still an undergraduate. It never really resonated with me until the past few weeks. I remember the four quadrants in how people choose to spend their time, and up until now, I was languishing in the "time-wasting" quadrant. Much of it had to do with my tendency to procrastinate and avoid things that I find difficult or not enjoyable. Case in point, I haven't done my taxes until tonight. Could have done them in February, but I hate taxes, so I put it off until the last minute. I remember Covey saying that their are two types of procrastinators: those that don't really care about the quality of their work and those who are such perfectionists, that they choose to put things off until the last minute, so they can use it as an excuse for not producing their best work. I'd like to think that I'm more of the latter than the former, but it's probably a mix of both.

I've been preparing for this paradigm shift for a long time now: another tenet of Covey's book that allows people to be highly successful. Change your entire paradigm or else nothing will happen. For the past decade or so, I never really understood the power of those words until I started working out, paying bills on time, cleaning up, organizing my personal life, instilling quality free time, etc. Question is: why now? It's been 10 years since I've read the book, but am only applying it now. Part of it is because of my newborn kids. I want them to grow up without the results of my hangups. I want my kids to have a clean house, playground in the backyard, dogs to play with, everything. That can't be achieved if I'm not at my best. Another part of it is because I need to reconnect with the love of my life. It's been a while since we were lovestruck teenagers, and I'm ready to do that again. But with the pressures and stress of adulthood, we have lost each other along the way. Finally, I visualize daily the life that I'm supposed to have and compare and contrast it with the life that I have. Connecting that bridge is very important to me. It had to be done.

So what has happened in the past two weeks? I've challenged the paradigm at my work and stepped out of my proverbial safe box. I've played basketball, and played it consistently every week and improved each time I've gone out there. I've cleaned up and organized the house. I know now that it can't be done in one fail swoop. I have to work at it everyday. I've accepted my wife for who she is. She drives me mad, argues incessantly, is a slob, whatever whatever, but I've got to work on my hangups, not hers. Hopefully, she will change, but my constant criticisms of her won't help. In fact, I realize now that it is detrimental beyond belief. I've stopped neglecting those who are really important to me, my co-workers, my clients at the group home, my pups, and myself. Eating well, exercising, watching TV and movies (but not to waste time), cleaning, and enjoying life.

As a biologist, I liken my paradigm shift to a catalyst 2-D graph. To achieve a higher kinetic level, a chemical reaction must pass a threshold called the "Energy of Activation". Otherwise, you languish in the lower energy level. I believe that these past few weeks and the next few has allowed me to achieve this energy, and now I can no longer go back to my former self. One of my favorite quotes from Henry David Thoreau, famed environmentalist and transcendentalist, is only appropriate to end this entry: As if you could kill time without injuring eternity

y'know it's hard out herrr for a pimp

2007-03-24T22:39:00.001-07:00

y'all don't herrrr me dough

haven't read a book in a millenium

2006-10-24T20:24:00.000-07:00

One thing I cherished about my education and upbringing is the emphasis that my family and friends had on staying well read. I find that I'm scheduling blocks of time to catch up on a book I haven't touched in months. It's like another job. Gone are the days of chilling in a park and finishing a few pages, or frequenting the cafe and knocking out a few chapters. I think that once the house is in a suitable condition for living, it will be a little easier. I love to read in places that make me feel comfortable. And right now, the house is a mess. Toys, food, poop, and clothes litter the joint, and my need to organize is getting its ass kicked by my need to get some rest. Write it down, and get it done.

Sage House

2006-04-02T07:20:00.000-07:00

I sit in a small hallway on the 2nd floor
of a huge house, one made before the time
when space was not a premium
and square footage ran amuck

To my left, two boys from Parsons,
the house I called home for 5 years
closed because of lack of funds
memories of past kids and staff
run through my mind as a tear falls
down my groggy face

Working overnights is not easy
despite the free time to post on Friendster
do homework, watch movies, and chill,
two full-time jobs have taken its
toll through the years
and I sit here an older man than I really am

To my right, two older kids on level
polite and humorous
I sometimes wonder what they're doing here
but it comes back to me when I read their histories
abuse, neglect, abandonment, and trauma
much of which inflicted by their parents

Behind me, two kids in their own rooms
violated repeatedly, and now violators themselves
it is a vicious cycle
At my feet, another load of laundry
which makes at least 15 for this week
Outside, the sounds of the scrub jay
a red-tailed hawk, and a babbling creek

This house, a haven from evil
a home filled with love
a place where there is hope

President's Day Outing

2006-02-22T09:40:00.000-08:00

surrealistic
day of bike race, massages,
and execution

not to mention the
sticky bun and hot cocoa,
japanese garden,

tejano music
amidst forest of bamboo,
"follow your dreams" says

the wind chime, as I
walk with my daughters on that
gravel path past koi

dog barking as a cow
strolls twenty feet high in air,
vultures circling

empty store fronts a
result of the flood, or a
convenient excuse

for a bad locale;
pupusas lorocas are
tasty delicious

despite appearance;
finally conquered toll booth,
bane of existence

center lane it says,
as I smile at the toll dude,
while flipping him off

behind the car door;
San Quentin so close to us,
yet so far away

in distance and thought
killed in the guise of justice
in the name of love

Valentine's Haiku

2006-02-14T01:36:00.002-08:00

Inconsequential
is this day of Valentine's
which is supposed to

remind me of your
lovely ways; nearly thirteen
years since that day on

the basketball courts
where I professed undying
love for you; so in

honor of our start
as high school sweethearts, let
me say - 143

in pager talk when
cell phones were not yet around
and when we were young

Pacman

2006-01-22T01:56:00.000-08:00

Just watched the fight, and I was very impressed with the adjustments Manny made to defeat his opponent. In their first fight, Manny seemed off-balance and undisciplined. He would hit him with a flurry of ineffective punches, then get tattoed by a short combination of counterpunches by Morales. It seemed as if Manny was trying to knock him out with each offensive advance, but he was opening up so much, that he got bloodied up by the end of the fight. The difference in this fight was that Manny was patient, and didn't look for the home run punch. In his first fight, he was trying to chop a huge tree down with one swing of the ax. In this fight, he successfully chopped down the tree with a bunch of axe blows. Manny is my hero!

Manny's two fights against Morales is a metaphor of my life. My technique was sloppy and undisciplined and I didn't work hard to mount an effective attack on my opponent. Now, I am much more patient, put in the work, think out an effective strategy, and execute.

2006-01-10T02:00:00.000-08:00

jahloverastafari

Now Playing: Damian Marley - Welcome To Jamrock

sexy Music Video Codes

Been neglecting the blog

2005-09-18T02:10:00.000-07:00

Can't speak of my sexiness if I don't write about it! As you could probably guess, I've been quite busy with the kid, the pregnant lady, the two jobs, the pups, the house, the cars.......somebody shoot me up with heroin. Gonna try to write more. Peace, homies.

pass it on

2005-08-06T23:25:00.000-07:00

Thanks Vintage Star!

Total number of films I own on DVD and video: VHS 0 (but Jo still owns some Disney tapes), DVD ~40

The last film I bought: Booty Call - the Bootylicious edition (I'm straight ghetto, but this movie is highlarious)

Five films that I watch a lot and/or mean a lot to me:
Hotel Rwanda
Life as a House
Open Range
A River Runs Through It
Hellboy

What you got?

inspiration

2005-06-09T03:11:00.000-07:00

Freak Show!

2005-05-25T02:12:00.000-07:00

Goin' to Vegas with the family in June. Wasn't actually gonna go, since I was going to teach summer camp with the little rugburners, but my week got switched with someone else's. Sooooo, I find out that my family (dad, mom, brothers, gf's, nieces) are all going, and now so are my in-laws and Jo's side of the family. All in all, it adds up to about 20 peeps!

Back to Vegas, I remember watching "O" at the Bellagio last winter. Jo, AC, and I were there to take care of Jo's infertility, and we decided to watch this "freak show." I use this term lightly and in jest most of the time, but in this instance, I really mean it.

I just flew into Vegas and hadn't slept in 25 hours. I worked the night before at the group home, and worked the day shift at KftB. Throughout the entire show, my head was nodding up and down from wanting to go to sleep. Despite my extreme sleepiness, I really enjoyed the show. There were some really beautiful moments, including a moment where an angel of some kind was hovering in mid-air and the curtain for the entire theater becomes her cape. It was really beautiful. There were also amazing acts of acrobatics and people on high-wires 30-40 feet up in the air. I was amazed by everything I saw.

But I also saw some freaky ass shit. There were dudes in full bondage regalia doing nothing but beating a drum. There were midgets, bodybuilders, graceful acrobats, and freakish tattoo havin', body-pierced weirdos. And they were doing some random things like yelling out loud, marching across the stage, or just plain posing for the crowd.

I'd like to tap that zebra booty!

Then there was the water show.....very impressive. The floor would turn into a water tank and the floor was revolving! Sometimes, you couldn't tell what was water and what was solid ground. This show is worth the 90-300 bucks it costs to watch it. We got it cheap because I had to sit separately from Jo and AC. Y'know, filler seats. Anyways, watch this show next time you're in Vegas. You won't regret it.

Birds of Pray

2005-05-05T05:05:00.000-07:00

It happens too often for it to be a coincidence. Every time I have a life-altering day or a major decision in my life, I always run into a bird of prey. You know, a hawk, a falcon, and eagle, a kestrel, etc. I'd like to say it's because I do a lot of hiking and I always see them on the trails, but I haven't hiked on the weekend in nearly a year! Most of the time, I see them in urban areas like freeways, lampposts, marinas, and in residential areas.

First of all, I'm an avid amateur birdwatcher. You can put avid in front of either "amateur" or "birdwatcher". Most of what I know I learned, I did in two semesters in college. This is enough to identify most birds, to sex them, and to even say a little tidbit on its natural history. I have a passion for birds, hence the "birdwatcher". The "amateur" comes into play because I haven't developed my skills since then! I don't have a life list or a journal. I haven't gone out hiking to specifically go birdwatching in at least five years! I haven't even visited my favorite site in that amount of time - the raptor migration at the Marin Headlands. I guess you might call me a lazy birdwatcher. But I still keep them close to my heart. In fact, I've got a birdfeeder in my front yard, and I enjoy just watching house finches and house sparrows alike chomp on the little seeds. I even get genuinely excited when I hear news like the Ivory-billed Woodpecker is back off the extinct species list! I know, I'm quite the fruity little ornithologist.

But there's something wholly unnerving, exciting, and spiritual about my encounters with birds of prey specifically. When I decided to quit my dead-end job at Kelly Scientific, a Cooper's Hawk perched itself on a lamppost right in front of my car. In fact, I was sitting in the parking lot for nearly a half hour, contemplating whether or not I should quit my job. Once I saw the bird, I knew what my decision would be. When I was in college, and I took a Natural History of Vertebrates class, we went on a ton of field trips to look for shit. At that time, I wasn’t really that much into nature. But when I was sitting along a hillside with the rest of my classmates, as the clouds passed by, a Golden Eagle flew no more than 20 feet from me. It was the largest bird I had ever seen up until then. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be a Naturalist.

More than 10 of these so-called “bird of prey sightings” have happened within the past ten years (as long as I have been paying attention). Each time, it’s helped me make a tough decision, re-invigorate me, remind me of my priorities in life, or just even had a good day. As I am re-connecting to God more and more every day, I can’t help but to think that it’s him who’s sending me these “Birds of Pray”. They might be Archangels guiding me or even protecting me; don’t angels have wings? They might be loved ones who have passed, and are reminding me the that they are watching over my family and me. Whatever they are, they are a blessing. And I hope to continue to be blessed by their presence in the future.

The scientist in me wants to say that they are no more than a typical bird-sighting. Or a wayward bird going into an urban area. But my spirit is telling me that they are more than that. Most recently, I was at the Berkeley Marina and while my buddy, Kristina was talking to a group of fourth graders, a female Northern Harrier landed on a tree branch no more than 10 feet from us. Needless to say, it was a very good day, and since then, I’ve been having a fabulous week. My favorite bird of prey is the American Kestrel, and I’m gonna try to convince Jo to give our next kid that middle name, or at least nickname if it’sa girl. If it’s a boy, I’m gonna stick with Malachi, which is Hebrew for “messenger of God”. I also got a picture frame of a bunch of raptors, and I’m trying to convince Joanne to have me put it up in the living room. It matches the décor of the room very well, but Joanne thinks it’s a little weird. Maybe if she knew how important they are to me and the safety of our family, she’d think otherwise.

A female Northern Harrier ready to take off

143.6 miles

2005-03-25T03:11:00.000-08:00

Man, the rains were treacherous in the past week. This past Tuesday, Jo, Mya, and I headed to PAMF to make sure Joanne's left-side pain was a normal part of pregnancy. Through God's gracious intervention, everything was normal. We even saw a heartbeat on the ultrasound. On the way home, we took 880 and bypassed a little traffic by using the carpool lane. Everything was fine through Union City and Hayward - I was keeping my distance from the Civic in front of me, and the Landcruiser behind me was far as well. It was raining enough to warrant the use of the windshield wipers, but the pavement was really wet. There were some puddles here and there. I rode the carpool lane all the way to the end near the border of San Lorenzo and Hayward. Once we hit SLo, the cars in front of me suddenly stopped. The Mercedes in front of the Civic narrowly missed rear-ending the car in front of it. The Civic broke in enough time, and so did I, with room to spare. But I slammed on those brakes, man! The Landcruiser in front of me had to swerve to the shoulder and literally ended up side-by-side to me. I thought the dude was leaving a ton of space behind me, but I guess he/she wasn't paying attention.

I thank God for keeping us safe that day, and when I finally got off the freeway and stopped at a stoplight, I took a deep breath. I also made the sign of the cross six times and kissed my medallion of Jesus in our truck. I've been doing this regularly before I start driving anyways, to ask the archangels to keep the six of us safe - Me, Jo, Mya, Jo's lil' bundle, Gilbey, and Belle. This day, they were truly looking out for us. For some reason, I glanced down at the trip odometer and saw that it read 143.6 miles. 143 has always been pager code for "I love you" (look at the number of letters in each word). And the number 6, I've interpreted to be the six of us. God works in mysterious ways.

THANK YOU, LORD!

2005-03-14T16:44:00.000-08:00

Music of the Night

2005-03-10T01:20:00.000-08:00

I've got an eclectic taste in music, from dancehall to lounge to punk to industrial, and to good ole' pop and hip-hop. I pretty much like anything with a good beat, conscious lyrics, a melodic harmony, and/or good producing. Anything that makes my head bounce. Thanks for the thread, Vintage Star!

Random Ten:

1. Trenchtown Rock - Bob Marley & the Wailers
2. Santeria - Sublime
3. Phantom of the Opera Soundtrack
4. Please Forgive Me - David Gray
5. If you're not the One - Daniel Bedingfield
6. Blackstar (Mos Def & Taleb Kweli) - KOS/Determination
7. Clocks - Coldplay
8. Toxicity - System of a Down
9. All Mixed Up - 311
10. Amie - Damien Rice

1. What is the total amount of music files on your computer?
I dunno....I've got about 6 songs on our laptop and none on our desktop. The 6 songs are there cuz I had a jones-ing for some music and I downloaded Kazaa for a minute. I tried my best to hide it from Jo, but the woman found out about it and quickly erased it. We had gotten a lot of viruses from it a couple of years back so she forbade me from using it. She's like our household's very own IT department, complete with a monitoring system.

2. The last CD you bought is:
I'm not sure, but the last CD I burned was the Garden State soundtrack.

3. What is the last song you listened to before this message:
The flipface radio in my car is busted. It's permanently in mid-flip. For a while, it was working, but it would only play the radio and I couldn't change the station. And it was on this one obnoxious station, Alice. They've got a funny morning commute show and "Chill with Alice" on Sundays from 7-10am got some cool lounge music. For all y'all in the Bay, that's 97.3 FM. Soooooooooo, I have no idea what the last song I listened to was, but I've got Norah Jones' Sunrise playing over and over in my cabeza.

4. Write down five songs you listen to a lot or mean a lot to you:
a) Scientist - Coldplay
b) Who needs shelter - Jason Mraz
c) If you're not the one - Daniel Bedingfield
d) Karma - Alicia Keys
e) KOS/Determination - Blackstar

5. Who are you gonna pass this stick to?
Nobody. Ain't got no friends. Muhahahahhaaa!

Today was a good day

2005-03-04T23:11:00.000-08:00

Man, I had a great day today. It started off in the morning when I awoke to the sounds of my two favorite people in the world, my wife and my daughter. They were sound asleep, as I tip-toed downstairs to get my day started. I had a pretty early day, so I got up at 6am and started cleaning up. I cleaned the kitchen, washed dishes, washed the bottles, swiffered the floors, vacuumed the carpet downstairs, and tidied up a bit. I like cleaning in the morning so that Jo and Mya can wake up to a relatively clean house. It went pretty fast because I turned on the radio to Alice in the morning, and Kevin Smith was the guest host. He's the acclaimed director of movies such as Dogma, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, Clerks, etc. and he normally doesn't host shows. But Sarah's partner, No Name, was out on paternity leave, and on a whim, Sarah asked Kevin to co-host the show for threed days while she was interviewing him earlier in the week. Pretty ballsy move on Sarah's part, but Kevin obliged. And I was glad that he did, because he's a funny dude. His humor definitely has an element of trash and shock, but it's also very smart and deliberate.

It was raining pretty hard, so I decided to walk the dogs. Since it's been raining, the backyard is a marsh, and I didn't want them to track in mud into the newly swiffered kitchen floor. I brought my headphones and continued to listen to Alice. There were times were I just laughed out loud to whatever Kevin and Sarah were saying. Also took out the garbage and recycling. I always love doing that because I get a really god feeling once all of the trash and recycling is out of the house. Came back home after 45 minutes of walking and discovered my favorite futbol team, Real Madrid, playing on the dish. All of my favorite players were on, including Beckham, Roberto Carlos, Ronaldo, and Michael Owen. Zidane has been out with an injury, and Becks looked like he colored his hair brown. It's still pretty short.
So after a few minutes of watching the match, I leave for the Oakland Hills to teach at this private school. I get stuck in traffic on the 13, so I was glad to listen to Alice. Alanis Morissette called in and Kevin Nealon joined the fray. I remember when Alanis played God in Kevin's Dogma. I was shocked to hear that she was offered the lead part, the one that Linda Fiorentino got. They also talked about her fiance, Ryan Reynolds, of Van Wilder and Blade: Trinity fame. My radio's been broken for a while so I can't turn down the volume or change the channel. I had to exit on Joaquin Miller Rd., turn off the engine (hence the radio), and call the school to tell them I'd be late.

I got to Bentley School about 20 minutes late, but they understood because of the traffic and rain. The school is a pretty haughty-taughty private school with a private gate and a plaque with an insignia on the front entrance. We work with a lot of low-income schools, and a lot of my co-workers frown upon working at these type of schools. Personally, I feel that these kids may be privileged and well-off, but they're all still little kids with impressionable minds. And I'm there to make my impression.

Had lunch down the hill at Viva Taqueria, which is near the Claremont Resort. Sorta saddened to see the workers on strike outside the hotel. I'm very empathetic to blue-collar workers and workers in the service industry. All they ask for is a living wage and decent health benefits. After I was done teaching, the teachers and students thanked me, and tld me how great my program and teaching methods were. I'm always glad when I receive praise - specially from kids. It's so genuine and pure, that it fills my heart and soul. It's the feeling I live and work for. The clouds and rain cleared up, and I was jones-ing on some coffee, so I went to my favorite joynt in Berkeley, Cafe Strada. Their Bianca Mocha is heaven on earth. And at $2.75 a pop, it's much cheaper than a Venti, Non-fat, No-whip, MocchachinoLatte crap from Starfucks. As I look for parking, a spot opens up right across the street on the Berkeley campus. There's never parking here, so I always end up walking a couple of blocks uphill. You know it's your day when a spot opens up, and you narrowly beat some yuppie asshole in their gold lame jeep cherokee to the spot.

Went back to the office, got some work done that I've been procrastinating on, and high tail it home. I recently discovered that my favorite Vietnamese restaurant(Pho Hoa Hiep or Kevin's Noodle House) in Concord has another location in Oakland, so I decide to pick up some dinner there. Found a shortcut from the freeway to the place, so my day's just getting better, and it's already 6pm. I order egg noodles with stuff, and get some bbq chicken for Jo, but my favorite order is an avocado shake. Man, I love that shit.

The end of my day consisted of spending time with my girls, playing with the dogs, eating good vietnames food, sleeping for a couple of hours, and going to work at my other job. Like Ice Cube said, "Today was a good day"

An Interview w/ Vince Vaughn

2005-03-03T04:24:00.000-08:00

I'm watching the Tonight Show repeat from last week, and one of my favorites, Vince Vaughn was on as the featured guest. I always love watching this boy do interviews, because he's always funny, off-the-wall, and loves to play off the audience. He's basically Trent, his character in the movie, Swingers. Granted, he doesn't have much range as an actor, but when he plays himself, he's funny as hell.

Take his movie that is out right now...Be Cool. It looks like a piece of shit, but when Vince is doing his thing, he can salvage a movie. Jay Leno showed the movie clip, and Vince says, "Twinkle, Twinkle, baby, Twinkle, Twinkle!" Who da fuck thinks up of that shit? He's supposed to be a white guy acting black. Then he starts doing the Roger Rabbit, an obscure dance move from the 80's in homage to the movie, Who framed Roger Rabbit? Comedic genius.

So as I continue to watch the inteview, I think about how much this man has become a symbol of my life. In the movie, Swingers, Trent is playing NHL on Sega with his buddy, Sue. Yup, a boy named Sue. Trent threatens to make Sue's best player, Wayne Gretzky, bleed by checking him hard. Sue says, "you can't make the characters bleed." Sue turns his head away for a second, and Trent goes after Wayne Gretky, checks him hard, and makes his head bleed. When I first watched this movie, I was laughing hysterically. I remember playing NHL on Sega with my buddies, Orlando, Rich, and Mike. I remember trying to check someone so hard, that they bleed on the ice. And I remember Orlando saying "you can't make the characters bleed", as I proceeded to check HIS Wayne Gretzky into the ice. Of course, the blood ran from his head like the river Styx.

A boy named Sue, Vince, Jon Favreau, Ron Livingston, and a token black dude

As the interview continues with Leno, I'm thinking, "Only Vince Vaughn can make Jay Leno watchable". I hate watching the Tonight Show because the skits aren't funny and Leno couldn't interview a wall. Vince mentions something about being a member of Columbia House, and how they used to give away 10 tapes or CDs for a penny. You think it's a great deal, but you're committed to buy 8 more CDs for twice the full price. That's only someting someone over 30 knows about. I was a member, myself. I have no idea how he got on this topic, but it was funny nonetheless.

Vince continues on about how he's got three sisters with a bunch of kids, and he's been asked to babysit them on occassion. The boy's got verbal diarrhea, and just spews out every little detail of his day spent babysitting his nephew. He mentions how you've got to put on a diaper with the picture of Elmo on the front. I, too, had this challenge early on. I didn't know which way a diaper was supposed to face, until my sister-in-law showed me that cartoon character should be in the front.

Finally, Vince testifies that his favorite TV shows are Cheaters and Dance 360. When I started my gig at the group home, I used to watch Cheaters at 2am in the morning on the WB. That was when Tony Grand was hosting it. This guy would ambush unsuspecting people who have been set up by their partners, while they are cheating on them with someone else. Sporting his leather trenchcoat, he would speak in this really harsh nasaly voice. Then he would ask the stupidest questions to the cheating partner while he/she is trying to walk away from the cameras and lights. "Why did you do it? Didn't you know how it would make her feel?" It was hysterical! I always ended up laughing out loud, sometimes waking up the kids. And the denouement would be wathcing the credits, where Tony Grand wasn't really Tony Grand. Tony Grand is a character played by Ahmad Mohammed. This always made me laugh.

I never watched Dance 360 until I watched it on December 22, 2004. I remember this date so well because it was the day Mya was born. Vince explains the show as a "dance off" between two teenagers, where the two competitors dance in the middle of a circle of dancers, emphatically gesture with their hands to their competitor when it's their turn, and then the audience chooses who wins by their applause. It's really a show for teens and pre-teens, but it's funny how a middle-aged man like Vince is watching and loving it.

Mya was born at the UC Davis Medical Center, where they have what they call "birthing suites". Our birthmother, Bonny, was situated in one of these suites, where they had a TV, a nice bed, and a huge seating area for all the friends and relatives. While she was going through labor, the TV was on and I think it was Judge Joe Brown. As soon as Bonny started to push, Judge Joe Brown was over, and Dance 360 was on. Sure enough, these kids were trying to dance each other off the dance floor, and Bonny was trying to push a human head through her cervix. It was surreal, to say the least. Who knows, Mya might grow up to be a really good dancer.

Where the parallel ends between Vince and myself is his love for Celine Dion. When he was on Ellen, he confessed that he has watched Titanic more than 40 times, just so he can hear Celine Dion sing "my heart will go on". I can't stand this damn song. And whenever that Canadian freak of nature pounds her chest right at the refrain, I want to slit my wrists. I think it was just an excuse for him to sing the song, karaoke-style, on the show. Just to ham it up a bit. At least I'd like to think so. Otherwise, I've lost all respect for the man.

Life....

2005-03-01T13:44:00.000-08:00

is full of funny moments. For example, Joanne was burping like an MF all night. It's like she drank an entire 2-liter of coke, and just belched away. And man, could this woman belch. She belches louder than a frat boy on a binge. I've never understood how a woman so svelt could make such a loud, guttural noise. I think Mya's already used to it. Before, she would always get startled when Mommy burps, but now she's just used to it.

The other day, I was napping on the floor because I had just come home from working at the group home. I was so tired that I slept in my clothes and I didn't want to sleep on the bed and contaminate it with all the boys' germs. I wake up at 8pm, and Jo is on the bed, enthralled with whatever is on the TV. I'm thinking it's General Hospital or some Lifetime chick movie, but it was Forrest Gump. That's right, Forrest Gump. No words were exchanged....she just kept on watching, noticed I was awake, and said, "Man, this movie is good." I proceeded to laugh hysterically. And then I made fun of her.

A couple of weeks ago, Colin and Brady came over with Lolo, Lola, Noel, and Arlene. The two boys were running around, playing with the dogs, and watching TV. We celebrated three birthdays: MJ's 2-month birthday, Gilbey's 4-year birthday, and Belly's 3-year birthday. We sang happy birthday, blew out the candles, and proceeded to eat cake. Little Colin really loved his cake. He loved it so much, that he ran from the dining room to the living room, where all of us were sitting, and said in almost a drunk voice, "Cake....." At the same time, he wiped the cake on his hands over his chest and fell to his knees. It seemed like he fell into a diabetic coma! Everyone started laughing at this, and as soon as Colin realized this, he just ran off laughing.

Forrest Gump's Ma used to say, "Life is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you're gonna get." It's also a collection of funny moments, that turn into really great memories.

Rooted in Reality

2005-02-19T03:18:00.000-08:00

What is up with all of these damn reality TV shows? It all started with "The Real World" on MTV about 10 years ago, and really took off when Survivor came out a couple of years later. Now we've got some really crap-ass reality shows like Fear Factor. You couldn't pay me 50 grand to eat day-old Chinese food, so the concept of eating bull testicles is out of the question. That show went from gross to criminally disgusting. The worst one yet was when Joe Rogan made the contestants drink a blended amalgamation of everything that prior contestants have eaten in past episodes (ie. horse's rectum, bull's balls, madagascar hissing cockroaches, giant earthworms, etc.). There is absolutely no component of that challenge where someone conquers any type of fear. When I was a kid, I was afraid of the dark and of heights, but I don't remember being afraid of having to eat an equine's bowels! Although, there was this one episode where the contestants were "chellenged" to eat the egg of a fertilized (and partially-developed) chicken. In the Philippines, this is called "Balut" and it is a delicacy. In fact, on Sunday mornings, I remember hearing the Balut man pushing his cart of eggs and yelling "Balut!" as I struggled to wake up in my bed. Sure beats the Good Humor man. Back to Fear Factor - the contestants were completely grossed out by the prospect of eating the egg, and they all ate their egg hesitantly. In fact, they were letting all of the juices run out of the egg, which is my favorite part. It tastes delicious, and I found myself yelling at the TV, "Don't waste the juice, motherfucker!" Granted, there is something macabre about chomping through the bones of a dead chick, but godammit, it's yummy!

Now cable channels like Animal Planet, Spike TV, and USA (and even crap channels like UPN and WB) are coming out with their own slant on reality TV: Ultimate Fighter, America's next top model, Joe Schmoe, etc. But the premise is always the same....10 contestants battle for one prize, there's always a couple of assholes in the group, you make all of them live in a house, and then one contestant is eliminated every week. Hollywood producers will take a concept and beat it into the ground before they can think up of anything original and creative.

Take that show, the Apprentice. It's just Survivor, but with a group of twenty to thirty-something assholes who think they're God's gift to this planet. Then you have God himself (well at least he thinks he is), Donald Trump, firing people left and right when he can't even comb his own hair straight. If I wanted to watch people go to work, I'd go work in an office myself. Everything about this show evokes negativity. People getting fired, reprimanded, criticized, and lambasted. Sure, there are some semblances of positivity, like teamwork, cooperation, and creativity, but those moments are far and few between, and they certainly don't keep the Nielsen ratings up.

Even though I am one to criticize the deluge of these reality TV shows, I am also an avid fan. I love watching the challenges, dealmaking and breaking, and relationships on Big Brother. Who would have thought watching a bunch of out-of-work actors live in a house, eat PB&J sandwiches, and play footsies in bed could be so entertaining? I am also enthralled with ABC's Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and Super Nanny. Now those are a couple of shows with some redeeming value. The families' stories on the former show always make my wife and I cry, while the parenting techniques we learn about on the latter really give us some tangible tools to become better parents.

I find it ironic that America is now addicted to these reality TV shows, when most of America is sitting on their fat asses, eating take-out fast food, and yelling at their kids to stop hitting each other. No wonder we are addicted. Our fantasy has become our reality. And our reality continues to be a picture of gluttony, addiction, and inactivity. Welcome to America's new drug: Reality TV.

Your hand at the level of your eye

2005-02-16T07:28:00.000-08:00

I'm homo-riffic. I like interior design, cooking, buying clothes, and musicals. I just don't like cock. I'm one step, albeit a BIG one (pun intended), from hanging out in the Castro. So it's no surprise that I have an infatuation for the Phantom of the Opera. Everytime I hear "masquerade" or "think of me", I cry like a little be-atch. I watched Phantom for the first time in 1995 at the behest of the wifey (then girlfriend). All throughout college, I would listen to the Phantom soundtrack on my walkman (yes, there were these archaic little machines called Sony walkmans before the iPod), and study my little brains out. I think it allowed me to form an emotional investment with whatever crap I was studying. So it's not a stretch to say that the Phantom got me through college. Actually, my parents got me through college, but don't tell them that. It worked because I didn't get anything lower than a B+ in my last two years of college.

I'm not too much of a romantic, but I can identify with Raoul's love for Christine. I mostly identify with the Phantom, though. He's a horrid, disfigured person who loves someone so deeply, that he finally gives up his love for her for her own happiness. He discovers that it's not his disfigured face that turns Christine away, it's his dark soul. But somewhere within that traumatized soul, is a compassionate being, and it took a kind act of passion to release it.

I've always felt insecure about my relationship skills. I'm either fucking things up or not doing enough to sustain the relationship. In this way, I can identify with the phantom. Despite it all, Joanne has always stuck by me or taken me back.

So this past Valentine's Day, I took Joanne and Mya to the movie theater to watch the movie version. It's been out for two months now and it was in the middle of a work day, so we thought it would be ok to bring Mya. She did fine. Me, not so much. I was crying like a little baby. The music was exquisite, and seemed to tug on my heart strings. I'm glad no one else was in the theater. I was disappointed with the cinematography and the overall feel of the movie, though. It was just too busy, and the camera placements and editing seemed odd. I later found out that Joel Schumacher, the acclaimed producer, directed the film. It was his directorial debut. Stick to producing, homeboy.

Super Nanny

2005-02-08T01:12:00.000-08:00

Just watched an episode of Super Nanny, and it's funny how similar good parenting skills are to the rules and tactics we employ at the group home. Granted, it's taken to an extreme level with level 14 SED kids, but the techniques are similar. Structure, love, discipline, consequences, following through, consistency, and strategically-placed emotional stoicism are the key. Don't have too much time to write about it now, but watch Super Nanny; it's pretty damn good!

All I needed was a good kick in the ass.

2005-02-05T08:00:00.000-08:00

I remember when I got my first job at Baskin-Robbins in high school. I thought I wouldn't be able to handle maintaining my 4.0 gpa with a job and a girlfriend, and all of my other extra-curricular activities. Lo and behold, the job actually forced me to manage my time better and study harder. All I needed was a good kick in the ass.

When I started to slack off in college, and had to drop out for a semester, I re-evaluated my priorities and didn't get anything lower than a B+ in my last two years of college. All I needed was a good kick in the ass.

When I quit my job at Foster City, and relied on refinancing money to pay the mortgage, I had a good time just relaxing. But when we started running out of money and our medical bills started piling up, I sacked up and quickly got two jobs. All I needed was a good kick in the ass

Now that we've got a baby, all of the things I've been putting off, like organizing the garage, cleaning the bathrooms, cleaning the carpets, organizing the pantry, cleaning the interior of the cars, and continually changing the furnace filter have been getting done. Guess what? All I needed was a good kick in the ass.

Tired....

2005-01-29T06:11:00.000-08:00

Had a pretty long day, but I'm glad none of it was real work. I didn't have to fill out any meeting minutes, or meet with teachers, or do some bullshit paperwork. In the morning, I headed out early and brought Gilbey with me. I went to San Ramon, way up in the cuts, and scoped out a Golf Course with a creek in it as a possible field trip site. It was a beautifully well-done community, if you like that cookie cutter suburban crap. I even passed by the model homes, and got a price listing.....$1.2-1.8 million bucks. What a waste of money. As you could imagine, the school that I'm working with gets a lot of property tax money, so they are really well off. Gilbey and I walked along the border of the golf course, scoping out possible places, but the creek looked overgrown and really, who would want a group of 30 kids screaming at the top of their lungs while they're in their backswing? God, I hate golfers. Bunch of pretentious, pompous pussies. I love alliteration, though. Punk asses. Prostate-cancer having penises. Pencil dicks. Porn-watching, popcorn-eating pontificators. Alright, I'm reaching.

So I give Canyon Lakes Golf Course a call, and the director told me in no uncertain terms, "No." Just as a I figured. Next time I go to the school, I'm gonna drop by the golf course and lay a crap on the 18th tee. Then I'm gonna piss in each hole, so that said pee gets all over the fingers of all the golfers who pick up their balls. Huh-uh....I said balls. Do golfers have balls? Or are they all castrated by their own pompousness. Geez, here I go again. Where the hell has this journal entry gone. I think I'm going nuts because it's 6 in the morning and I've been up since 3. I was so tired that I slept at 9pm and woke up at 3. Can't fall back asleep. Which is all good, because I plan to get out of here in the next hour and bring the dogs on a hike. Then the dog park. And finally, get my bloodwork done at the hospital. I haven't eaten anything since 8 last night. I actually fell asleep on the floor while Brady, Noel, and Arlene were still here. Joanne's Dad's birthday was yesterday and we celebrated it here. He's 69. Next year, we've gotta throw him a big party.

Back to golf. I took some pictures, saw some birds, and headed off to Antioch. I actually got a nice picture of this Kestrel on a branch. I also saw a female Northern Harrier scoping the golf course for some rodents. Then a Starling just chillin' on top of a house. Everytime I see birds of prey that I haven't seen in a while, it's always a good omen of things to come. I saw a sharp-shinned hawk right before I quit my job at Kelly Scientific Resources. What a dead end job. I swas a Cooper's Hawk right before we got to call for Mya. I'm trying to convince Joanne to put up this really beautiful poster frame of different birds of prey in the living room, but she ain't havin' it. Even though she knows how much it brings us wonderful blessings.

So I did a lot of driving, which includes going to Antioch right after San Ramon. The weather was a bit unsettling, because it rained, stopped, rained, stopped at least 20 times. Jo and Ket even said it hailed in Oakland and wherever Bella Vista Elementary is. I get to Antioch at about 10:20am and meet briefly with my teacher at Fremont Elementary to drop off pencils for the class (they're made out of recycled money and is their rewards for their great work), talk about a possible field trip site, and a possible action project (releasing tree frogs);. Right before that, I went to this really run-down creek which is walking distance from the school. I don't think we can have a field trip on this site, but it might be a good place for a restoration. When I come back to the office, Ket reminds me that she has a contact with Antioch High School to find a place to collect eggs, and also a contact with Dow Chemical (irony once more), which owns a preserve, with a big-ass factory in the middle. I'm glad she's taking care of this because it seems like a tough situation. When somebody in the City of Antioch caught wind of our tree frog release, that person stirred up some shit and wanted to make sure that we had the proper permits. The easiest thing would be to forget it and do another action project. But I want to show this chick that we can bypass her bureacracy, and teach the kids a wonderful lesson of restoration and re-population of a native species. No worries, Ket's holding it down.

Since I was near Concord, I drop by my favorite Vietnamese place called Pho Hoa Hiep or something like that. For the linguistically challeneged, they have another name for it - Kevin's Noodle House. The place is goddamn good. Jo introduced it to me when we went to one of our initial adoption seminars in Pleasant Hill. I didn't want to go because I thought it was too far, and we only had an hour for lunch. But she persuaded me. I'm glad we went. They have the best Pho, not to mention their blended pearl shakes (even though I don't order the pearls - too much carbs). When Ket and I went here while we were still teaching at Fremont, I brought her there and she liked the food, too. All except the fish sauce, which I mistakenly told her was some broth. She took a nice healthy sip of it before the waiter motioned to her not to do so. Oopps! So I got two, yes two, shakes. An avocado and taro. I was glad to see that they used real avocado. I was also happy to see that they have other restaurants in Oakland and in SF. On 12th St. in Oaktown, too which I frequent anyways.

So I take HWY 4 through Martinez, 80 south from Hercules, and I have some time to take Gilbey to Pt. Isabel. Pt. Isabel is this really huge dog park bordered by a US Post Office Mailing center, the freeway, and the bay. On any given day there could be 50 dogs at the park. But it's so big that fights are really uncommon. Gilbey had a grand ole' time running around, sniffing butts, peeing all over, dumping his load, and finally, chasing this Goldie all over for a good three minutes. Needless to say, he was pooped.

Afterwards, I brought Gilbey into the office, and everybody fell instantly in love with him. Even Mandi commented on how beautiful his coat was, despite the fact that she's not really a dog person. He hung out in the Rodeo while we all ate at Cha Am. After lunch, I made some calls, did a little paperwork, finally got our vacuum working, and headed to the grocery store to buy some stuff for tonight.

Jo's family came over at 7pm except for her brother and his fam. That dude trips me out. I leave two messages on his house and cell phone to call me back, and he calls back Joanne's cell. I think he's scared of me. I'm pretty friendly with him, but I sorta clump him and the wifey in that golfer crowd. On the alliteration tip, they can sometimes be pretentious, pompous, passive-aggressive and petty. Aw, puck it. They're family; I still love them.

I'm not a hospital....

2005-01-26T21:45:00.000-08:00

Because I have no patience. Play on words, fool. Figure it out. Usually, I have patience like Cedars Sinai, but lately, it's being tested like an MF. First of all, people drive like fucking retards. Why do some drivers work so hard to change lanes to a seemingly faster lane, and then return to the same lane they were in just seconds later? You just got nowhere fast, dipshits. I've been sitting in traffic everyday this week, and sure enough, it's always an accident up ahead that's holding shit up. And these bottleneckers who like to gawk at accidents piss me the fuck off. What do you want to see? A mangled body? The pain on some kid's face after he just wrecked Daddy's Acura? What I'd like to see is all of these MF's taking BART. Either that, or a lesbian love scene. Oh yeah, and world peace.

As you can see, I cuss like a pirate when my patience wears thin. What's funny is I work with kids that could even try Nelson Mandela's patience. But I always keep my cool and handle situations well. I work with level 14 SED (seriously emotionally distrubed) kids, teach in highly volatile classes in low-income neighborhoods, and train my two puppies well, even if they insist on smelling my ass constantly. Now, I've got a little poop machine, that for no apparent reason, loves to cry. Most of the time, lil' Mya is telling us that she's hungry, wet, pooped, cold, or needs to be burped. And after she's been taken care of, she's fine. But there are times when she's crying and we can't figure out why!? When I'm in good form, I soothe her for 15 minutes and she's fine. But when it's the middle of the night, my patience runs thin. Sometimes, I feel like just letting her cry it out. But, my guilt gets the better of me after a few seconds of her wailing. Ah, the irony. I work with some f'd up kids, and I ain't trippin'. But put me in charge of a 10 lb. little dynamo, and I'm as inpatient as a crack fiend.

Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach.

2005-01-26T07:22:00.000-08:00

And those who make up silly ass proverbs like this one can kiss my hairy ass crack. I love to teach. It affirms my existence on this planet. Recently, I was observed by my boss, and she had the nerve to give me some "feedback". Don't get me wrong, I love it when people observe me, so they can see me in my natural element. I also like having people give me constructive criticism, to a point. As long as it's valid. But this chick asked me to stop using "you guys" to refer to the class, and instead use "boys and girls" or "children". Who da fuck am I? Mary friggin Poppins?

Then she suggests to me to use positive reinforcement, and to call on students who aren't raising their hand to involve everyone. She observed me for an hour. One whole hour. You can't get a proper taste of a cake without cutting out a big piece. Are you kidding, I'm the king of positive reinforcement! And those kids I was teaching was a group of sophisticated private school 5th graders who don't respond too well to more elementary teaching techniques.

I love my job, but I swear the paperwork, observations, meeting minutes, etc. are ridiculously unnecessary. I didn't get into teaching to do documentation, fool! But I do love da kids, as Trick Daddy says. I had one of the greatest days of teaching last week, when I did a 3 hour presentation at Morello Park Elementary in Martinez. It was a group of 20 2nd graders who was taught by a 36-year veteran teacher. She instantly made me feel welcome in her classroom, and allowed me to take over completely. She also helped with the activities, as well as keeping some kids in line. But it was quite unneccesary, because these kids were so well-behaved, that I didn't even have to prompt anyone once! And these were 2nd graders. Whatever magic that teacher was using worked like a charm.

It's not magic. It's good classroom management. I left the class telling the students that this was the best class I've taught in all year. Two days later, I get a package in the mail from the teacher. Within it were letters from the entire class telling me how nice a teacher I was, how much they learned, how thankful they were, etc. And the teacher even wrote a touching little note, saying that I had a "nice way with the kids" and "good classroom management". How sweet, coming from a 36-year vet who would retire at the end of the year. I wonder what I can do to thank her and the class for their kindness. Should I send a card back? Should I send a photo collage? Too bad I didn't take any pictures in their class.

She also included in her note, "You have a long career in education ahead of you". I hope so, because I'm not ready to strip for a living. Gotta get rid of the lovehandles first.

A passing in our family

2005-01-11T03:35:00.000-08:00

Our beloved dog, Jingo, was put to sleep last Sunday. I hesitate to call him our foster dog, because we had him for almost a year and a half. I've been very emotional about his passing, mostly because it was a decision that I made, but I do not regret the decision at all. I take solace in knowing that he is now in a better place, and his suffering is over.

Jingo came to us on September 20, 2003. I was attending a Pet Expo at the Alameda County Fairgrounds, and represented the rescue group that I was once a part of, the Jindo Project. I brought Gilbey and Jude with me and helped educate people about the Jindo breed, as well as help show off some of our foster dogs (namely Jude). During the second day of the expo, we got a call about a Jindo at the Fairmont Animal Shelter in San Leandro. Actually, it was a 3/4 Jindo, 1/4 Goldie male puppy that was only 3 months old. Since I was the closest member to the shelter, I volunteered to assess his temperament and pick him up from the shelter. When the shelter worker opened his kennel cage, this bouncy, cute little puppy jumped out and gave me kisses all over. Needless to say, I fell instantly in love.

I brought Jingo (then called Scout) to the Expo, and right when I walked into the door, my fellow rescue members introduced him to a couple who was interested in adopting a Jindo. They also feel instantly in love with him. Although I thought he was cute as a button, I couldn't possibly add another dog into the household (little did I know that I would be forced to change my mind about this). So they renamed him Jingo, and they lived happily ever after, right? Wrong.

Three weeks later, I get a call from our rescue person in Sac that I have to pick up Jingo because the couple returned him. Apparently, he bit the family's vet, the father, and rough-housed their 5-year old daughter. I thought to myself, "no way could the same dog that greeted me with kisses at the shelter could do these things." So I picked him up at Sac, along with another dog that I would eventually transport to the same couple. I soon found out that this dog had "issues". I tried to get a collar and leash on him, and he nearly bit my forearm. When I cornered him in the kitchen, he turned into Cujo and came at me like a rabid dog. Didn't do too much damage with those puppy teeth of his, but it did scare the living shit out of him. Literally. He emptied his bowels on the kitchen floor. So we consulted a professional trainer, and she diagnosed him to be fear-aggressive. We worked hard to take out the aggression in him, by socializing him with other dogs, socializing him with adults, children, and training him to be less fearful. He has a fear of men, which can probably be attributed to past experiences of abuse. He was also placed 5 different times when he was less than 3 months old.

A year later, Jingo is still living with us as our "foster" dog. There was a point in his development and training when I felt confident that he could be adopted out. I even considered adopting him out to our brother and sis-in-law (with their 3-year old) despite the fact that they had no prior experience with dogs. I'm glad I didn't because he was still a fearful dog. No amount of training or socialization could take that out of him. And he would always be scared of the littlest thing. A noise, a body movement, even our mere presence in the kitchen frightened him.

Our two dogs, Belle and Gilbey, had an apathetic and contentious relationship with Jingo, respectively. Belly tolerated him, despite the fact that he always bullied her. Gilbey and Jingo did not get along. At first, I thought I could get them to co-exist, but every time I left them alone, they would fight. So I started to only let them co-exist when I supervised them. They didn't fight for a while, but then they started fighting even in my presence! Jingo was so scared of everything that he was also scared of being in a lower place in our wolf pack. And Gilbey is a dominant dog. Don't get me wrong, Gilbey is a sweet, gentle, and wonderful dog, but he's a Beta to my Alpha. Our other male foster dog, Jude, a natural omega, got along famously with Gilbey because he knew his place. Jingo didn't.

The last straw was when Jingo started to develop a wound around his neck because his collar was too tight. It was a nasty wound, too. But he would never let me handle him around his neck. He would try to bite me or just run away. It would take me hours to get a leash on him, and forget about cutting his nails. Couldn't take him to the vet, either, because he would probably just lunge at him/her. Actually, this wasn't the last straw, because I was ready and willing to get him treated by a vet who had experience with aggressive dogs. The real last straw was when I introduced him to our foster rabbit. Belle and Gilbey had their own introductions through a fence, and they were content to sniff her and lick her. Jingo, on the other hand, decided to nip at the bunnies face. Luckily, I was right there to reprimand him and put a stop to any more nipping. Bun-Bun was ok. With a newborn in the house, we could not take any chances with Jingo. So it was time.

Despite his deficiencies, Jingo was a sweet dog. From the little happy puppy that kissed me all over at the shelter, to the bubbly personality that he brought into our household, Jingo was definitely an important part of our family. He was a licking machine, and greeted all of our guests happily. Our nephew, Brady, loved playing with him. He was a beautiful looking dog, with the athletic gait and body of a Jindo Gae, and the beautiful almond-shaped eyes of a Goldie. He loved to play fetch with a ball which is unheard of in the Jindo breed, but common in a Golden Retriever. He was very loyal, intelligent, and loving, and I will miss him terribly.

Jingo Mendoza
June 5, 2003 - January 9, 2005

What a shitty day

2005-01-01T07:27:00.000-08:00

Not really a bad day at all. It's just that my life is dominated by shit. All different types. From pellets to chunks to big and small, I'm an equal opportunity shit-dealer throughout the entire day.

I was looking up the stats on my sitemeter, and notice a lot of people who stumble upon my diet and exercise blog with search words like....."creamy ass" and "mud butt". My blog also consists of my various bowel movements.

Rabbits shit like they were elephants. My rabbit eats a couple of carrots, some pellets, and some mixed greens, and it looks like a pellet city a day later. I thought pellets would be easy to take care of, but I find myself having to clean out that damn rabbit cage shit-catcher every other day. I swear that rabbit has a voracious appetite. I noticed a head of cabbage going bad in the fridge, so I popped the whole head in the rabbit's cage thinking that it should last her 3-4 days. That rabbit ate that head like a Taiwanese hooker on crack. It took a day and a half.

My dogs shit all over one side of the yard. I trained Belle and Jingo to do their bidness on the gravel, so it's easier for me to pick up. Especially the runny diarrhea specials. Gilbey still does his on the side yard. I've got to clean up after them 1-2 times a day, because Belly has a penchant for chewing on crap. Pretty nasty, but coprophagia is pretty common in dogs. Still, I make sure that the yard is cleaned up before I let her monkey ass out. Every week or so, I'd fill up a dog food bag's worth of crap, since I have three dogs. Every day is a crappy day.

One night, I got to work at the group home, and one of our kids was smearing all over the Quiet Room. It was summer time, so that shit was festering in the heat, and he got it in every little nook and cranny of that QR. Don't really know why they do it, but our therapist says it gives them a sense of power, when they're in a situation they cannot control. It took 2 hours to clean that shit up, and the kid didn't know what "elbow grease" was. The smell was attrocious, even though it was battling the smell of bleach and pine sol, which is pretty potent in its own right.

Normally we have enuretic kids, who can't control their bladder, but once in a while we have encopretics who can't control their bowel movements. It makes for a wonderful laundry experience , full of little brown surprises and skid marks galore. What a shitty job.

Now, I've got this 8 lb. little dynamo who really knows how to pack in those little pampers. It's a strange type of shit which I am oddly familiar with. I know how to handle vveggie-filled pellets, runny situations, dark bombs of glory, and corn-infested majesties, but hers was a new type that I've never experienced.

The first three days, this black stringy, creamy crap came out. They call it meconium (sic) and it's how the kid gets it GI tract ready to take in food and drink. Sorta like an initial tune-up on a car.

Since then, it's been this sweet-smelling, half-liquid, half-solid, yellowish mustard-seed looking crap with the consistency of cottage cheese. Of all the shits I've known in my life, this was the least offensive of all. Overall it was a crap-filled day, but I ain't complaining.

Happy New Year! 2005 is looking mighty fine...

2004-12-31T22:54:00.000-08:00

I've had no time to write so here's what's been happening to me in the past month:

1) Went to Las Vegas (not for pleasure) a couple of times to jack off into a plastic cup. Joanne was doing IVF treatments there. Good doctor, shitty staff. All for not, though. Third failed IVF and second mortgage is like a car payment (except it lasts for thirty friggin' years instead of 5). Thank God for refinancing.

2) Got a call from a birthmother in Sac; two days later she's at our house doing a match meeting with our adoption counselor. Two weeks later, we're in a delivery room at UC Davis Medical Center hearing the pains of labor. Three hours later, we've got a precious little girl in our arms. We named her Mya Josephine, and she came out 7lbs 10oz and 20 inches long. Birthmom was really gracious and wonderful throughout and the genes are pretty good. BF is a musician and 6'5'' tall. He's a white dude who still hasn't signed his relinquishment papers. At least he's been given the 30-day notice, which means he will automatically relinquish his rights if he doesn't respond in the allotted time. Birthmom is a beautiful Laotian/Thai/Chinese 20 year old who still wants to go to college, and pay the bills away from Mommy and Daddy. Get this, she works at Home Depot in Lumber and Contruction and drives a forklift. She was telling us that she constantly gets marriage proposals from all of the contractors that come in and get help from her.

Mya is doing well right now and is with family at home as we speak. It is T-minus 1 hour and 15 minutes til 2005, and I'm at Sage House working at the group home. Kids are all asleep, but shit has been going down at this house in the past two months, so we have to be extra-vigilant. Apparently, staff members were so relaxed with their rules, that they allowed two kids to be out of their eyesight for some period of time. As a result, one kid was constantly being sodomized by two other kids, no doubt, sexual predators in their own right. It's sad how the cycle just continues to perpetuate itself through the psychological hell that these kids have been through. So there are two of us right now, and I'm parked upstairs in the hallway with a computer in hand, so I thought I would blog.....finally.

Here are some pics of our little bundle of joy:

Daddy's little girl

Two beautiful women

Waddup, fool?

TWO damn good, long days

2004-12-03T21:58:00.000-08:00

Woohoo! It's been a couple of days since I last left you, and it's been a whirlwind. Let me summarize, Lynch Mob style:

Thursday

Middle of da night - Didn't actually do too much in the middle of the night; just compiled all of my work from my computer and made sure it was ready to go to my compueter at work. Then I slumbered for two hours and got my ass up at 3:30am to get to the office at 4:30am

4:30am - Nobody on da streets and it took me 16 minutes to get to work, approximately 15.8 miles away. Brought the tape of Arsenal at Liverpool, which provided ambient noise and pictures, while I worked feverishly to not only get my December Deliverables done, but to make sure it was good quality. Also played the final race of the World Rally Car circuit. Worked like a mojo on databases, progress reports, photographs, student work, etc. until 9:30am.

8:30am - one of my co-workers comes in and tries to get stuff ready for her teaching. I'm actually teaching in the same school as her, so we ready our stuff together. She was kind enough to get both of our stuff together, albeit she was bothering the fuck out of me while I tried to finish my shit. I guess some peeps don't really understand how it is when you're stressed as an MF and you want to be left the fuck alone!

Let me stop right here. A couple of my co-workers have been pissing me off the last couple of days. Even though I have the weight of these reports to finish, Joanne's impending medical treatments, transportation, and babysitting of the pups, financial issues, along with morning and night injections that number in the 10's every day, not to mention the good news that I will soon tell you about (woohoo!), I have to deal with these peoples' issues! Jesus, Mary, Joseph, could you lay off me a little bit, you little monkeys. One co-worker of mine got on my case for having to leave for Las Vegas for an emergency procedure because I was missing a program meeting. A fuckin' program meeting?!?!? When she did this, I said curtly, "I've got my priorities straight, and the program meeting is not on the top of my list, so stick it up your wanker." Ok, I didn't say that last part, but I wanted to. This chick can get a little agro when it comes to "reminding" you of your shit. In fact, she "reminded" me of a meeting an evaluation right in front of a teacher, which was completely unprofessional. I didn't call her on it, though, because she has been very helpful to me in these first three months of work. Can't say the same for my other co-worker. She tells me to ask her anything and she'll help you out. When I do, she shoots me down as if I'm dumber than mud. No, thank you, sweetheart. I can't depend on your passive aggressive ass.

Cube, break these fools off!

This same co-worker gets on my case this morning. I come in at 11am, after buying a shitload of crap at Orchard, going to storage, and calling teachers in the morning, and this chick has the nerve to ask, "Did you just get in for the day?" All I reply is "Yup". I got a thick skin, so I can handle these people's bullshit. Later, my other co-worker (who actually played peacemaker) tells me that her and Miss Passive Aggressive worked a 12-hour day yesterday, and I retort, "Don't bitch about that, I worked 16 hours, so I don't care what time I get in this morning." A little childish of my, I admit, but PassAggro had to hear it.

Then her ass gets on my case about a field trip she's trying to schedule and tries to point out that I didn't email her in time, and I was procrastinating on my shit. I pointed out that she's been giving misinformation about the field trip site, and she goes wacko. She goes into the other room, gets into her PassAggro shell, and just indiscriminantly says things to get my attention. Fuck you, chick. I ain't got time for your little ego trip. The way she was whining and complaining reminded me of a five-year old not getting her way. My other co-worker (another one who has been really helpful to me) plays peacemaker and tells us to squash it. That's a departure for her, because she usually mutters fucked up shit whenever someone's having a bad time. I remember when my boss told me to "step up my recruiting" (recruiting of teacher, that is) during a staff meeting, and when the meeting was over, this chick mutters to herself "fresh meat". I think her inner voice sometimes comes out to her mouth. Nonetheless, this chick has really helped me out with my teaching and my administration, so I'm thankful to her.

Sorry, I got trigonometric on your ass and went off on a tangent. You'd think these incidences would make me have a miserable day, but I'm a positive person, and I shed that crap off me like shit from a dog's ass. Back to my day:

10:30am - teach one of my favorite lessons to a school in San Pablo. Kids are very responsive to my teaching style. I really am impressed with the improvement they made from the first lesson. They weren't that bad in the first lesson, but I think their teacher lets them get a little talkative and rowdy. I ain't having that shit, so I make students leave the activity, if they ain't got their shit together. But they still love my ass, because I inject humor, positive reinforcement (gave out pencils and rulers to those who were on point), and make the lesson fun as hell. Those kids are very intelligent, they were on my questions like a fly on a cow's ass.

12pm - during lunch, I get a message from Jo that a birthmother is very interested in us, and would like to contact us. It's been a month since we finished up all our paperwork and coincidently last talked to a birthmother who is due in January, and that one was all the way in Lincoln, Nebraska! We had a birthmother in San Jose that was also interested is us two days before that, but we decided to pass because she had just given birth and we could not take in a baby at that time. This new birthmother lives in Sac. Needless to say, I'm beaming.

3pm - drop by storage and get tree planting stuff for my co-worker, as well as drop off our teaching shit. Get another message from Jo that ANOTHER birthmother is interested in us. This one's in Concord. Unfortuantely, she was addicted to pain medications and used all throughout the pregnancy. The father of the baby beat her up, so she was in so much pain that she needed it. Sad, but we're still there for the baby if she decides to contact us. Every baby deserves a chance to live and be loved.

4pm - finish up my December Deliverable Report. Lots of peeps in the office, so I tried not to be bothered by their "pressing" issues. Jeez.

5pm - phone-a-thon: we had this event to raise funds for transportation coasts and scholarships. It was pretty disorganized though. My co-worker sent out fundraising letters that didn't say we would be calling them, so a lot of people got mad because they got hit up twice. I can't blame them, I hate getting shit in the mail, and worse, getting solicitation phone calls. I think I'll ask Jossie to call my list of people (I only did 5-6 people) because she works for the Cal annual fund, so she's a pro.

I think we did more harm than good, because people get resentful when you bother them too much. Especially if they already support your program. I'll bring it up with the boss next time.

7:30pm - had to hightail it home for Jo's shots; any more than 12 hours spaced apart, it becomes null and ineffective. I swear I should be a Med Tech administering all of these shots. Either that or a heroin addict.

8pm - 1st birthmother calls us! OMG. She's so normal, I thought to myself. She loves to cook, has a big family, and they are supportive of her impending adoption. To top it off, the baby's gonna be a mutt! Moms is asian and pops is white. Joanne has always wanted to have a mutt, because they are the most beautiful babies in the world. I would agree. We have a cousin who married a white guy, and neither one of them is spectacularly good-lookin' (at least not as good looking as yours truly, Big Sexy), but their kids came out like little models. Cute as a couple of buttons.

So our conversation ends in us scheduling a match meeting on Saturday. She's gonna drive down from Sac and we'll have lunch and later meet with an adoption counselor. I forgot to write that since Jo and I will be in Vegas for our medical treatments, I have to be available at a drop of a hat to fly to Sac and pick up the baby at the hospital. Her due date is soon! And so is our medical procedure. So Jo schedules me a flight out to Vegas this Sunday, so I could do my dirty deed, and fly back to the Bay on Monday morning.

Tonight, I bought a crib, comforter set, mobile, rug, car seat, etc. and it cost 500 bucks. A drop in the hat for a miracle waiting to happen.

It Was a Good, Long Day

2004-12-01T22:06:00.000-08:00

The previous post is the song lyrics to Ice Cube's "It Was A Good Day", one of my favorite rap songs...I can actually rap along with this one, cuz Cube has a slow, deliberate cadence.

For me today has been very long, but very good. Here's the rundown:

4am - woke up and walked dogs, prepped for work, took vitamins, ate breakfast, clean up dog and rabbit crap; then watched the news, went on the internet, and took a nap

8am - gave Jo her shots, thank God they were only sub-cutaneous and not intra-muscular. Those intra-muscular needles are long as a dong!

8:30am - left a message for our Staffing Coordinator at Seneca to thank her for putting me on Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve and night, New Year's Eve and night. I really need the double-time.

9am - high-tailed it to work and put away yesterday's teaching supplies in our storage bin, went to the office and picked up my co-worker, loaded up the truck with 16 smelly-ass fish and crabs, and scooted to San Pablo to teach for the day.

10am - 2pm - taught 4th graders about fish and crab, played the food chain game, watched our video, and had fun! Also had lunch at this burger joint in Richmond that looked like a hole in a wall. Had the best cheeseburger I've had in a long time!

2pm - finally got my teacher's contract which I've been asking for each time I came to teach! Kristina got me an ice cream pop and high-tailed it back to the office.

3pm - discovered three of my other teachers' contracts on my desk (fuck yeah!); my boss praised Jo's websites and is looking to hire her to do our website. Had to bust a move to San Ramon to conduct an orientation meeting.

3:45pm - was late for the meeting, but got a hold of the teacher to inform her; the meeting was cool, and the teachers were excited. The school makes every other school I've ever seen look like a ghetto. This was one rich-ass neighborhood.

4:30 - Jo leaves me a message on my cell that someone finally contacted us and is very interested in us. I start singing in the car.

5:30pm - I get home and find Liverpool playing Arsenal on TV, two of my favorite English Premier League Futbol clubs. And to top it off, Liverpool wins in the 92nd minute with a last-second goal by Mellar.

6pm - walk Belly and she's doing well with her training; I'm working on her heel.

7pm - get a call from a teacher who I've been trying to contact for months! We finally get our signals on the same line. This is a big load off my work shoulders.

7:30pm - get another call from a Special Ed Teacher who is very thankful to me for giving her class a discount and accomodating her students. Her kids consist of an autistic student, and blind student, a deaf student, two wheelcahir-bound students, and a couple of SED kids. It's gonna be a challenge, but I'm up for it.

8pm - get another call from my co-worker, and we set up our teaching schedule tomorrow, she gives me info I've been waiting on for a while, and I debrief her on my meeting.

8:15pm - remembered Lost was on ABC and watched a really good episode. Alias is dog crap compared to this show. The cliffhangers they have every week are awesome. This one was no exception.

9pm - more shots for the wifey! 5 shots in total. I dunno how she does it. She's half woman - half amazing.

10pm - bloggin' and I finally got my 250 MB from Hotmail. Every last person I know received their storage update sometime in November, but those assholes at MSN decided to make me sweat it until December. Fuck you, Bill Gates.

So that was my day. No gats or drive-bys like my bruddah, Ice Cube. No booty calls, no social life (I'm working all the holidays), and no jackers in sight. "And, today, I didn't even have to use my A.K." But nonetheless, a very good day. Now, I'm gonna get 1-2 hours sleep, and work on my reports all night into tomorrow morning. No rest for the weary.

It Was a Good Day

2004-12-01T18:13:00.000-08:00

Just waking up in the morning gotta thank God
I don't know but today seems kinda odd
No barking from the dog, no smog
And momma cooked a breakfast with no hog
I got my grub on, but didn't pig out
Finally got a call from a girl wanna dig out
Hooked it up for later as I hit the dough
Thinking will i live, another twenty-fo'
I gotta go cause I got me a drop top
And if I hit the switch, I can make the ass drop
Had to stop at a red light
Looking in my mirror not a jacker in sight
And everything is alright
I got a beep from Kim and she can fuck all night
Called up the homies and I'm askin y'all
Which court, are y'all playin basketball?
Get me on the court and I'm trouble
Last week fucked around and got a triple double
Freaking brothers every way like M.J.
I can't believe, today was a good day
Drove to the pad and hit the showers
Didn't even get no static from the cowards
Cause just yesterday them fools tried to blast me
Saw the police and they rolled right past me
No flexin, didn't even look in a niggaz direction
as I ran the intersection
Went to Short Dog's house, they was watchin yo on TV Raps
What's the haps on the craps
Shake em up, shake em up, shake em up, shake em
Roll em in a circle of niggaz and watch me break em
With the seven, seven-eleven, seven-eleven
Seven even back do' little Joe
I picked up the cash flow
Then we played bones, and I'm yellin domino
Plus nobody I know got killed in South Central L.A.
Today was a good day
Left my niggaz house paid
Picked up a girl been tryin to fuck since the twelve grade
It's ironic, I had the brew she had the chronic
The Lakers beat the Supersonics
I felt on the big fat fanny
Pulled out the jammy, and killed the punanny
And my dick runs deep, so deep, so deep
put her ass to sleep
Woke her up around one
she didn't hesitate, to call Ice Cube the top gun
Drove her to the pad and I'm coasting
Took another sip of the potion hit the three-wheel motion
I was glad everything had worked out
Dropped her ass off, then I chirped out
Today was like one of those fly dreams
Didn't even see a berry flashing those high beams
No helicopter looking for a murder
Two in the morning got the fat burger
Even saw the lights of the Goodyear Blimp
And it read Ice Cube's a pimp
Drunk as hell but no throwing up
Half way home and my pager still blowing up
Today I didn't even have to use my A.K.
I got to say it was a good day.
Hey wait, wait a minute fool
Stop the shit
What the fuck am I thinking about?

-Ice Cube and da Lynch Mob

Birth and Death

2004-12-01T04:33:00.000-08:00

I had a pretty eerie day. One of my co-workers and I taught at a school in San Pablo, and it was her birthday. Later on in the day, Jo told me that our sister-in-law, Arlene, was also having her birthday today. When I got home from work, they had some crap-ass NBC Christmas special from Rockefeller Plaza, and Gay...I mean Clay Aiken was singing. It was his birthday, too!

On the flipside, Arlene told us that Josie and Riz De Ala's grandson (they were one of our wedding primary sponsors) had just died. He was two months old and recovering from a horrible birth defect where his organs were outside of his body at birth. Also, my boss from Seneca (the group home) called me and informed me that one of our Therapists that treats the kids just committed suicide two day ago. The managers all decided to fully enclose her death to the kids, but I'm sure they won't say how she died (or maybe they will if too many of the kids probe about it). She jumped off the Richmond/San Rafael bridge, which if you don't know, is pretty high up from the surface of the water. The irony lies on so many planes, including the fact that a Therapist, someone who is professionally trained to treat people, could not treat herself from her demons. Many of our kids are suicidal, themselves, and I have NO idea how this will affect them. Apparently, many people knew of her depression and problems, and tried to help her, but it wasn't enough. I just hope that she has found some measure of peace, and her family will eventually understand and cope with her decision.

However fucked up your life may be, it's never worth it to end your life. I truly believe that there will be dire consequences in the after-life for those who take their lives. I ain't gonna quote scripture or deliver the Catholic's church official stance on it, because as far as I'm concerned, the Catholic's unofficial stance on most things have been demonic, even to condone shit like the sexual abuse of minors.
I just know that ending one's life intentionally will not find a person peace, it will just end the pain temporarily.

Procrastinating Christmas Pack Rats Clean out their Den

2004-11-27T08:10:00.000-08:00

It's funny how much earlier Christmas rears its ugly head this time of year. I've been seeing merchandisers and retailers put up their Christmas stuff right after Halloween. Even before the kids can get a filling or two at their dentists' office, they're being bombarded by Christmas marketing. Kids are no longer going to look out for Santa Claus on Christmas day, but rather look for special deals on the day after Thanksgiving! I know I was doing that after I realized the dubious existence of Kris Kringle. My parents were frugal as hell, and any which way I can help them find a deal on a new toy I wanted, I was there.

Nowadays, Christmas is a pretty miserable time of the year for me. Ever since my family and I were forced to move from one house to another on Christmas Day in 1995, I've had some pretty bad Christmases. That year, my parents just realized that if they moved, they would take advantage of a Capital Gains tax break on the house they were about to sell. So X-mas was reserved for moving a shitload of crap (quite redundant, eh?) from one house to another. My parents never threw anything away. In fact, since I moved from their house in 1999, they've converted my room into a storage room. It's piled high with boxes of crap they'll never use, and never needed in the first place.

In a desperate attempt to not turn into a packrat like my brethren, Jo and I (with the help of AC), have been cleaning out out house. We've only lived in it for 5 years, and we have acquired so much useless crap! It's a work in progress, but every week, there's less and less clutter. And I'm finally feeling like I could breathe a little. Not only are we getting rid of worthless crap, we're also getting our shit organized! No more looking for bills in a pile of papers, or worrying about finding our property tax statements. It's been much more enjoyable.

Now, I've resolved even before the obligatory New Year's resolutions to work on my procrastination. I have a nasty habit of putting things off until the last minute, and it's added a tremendous amount of stress on my life. I remember in high school, how easy it was to procrastinate because everything came so easy to me. But boy, in college, did I get my ass kicked when I didn't keep up on my studying. You'd think I would learn my lesson from that, but I would procrastinate at projects at work, too. Most of the jobs I've had in the past 5 years has required a tremendous amount of multi-tasking. Ofcourse, I would always perform the easy and desirable projects first, like actual teaching. I would put off writing reports, doing mundane office work, until the last minute.

All this leads to a very disorganized life, and I'm one who likes to function without chaos. It's a battle between procrastination and organization, and the former seems to always win out. No longer. I've been taking big steps in working out my issues, including reading a handbook on procrastination, and listening to an audio tape about how to overcome it.

I think one thing that Jo cannot stand about me is my constant procrastination. So I've been trying hard to keep her stress levels down so that her endo doesn't come back with a vengeance. I can truly see how much of a toll it takes on her. Before, I had the excuse that I was really tired because of my sleep apnea. I think it's made me chronically lazy, too. But now, I've been feeling really rested and content, now that I've been sleeping with my C-pap machine. So there's no more excuses for being a lazy mf.

Well, this blog went from Christmas marketing to my parent's rodent tendencies to our fall "spring" cleaning to my procrastination. I've been meaning to blog about my procrastination for the longest time; I've just been putting it off.

Starting to hit the wall

2004-11-14T02:58:00.000-08:00

It's 3 am, and I'm working alone at the group home. I've been up since 1-2pm today, so I didn't get much rest. I've was cleaning the garage all day, too. To top it off, I come into work at 10pm and MB's in the Quiet Room. He had been in a 1/2 hour, 3-person restraint, and now he was calming down. I was thankful he hadn't saved that for me! Nevertheless, I was counseling MB until 1am. Little fucker's got some major issues. Though I believe in people's innate ability to change and strive to be the best person they can be, I don't have much hope for MB. He's violent towards women, especially women he has affection for. He has an infatuation with one of our staff members, EF. Apparently, no one had really talked to him about it until now. And it's been at least 8 months since he's exhibited any signs of a crush. Predictably, he would praise her one minute and then curse her the next for no apparent reason. He's tried to assault her many times already. What's good about today's restraint and seclusion that it was with two chicks and a fresh green staff member. Just his third menotr training shift! Better learn now than never. MB is usually a messy restraint, too. I don't think he had been restrained in a while, at least 6 months. But the boy has gotten BIG! He's already 13 (right now, I'm listening to his fuckin' little mermaid CD that he always has to play when he goes to sleep. I hate that friggin' red headed mermaid's vocie!). And he's naturally muscular. I can picture him in adulthood, beating his wife or raping some old chick. It fucking sucks, but it's the reality.

I hadn't eaten dinner, so I made myself a big taco, complete with sour crema, salsa, and taco-flavored ground beef. That's one aspect of working overnight that I don't like: I have 1/2 to 1 more meal a day than I usually do, so I've gained at least 20 lbs. since I started working here 4 years ago.

If that's my only complaint, then I've got a pretty good gig. Check out the perks:

-I get to go on the internet and work or fuck around. Granted, I have DSL at home, but I get a lot of blogging done here, and I also work on curriculum and correspondence for my other gig.
-I eat whatever the fuck I want. Since our grocery shopper has been getting stuff from TJ's (that's Trader Joe's grocery store where a lot of the food is organic and fresh), I've been eating a lot of snacks and meals lately.
-I get to hang out with the kids at night, which means playing tooth fairy, reading bedtime stories, and tucking in kids. It's a very satisfying part of the job.
-I get to hang out with the kids in the morning, which usually entails me fuckin' around with them. They're usually in a good mood.
-I'm usually a night owl anyways, so why not get paid for staying up?

The only real work I do is cleaning up the house, doing a SHITLOAD of laundry, washing dishes, vacuuming, setting up for holiday decorations, leading mentor trainings, making lunch for the next day's activities, and of course, checking up on the kids at night. I also have to call into a voice mail box every hour from 12am to 7 am. Just to make sure I ain't in la la land.

Don't get me wrong, there certainly are days when I wonder why I'm working here. My constant sleep deprivation can't be extending my lifeline. And my immune system definitely gets compromised. Not to mention the days when I come into work and a kid is smearing feces all over the wall, or when a kids bites and spits on you during a restraint, or when a kid is calling you every name imaginable, including simulating what types of acts he's gonna do on my mother. When a kid says this, I usually ask him, "Have you seen my mom?" Just kidding, Ma.

Whew! Almost fell asleep there, gotta call the VM box at 4am. 6 more hours and it's all over...

Song

2004-11-11T19:02:00.000-08:00

Song
by Allen Ginsberg ("Howl")

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
burning with purity--
for the burden of life
is love,

but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.

No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love--
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
--cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:

the weight is too heavy

--must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.

The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye--

yes, yes,
that's what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.

Ah....the irony

2004-11-10T18:12:00.000-08:00

It's been more than a week since we found out that we are four years closer to frickin' armageddon, and I'm not trippin'. Last Wednesday, the day after the elction, was a weird-ass day. I work in Berkeley, which is predominantly Democratic, Green, Libertarian, and Independent. Everywhere I went that day, people were in a haze. You could sense that people were in a state of shock, anger, sadness, you name it. I make fun of the hippie-Berkely-ite as much as the next red-blooded American, but how could we re-elect this numbnut after the job he's done the past four years?

With apologies to Alanis Morrisette, isn't it ironic?:

-Republican evangelicals claim that they voted to align with their moral values. How is it moral to indiscriminantly maim, kill, and destroy cities, towns and whole countries? If I were an Iraqi, I would ask, "If this is the freedom and democracy you want us to have, go stick it up your collective asses!" No wonder the world hates us. Our magnanimous, inflated opinion of ourselves is so sickening.

-Is capital punishment anywhere in the Bible? Then why the hell did Bush kill more people as the Governor of Texas than anyone in the hisotry of the US? I saw Kerry wearing a yellow Lance Armstrong (Live Strong) bracelet. Methinks Dubwa should be sportin' a WWJD? bracelet. What WOULD Jesus do? He certainly wouldn't kill, hate, terrorize, and exclude others in the name of God.

-When the failing economy, trillion-dollar deficit, unilateral foreign policy, and claiming to go to war as a "last resort" and fabricating a few reasons to invade another country are OVERLOOKED, because we can't stand to see two guys french-kissing, there is something extremely wrong. Our priorities are all out of wack.

-New York, San Francisco, Washington DC, and other metropolitan areas are touted to be the most culturally advanced areas in the World. WTF?!?!?! We got our asses handed to us by a bunch of redneck, holy-rollin' hillbillies with nothing better to do on a weekend than watch 30 cars continuously turn left for 3 hours in a row.

-Even though all of the unions, including mine (AFSCME), supported Kerry, and one of Kerry's major platforms was the tax cuts not benefitting the people who really need it (the middle-class and poor), we still elected this asshole.

-With all the hype that voter turn-out would be at a record high and young people and women would sway the vote to the democrats, it was all bullshit. Young people were busy watching P. Diddy talk about voting or dying on MTV, and women were busy getting brainwashed by the right-wing Republican.

-The Democratic party stands for SHIT. Nothing. Crap. You name it. Instead of trying to appease themasses by hunting geese in a full-out camo one week before the election, Kerry should have said what he really felt. I think that if Bush, the biggest fucking liar of them all when it comes to Iraq, can still be trusted more by the American people than Kerry, the Democratic party has some serious thinking to do about their platform. Fuck it, support Gay Marriage, support the Right to Choose fully, support something, but do it with conviction, or else the American people will see right through your fake-ass camo.

Four more years, four more years, come on and say it wid' me, four more years, four more years....closer to the apocalypse.

Pictures of some sorry-ass people

.

The curse is over!

2004-10-30T01:37:00.000-07:00

Gotta give it up to the Boston Red Sox for chucking the gorilla, which was probably the size of King Kong, of their collective backs and getting rid of the curse of the Bambino. If you don't believe in curses, you'll believe in this one because of the dramatic shift in the foruntes of the two teams involved. In 1918, the Boston Red Sox sold Babe Ruth, arguably the greatest power hitter in the history of baseball, to the New York Yankees. Here are the numbers:

Number of World series championships prior to 1918:

Red Sox 4
Yankees 0

Number of World series championships between 1918 and 2003 (that's 85 years):

Red Sox 0
Yankees 26

Number of Boston Red Sox fans who got wicked drunk a couple of days ago: at least 5 million

I've got to eat my words. I thought trading away Nomar Garciaparra in the middle of the season was a dumb move. I thought he was the heart and soul of the team. Apparently, he was only a kidney. And you can still live a long, productive life without a kidney. Guys like David Ortiz, Pedro Martinez, Johnny Damon, Bill Mueller, and others collectively made up the heart and soul of the team. Nomars trade counterparts, Doug Mentkiewicz and Orlando Cabrera shored up the defense. Mark Bellhorn proved to be the unsung hero of the series, and what can you say about David Ortiz and Derek Lowe? DO was a cast-off from Minnesota who proved to be a clubhouse leader as well as a lightning rod for keeping the clubhouse mood light and fun. He also had 2 game winning hits, and one hit to extend a game into extra innings (which they eventually won). Derek Lowe was relegated to the bullpen after a miserable season, but stepped up HUGE in the postseason to win the clinching games in each of the three series.

I was happy to see the Red Sox come back from a 3-0 deficit against the Yankees. In fact, the World Series was just a formality to solidy this team's place in baseball history. No team has ever come back from a deficit like that. The Yankees, better known as the Evil Empire, choked big. And A-Rod's bush league interference play and subsequent argument with the umpire, just goes to show you that the good guy always wins...in the end.

Kennifer's wedding

2004-10-19T11:05:00.000-07:00

Kennifer is comprised of Jenn Boquiren and Ken Soto. Or I should say Mr. and Mrs. Ken and Jenn Soto. Last Saturday, they got married in a beautiful church wedding in Sacramento CA.

Our wedding weekend started on Friday afternoon. I was teaching a class in Oakland up until 3pm, and only got home at 3:45pm. Jo and I ended up leaving for Sac at 4:15pm, and we were supposed to be there at 5:45pm for the rehearsal at the church. It would have taken a miracle to get there on time. Once we hit the 80 freeway in Emeryville, we were shit out of luck. Traffic was stop and go all the way to Sac, and we ended up getting there at 7:15pm, a good hour-and-a-half after we were supposed to arrive. An ominous beginning, but we were still able to practice our respective duties.

I was a secondary chord sponsor (along with Arlene E.), and Jo was a bridesmaid. Incidentally, Sac is as far in the cuts as Buttfuck, Egypt. The freeways are confusing as hell, and the farm roads are long as a dong. The restaurant was only two blocks and one right turn away, but we still traveled what seemed like 10 miles. Those are long-ass blocks! We had dinner at a chinese restaurant in the middle of one long block of asian strip mall stores and grocery stores. It was like Chinatown in the middle of Fresno, CA. Surreal, grasshopper.

We stayed two nights at the Marriot Courtyard, which was equidistant to both the Church and the downtown Hyatt which was where the reception was. It was nice to have a weekend away from the dogs, and cleaning the house. My pops took care of the pups and the rabbit. He called me on Saturday morning, and I walked him through the entire routine. It nearly took an hour to get it all done.

The wedding rolls around at 12pm, and it literally starts at 11:58am. In a filipino wedding where many of the guests are people of color, there were a lot of late arrivees. But at least, they made it to the ceremony, because the reception was still 5 hours away. Many guests just went to the reception and ditched the ceremony. Too bad, it was a beautiful ceremony. The most touching moment was when Jenn and Ken visited a picture of Jenn's father, who passed away a couple of years ago.

Jimmy took some really nice pictures, and so did Arlene. Here are their links:

Jimmy's wedding pics

Arlene's wedding pics

The reception was really fun. I can honestly say that I had the most fun at this wedding than I've had at any other wedding. Maybe it was the 7 and 7, SNPA's, and other shots that I took throughout the night, but I also had a great time with my baby. We got our freak on, and also rocked back and forth while Kai serenaded Kennifer. Very sweet, indeed. And we saw a lot of our good ole' friends. Alvin, Betty, Jenny, Charlene and her hubby, and the rest of the guys were hamming it up.

Bittersweet?! You're on crack.

2004-10-18T19:31:00.000-07:00

I was coloring in some posters for work (yes, for work....I love my job!) and I ran across some crayons with the dumbest names imaginable. I was coloring in a building a light shade of brown, and noticed that the name of the crayon I was using was "bittersweet". What the fuck? How do you equate the feeling, bittersweet, with the color of baby crap?

They should call it "cream of baby diaper", and actually put little pieces of corn in there, for realism's sake. I saw this other crayon, which was basically gray, and it was called "timberwolf". What next..."clubbed baby seal?"

Here's some more realistic things we could all relate with: "crack-whore". It should be a combination of red and black; red for the beating that her pimp, Gregorio, is gonna give her for not giving him his money, and black for the welts on her arms from shooting up like a fiend.

I'm gonna give Crayola a call and pitch my idea. If they don't like it, they can suck my bittersweet timberwolf...if you know what I mean.

More rejected crayon names

Happy Anniversary!

2004-10-11T22:38:00.000-07:00

I've been to two Anniversary parties in the past month. One was a 35th Anniversary party for Jo's Uncle and Aunt. The other one was a 50th Golden Anniversary party for Jo's other Uncle and Aunt. Needless to say, they were very sweet. The 35 was even sweeter because it was a surprise party thrown by the 2 sons and their respective wives. They had no idea that they were attending their own anniversary party. They were expecting to just go to a regular ole' birthday party for one of the daughter-in-laws. When they walked into the restaurant and saw that the entire place was filled with their loved ones, it was a sight to see. Auntie Alice was brought to tears, and Uncle Eddie was beaming. Very sweet, indeed.

The 50th anniversary was equally as sweet....but more like Equal or Sweet N' Low sweet. That side of Jo's family has always been cool with me, but I always get the feeling that there is a facade that hides their inner feelings (hence the artificial sweetener reference). The exception is the younger generation, who have been so suppressed by this pressure to put up a good face, that they are incredibly candid and open; sometimes a bit too open. Like Jo's little cousin, Mickey, who takes every little chance to talk behind someone's back....or even in front of their face. Everytime I see him, he's got some negativity flowing through his veins about someone else. So young and so jaded, already. Conversely, there's Vintage Star. She's got her own blog, Life Got Cold , and she opens up about things like her family, her feelings, and her fastidiousness. Even when she didn't blog, she always struck me as an honest, genuine, and sincere person. And anyways, I know she reads my blog, so ha!

One of the daughters and her husband have been married for a long time and they have four beautiful kids. A couple of years ago, the daughter/wife left her family to move in with someone else. Yet, at most of the family parties afterwards, she was present, as if nothing had happen. Fortunately, they have gotten back together since. Maybe I'm just being a dipshit and if I had asked, she would have been candid and open about it. But still, I get the same feeling from another daughter and her husband.

When I was growing up, family parties were a hoot. Insert sarcasm here. Coming from a son of a mother who would be seething mad inside, and then put up a good face in front of company, I know how this works. One minute she's cussing you out for being a bad kid, and the next minute she's smiling and laughing away with a friend of hers. I've made sure that I'm not going to be fake in front of people. If I'm frickin' angry, I'll just go away for a while. If I'm sad, I'll let people know that I'm sad. They're family, for God's sake! They'll understand.

Alright, enough negativity. Let me talk about our own anniversary. On October 9, 2004, Joanne and I celebrated our 5-year anniversary. We went to Absinthe in the Hayes Valley of SF, and had brunch. We ended up not having any breakfast food, but instead ordered a Niman Ranch burger and a chicken ceasar salad. They were delicioso! Then I gave my honey my anniversary gift to her. The item for a 5-year anniversary is wood, so I didn't want to get her just a 2 by 4 piece of wood. So I got her an silver ogee pendant in a mahogany box.

Pretty nice, if I say so myself. Later that night, I gave her my own piece of wood. Haha! Just kidding. Actually, we went to a karaoke bar to celebrate Jess' 30th birthday. AC, Patrick Monasterio, and the Lorenzo's were all there. AC was mackin' on the cute bartender. I hadn't seen Patrick since high school, so we were catching up. And Anthony, Asuncion's hubby, Neil, and I were trying our best to liquor up and gain enough courage to make fools of ourselves by singing.

When it was my turn to sing, I was lucky enough to have two of Jess' drunk-ass friends wail away, thereby hiding my own horrible voice. So I belted one out to the tune of "More than Words". I'm embarrassed to admit that I have belted this tune out more than once back in my high school/college days. Once, I even asked a DJ at an Ice Skating ring (or is it rink?) at the old Fashion Island in San Mateo to play the song. The DJ told me he didin't have it because he didn't want to shell out for the "Extreme" album because all of the songs were hard rock, and that one single, More Than Words, was their only ballad. Go figure. I couldn't remember the girl I was trying to mack on, though. Yes, there was a time before my lovely wife, Jo, when the pimp juice was flowing. Unfortunately, the flow was self-induced and would just end up on my bed sheets. Oi!

On that note, I really want to acknowledge our 5-year anniversary, because it's been a wild roller coaster of a ride these past five years. Instead of going the Equal or Sweet N' Low route, I'm going for some Honey or Raw sugar, and tell it exactly how it is. Jo and I are passionate people, and we've gotten into our share of fights and arguments. There have been times when I questioned if we were really made for one another. Our fights would escalate into throwing and yelling matches. But we have persevered through our dark days, and we try incredibly hard to maintain our love, respect, trust, and honesty with one another on a daily basis. Other than being my best friend, my role model, and my soulmate....she is also a beautiful person, inside and out. And I look forward to growing old with her. When I'm 50 years old, who else is gonna shave my mole hair? Or my ear hair?

"You make me want to be a better man" - Jack Nicholson in
As Good As It Gets

My comments are tri' in'

2004-10-07T10:02:00.000-07:00

If you've tried to write a comment on one of my posts and haven't been able to, don't worry. You don't have anything wrong with your computer. My squawkbox comments feature is tri' in'. It's a Baskin Robbins's thang from back in the day. I remember we all used to say trippin' like that. So Ghet-toe. Tess Calub was the best at it, cuz she would do the whole head shake, eye roll, and finger snap a la' Shenene from Martin.

But I have a solution!! If you want to comment, refresh the entire page again (which you probably do anyways, so you can see my sexy photos and hear my sexy song again), and then leave a comment. It should work. For all you first-time blog readers, I'm not kidding about my sexiness. You would think I'm just being sarcastic, but really, I am a sexy motherfucker. If you don't think so, ask your moms; she'll tell you otherwise.

Warning Sign

2004-10-03T20:47:00.000-07:00

Hung out at the Barnes and Noble at the Hilltop Plaza in Richmond while I was waiting for a class that I was going to teach at Downer Elementary. I had just done a couple of presentations at Richmond High. Man, that school is ghet-toe. I'm trying to muster up a bunch of kids to clean up Wildcat Creek in San Pablo on October 16.

Back to B&N, I saw John Stewart's book, "The History of the United States according to the people from the Daily Show", and after thumbing through it, I had to buy it. They made it look like an actual school textbook, complete with a hardcover and that stamp in the inside front cover that has the spaces for student's names and the boxes "received in good condition". Funny as hell.

Then I got to thumbing through Coldplay's book, Look at the Stars. One of my favorite songs is Warning Sign, but in my "listen to sexiness CD player", Jo put it down as Warning. It's very melodic. Apparently, Chris Martin wrote it for a girl, and hates playing and performing that song. I guess it brings up bad memories. Well, he's got Gwyneth to kick around now, so I guess he's got no worries. And she's much more endowed not that she had Apple (their newborn). Life's good for Chris.

Warning Sign

A warning sign
I missed the good part, then I realised
I started looking and the bubble burst
I started looking for excuses
Come on in
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in
I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones
That I started looking for a warning sign

When the truth is, I miss you
Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so

A warning sign
It came back to haunt me, and I realised
That you were an island and I passed you by
And you were an island to discover

Come on in
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in
I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones
That I started looking for a warning sign

When the truth is, I miss you
Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so

And I'm tired, I should not have let you go
Oooooooo

So I crawl back into your open arms
Yes I crawl back into your open arms
And I crawl back into your open arms
Yes I crawl back into your open arms.

Three long ass days

2004-10-03T04:47:00.000-07:00

Bruddah, it's been a long time since I've posted, but I can unequivocably say that it wasn't out of laziness. I've been motherfuckin' busy these past two weeks, and especially the last few days. First of all, I just finished arguing with MB, one of my kids in the group home. It's 4 in the morning, and this kid is up trying to start shit up. Dude had the nerve to try to get back his gameboy when he knows it was "hotboxed" (restircted from using it) for a week because of his negative behavior. Then when I gave him a timeout direction, he muttered "You're lucky I don't beat you up and make you bloody." That shit infuriated me, so I'm going to restrict him from visiting his Grandma tomorrow. I've been driving his ass to Oakland every weekend, too, after getting off my shift in the morning. It's the only way he'll learn not to be an asshole. Last week, he got up during his church service and started cussing everyone out and throwing a tantrum. So now, his Grandmother and the counselors and therapist have worked out a plan to only reward him with a home visit if he's not acting a fool.

MS has been off the hook this whole week. He was in the Quiet Room 4 out of the last 5 days. Yesterday night, I started my shift and the day staff was restraining his ass right outside the Quiet Room. He was assaultive towards a staff member, and she immediately put him in a corner wall restraint. He was resisting for nearly thirty minutes, while screaming and crying out. But the staff member couldn't release the restraint until he was relatively calm. I was there to ensure that the restraint was safe and not injuring either party. The kid would scream bloody murder, and then start laughing out loud and saying he was just kidding. What a butt plug.

Alright, enough group home stuff. Yada, yada, yada, the kids are tough, they've had hard lives, they kick, spit, and bite. If you've read my posts before, this is all I fuckin' write about! Jesus, it'd be nice if I had a little more excitement in my life. These past two weeks, it's been work, sleep, work, and sometimes no sleep, like the past three days.

I've been wearing the same clothes for the past three days, because I haven't had time to shower up. If I'm not working, I'm sleeping, or fucking around with the dogs, or chillin' with the wifey. But even quality time w/ my baby has been extremely limited this weekend. Friday, I worked at Earth Island, and I taught/observed a lesson on the 4 R's (Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, and Rot). We went to this school off Fruitvale in Oakland, and did a community clean-up. A class of 30 students picked up three full bags of garbage in less than 45 minutes just walking around the perimeter of the school. We mostly found plastic bags, lollipop sticks, broken beer bottles, cigarette butts, and then one of the students found the inevitable outside an apartment building: a condom. The kids gathered all around it, and no one knew what it was. Until one of the kids said, "You know what it is" to another kid. Yeah, right kid. For all you know it was a water balloon. I'm glad none of the 4th graders picked it up. I was diggin' on the teacher because she was this cute, young, half-white, half-Latina (I think). She told me that she is going to take the LSAT (for law school) the day after, which means she's probably going to get away from teaching. Too bad....if my elementary school teacher looked like her, I would have paid more attention in class!

Friday evening, I picked up a ton of books and stationary from home that Jo wanted to sell at the Garage Sale. Jo's been cleaning up the house so much (with the great help of her friend, AC), like she's been a 5th hurricane descending off the shores of Florida. Hurricane Jo. I'm really grateful for all that she's done the past couple of weeks. And she's been making frequent trips to the Davis Street Transfer station to drop off recycling. Awwww, a woman after my own heart (I'm a big tree hugger if you didn't know; you know what they say....more trees, less Bush!) I've been labeled the Recycle Nazi in our household (which only consists of me, Jo, and our three pups), and Jo's been the lone Jew in the concentration camp, sort of speak. Nein! Fraulein, the paper goes here and the plastic goes there! Prepare to be shot. Anyhoo, I dropped off the books and stuff at Jo's parent's house because they were having a garage sale in the morning. Jo, Noel, Arlene, and Brady hung out at the sale all day.

Then, I went to the David's house to pick up Mari-Ela's rabbit. I know what you're thinking...dude, you already have three dogs, and you want a rabbit? Who the fuck are you? Noah? Are you building a friggin' ark? Eventually I would love to have a menagerie in the house, but right now, our three dogs are more than enough. Mari-Ela, a family friend and basically my cuz, has to give up her rabbit. She never named her, but always called her "booger". She was gonna drop her off at the shelter, if no one took her in. She posted on Friendster. The reason she had to give her up is because she's moving to Madison, Wisconsin to take an anchor/reporter job at the ABC affiliate. Wow! Good for her. She's very pretty and well-spoken. It's probably gonna be hard for her because her bf, another family friend and practical cow-sin of mine, lives in LA. It was sorta gross when I found out they were going out with one another because we all grew up together since we were 7 years old. To make a long story short, my co-worker, Ket has been looking for a rabbit, and tada! It's kismic. Then, I dropped by my mom and pop's house. They fed me turbo chicken (chicken cooked in a turbo convection oven; I grew up on that shit), and I dropped off some blank CD's that my mom was asking for.

Saturday morning, I drive little punkass MB to his Grandma's house. He was actually very polite and obedient, which I was very thankful for. Then I go directly to my other job, because I'm in charge of staffing a booth at this Festival in Berkeley. No shower, no change of clothes since Friday morning. I know, it's friggin' nasty, but I don't care. The festival was cool. Very mellow vibe because it was a Watershed Festival of Poetry. So it drew a bunch of fellow tree-huggers, hippies, and poets. In fact, one of my favorite poets, Larry Ferlinghetti, was there and recited a poem about Watershed people. For those of you who don't hug redwoods, a watershed is a region where water "sheds" off the land and goes into creeks, then the bay, and into the ocean. We are all connected through our watersheds, and it's important that we keep them healthy, clean, and vibrant. Ferlinghetti was a contemporary of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and beatniks of the 50's and 60's. He also owns and runs CityLights bookstore in North Beach, which is a historical landmark. There were also some modern interpretive dances, which gave me a chuckle or two. Some of that hippie shit is funny as hell. The best poem of the day, in my estimation, was one written by a young nine-year old poet named Allen Qui. He said it so gracefully that the organizer of the event, Robert Hass, asked him to read it again. Here it is:

The Woods are Ancient by Alan Qui

The Woods are ancient relics of the past
Mist blankets the Redwoods to the last

I wonder what the mighty ones once did see
Gold miners? Dinosaurs? The Cherokee?

The mist is cold and damp on my hand
Birds sing, a fox peeps

One thins is sure though as ferns do rustle
The forest never sleeps

Later on, the same kid went to our booth and looked for terrestrial invertebrates in our worm compost bin. Then he petted booger for a godd ten minutes. Booger liked all the attention. He also liked just romping around the grass near our table. I was surprised that she did not run away. Other rabiit-lovers came by and said the same thing. Even though I had her for only a day, I guess she's already attached to me.

I started hitting the wall at around 2pm. I hadn't slept since Thursday night, so sitting around, watching hippies dance and do yoga started to become taxing. If it wasn't for the constant stream of kids around the compost bin and playing with booger (no, not their own boogers...the rabbit, dork), I would have passed out right then and there. Luckily, Sheela and Tony came by and brought their chihuahuas, Xoichi and Lolita. They had never seen a rabbit before, so they were very curious. The rabbit was bigger than either one of them! They also watched the booth while I got the truck, so I could break down the booth.

So I go home at around 7pm, and I just found out that the Oakland A's lost their bid for the playoffs, and the Giants are hanging on by a thread. That sucks. I play with the dogs for a bit, and then I go right to sleep. 10pm rolls around, and it's time to go to work....again. Finally, I come in to work, and there are no kids in the Quiet Room! Yippee!!!! Watched the season premiere of Saturday Night Live. Ben Affleck is hosting, and his self-deprecating humor is getting a little old. He's not that good of an actor, but he can definitely make fun of himself. His James Carville bit and Alec Baldwin's guess appearance was pretty funny though. I remember a skit he once did way back when that show on Fox was popular, "Who wants to marry a millionaire?" In this new show titled "Who wants to make out with a dude in the back of an old Chevy?" or something to that effect, Ben Affleck was the dude in the Chevy, and unwitting male audience members were the contestants. Everytime a contestant got an answer to a trivia question wrong, they would be one step closer to having to get in this beat-up old Chevy and having to make out with BA, who was dressed up in tattered flannel, sporting missing teeth, and an "I love Mom" tattoo. BA was hamming it up, too...."Yahoo! Boy, you're mouth sure does look pretty." An obvious homage to the movie, Deliverance.

So here I am now, writing in my blog at 5 in the morning, and waiting for the sun to come up. I'll be driving buttplug MB to his church again later in the morning, going to Jo's mom and dad's house to help with the garage sale, and eventually going to dreamland once everything's done and everyone's satisfied.

...from Sublime's Scarlet Begonias

2004-09-15T01:53:00.000-07:00

"It was the summer of love
and I thank the stars above
because the woman took a lovin' over me
and just to gain her trust I bought a microbus,
because I sold off all my personal property.
A tight tiedye dress she was a psychadelic mess.
We toured to the north, south, east, and west.
We sold some mushroom tea
we sold some extacy
we sold nitrous, opium, acid, heroin, and PCP.
And now I hear the police comin' after me.
Yes now I hear the police comin' after me.
The one scarlet with the flowers in her hair,
she's got the police comin' after me."

No Time to Blog!

2004-09-14T04:48:00.000-07:00

It's been a minute and a half since my last entry, mostly because I haven't had any free time to blog. Even when I'm on my graveyard shift at the group home, I find I'm too tired to put two sentences together. Well, here's a rundown of what I've been up to the past couple of weeks (like your ass cares, but since you're reading this, squeeze your cheeks, baby):

Valley of the Moon Camp
So here I was, worked two consecutive nights at the group home, totalling nearly 24 hours of no sleep whatsoever, both my cars were on the fritz, and to even make it to friggin' Sonoma County (which is a good 100 miles away), I had to work on the busted headlight to my truck. Isuzu's are a pain in the ass. Don't get me wrong, my '99 Rodeo has served me well (almost 80k and bought used at 20k), but the parts are wrongly thought out. It took me 2 hours, a couple of broken headlight bulbs, 3 stripped screws, a busted plastic part, and a lot of patience to not put my steel toes in the center of my headlights...whew, to finally fix those fuckers. Oh well, and they still ended up as cross-eyed as Shaq.

Our Residential Group Home has camp every year in August. The reward/consequence policy is drastically changed during camp. Instead of incurring heavy penalties for being violent, assaultive, dis-obedient, etc., we wait them out while they go ballistic, and transition them back to the activity once they are calm and ready. The reasoning behind this is because the kids only have a week to go swimming, fishing, horsebackriding, etc....and many of them will be in a jengky-ass group home next year, so they can never experience the aforementioned activities if we are laying down the law. So guess what happens? The kids take advantage of the situation. They go motherfuckin' nuts. No consequences, huh? You see kids doing one of two things at camp...having the time of their life and positively participating, or running away or getting their ass restrained in the dirt. Luckily, I worked the overnight shifts, so at that time, they're sleeping like little angels.

Delirious from not sleeping for 36 hours, I went on my first overnight shift at camp. Piece of cake. Daytime rolls around, I pitch my tent overlooking the wine country, I coordinate with Jo and my mechanic on how to fix my other ride, the Camry, over my cell phone, and then I finally sleep. (Incidentally, the Camry overheated on us while we were in the middle of the highway. We had to stop on the center divide, while cars, trucks, and dumbasses sped past us. Luckily, much of it was stop and go traffic, but there were pockets of the same dumbasses who follow cars too closely, and brake too late. People are dumb as rocks, I swear. After two hours of seeing our lives past before our eyes, a tow truck finally picks us up. Only 3 miles to our house, so we didn't have to pay any tow truck charges. Thanks, AAA). Whew, big tangent.

Back to sleeping, I slept for a good three hours, and I woke up energized. Three hours for the past 48 hours (which eventually turned into 60 hours, because I worked that night, too). I felt so good, that I decided to drive an hour to this Japanese spa and bath called Osmosis. I got a 90 minute full body massage, a 20 minute full body cedar mulch bath, and a beautiful self-guided tour of the most beautiful Japanese gardens I've seen. Let me explain the last sentence, backwards. The owner of the joint is the president of the British Society of Japanese Gardeners. He's very renowned. The "mulch" bath is such a bad term. You are completely buried in this fine cedar that is very aromatic, and supposedly, good for the skin (detoxyfing and shit like that). Who gives a shit if it worked, it was fun. And no, I did not get a "happy ending" from my massage. This wasn't an "oriental massage" place in the Sunset, and I didn't get a handjob from some 14-year old chinese girl. I got a massage from some dude named Harry, who gave a really good full-body massage. I'm glad I didn't pop a bone, though. That would have really worried me....HA!

Buried in cedar.

Entrance to the Japanese Garden at Osmosis

Started a New Job
Just started my dream job....teaching kids and training teachers on environmental education. I started interviewing for this job in June. My new boss told me that there was a lot of competition for the job, too. I guess I did well on my initial interview and my teaching sample.

The job doesn't pay much, but between this job and my other non-profit job at the group home, we'll do ok. No Lexuses or trips to Kauai in our immediate future, but I'd rather love what I do everyday, than bust that 9-5 office grind that most of us are used to.

It's the perfect job, really. I'm teaching the subject matter that I love, I have a flexible schedule, I'm managing the office and administration well, I'm digging my new co-workers and boss, and I'm back at Berkeley! I went to school at UC Berkeley from 93-98, so it's been a while since I've been back. I've already visited a couple of my old haunts, including Cafe Strada and the cheap vietnamese place on Durant. I do feel like an old piece of shit, though, seeing all of these young, hot, virile 18-22 year old chicks trying their hardest to get random guys to check them out, but trust me....I'm NOT complaining.

Last week, on my birthday actually, we went to a training at the Davis Street Transfer Station for a 4-R's workshop and tour of the joint. Here's a pic of my new co-workers:

Finally Went Out!
This entire summer, I worked 60+ hours a week at the group home, so I rarely had any time to go out. If I wasn't sleeping, hanging out with the dogs, or chillin' with Jo, I was watching the EPL (English Premier League) on Fox Sports World (that's soccer for you folks who don't know). Also, Jo and I have been very busy and involved, emotionally and temporally, in our medical issues. Although we're in a shithole of debt, I can honestly say this experience has truly made me stronger, not to mention strengthening our relationship. I've also reconnected with my spiritual side. I've been bashing the Catholic Church so much for the past 5-7 years, that I've forgotten about my individual relationship with God. I'm glad it's back.

Anyhoo, Tom, Jo's cousin's husband, just got a job with the UC Police. This is the guy that blamed me for dislocating his shoulder a couple of years back when the numbnut tried to tackle me in a game of touch football. I'm a little scared for the little sleepy town of UC, but I'm mostly joking. Mostly is the operative word. Tom's a genuinely good guy. He just can get a bit agro. I hope I don't see him in a home video on the news wailing away on some black dude.

To celebrate, he threw a party for the family. Jo and I hadn't been to a family party in more than 5 months, primarily because it would have been too hard to see all of those kids and preggies bouncing around. We had a great time! Jo hung out with the chicks, while I chatted it up with a bunch of folk. The kids were all just starting to go back to school, so I teased them about that for a minute. I also talked to a couple (who were friends with Tom) about their kids. One of them is autistic, and apparently the other is the reincarnation of Evel Knievel. Also was surprised to see Joey, my sis-in-law's cousin. Apparently, he worked with Tom back at 3Com. Now he's getting he's BS in Bio so he can get into Biotech, to which both my wife and I replied to: "Why?" Unless you really LOVE lab work and research, Biotech is crapalicious. Coincidentally, he has the same b-day as I do. Here's a pic of me and the chicks. Don't ah look ah-dorable?

On my side of the family, we went to the Richmond District of SF to visit my Tita Weng and her son, Gabi. Isabel, the daughter, was off to college at GW. My aunt is the Consul General, or Ambassador, for the Philippine Embassy in America. She's been stationed in the England, Washington DC, and now SF. It was like visiting the PI all over again. Big ass house, lots of katulong (or maids), and lots of drivers. Ahhh, the life of a diplomat. If nothing else, she could always quote the bad guy from Lethal Weapon 2: "Diplomatic Immunity." Mel Gibson (as he shoots him in the head, or throws him off a building...I can't remember which): "It's been revoked." Fuckin' funny.

Alvin, Jimmy, Ron, Jo, and I went to Emery Bay to eat at PF Changs and watch "Hero". I usually don't like that place, but their food was palatable this time around. They spent most of the dinner listening to me and Alvin argue about Bush vs. Kerry. I swear Alvin is on crack if he thinks that Bush is a good leader. Hero was a beautiful movie...beautiful imagery and cinematography, but what the heck is up with Hong Kong-borne plots and screenplays. They are friggin' weird. It'd be nice if Crouching Tiger had a better ending, and if Hero had a plot in the middle of the movie. Even little things about Honk Kong movies get to me. There was this movie, "So Close", that we watched about a year ago. In it, there's this scene where the hero and his girl are getting drenched in the rain and they look very cold. So what does the hero do? He makes her wait in the friggin' rain while he goes into the equivalent of a 7-11 and heats up a bottle of water in the microwave. Then he goes back to her (yes, it's still raining) and hands her the bottle as if his chivalry has saved the day. Moron, you just left her in the freezing rain to microwave some water. Who the fuck microwaves a bottle of water!?! Here's me in my trucker wear at PF Changs:

Changes at the Group Home
MB's been off the chizzain lately. Ever since very strong and competent staff members have left the house, he's been very sexual and silly. Hasn't been assaultive, yet, but he likes to ride the line so that he gets attention from everyone. I swear, he's got the dirtiest little mouth. I could only imagine the stuff he heard from his mother and father, if you could call them that.

Got a new kid, EB. He's as cute as a button. His history is checkered, though. Smearing feces, encopretic, assaultive, 5150's, animal cruelty, but he's only 9. He's a voluntary case, so his parents just basically gave up on him. Oh well, he's doing very well so far.

GK left earlier in the summer. He went to a very good group home in Victorville. I sorta miss the tub of lard, but I don't miss his neediness. This kid needed 24 hour attention. He had a smile that could really knock your socks off, though.

JO is almost on his way out, and JP and MB should be following them. Last week, three kids were on heavy restriction and punishment, and they actually planned out a mini-riot. This is the first time I've ever seen these kids plan anything out. So now, I'm hyper-vigilant about any of them talking outside staff's earshot. Even though it's a violation of Community Care Licensing to restrict them from doing so.

Darth Vader & the Cholesterol Strikes Back!
I finally received my C-Pap machine to help with my sleep apnea. It's pretty quiet and the mask is surprisingly comfortable. It forces air down my passageway so I can breathe at night. Joanne makes fun of me because I sound like Darth Vader. I was surprised to hear that during my sleep study, I had one episode where I didn't breathe for 73 seconds. Holy Shit! I've been on the machine now for four nights, and I feel very rested. I don't feel like napping, and I have enough energy to exercise and play with the dogs. It's working.....muhahahahah! I hope I get rid of my chronic fatigue syndrome, because I'd really like to be healthier and skinnier. I'm not saying that I'll be in the next Olympics, but don't be surprised to see me in NY in 2012 riding my bike down a singletrack trail.

Got my cholesterol follow-up, and it's confirmed. I need to be on drugs forever. Even with moderate exercise and a healthy, well-balanced diet, my cholesterol is off the charts. Back on Gemfibrozil, which brought me down to 180 last year.

One Friggin' Year Older
The denouement of this long-ass post is my birthday. 9/9 is a weird day cuz my mom and I was born on the same day (not the same year, though, that would be some Twilight Zone episode). It's also the birthdays of Cheryl (Jo's cousin), Joey, my auntie from PI, and my new co-workers' fiancee's cousin (I know, I'm reaching). Both sets of parents and my bro, Mikey, went to Applebee's in UC to celebrate on the day of.

Two days later, Cheryl, Jo's cousins and brother, and I had dinner at Tomodachi, a Japanese joint. Really good food and company. Eliza and Brady, two little toddlers, were there to entertain us. We went to our place afterwards and watched 50 First Dates.

One day later, my Dad's family, my bro's in-laws, and my bros celebrated my Mom's and mine's b-day at Kioku, another Japanese restaurant. Also, very good food.

Alrighty, can't write in complete sentences, must be getting tired. Grammar all wrong. I'll leave you with a pic of my dear little niece, Reese, eating tofu from her Miso soup. She can use chopsticks and she's only 2 years old!

Pray for our Children....

2004-08-29T06:47:00.000-07:00

My heart and soul go out to the hundreds of children, men, and women who were killed in the hostage situation in Russia this past week. I pray that the trauma that the surviving children endured does not scar them for life. I pray for those who are recovering from their horrible wounds, physical and emotional. And I wish nothing but the fiery pits of damnation and hell-fire on those pussy-ass terrorists who use little kids as their pawns.

Where the fuck is George Bush and his administration? Are they focusing on Iraq, when the rest of the world is getting fucked over? Get your priorities straight, bitches. Oh yeah, let's go to Mars. How about another fucking election snafu. Nah, let's update the "Axis of Evil" and alientate more of the world. How about China? They're pretty damn evil. Oh, wait a minute, they give us a ton of money and cheap products. Forget their human rights track record.

I remember the good ole' days with Mikhael Gorbachev and Ronald Reagan. I hate Reagan's trickle-down bullshit, but he certainly worked to provide stability between the two superpowers. What's good ole' Dubwa doing? Smoking terrorists out of holes? Fishin'? Huntin'? Suckin' Dick (Cheney that is)?

Your Republican ass is prolly saying, "What the hell do we have to do in Russia? It ain't our problem." When we decided to police the entire world, it became our problem. And when we vowed to fight terrorists all over the world, it became our problem. We can't be selective about which terrorists we should be fighting.

The fucking terrorists we should be fighting are in the white house and pentagon. It's G Dub, D Rum, and D Chain that are sending bombs all over the world and killing innocent civilians, all the while sleeping well at night because they don't live under the threat of land mines, bomb raids, or hostage situations.

My 3650

2004-08-26T23:50:00.000-07:00

I love my Nokia 3650. I thought I would never get a cell phone. I was the longest holdout that I knew of. Even my 11-year-old nieces were getting cell phones. When Joanne first get her cell phone back in the mid 90's, I always joked with her that she was dealing smack. Only gangsters and drug dealers had cell phones. When she got a $400 cell phone bill in our first year of marriage, I threatened to throw the phone out of the window! Little did I know that I would have my OWN cell phone nary 2 years later.

Mind you, I don't really use the phone too much to call anyone. I got it initially because of the family rate plan that only added ten bucks to Jo's bill, and because the 3650 was free, because of the rebates. It was bulky, odd-looking, and weird, but I still got it because it got great ratings from Amazon consumers. It had a large color screen, bluetooth, a camera, a videocamera, and limited internet capabilities.

At first I used it to just play thay dumbass game, Snake. Then I started circulating my number, and people called me! Woohoo. And then, I discovered the camera and videocamera. So here are some favorite pics of mine from the past couple of months. They also come with a story.

I took this picture while Jo and I were watching a long movie. Gilbey and Belle were so tired of waiting for us to take them on a walk that they just fell asleep at our feet. Apparently, Belle makes a good pillow.

Alvin and I went to a preseason game back in April. We got pretty damn good seats right in front of the Giants bullpen. Before the game, I saw Fred Ingliss, the Channel 2 Reporter, lugging a bunch of his equipment across the field. Without even thinking what I was gonna say, I yelled out, "Lookin' good, Fred!" He bounced back a smile of acknowledgement, looked at all the crap he was carrying, and retorted, "I don't get paid enough for this shit."

I was wearing my New York Yankees hat, even though the Giants were playing the Rangers, and Dave Righetti, the pitching coach, yelled from the field towards our direction. I didn't catch what he said, but I should have gone up to him and have him sign my hat, being that he was a Yankee in the early 80's, and got a no-hitter with them.

Last thing about this pic. It was the first day that the Giants organization announced that SBC park had Wi-fi. Sure enough, the techie in front of us brought his Mac and webcam. He got on the internet really quickly and corresponded via webcam with a bunch of his buddies. Eh, it was preseason; can't blame the guy.

My company has its annual dinner in July, and even though I had work that night, Jo and I decided to go. I was glad I went because I saw a bunch of people I hadn't seen in years. My buddy, Kevin, went with my old Supervisor, Moe. They also handed out the Unkie's, the unconditional care awards. One person at our table, got one. It was nice, because she seemed sweet, and judging by the applause, deserved it. I always get uncomfortable during awards, because you don't know if you'll be receiving one. I didn't receive one that night, but 2 weeks later, I received the Residential staff of the month, as well as the Residential team of the month. It was nice getting the accolade.

Anyways, the nicest thing about that night was spending some quality time with Jo. We've been so wrapped up with such stressful crap the past year, that it was a relief to get all dolled up with my honey and spend a nice evening together. The dinner was held at Hs. Lordships at the Berkeley Marina, and the picture was of the sunset. It was a beautiful sunset set amongst the rolling clouds, and the sunlight appeared to dance above the horizon.

Went to the Residential picnic for my work earlier this summer, and played a friendly game of volleyball. Friendly, indeed, but not without its share of trash-talk. My fellow overnight, DeShannon, was talking so much smack that I had to break him off. After he bragged about how he should be in the Olympics because of his athletic prowess, I bounced back and said, "Yeah, Special Olympics." It got a laugh from everyone else, but their team still lost. Then, we played football, and for some reason, it turned into a boy vs. girl thang. I swear we played to 100, because I was sucking air at the end. Those chicks could definitely play. Yes, we got our asses handed to us by a bunch of women. Girl power.

I was transporting a kid from one of the group homes to the school site one morning, and we had an eventful trip to say the least. First, we passed by a house with a huge yard that got tee-peed, or should I sat t-p'd, as in tissue paper. It was a masterful job, too. There were at least 30 rolls used, and the front yard that used to be green looked like a winter wonderland. I could only imagine how hard it would be to get that crap off those 20 foot trees they had. Incidentally, a couple of weeks ago, some fools tried to t-p our house. They picked a good night, too, because I was away at work. It took me 2 minutes to clean it up. 2 rolls and one of them was still 3/4 rolled up. I could only surmise that our pups took action and scared them away with their barking. Ha!

Anyways, I had to explain to the kid what the tissue paper was doing there, and why it was harmless and funny. I hope I didn't give him the impression that is was something every kid did. I only did it twice when I was a kid, and that was when I was a young thug. As if I thought the morning drive could'nt get any weirder, we're stopped at Seven Hills and Lake Chabot in Castro Valley, and guess what comes walking right in front of my car? A gaggle of geese. They were walking in single formation as if they owned the road. My fellow motorists were all stunned in amazement, and they were walking so slow, that I had time to reach into my pocket, pull out my 3650, and snap a pic.

Well, those are some of my favorite 3650 pics. I'll probably snap some more in the next couple of months, and post it later. Unfortunately, Jo's phone is acting up on her, so I promised she could use mine. Oh well.

Miggy's back!

2004-08-24T01:52:00.000-07:00

Miguel Tejada, perennial all-star and MVP candidate, came back to Oakland with the visiting Baltimore Orioles today. Not only can he hit for power, hit for average (.324 this year), drive in runs (he's leading the major league with 113), field his position well, and come up with big hits, he's also a genuinely good guy. It's hard to find this type of guy in professional sports nowadays. Somebody's either beating up his wife, doping up, corking his bat, holding out, fighting with management, retiring to avoid drug suspension, talking on a cell phone after a touchdown, or berating a member of the media. Not Miggy. When he returned to the A's clubhouse, he greeted all of his former teammates, and they embraced him. He was the heart and soul of the Oakland A's the past five or so years. When Tejada was in a major slump, he gave all of his bats to the fans in the front row. When the A's were down by 3 runs in the 8th, Miggy was the first guy to fashion his hat into a rally cap. He always a had a smile on his face, and he welcomed his fans, young and old alike. I was incredibly proud to see him win the Home Run Derby this year, even though I hate the premise of the contest. And even though he wasn't wearing the yellow and green of Oakland, I cheered him mightily. Today, I cheered for him, along with 25,000 other fans in the coliseum. Mind you, I was in the comfort of my own living room and no one was there to hear me, other than my dogs who gave me that dog head tilt, which in dog-body language means, "I told you that motherfucker was crazy." But you know what takes the cake? A couple of local reporters interviewed him today, and he said that he owes his entire career to the Oakland A's organization. As a poor young kid playing ball in the streets of the Dominican Republic, the A's gave him a chance. How many professional athletes do you know thank their old teams for doing this? None that I can think of. He plays the game with such enthusiasm and fun. He plays the game for all the right reasons; not for the money or the fame, but for the fun of it, the comradery, and the chance to show his tremendous skills off. It's only fitting that he is a Baltimore Oriole shortstop now, and that he has the most consecutive games played streak of 700+. Cal Ripken was a class act, and an iron man, to boot. But I would argue that Miguel Tejada is a man of steel, with a heart of gold.

The curse continues...

2004-08-04T06:59:00.000-07:00

The Boston Red Sox curse continues....Nomar Garciaparra just got traded to the Cubs for who? Doug Mentkiewicz and Orlando Cabrera. Two no-hitting, no-power, wannabe starters with gold gloves. Yes, they instantly iprove their defense, but at the expense of trading their most popular player in the past decade? Nomar (pronounced No-mah) was the stalwart of the Red Sox infield and the emotional captain of the team. He was the Derek Jeter of the Red Sox. But he could actually hit. He won two batting titles, his defense was adequate, but his value in the clubhouse was immeasurable. His value to the fans was even more so. He ran out infield hits, he played hard in the field, and his idiosyncratic routine that he performed everytime he stepped out of the batter's box was unique and endearing. I think Red Sox management are actual closet Yankee fans that just love sado-masichistic behavior.

I'm not complaining, though. My beloved A's are in first place, anad yesterday, they just trounced those damn Yankees. Why go on and on about the Red Sox, then? I guess I'm just a Yankee Hater at heart and any immortal enemy of the Yankees is a friend of mine. Unless the Red Sox and A's duke it out for the wild card; then you know where my allegiance lies.

Arm Pitt

2004-07-31T07:16:00.000-07:00

What is up with my right armpit? It smells like a musk ox took a fart in it. Ofcourse my left armpit is as quiet as a mouse. Not even a little hint of B.O. But my right pit is kickin' like a Metallica concert. When Jo and I go to sleep, she won't let me put my right arm around her, because the smell could literally wake her up in the middle of the night. Trust me. It has woken me up in the past. I should bottle that shit and try to compete in the smelling salt market. Whenever an NFL wide receiver is clocked by a strong safety, they can get out the "franny juice". That shit will wake you up out of a coma.

Quote of the day (from Marvin on Big Brother 5, paraphrasing): Jase thinks he's Brad Pitt, but he's not. He's more like Arm Pitt!

It's been a minute

2004-07-29T04:08:00.000-07:00

...since I last posted. Can't really think of anything to write about. LIfe is good, nothing to complain about. Just riding the wave of uncertainty, and hoping for the crest to subside.

porn discovered, michael jackson, and obstructive sleep apnea

2004-07-09T01:05:00.000-07:00

What an amalgamation of topics to write about. First things first: for all the men in the world, if you have porn, don't leave it in the VCR for your partner to discover it. I know, I know, it's hard to remember your own middle name after you've just blown a load, but to save future embarrassment, press eject and put it away in your secret hiding place.

I came home from work one morning last week, and dropped like a log. Completely forgetting that I emptied the pipes last night, while Jo was watching a movie with her friend. Then I left the tape in the VCR. Incidentally, I find it surreal that while Jo and her bud are watching "The Notebook" and crying their eyes out, I'm spanking my monkey to a couple of fake lesbians. I guess I can't put my finger on it (although those "lesbians" definitely could, if you know what I mean), but porn should be on the menu for a healthy full-blooded, 2 testicled man. Married, single, gay, straight, legless, and even Stanford grads need to blow their load once in a while. I'm not so sure that hard core porn is the best thing to watch, though, because a lot of men start to get the idea that most women like it that way. Not really. They like sensuality, and foreplay, and passion, and clitoral stimulation. And sometimes, they just like to do it doggy style. But mostly the former.

I'm a lucky man, though. Because when my wife discovered said porn in the VCR, she asked me if she could watch some more. Suh-weet. Just kidding.

Sometimes, when I'm in midstroke, I think to myself if what I'm doing is really a dirty little act, or just a normal part of sexuality. Guys have it rough. There is absolutely nothing erotic about the vision of a man masturbating. It's pretty disturbing really. But, women, on the other hand, can be pretty damn sexy when they masturbate. So much so that women AND men can get off on it. Just when I think I'm a dirty old man, I think of Michael Jackson. No, not in that way (and definitely not while I'm in midstroke; that could damage a man for life). But in a comparative way, I'm only as dirty as a one-day old sock. MJ's a darkened sock with holes and no more elastic that hadn't been washed for months because it's been missing in the sofa cushions.

Even if the freak isn't molesting young boys, thinking that having slumber parties with young boys and sleeping in the same bed is appropriate is pretty damn mental. Yet, he exudes this appeal that transcends generations. Two of my buds who I used to work with at Baskin-Robbins had this obsession with him. Granted, it was mostly one of them who had the obsession, and the other had an obsession with him, which meant that he had an obsession with Michael Jackson (by order of congruence; I remember my Geometry, fool). In fact, there were rumors that they have tried anal sex with one another, even though one is married and the other has an on-again-off-again girlfriend. They're about 30 years old right now. One of the kids in the group home (let's name him Bobo) is also obsessed with MJ. He tried to dance like him, sing like him, and even told one of our counselors that he would like to have white skin (he's African-American). LIttle does he know that the reason why he's in the group home in the first place is to keep him away from the same type of psycho like MJ that caused him to have PTSD in the first place. Ah, the irony.

No easy transition from the king of pop to my recent diagnosis of having severe obstructive sleep apnea, so I won't even try. In my sleep study, I had 31 events of cessation of breathing or dangerously low oxygen levels per hour. My doctor told me to get surgery right away and/or go on a machine called the C-pap that forces oxygen into the pharynx. I've always snored like a hippo all of my life, and I'm not too terribly overweight. Finally, my first ever primary care physician (who is very good at what she does) noticed my tonsils were the size of grapfruits. I went to an ENT (ear, nose, throat doctor), and he confirmed her findings. Then I got a sleep study done on me, and walla!! I have severe obstructive sleep apnea.

The surgery entails getting my uvula cut off, my tonsils sliced, my adenoids chopped, and part of my soft palate erased. Also a small possibility of jaw surgery or even tongue surgery, and maybe turbinate elimination in the nasal cavity. I got problems, homeskillet. Right now, I'm taking flonase to open up my nasal cavity. I should be on the C-pap machine within a month. As for surgery, we'll see. If the C-pap machine is good enough, I don't mind sleeping with it. Sure, that's what I say now, but what if it's the size of a dialysis machine and as noisy as a jetliner?

It ain't no laughing matter, so I advised my Pops, Moms, and bro to get it checked out. We all come from a certain subspecies of human termed Homo Sapiens snorelikeahippomotis. When we were all in the same house, it would be a symphony of snorts, whistles, and bells. My other bro, Mig, wasn't immune to sleep problems wither. Even though he didn't snore, he would often sleepwalk and talk in his sleep. He would also roll around in his bed like a badger on crack. When I had the misfortune of sleeping in the same bed with him, I woke up in the morning bruised and battered. My sleep care doctor said that SOSA (not Sammy) could lead to an enlarged heart, high blood pressure, obesity (therefore acceleration of cancer), chronic fatigue syndrome, depression, mood swings, and forgetfulness. No wonder I'm such a mess. Here's hoping that whatever ails I have are treated in the next 6 months! Sleep well, everyone.

I am retarded.....and so are you.

2004-07-06T02:45:00.000-07:00

I was playing Scrabble with my wife last night, and I realized that I am dumber than a pile of rocks. Not only did she beat me, she beat me handily by over 100 points. Lately, I've been forgetting a lot of things, and none of it is THC-induced, either. Maybe I should start toking up again; at least then, I would have an excuse for turning into a retard. For all of you who have trouble with this term, "retard", YOU are retarded. Not only are you retarded, but your mother wishes she never had you. I swear, political correctness has handcuffed this society from saying anything at all. Back to the topic at hand, I remember (oh, the irony) forgetting something from the house when I was about to go out. I went back into the house, heard the house alarm delay, and went to the control panel to turn it off. Set the alarm again, went back to the car, and drove off. Still forgetting whatever the hell it was I was supposed to get.

Anyways, I've been seeing a shitload of commercials on TV for the most inane shit. Mostly crap-ass pharmaceutical companies (if you could call them that), hawking their placebo pills to dumbasses who would actually buy them. Shit to get their rocks off, crap to enlarge their penises, junk to make them sleep, and the list goes on. The funniest shit I've seen is this Relacore commercial where Dr. Greg Cynamon is trying to sell his bullshit diet pills, while "trying not to offend casual dieters". WTF! People actually fall for this shit because it's ALWAYS on TV. And I watch a lot of TV. I guess they target the 10-20% of America who have shit for brains, and have a lot of incentive to lose weight, grow their dick, go to sleep, or make some money, and don't want to do it on their own. This ain't no Alice in Wonderland bullshit; ain't no pill that's gonna grow that needle you call your dick! Alright, I'm done pontificating about this. I gotta go and take my pills now.

The Notebook

2004-06-30T00:09:00.000-07:00

I don't normally like watching tearjerkers (the only jerking off I do is in the bathroom with a Maxim mag and a roll of tissues), but I watched "The Notebook" with Jo this past week. I expected to go into the theater, watch the previews, and then sleep like a baby, but I was pleasantly surprised by the flick. It actually had a story, and character development, and some wonderful performances. The leading lady was quite pretty, and had a smile to die for. The leading man wasn't as convincing, but I would have rather had him act the part than a melodramatic spunkhead like Tom Cruise. I was thoroughly impressed by the characters in their elder state. James Garner was both touching and believable as the man who is in love with his wife even though she is in the advance stages of Alzheimer's and even dementia. Gena Rowlands played the part adequately, as a woman who constantly wakes up not knowing where or who she is. So here I was, a grown man with actual testicles, crying like a little girl through 3 parts of the movie. Here's an equation for you:

Rain + redemption + 1-2 characters crying and looking up to the sky with hands raised high = a cryfest for little ole' me.

I cried like a bitch during Shawshank Redemption when Tim Robbin's character escaped the prison after mucking through a mile of shit, and came out the other side in what seemed like a monsoon, raising his arms to heaven, ripping his shirt off, all the while having the rain pounce off his body and lightning illuminate the look of joy on his face.

I cried again when Noah and Allie are caught in a rainstorm in a canoe and can do nothing but look at each other, cry, and question why he hadn't written her. You dumb bitch, your whore of a mother kept his letters from you. 365 of them to be exact. And when was the last time you got your own mail? I thought these malicious thoughts all while I was balling my eyes out.

But more likely than not, the reason why I cried during this movie is because their love reminds me so much of my love for Joanne, my wife. From the first month of having her ignore me so that she didn't have to deal with her own feelings, to the year when we were apart, to the moment we got married, through the first three years of fighting, and to the trials and tribulations we are going through now, there is no more perfect a love than the love I have for her. And if there is, it is only surpassed by the love I will have for her as we grow old together. Allie and Noah had a passionate relationship. Yes, they fought, but they always found a way to forgive each other.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love myself more than anything. I mean, how can I not, I'm da shitz. It's just a front. And a big joke. I just like to laugh at myself. I don't want them to know that I am really vulnerable, sensitive, and most of all, scared, to be without the person I really love the most. I never thought I could look at another person and love them more than I love anything in this world. But when I wake up and see that face looking back at me, I know that I have nothing to worry about.

2004-06-24T12:31:00.000-07:00

Went on a hike with one of my dogs yesterday. Gilbey had a great time running around and chsing western fence lizards. For a Jindo, he's a crap hunter, though. Most of the people who have Jindos say how adept they are at catching animals. Gilbey is 3 and a half years old and we've had him for 3 years, and he has yet to catch anything. I'm not complaining though. A biker was coming up behind us quietly on the trail, and I heard him shift his gears. But of course, Gilbey got startled when he came up beside us. What a dork. I think I'll enter him into a dog show contest that's happeninf on July 4th. I used to run that contest, and every year, most of the entrants would enter the same category - cutest dog. Everybody thinks their dog is the cutest, but mine is literally the cutest dog I've ever seen. Many people comment on how good-looking he is. I guess he takes after me (ha!).

Anyways, I took a pretty remote trail in a park predominated by Redwoods and oak/bay woodland habitat. Much of it was overgrown, dusty, steep, and secluded, so it felt good going for a romp. Although I woke up this morning with my right leg feeling like a stump. Shit, I'm getting old. I'll be 29 in September. I also practiced verbal commands with Gilbey, which he responded to well. He didn't even rub his neck on any horse or cow shit along the way, and there were at least 5-6 pies along the way. All I had to do was say off or stay, as I approached him on my extend-a-leash, and lead him past the shitpile. A horsebackrider passed us along the way and I had Gilbey sit. I had to forcibly seat him though, and he still got antsy as the horse passed by. I couldn't help but recall an incident a couple of years ago, when I let him off leash in a secluded area in the hills, thinking that no one was around. Suddenly a bull, yes, a friggin' bull came out of nowhere. Gilbey ran up to it, faced it, and started to paw at the ground and kick up dust, as if HE was the friggin' bull! What a little shithead. The bull would have none of this, so he charged at Gilbey with his horns, once to the left and another to the right, and like a Spanish matador witha red cape, Gilbey swiftfully evaded him. Then, the bull charged off, and Gilbey followed it victoriously, prancing along as if he had just slayed a dragon. It was funny as hell, and I know he was just protecting me, but now I am very wary of taking him off leash.

2004-06-22T03:35:00.000-07:00

I hate dust. I already don't like housekeeping, but dusting takes the cake. It seems like every conceivable surface in the house acquires dust, and even after you dust it off one week, it's back the next week. Heck, it's back the next day, but you don't need to be dusting every day of your life. The person who discovers an all dusting robot, or dust-free ventilation, or monkeys or midgets that do nothing but dust, is going to be a rich man. Yes, I said man, because more likely than not it will be a man. Even though we all know it's a woman's job to dust. Fucking woman's suffrage movement. What a crock. What's so bad about being barefoot and pregnant? A) You don't have to worry about tying your shoelaces, and 2) you have an excuse for stuffing your fat face.

2004-06-20T03:44:00.001-07:00

Hey, how come I don't have admin privileges anymore? Hmm??? I can't edit...but I can create a new post. Muhahahhaa. I'm writing in Franny's blog. I'm going to since you are not. The commenting system is offline again. Crappers. The reason I went on here originally was because I was going to fix the tagboard. O'well. Can't anymore. Later.

2004-05-23T22:35:00.000-07:00

I don't know what it is about sports that makes me such as fan, but I'm hooked. With the NBA playoffs, NHL playoffs, end of many of the European soccer leagues, and ofcourse the World's Strongest Man comeptition on ESPN, it's been a good time for watching sports. That last one was a joke. Everytime, I see a 350-lb behemoth with thighs the size of my torso pulling a tractor with his teeth, I can't help but laugh.

Getting back on track, the San Jose Sharks are out of the playoffs (courtesy of a strong Calgary club), the Warriors were never in it, and the A's, Giants, and Earthquakes are too early in their season to get excited about, but I'm still genuinely excited about the games that are going on. I often find myself screaming at the television or yelling at the top of my lungs. Even when I'm watching games alone....pathetic, I know. Maybe that's what's so great about these games. You invest a lot of time and effort to watch a 2 to 3 hour game, and you want to be rewarded with an exciting play or series of plays at the end of the game. Even though my home teams are out, I can still appreciate a last second Reggie Miller 3-pointer, or a great defensive save by Khabibulin. Here are some highlights of the past couple of weeks:

-in the EPL (English Premier League), Arsenal goes a whole season, which lasts nine months, undefeated. This hasn't been done since 1888, and it's especially a feat when you consider soccer games go 1-0 or 3-2, or something like that. With their French striker Thierry Henry, and a world class French midfielder in Patrick Viera, they should be known as the French Connection.

-Everybody loves an underdog, and hates a playa. Manchester United, also of the EPL, Real Madrid of la Liga in Spain, the LA Lakers, the NY Yankees are all uber-teams who have spent hundreds of millions for their player roster. Each team has had a tough go at it some time in their season.

Real Madrid is highly touted as the best team in world soccer, but they really laid an egg this year. It seemed so promising at first. They bought David Beckham from the Mancs, had arguably the best player in the world already on their roster, Zenadine Zidane, the best striker in the world in Ronaldo, and one of the most deadliest shots in the leg of Roberto Carlos. But they let go a lot of their proven midfielders and defenders for younger Spanish players like Pavon and Raul. Beckham proved to be a one-trick pony, Ronaldo's fat ass is always getting injured, and their team chemistry couldn't buffer a titration (you have to be a dork like me to understand this last metaphor). They fell to third place in the last weeks of the season, and completely imploded in their last 4 games, losing each one handily, as well as losing their composure in the last match against relegated Real Murcia. Becks, the only no-spansih speaking player on the Galacticos roster, was given a red card for calling the lineman a "Puta!", a less than cordial name for a female dog. Looks like Becks might be returning to the Premier League, most likely in a Chelsea uniform.

Becks: "Really, Posh, I didn't sleep with my assistant."

Even though the Minnesota Timberwolves are the number 1 seed in the Western Conference, their still seen as the underdog. Fortunately, they came away from the first two games of the Western Conference finals against the Lakers with a 1-1 split. They had a convincing win tonight against the Lakers, where Shaq looked human, Malone looked his age, and Kobe didn't pull a Jordan.

Kobe: "Uh, these guys aren't that bad. I'd rather be in Colorado."

Heck, a number 6 seed in the NHL is threatening to win the Stanley Cup. I'm talking about the Calgary Flames, and this might be the year for a Canadian team to finally win the cup after almost ten years of American teams winning it. The Tampa Bay Lightning may have an objection to that since they are making their own run for the cup. Hockey in Tampa Bay? Now that's the epitome of an underdog.

-Game 5 of the Lakers/Spurs series saw an amazing last second (at least that's what it seemed to be at the time), fadeaway, no look shot from Tim Duncan over the long arms of Shaquille O'Neal. A 1-100 shot at best, but it hit nothing but net. The Spurs celebrated mightily, but left 0.4 seconds on the clock. It would take a seemingly impossible shot by the likes of Kobe Bryant or a lob pass and dunk by Shawuille O'Neal to win the game. With the Spurs defense shadowing those two players, little-used Derek Fisher caught the ball and in one motion, turned around, faded away, and let go a 17-feeter that wento ver the outstretched arms of Manu Ginobili, and into the net. Can you say turning point? No doubt, the Spurs would have won that series if not for that Fisher miracle.

All of this sports-watching has me wondering, "How can I get a piece of the action?" Well, nothing gives me more joy than hooping on a bunch of scrubs, or ripping up a downhill on my hardtail, or even kicking my wife's ass in a game of scrabble. It's no professional league or olympic event, but it's a challenge, and being able to face those challenges and overcome them gives me more satisfaction than any game on TV.

Foiled by a little kid. Yikes.

2004-05-13T12:04:00.000-07:00

Donald Rumsfeld needs to step down. And while we're at it, Bush should be impeached. I know the argument that most people are saying, "why hold the secretary of defense responsible for the actions of a bunch of lowly makeshift prison guards?" I have the answer to that question:

-because Rumsfeld, Cheney, and Bush set up the current environment of disdain for Americans with their cowboy bullshit.
-because someone should be held accountable for the egregious act of exaggerating the "weapons of mass destruction" and "yellow cake from Africa' bullshit.
-because now, muslims all over the world hate Americans more than ever, and so does everyone else.

Now people are getting beheaded left and right, suicide bombers are more rampant than ever, and the Bush administration has made the US into another Israel. It's only a matter of time before they hit US soil once again.

After 9/11, I wanted all of those responsible to pay for their crimes. Osama Bin Laden and his cronies, supporters, sympathizers, etc should be hung up by their sac and beaten with a stick. I didn't care if the US torture, assassinate, or bomb every last perpetrator. I still feel this way. Instead, Bush and his staff has focused their attention on such stupid-ass shite: fictional weapons of mass destruction, the moon, "the sanctity of marriage", etc.

Those MP prison guards who committed those horrible acts should be court-martialed and punished to the full extent of the law. That chick whose lawyer is saying she was just following orders should be hog-tied and beaten with rolled up posters of herself giving the thumbs up to the camera. Those people who beheaded the American contractor and American journalist in Pakistan should be eaten alive by hissing cockroaches. And Carrot Top should be forced to watch videos of his own act repeatedly for months until his freakish tranny head explodes.

I don't want to hear none of this bullshit....evildoers, enemies of freedom, axis of evil crap. Frankly I'd rather hear the repetitive creaking of the oval office chair when Clinton was in office (you know what I'm sayin'). At least then, the world was a much better place.

2004-05-12T21:15:00.000-07:00

It's been a month now, and I haven't had a chance to write about our little trip to LA. In early April, Jo, Ron, and I went to LA for 3 days. I usually hate LA, but I had fun this time around. We went to a couple of memorable places:

a) Universal Studios - unlike the last time I went here, we actually spent most of the day in the park. I went with Jo, da cousin, Noel, and Jerome about 4 years ago, and we drove from 12 am to 6am. Once we got to LA, we had no idea what we were supposed to do! Universal was going to open up in three hours, and we were all tired as hell. JJ insisted that we ALL stay awake in the car. D'oh! Once we got into Universal, we literally went on three rides, and by Noon, we all wanted to crash and sleep.

This time around, we rode pretty much everything we wanted to ride, including the T2 3-D show, the Shrek 4-D show, the usual tram, and Back to the Future. My bro got us in for free; all we had to do was halfway dress up into something business casual, and wear some work badges past the security back entrance. It was funny as hell; Jo was Amy Fisher, I was Terrence Chiu, and Ron was some Japanese guy. We kept calling each other those names the whole day.

Ron's in the shark.

Amy, Terrence, and some japanese guy

John also got the hookup on a theme suite at the Sheraton Universal. Our room had a bunch of posters and memorabilia in it. The bathroom had "Bates Motel" on the towels and shit. He even got the front desk to give us some Korbel and chocolate strawberries for not getting us a big suite. What a bro. Here's a pic of Ron inside our room:

While we were waiting for the tram to bring us to Universal, I saw a bunch of beefy white guys loading a coach bus. I forced Jo to go up to them and take a pic with them. Turns out they were New York City Firefighters who played football with other departments throughout the country. Jo loved that.

"Dude, your wife is hot shit!"

b) restaurants - Jo got reservations to a bunch of trendy hollywood eateries. We first went to Dolce on Melrose, which is partially owned by the 70's show dudes, Ashton Kutcher, and Wilmer Valderamma. In fact, in the first season of Punk'd, it was where Wilmer's Escalade was tore up by the black dude from BET's hits. Ron and I scoped out the parking lot where it happened. In fact, we were watching an epsiode of Celebrities Uncensored the other day, and we saw Jennifer Lopez coming out of Dolce and into a limo. We were taking pics outside of the restaurant, and there were 3-4 limo drivers outside just chillin' and waiting for their clients to finish dinner. Jo saw some dude in a NY Yankees hat that she thought was famous. I dunno what it is about THE NY Yankees hat. Whenever I see a Lakers game, Denzel Washington is always wearing one. We saw some important-looking producer dude wearing one during the Universal tram ride. And this guy was wearing one. So I wore one when we went to Rodeo, and while we were walking down the street, I heard some little girl whisper to his brother..."I know that guy." Yeah, kid. I'm the MILF guy from American Pie, John Cho. Or at least that's who a bunch of people think I look like.

Then we went to the Ivy in the design section of LA. I had never heard of the place, but apparently, it's where a bunch of celebrities go. I confirmed that later by watching Celebrities Uncensored, seeing a scene in "Get Shorty", and reading US and People. In one CU episode, Keanu Reeves and his sister were kung fu fighting as they waited for their valet.

The food was hella good! But it was pricey as fuck. Ron had a 22 dollar burger, Jo had a 25 dollar salad, and I had a 25 dollar enchilada. Ha, you only live once. When we were leaving, Jo had to go potty, so Ron and I chilled out in front. We saw this chick in a Mercedes across the street with a long zoom lens snapping pictures at the people out in front. Funny as hell! I bet yout the paparazzi chick took some pictures of us thinking we might be famous.

I had fun in that section of LA, because we got to go in a bunch of design stores like DWR, Della Robia, Armani Casa, and Poliform. In fact, we saw the lead singer of The Red Hot Chili Peppers (his name escapes me right now), with shades on, and ofcourse, on a cell phone, high-tailing it out of Armani Casa.

c) Rodeo Dr. - we went to Rodeo Dr. and I thought the coolest thing there was the diagonal crosswalks. I only see that shit in Tokyo, but I guess they have it for the privileged people of Beverly Hills. As we walked down the street, we saw a Rolls Royce silver ghost (worth upwards of 300K), went into a gallery with a bunch of Picasso lithos. Dickhead saleseman kept staring at us; maybe we weren't "classy" enough to go in there. Dude, you sell stuff to make your rich-ass boss richer. What the hell are you contributing to society?

As we rounded the corner, we bumped into Thandie Newton as she was exiting a chocolate store. So I didn't look like a dickhead stalker, I ducked into the store, and had Ron and Jo follow me. Then we giggled like schoolgirls. "Holy shit, that was Thandie Newton!" Jo then proceeded to buy 3 truffles for seven friggin' bucks!

We also passed by the proverbial cliche rich girl on her cell phone. She was this cute, tall asian chick, no more than 16 years old, all made up to look like a celebrity, probably wearing some D&G, Kate Spade, or some shit like that, and talking like a valley girl to whoever was on the cell phone. We all just rolled our collective eyes to the back of our craniums.

d) rollin' with my homies (an homage to the movie, Clueless) - John, Verna, and Reese, our gracious hosts, took us sightseeing, but not to the usual crappy LA digs. We went to Mulholland Dr., where a bunch of celebrities and wannabees live. We went to a strip mall with a Starbucks, and just chilled there. This was no ordinary strip mall, though. Every other car parked in the lot was a Mercedes, Porsche, Range Rover, and Hummer. As we walked around, I couldn't help but notice that everybody looks at you. No, not just looks at you, but LOOKS at you. They want to see if you're famous; otherwise, they don't want to bother with your ass. It's pretty sad to see. It's like a glorified high school....who hangs out with the cool crowd, and has the most expensive shit, and in some cases, the biggest boobs and less forehead wrinkles.

Then we just chilled with our cutie pie of a niece, Reese. What a cutie! Did I mention she's a cutie?

So there was our LA trip. Lastly, Jo decided to make a career change and move into a more profitable market. Her new movie should be coming out soon with the Entertainment label pictured below. Just kidding babe!! All in all, LA was fun, but it's still a plastic town with plastic people, credit card debt galore, fake boobs and botulism-infested foreheads, tall palm trees, and a shitload of traffic.

MILF!

2004-03-31T07:54:00.000-08:00

Had a garage sale this past wekend, I thought it would be a major hassle, but it turned out to be pretty easy, and rewarding. I left work early on Sunday and Saturday to set up for the sale and post signs on Washington Ave., the main thoroughfare through San Lorenzo and San Leandro. I posted on Craigslist, Jo's forum, Jenn's forum, and even Friendster, but the majority of people that came by probably was just driving through the neighborhood. Many of them seemed like professionals, driving by to look at the goods, and speeding off when they weren't satisfied. Others stayed a while and bargained like a cheap hooker bargains for coke. Here's what I gathered form these people:

80% Mexicans or Latinos looking for some cheap stuff. They came in their old Sentras,nice Landcruisers, decked out Siennas (this one Sienna had chrome spinners on it), and economical Camrys and Corollas. It looked like a run for the border. They were my best customers, bargaining for stuff respectfully, buying in bulk, and taking a bunch of CRAP off my hands.

10% White. Chicks and dudes looking for Home furnishings and cheap Christmas presents. I liked these guys, because they never bargained. One even lived in San Lorenzo since the 50's. He said he owned four houses in the community, but three of them belonged to his ex-wives. We got to talkin' about how he used to work on the farm that our housing development was built on, and how he used to spearfish for aslmon on the San Leandro Creek which is right next to our development. I even gave away a statue of Jesus to a lady who was very appreciative.

5% Black. This one tranny black chick in her dashiki (sic) came with a nice, short, older Latino gentleman. What an odd pairing, I thought. The only other sista I remember was a mom, who left her kid in the car (it wasn't hot), and I made smiley faces and stuff to entertain the 2 year old.

10% Asshole Pinoys. I hate this one especially; they bargain as if their life depended on it, and they lowball you like a Canadian Hooker. When presented a ridiculous offer on an item, I would be curt, bordering on rude, and just say, "No." Take that golden finger and stick it up your shiny ass, pare. Go eat a dog or belt your kids.

5% Nice Pinoys. These are the ones that bargain respectfully, and talk about the old country. And smile and greet you. They come in their Mercedes, buy a shitload of nice crap, and leave you with a feeling of that shit is gonna be put
to good use.

The rest was a hodgepodge. This Indian grandmother scoffed at the price of one of the items, and spoke in her language to her relatives about how unfair the price was. So I didn't sell her jack, even going do far as saying certain items were sold when they weren't. Stick it up your Sari, Punjab MC.

Other than netting 180 bucks in profit, getting rid of a bunch of crap (the majority of which were crap-ass wedding gifts from my Mom and Dad's Forever Dancing friends), and hanging out with Ron, Noel, Arlene, Brady, Vangie, Rich, and my beloved, it was a good study on socioethnic and socioeconomic commerce. Now I actually have room in my garage to put a car in there! Woohoo!

2004-03-25T21:35:00.000-08:00

Jo's been working really hard on my blogs. She really has an eye for design and website development. I'm really proud of her for all that she's accomplished. And yes, Jo set up my whole blog. She thinks I am the sexiest man alive, and I would agree. Love you babe!

I picked the music from powerweb. Pretty good reflection of the type of music I like. Too bad it pops up all of these ads. My "It's like this" blog has 311's Amber. I've liked 311 for a long time. I really don't like the current pop music they've been pumping out, like the cover they did on the Cure song. They sold out big time, and their songs have become too mellow and much like something you would hear on VH1 (although, VH1 has been popping out videos like Jay-Z, Beyonce, and last week I saw Lil' Jon on there!). Like Dave Chappelle said, "White people are gonna be surprised to hear what 'skeet, skeet' means". Yeah! What? Back to 311. They're a white boy band from Omaha, Nebraska (311 is the area code there), and back in the late 90's pumped out some really funky, hard, progressive shit. They even have a melodious singer and a irritating little-boy sounding rapper. Quite versatile. My favorite album of theirs is still Grassroots, but I also have a great affinity for their self-titled album. Jo gave me this album early on in our relationship, and I thought it was one of the sweetest things that she's done for me. We were at the San Leandro Marina and it was bout the time that "Down" was getting a lot of airplay on the radio. I mentioned to her a couple of times that I loved that song, and poof, she pops out the CD for me. It was very sweet.

The song on my diet and exercise blog is by a band that I don't really listen to, but this one song gets me incredibly hyped. It's melodious and hard at the same time, delivers a sense of mystery in its lyrics, and has one of the best drum and bass rifts I've ever heard on a mainstream song. The band is System of a Down, and their song is called "Chop Suey". Or maybe it's "Toxicity", I'm not sure. Either way, it's an ill song. So ill, it needs Theraflu. The band is quite an interesting group. They're a very conscious group, playing for benefits shows and causes, instilling lyrics in some of their songs that calls for social activism, etc. They're a bit like what Rage Against the Machine used to be with Zach De La Rocha, but with lyrics that are more vague and mysterious. I heard them on Loveline one night and they are all Armenian. The lead singer likes to play basketball, but watches no TV. They're a bit into themselves, I think, but who gives a shit. They pump out some good, unique, head-bobbing music.

On my third blog (yes I have three friggin' blogs), I have one of my favorite songs of all time from one of my favorite bands of all time: Santeria by Sublime. You probably already know that Bradley Noel, the lead singer of Sublime died, and the band disbanded. Heroin overdose. This guy was a friggin' musical genius. He could both write songs, play a mean guitar, and sing like a motherfucker. But he wasn't singing like a chick, he would sing about beer, and guns, and shit like that, but with a harmonious style not unlike your typical opera singer. And this guy didn't give shit how he looked. With his shirt off, and his gut hanging out, he frothed at the mouth, took a swig of beer, and belted out songs like a mad man. Too bad he's dead, and it's been around 7 years since his death and no one has even come close to his musical stylings. Much like Bob Marley with Reggae music, his death brought a void in the American Music culture that no one will ever fill. Drugs suck.

I'm digging on Kanye West right now. He's got ill flow, conscious lyrics, and good style. I've always liked Taleb Kweli and Mos Def. Mos Def, especially, since he scored with the beautiful and alluring and lets not forget talented Alicia Keyes. Well at least he scored in the video for "You don't know my Name", and I'm not sure if art imitates life in this case. Coldplay is the next coming of the Beatles, Jason M'raz isn't bad, and No Doubt has staying power. When I want to chill I listen to Tori Amos and Damien Rice; old Seal and Duncan Sheik and Sade ain't bad. Oh, and Goo Goo Dolls and Toad the Wet Sprocket ain't bad. Yup, I'm pretty gay.

2004-03-23T14:53:00.000-08:00

I went to an Ear, Nose, and Threat doctor yesterday, and he confirmed what my regular doctor told me. I snore like a hippo because my tonsils are HUGE! It's called obstructive sleep apnea. When I go to sleep, my tonsils, soft palate, uvula all come together and block my air flow. Jo can confirm this, multiple times at night, I stop breathing! This condition is probably the cause for my chronic fatigue syndrome (I've never been diagnosed, but I KNOW that I have it because I'm always tired as hell). It could also cause high blood pressure, and enlarged heart, and obesity. Jeez, I didn't know I was this fucked up. So what my ENT doctor prescribed for me was to perfrom a sleep study, which would require me to sleep for a night in a sleep study lab. Good times. The insurance company needs this to justify a surgery that would take my tonsils and uvula out. I don't know much about tonsilectomies, but I remember from a Brady Bunch episode that one of the kids had one, and got to eat ice cream for a week. Suh-weeet! Then I'll probably have a heart attack from my resulting diabetes.

The one thing that sorta grossed me out was the tube that the ENT doctor stuck in my nose. He first sprayed some afrin in my nostril to lubricate my nasal cavity; then he sprayed it with some numbing agent. Poof! After 5 minutes, my nasal cavity, my nasopharyngeal cavity, and the first section of my esophagus was numb as fuck. Hell, my friggin' palate and some of my teeth were numb, too. The dude stuck a scope into my nose, and thank goodness, found no other obstructions (such as a deviated septum). So there's no need to perform a surgery in that area.

After being diagnosed with hypercholesterolemia (I think I just made that term up), high triglyceride levels, and having diabetes in my genes, I'm really trying to take care of my body. Less carbs, less saturated fats, no trans fats, less red meat, etc. Now, with this pending surgery, I can increase my activity level, and exercise more. Can't wait!

It could also save my marriage. Joanne is ready to stab me in the middle of the night because of my snoring. I've never actually heard myself snore, but I've heard that I sound like a foghorn. Every time I go camping, my camp mates, the bears, squirrels, and even invertebrates like the worms and mosquitos, want to murder me because I kept them up the whole night. I went camping with a bunch of camp counselors once, and a group of them could not sleep so they migrated 100 yards away to the campfire to try to get some rest. They told me later tha morning that they could even hear me from that distance. Holy Crap! I'm sorry, babe, for my snoring. You can blame my Mom and Dad, and their familial genes, because they also snore like me. In fact, the only one in our family that doesn't snore is my middle brother, Mikey. If one of our relatives slept over our house, they would hear a symphony of our snoring, multiple cessations of breathing, and ton of snorts and whistles. It was a symphony no one would pay to hear. Mikey had his own problems. He would tumble and roll around in his bound as if he was a mad-man possessed. When I had to share a bed with him, I woke up with bruises and scratches. I feel for his future wife. Maybe she can suit up in a football uniform while he brushes his teeth, as they get ready for bed. One time, he even woke up in the middle of our street because he was walking in his sleep. Our family has problems. During family parties, after every meal, my mom, my brother, John, and myself would hibernate for hours. My dad would do it, too, when he was tired. I think we ALL have chronic fatigue syndrome. Maybe I'll suggest to them that they also see an ENT doctor. Sleep well!

2004-03-18T10:46:00.000-08:00

I went to the Warriors vs. Magic game tonight, and saw the Warriors actually win a game!!! Granted, it was the Orlando Magic, the worst team in the Eastern Conference, but Tracy McGrady was on their team. He could have gone off for 62 points, like he did against Gilbert Arenas and the Wizards, or pull something out their collective asses, like go into Staples and beat up on the LA Lakers, complete w/ Shaq, Kobe, Karl Malone, and GP. I was expecting the lowly Warriors to lay an egg. Not only did they win, they went over 100 points, which means free Weinerschnitzel chili dogs for everyone in the crowd. My friend hooked us up with a suite, so we had our own bathroom, beer, snacks, you name it. It was St. Patrick's Day, so my boy, Troy Murphy, a Notre Dame alum, and as Irish as a white boy can get, went of for 20 points and 11 boards. It was a weird night in the Warriors Universe, because everything was going right. We even got VIP parking right next to the Coliseum; I thought that a black hole would open up right in the coliseum, or an earthquake, or maelstrom of locusts would swallow us up. I was scared as hell.

The Warriors Universe is a weird one. It has come up with the likes of Victor Alexander, Les Jepsen, Uwe Blab, Manute Bol, Rony Seikaly, Tom Gugliotta, Todd Fuller and Joe Smith, all a bunch of has-been or never been big men that plagued the Warriors lineup and never succeeded anywhere else. But these guys are the exception to the rule. Usually Warriors who move on do really well.

Chris Mullin went to the Pacers, and now they are an elite team. Tim Hardaway went the Heat, and him and Pat Riley enjoyed some good years with Alonzo Mourning and Steve Smith. Mitch Richmond won a championship with the Lakers. But those were players in the past. Does the same still hold true now?

Latrell Sprewell, who got ousted because he choked the coach, went to a good Knicks team and is now a contender on the Minnesota TimberWolves. Chris Webber is, who got outed because he got into a little tiff with the coach, is now on the best team in the NBA, the Sacramento Kings. Donyell Marshall is averaging 20pts and 10 rebounds in Toronto, Damon Jones and Rafer Alston are starting point guards on playoff-bound teams, Milwaukee and Miami. And these guys only tried out during training camp or had 10 day contracts! It's a curse, I tell you.

The list goes on to other arenas: Tom Tolbert becomes a successful announcer on ABC, and has his own Bay Area radio Sports Talk show, Earl Boykins is going to the playoffs with Melo and the Nuggets, and even coaches get love.....Gregg Popovich is the coach for the World Champion Spurs, Don Nelson is the coach for the high-powered Mavericks, and Rick Adelman is the coach for the Sacramento Kings. Yet, the Warriors are mired in mediocrity.

It's been ten years since the Warriors have made it to the playoffs. I reminisce back to the days of Run TMC, and when Avery Johnson took over for the injured Tim Hardaway and led the team to a 55-27 record in '93. Heck, let's go back to the Rick Barry championship in the 70's, with Al Attles, Nate Thurmond, and Wilt Chamberlain.

After this wonderful night in the Oakland Colisuem, let' hope its a harbinger of things to come for the Warriors. Then again, it was only the Orlando Magic.

2004-03-13T03:12:00.000-08:00

Ever since the Korean "conflict" in the 1950's Korea has been an enigma to the world. And they certainly have me mystified. They are a proud people with a great history, yet they have several black stains that I cannot ignore. Here they are in no particular order->

-Kim Jong Yul Brenner (or something like that): could someone who wants to look like Roy Orbison, act like the Ayatollah Khomeni, and be as tall as Gary Coleman really govern a country?

-South Korea: what the HELL is up with your political system? I thought the US (specifically California) was a joke.....electing the Terminator and Kindergarten Cop as our Governor, having our most popular president in the last half-century be a chubby chaser with a penchant for girls that look like TGIF hostesses. Did anyone see that debachle in South Korea after the president was impeached?!?!? Fights breaking out everywhere, shoes being thrown, grown men getting on their knees and crying their eyes out? That shit was funny as hell. But I would definitely not want to be a South Korean (or North Korean for that matter), because your leaders are leaving very little to be desired.

-Animal rights: Hello?!?! Why do so many Koreans insist that eating Fido is a symbol of Korean pride when the practice was only borne from starvation bouts during the war? I know what you're saying, "what the heck is a chinelas-wearing, adobo-eating filipino have to say about eating dogs?" Stop torturing dogs! If you've seen the pictures that I've seen, you'd be as nuts about this as I am. They cram 20 dogs in a cage fit for only 3 dogs. If you think I'm exaggerating, look at this website:

http://www.koreananimals.org/dogs_p7.htm

And for those korean immigrants who get Jindos for national pride and stick them in their backyard, don't play with them, don't walk 'em, and just use them as a friggin' motion detector, you should be ashamed of yourselves. More and more jindos are popping up in shelters all over the US, and it's mostly because of you ig'nant little motherfuckers. How could such a noble, loyal, and beautiful breed be going the way of the dodo?

Alright, I've been pretty hard on Koreans in this post; I apologize. Yes, I am stereotyping, so if you don't like it, bite me. Filipinos, of which I race I belong to, like big white vans with musical songs that turn on when you put them in reverse. Indian people stink because they eat so much friggin' curry. Black people have long schlongs. White people can't dance. So what? Lighten up, people.

If it wasn't for Korean bbq and Su-Chin Pak, world famous MTV VJ, I would have given up on Koreans a long time ago.

2004-03-12T01:57:00.000-08:00

3/11........I'm back!!!! Word up, homie? I'm not making any promises, but it's 3/11 and it's a good day to start blogging again. As if I was blogging consistently in the first place. I think posting a bunch on Jo's forum (www.joannemarie.com/forum) prevent me from blogging, because I get out my thoughts and opinions there quite often. Hell, I have twice as many posts as the moderator of the forum. It's nice to belong to a community. Lately the only community I associate with on a daily basis are my dogs, my chick, her best friend, and if I'm lucky, the blockbuster employee behind the counter. It's been nice to be secluded for a while, but it would be nice to have some friends to hang out with once in a while. Maybe once a month; any more and I'll get sick of them. It's also given me some time to clean up around the house, and look inward.

Jo and I had a pretty interesting and nostalgic weekend. First of all, we don't go to the groceries together often. I guess we're afraid of getting into a fight in middle of the bread section and suddenly getting a loaf of Columbo bread thrown at your head. But we've been getting better at it. It's actually nice to go the groceries together; it's like a team--sport. Complete with hand signals, and one-word questions and answers..."Milk?" "Nope." "TP?" "Got it." Alright, the last one was two words, and the one before that was an abbreviation, but you get the picture. I want in and out. I especially love the end of the grocery shopping experience, which results in finding which line is the shortest. It's a lost artform. One line may seem shorter than the other, but then there goes the single mom with a hundred items and a thousand coupons, especially the 50 cans of soup that go on sale for a buck a pop, and of course, she has to pull out the friggin' bane of my supermarket existence....the checkbook. Who writes checks anymore? And then there's the price check dude. You stand there awkwardly as the checker tries to look busy, avoid eye contact, and wait for Felipe who's taking his sweet ole' time checking for the price of the seedless grapes (it's gotta be seedless, motherfucker!) Anyhoo, that's the grocery store for you. I should get on with my story....

Jo and I are in the meat sxn, trying to figure out if we have any more chicken thighs in the fridge, and all of a sudden, rounding the condiment corner, is a spectre from our past. This dude....let's name him Frankie....fuck it, Franco is his name....and he was a good friend of ours. I knew this cat since 3rd grade when I used to go over his house and play Jumpman, Jr. on his Commodore 64. Jo and Franco has always had a good relationship all throughout high school and college. In fact, he even tried to see if there was a chance that they could get together right before I ensnared my future wife with my amazing charm and good looks (insert laugh track here). What is it with friends/assholes/strangers that try to get up on Joanne? I've had a good friend of mine do it right after one of our many breakups, a dude who barely knew her telling her he would "take her on a moonlight walk" (in fact it was one of Franco's good friends; I think his name was Reynato - what major asshole), an acquantance (sic) who eventually got together with her when we broke up a final time, but is now her best friend and my good friend (go figure), and her sister-n-laws cousin who tried to get together with her while we were going out, and still tried to get with her after he had a girlfriend AND after we were married. Now this asswipe (letsname him.....Brian.....which is an anagram of Brain.....which is an organ department that he is a bit deficient in; let's call him a bit special) is engaged to that girl - poor girl cuz she doesn't even know it; the guy's a real slimeball, and a lousy basketball player. I've seen more physical coordination on Biddy the robot from the old Buck Rodgers TV series. Biddy-biddy-biddy! (Damn Erin Greyt was hot, especially in her tights) This guy couldn't shoot the ball straight if his dick was in a vice and his manhood (or lack thereof) depended on it. Whew! Another tangent. I feel like I'm in Geometry class.

Alright, Franny, let's get the ADD under control. Things to get....Ritalin, Adderall, Reefer......Back to the story....to make a long story short....Franco's girlfriend fucks Joanne royally (and they were best friends), pretends to go to medical school, takes Jo's identity, fucks with her own cousin, and brings Franco along for the ride. Apparently, he's willing to go with her. When we tried to tell Franco how fucked up she was, it seemed as though he already knew....asshole! It had been two years since we last see him, and here he is at Albertson's buying food to stuff his fat ass. He looks Jo directly in the face and turns away immediately. Jo dogs him with her "stare death" (her infamous stare death put many a girl and guy in Logan High School between 1989 and 1993 in their place and crying for their momma; believe me....I was a constant recipient for the fir three years). Of course, I'm oblivious because I'm trying to figure out if $2.99 a pound for chicken thighs is a good deal. I finally see him out of the corner of my eye, and being the calm and cool character that I am, I start giggling like a school girl. In fact, Jo and I sneak of into an aisle and it's high school all over again. "Oh my gosh, Becky, look at his butt....it's fatter than ever!" The funny thing is, we actually run into him again, almost running him over with our cart. If it wasn't for my quick thinking, we would have. I can't pretend to be clairvoyant, but I had a feeling that our paths would cross again. So as we walked down the main aisle, I was cognizant of the good chance that he would be crisscrossing from another aisle. Sure enough he comes out of the soda aisle, and a plit second before that, I direct Jo and the cart over into the olive oil aisle. Was it luck? Premonition? The smell of his stanky ass repelling my very being? Who knows.....

Ironically, Franco's ex-girlfriend from high school, who also had a falling out with Joanne, showed up in that same market about two years before, and did the same exact thing. Ignored us. Pussies.

2003-11-29T00:11:00.000-08:00

This is my second shift out of three consecutive shifts at the group home, so I figure I'd blog a bunch. Lots of things have happened this month of November. Went for a job interview with the San Francisco Unified School District and the Education Fund, went to my 10 year high school reunion, painted the master bedroom and got rid of our old bedroom furniture (getting a new platform bed), continuing to foster Jingo, the little monkey of a dog, my in-laws van burned down at New Park Mall, visited Colin and Brady on a couple of occassions, been going jogging and biking, and taking the dogs to the dog park at least twice a week, and cleaning up the house for the garage sale. Whew!! I have to start work in January, so I only have a month left to do the following:

-get my measles/rubella immunization from CSUH
-register for winter classes
-finish my TED 6300 papers and submit to professor
-write my grad school paper
-check out design walk at Jackson Square
-go ice skating at Embarcadero w/ Jo
-test more filipino recipes out
-finish the deck and plantings in the backyard
-put stepping stones in the front yard
-set-up the garage as another living space
-buy christmas gifts
-put some more miles on the Trek
-put some more miles on my trail shoes
-go to the snow with snowshoes and pups once, and snowshoes and board a second time
-visit Becky in friggin timbuk2 to do a homecheck for fostering
-continue appointments for Joanne
-organize paperwork
-heartguard anf lfea/tick protect dogs
-time for Gilbey and Belle's annual shots
-check out at least one Warriors game
-guys christmas party
-cousin's christmas party
-Jo's family's christmas party
-Lola's christmas party

Alright, then. I'm glad I'll have a month to do all of these things, and not have a job during the day to hinder me. But all that shall change in January.

2003-11-17T01:22:00.000-08:00

I came in to work last night, and discovered that one of the kids had a smear-fest in the quiet room. He had been in there for half an hour, smearing his feces all over the wall, the one window, himself, etc. It stunk royally. So I had the unenviable job of helping him clean it after he de-escalated. This pretty much means I cleaned it myself. It ook nearly three hours to get all of the shit from the walls, floors, and window. It took him thirty minutes in the shower to get it off his body.

Apparently, the kid blew out because he was being consequenced too often. I guess he hadn't gone in the bathroom (number 2) in a while, so instead of peeing on himself, or threatening to harm himself, or even going off on a unintelligable rap (which he usually does), he decided to make play-dough figures with his shit. Ah, the life of a group home counselor. Needless to say, when I got home, I scrubbed myself down like an ER surgeon.

Of course, the kid was as cordial and sweet as ever in the morning. It's like Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Moments like this sometimes make me question why I do what I do. But, I am confident that I am in the right line of work because I can take a lot of abuse, and still deal out my fair share of love to these kids. I don't think too many people can perform my job, so I find solace in knowing that my kids have me to love them, and that I won't be going anywhere.

2003-11-09T01:22:00.000-08:00

The rains have returned, which means the snowpack is back. I plan to take the dogs snowshoeing (I'll be the only one with shoeshows) sometime in the next two weeks. I love this weather. I'm pretty sure I would enjoy living in the Pacific Northwest. All I need is an espresso machine, bookstore, and some singletrack trails to ride or jog, and I'm in a state of Nirvana (an homage to grunge). The only downside is my dogs get all muddy and I have to keep them indoors longer, which means more accidents. The carpet cleaner is in full swing, and I've got my gallon of Nature's Miracle ready to go. I also worry for the safety of my family members in the rain, because people continue to drive like assholes when the roads are slick and wet. I pray to God everyday that he is watching over my loved ones and myself.

2003-09-01T13:23:00.000-07:00

It's Labor day, and I'm spending a nice quiet day with Joanne and the dogs. We went to a doctor's appointment early this morning, ate at the Pancake House in Fremont, shopped at Petsmart and TJ Maxx, and are now home, chillin', and watchin the 30th replay of the MTV movie awards. When did that first air? Yesterday?

I never really understood Labor Day - let's celebrate working by NOT working. And for the kids in school, it never felt like a day off because you just got off of a 2.5 month summer break!!! Let's celebrate Labor Day sometime in April or May when we all realy need it, and let's call it what it really is - "Take a break from your shitty job day". I doubt it will ever happen because it's too long; it wouldn't fit on a calendar day block.

I bought a pair of "dirty" jeans from TJ Maxx for 16 bucks. It was a pair of Abercrombie jeans that probably cost 50-60 bucks. There was nothing wrong with them. I don't really get the appeal of dirty jeans; but I still buy them. I guess it's one of those mysteries in life that I will never figure out. Shopping at shops like TJ Maxx/Marshalls/Ross reminds me of this joke that Nick DiPaulo once told. He was about to get it on with this chick he ahd never done it with, and when she took of her bra, he noticed that one nipple was a couple of centimeters off from the other. Being the wry comedian that he is, he couldn't help but say, "Where did you get your titties? Marshalls?" Irregular. Ha!

2003-08-27T23:44:00.000-07:00

The durations between posts are getting shorter and shorter; a little victory to celebrate. Let's see if I can get them down to a day or two. Then, I can actually start calling this thing a journal. Let's see.......anything interesting happen in the past couple of weeks?

a) We found a family for our foster Jindo, Heppi (shown in white; pictured here with our Gilbey).

We've fostered him for two months now and it was difficult finding him a foster home. A lot of people were inquiring from out of the area and I couldn't really do an out-of-town adoption. First of all, I wouldn't be able to perform a home check, to make sure that the backyard was secure and the home was orderly. Secondly, it costs a bunch of money to transport a dog by plane. I think there are enough people willing to adopt Jindos here in the Bay Area. Never mind the number of Jindos in Southern California. There are apporximately 20-30 Jindos being put into SoCal shelters every week, and 80-90% of them are being killed. The situation is quite dire in Southern California. Owners need to take more responsibility for the living beings that they are harboring. Motherfuckers throw them into shelters, to take away their guilt, rationalizing their actions through every excuse in the book. It pisses me off royally.

Anyways, Heppi's new family will be a 6-person household, complete with four kids aged, 4,3,2, and 1. Yipes! Heppi will be a welcome edition to the family. I'm gonna miss the little fucker. Sure, he pissed all over my carpets, and pissed off my puppies once in a while, but sure is a beautiful young pup, and I love his personality. I'm just glad that I had a part in keeping him from being euthanized, as well as making a family happy by helping them find their forever dog.

b) Went camping with my group home kids. We went to a beautiful campsite in the Valley of the Moon. It was hardly work. As an overnight, all I had to do was stay awake from 10pm to 7am, which is a breeze for me anyway. All we did was chill in the cabin at night, read magazines, watch dvd's and walk around the campsite. All the overnights had these cheesy walkiee-talkies onand we were fucking around the whole night...."Roger, ten-four"..."breaker, breaker"...."over and out". To top it off, we had the rest of the day and evening to sleep, chill, and relax. So I brought my pup, Belle, with me and bullshitted all day. I only got 2 hours sleep each day, and hiked, jogged, napped, ate, and watched movies all day. It was like a vacation. My buddy brought his grill and fired up some thai marinated steak and herb-roasted chicken. We had a fridge full of mocha frappucinos from starbucks. The kids were great, and they had a lot of fun. I swear, I've never seen them so animated, and uninhibited. I'm just glad that I wasn't on for the regular day staff. All of them came home tired, bruised, bloody, and beaten. Alright, I'm exaggerating, but it's pretty close.

Here's a picture of where we went (this ain't the exact picture, but it was close; the campsite was nestled between Annadel state park and a couple of beautiful vineyards)-->

c) Got a new sectional couch from Macy's. I love this couch. It's microseude fiber, and it's as soft as a baby's butt. Jo and I love lounging on it. It has a chaise lounge that I love to nap in.

d) Went to Residential Counselor picnic at Lake Chabot. It was nice to get paid for four and a half hours of bullshittin' aound.

e) Starting to clean and organize the house. It'll be nice when it gets all done.

2003-08-09T02:14:00.000-07:00

What's the point of having a journal if I'm not going to write in the damn thing. Well, here I go again. I'm slowly getting the hang of this. I just read my last post (which unfortunately was written a long time ago), and only just realized how many friggin typos I make, most of which are spelling errors and capitalizing the first two letters of a word. HEre I go again. I guess I try to type so fast that the finger that holds down the shift button just stays there a slight moment too long. I apologize for the typos. I hate reading text with typos. I think my feeble mind just spews forth so many random, incoherent ideas, that when I actually think of something that makes sense, I have to capture it on the keyboard as fast as I can before it goes away.

What’s the most exciting thing that’s happened in the past few weeks?

Some dude tried to jack Joanne's car. Joanne's my wifey. I work graveyard shift on the weekends, so I'm used to staying up late at night. One weeknight, I'm downstairs, mindlessly watching TV as I try to get sleepy enough to up to bed, and all of a sudden I hear a car outside arming a disarming; you know,the little beeps. I figure it's some drunk neighbor at 2 in the morning just getting home and fumbling in his pocket for his house keys. It arms/disarms again, but this time I notice that it's pretty loud; oh yeah, and it sounds just like my wife's car's alarm. I thought up of every rational explanation for it, and could not think of anymore, so I peeled myself off the couch, opened the front door, and lo and behold, some dickhead is sliding out the window of the car. Guess what I say to this jerk? "What's up boy?" It's funny how you play certain scenarios in head after they actually happen, and wish you could have said something different, something a little bit cooler. "Yo homeboy, come over here so I can give you an ass-beating." "Did you lose something, asshole?" "Your mother wears combat boots" That last one made no sense, but that dig always made me laugh. Why would someone's mother wear combat boots, and why is it insulting to do so? Anyways, all I could say was "What's up boy?" and this motherfucker walked away as if he was strolling in the park on a Sunday afternoon. I thought better of my situation, went back in the house, locked the door, called 911, described the perp to the dispatcher, and went outside to see where he went. He was long gone. After I hung up the phone, I stood there for a second and thought about how smugly he walked away. Then I got pissed, grabbed my aluminum bat and started walking the neighborhood. I thought to myself, "What if the guy had a knife, or worse yet, a gun?" I really didn't care at that point because I was so pissed off. I just wanted to play teeball with his head or better yet, his nuts. Then I realized that in the brief conversation that I had with the 911 dispatcher, I gave him a description of the perpetrator: late teens to early twenties, short brown curly hair, white male wearing a black hooded sweatshirt. Then my dumbass self realized that I was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, that I could pass of as a white dude in my teens/early twenties, and worse yet, was roaming the streets with a steel bat of fury. I felt like the Punisher, but I didn’t want to be accidentally be identified as the perp and get capped by a dumbass cop with an itchy trigger finger. Hell, some bacon capped a Vietnamese woman in San Jose just a week ago after HE busted into her home; and all she had in her hand was a fucking potato peeler (granted, the peeler looked like a fuckin’ machete from afar, but even I wouldn’t cap a woman who came at me with real machete. At the very least, I would try to wrestle the thing away from her). I knew the sheriff’s deputy would be in the neighborhood anytime now, so I came to my senses and waited for them at home.

After giving the sheriff’s deputy a pretty good description of the guy, I felt a little better. I also felt good after inspecting the car, because nothing was taken, and the alarm actually deterred a would-be criminal!! We also had a flipface Kenwood in there that he couldn’t touch, so I guess our little investments work out after all. If you were the guy who tried to jack our car, and you’re reading this, I’ve got one thing to say:

You're number one, asshole! (insert middle finger here)

2003-07-20T03:02:00.000-07:00

It's been a long while since I've last written on this journal, so I apologize to myself. I've learned that if you let something go for a while, then it will start letting go of you. Jo and I have been going to various family events where there are a LOT of kiddies running around. JO's sister-in-law just had her baby shower, and of course, there were was the regular fare of games for the women, food for all, and the children ran around, scraped a couple of knees and bumped a couple of heads. Makes me want to have a kid of my own. I don't really know how much of a father I would be, but knowing how much love I give my nieces and nephews, I think I will do ok.

My older brother and his wife had a tough time conceiving their baby. She had gotten pregnant about 2 years ago, but miscarried the child due to the fact that it was an ectopic pregnancy. NOt only dis she have this against her, she was diagnosed as having fibroids within and around her uterus. She underwent a major surgery to remove the fibroids, which was successful, but considerably weakened the lining of her uterus. As a result, her doctor required her to not get pregnant for one year, in order for her uterus to regain its strength. Once the year was up, my brother and his wife started to try to make a baby. After a five months or so, they went ot see a fertility specialist. The specialist laughed in their faces and told them to continue for another five months. AFter nearly a year of no success, they considered adopting a baby from the Philippines. They returned to the homeland with the desire to arrange an adoption with one of our relatives. Unfortunately, the relative's father died suddenly in the states, and she could not oversee the adoption. They decided to not push the issue with her at that difficult moment, and returned to the states. With the pressure of conceiving gone, and the prospect of doing the nasty....JUST to DO the nasty (trust me, any type of sexual notion mentioned with my brother makes me want to vomit) for fun there, they made love. Lo and behold, they were pregnant. I guess God has a plan for everyone. They were sweatin' it for a while there, but their patience wore off.

Stories like these make me appreciate how special our lives are and the people we share them with. Their baby is now 9 months old and is the sweetest little baby girl in the entire world. Usually, a proud Ninong will proclaim this of their godchild out of obligation, or the sheer love they have in their heart. I proclaim this after spending some time with this kid......she is the SWEETEST baby in the world. Not only will she do the traiditional pilipino kiddie tricks such as "beautiful eyes" or "clap your hands", she will also bend her upper body downwards to the direction of "pose!" as if she were a supermodel in a photo shoot! She will hang out with any adult without complaint, even the old, stinky, rough-handling ones that squeeze your cheeks so hard that they nearly fall off your face. She's the epitome of the "low maintenance baby". Quite the oxymoron, isn't it? Her face is half cheeks, half everything else. And she does the cutest things with her little tongue, like sticking it out constantly, or playing around by smacking her lips or moving her tongue around.

I think it's time that me and Jo had a kid. If I'm lucky, it will get Joanne's good looks, and my charm (ha!), and it's Lolas and Lolos will spoil the thing rotten. ALright, here are some names we've gone contemplated over the years....

Jonah
Josephine
Jack
Jamie
Jah Love
and of course Shenene or Laquita.

2003-07-07T09:49:00.000-07:00

Woohoo! Had a pretty fun 4th of July weekend. Jo and I went to a friend's bbq on the fourth where we ate good food, played hostage basketball, and lit some firecrackers. You might be wondering what hostage basketball is. It's a new craze where a bunch of guys get together and make a pact to go hungry and thirsty until five people can shoot five free throws in a row. So there we were, after an hour and a half of trying to make five in a row, coming close with four in a row a couple of times, and making up new rules of two pointers and even four pointers to try to get ourselves out of the game. After an hour and a half of delirium, somebody finally ended it with a behind the house, over the roof, 22 foot four pointer. I was relieved because we were so close to creating our own society a la Lord of the Flies, and eating each others' flesh. A good time was had by all.

Yesterday, I dragged Joanne to City Beach in Fremont where Shrinkage was playing. Shrinkage is a band out of da une that is inspired by the late band, Sublime, and other punk, ska, surf bands. They played a nice set and we saw some old peeps from high school. Thanks, Jo, for staying up late last night even though you had to come into work early this morning.

In between, I went to work and didn't get spit on, kicked, or bit by any of the kids. If you don't already know, I work at a group home for boys age 6-12. They are classified as level 14 SED (seriously and emotionally distrubed), the highest level of disturbance, and most of their porblems stem from past emotional, physical, and/or sexual abuse. I love these kids, but they will tear you up if you're not paying attention. My favorite part of the job is reading the kids bedtime stories at night and tucking them in. These kids lose so many teeth that I come into work with a bunch of change so that the tooth fairy doesn't get cursed at in the morning. Despite not getting injured, one of the kids did do something pretty nasty. After being put in a room we call the Quiet Room, where there rubber walls and just one door, the kid started to take off his clothes and urinate all over the walls and on his clothes. Then, he started to wring out the urine from his boxers and place it in his mouth like a rabid dog. Pretty nasty, huh? This kid had a really, really bad childhood, and he's still only 8 years old. But between these moments of insanity and chaos, we are there to give them a ton of love and provide stability and structure in their lives. The morning before this incident, the kid actually made me a greeting card saying: "Dear Francis, you are my best friend from: the kid". Sniff, sniff.

2003-07-03T05:27:00.000-07:00

Well, it's my first time writing in this thing, so please bear with me. I usually don't write to an audience, so I'll write as if if I was writing in my own journal. I will fill you in on certain details of my life; for example, some of you may not know that I am married, have two puppies, and like to hang out at home in my underwear. Maybe that is too much information, but hey, you're reading this blog, so you're entitled to that. I wear boxer briefs, mostly. Joanne, my lovely bride of 3 and a half years, and I went to a play at the Berkeley Repertory Theatre in Berkeley. We went with a couple of good friends, and had dinner at Kirala afterwards. It was an enjoyable weeknight of culture, good food, and lively conversation.

The name of the play was "The Guys" and starred Jimmy Smits and Wanda DeJesus, both NYPD Blue alums. It was a play written as a reaction to the September 11 terrorist attacks. Jimmy Smits plays the role of Captain Danny Flanagan, a fire captain of a NY Fire Department ladder company. It is about a couple of weeks after the attacks, and Danny finds himslef having to deliver a eulogy for 8 of his "guys". Problem is, he can't find the right words to properly eulogize them, or at least he can't keep it together enough to come up with anything on paper. He seeks the help of a writer, played by Wanda DeJesus. Incidentally, Jimmy and Wanda live together and are a real-life couple. Danny, the quintessential blue-collar New York Firefighter, is an endearing character. He is deeply distraught over the loss of his guys, but is able to talk of them with admiration, affection, and humor. He is barely able to keep it together throughout the play, but is able to stamp out a tango session with the writer (her character's name escapes me) in a moment of levity.

Man, this play was both thought-provoking and emotionally evocative. It made me think of the events of the past three years, and how Americans, New Yorkers, and individual people affected by the attacks (that's everyone, I suppose) have dealt with their emotions. Personally, I have moved on with my life. Many of us have; we watch movies like The Matrix, eat out at new restaurants, and have birthday parties for our kids. We have to move on. Otherwise life will just pass you by. But this doesn't mean that we have to forget. Watching this play reminds me of how I felt right after the attacks, and the visceral reaction I had towards the perpetrator of the attacks.

Then, I just enjoyed the beautiful job that Jimmy Smits and Wanda De Jesus did in portraying these characters. From the high-end, upper west side, latte sipping, manolo wearing character of the writer to the everyman that Jimmy Smits portrayed, everyone was deeply affected by the attacks. It made me truly appreciate the craft of acting and how much I missed seeing Bobby Simone, Jimmy's character on NYPD Blue, on the show. Dude, Wanda has a great looking body for a 40 year old. I was a bit starstruck at first, but Jimmy's character was so vulnerable and engaging, that I forgot that he was Jimmy Smits.

Overall, it was a wonderful night because we got to spend it with two of our favorite people, and we ate at Kirala, a really good Japanese restaurant with an authentic Robata grill. Although, it took almost an hour for us to be seated, we spent most of the time talking with each other so the time passed effortlessly. No worries, though, because we were the last party in the restaurant, almost staying an hour after closing time. I figure you make us wait an hour, and we'll reply in kind. Hahaha. Anyways, the food was pretty good, and the conversation was lively. It's always nice to catch up with a couple of good friends.