In My Head It's Chueco...continued

July 21, 2000
...listening to the Monkees singing Daydream Believer followed by Ratt's Round and Round,
I have a nectarine sitting on my desk just staring at me. It has a little bit of mold on it and I'm wondering if I should cut that bit off and eat it anyway. The nectarine is daring me to do it, bastard!
I feel a little weak as if I couldn't raise my arms above my head but I fully know I truly can. I'm smelling Rebecca's cinnamon roll and lusting after the smell only, I have no desire to eat a cinammon roll at the moment. Cinnamon rolls remind me of the Ren Faire and bees!
I need to go across the street and buy my lunch salad though I know that eating a bunch of raw vegetables is going to make me explode. This is where I am at the moment. What does your side of hell look like today?

03/31/00
Happy Birthday Ewan!

August 25, 1999

embarrassing moments...here are two of them:

ONE: I jumped on stage during a Cure gig, (Primary was playing) and I walked over to Robert and kissed him on the cheek, he didn't freak (really!), he just looked at his feet and smiled. I then spun around to leave the stage when I accidentally bumped into Lol's keyboard! I just froze, watching the thing rock back and forth!! Fortunately Lol stepped up and steadied it, I looked at him, muttered something and got the hell off the stage!

TWO: I jumped on stage (don't learn do I?) during a Circle Jerks show. I was planning on doing a quick stage dive (this was before the mosh pits were populated by violent creeps and people actually rushed to catch stage divers so it was relatively safe for women). So there I was, I circled the band, I came up to the edge of the stage and then...the song ENDED!! I stood there staring at the band, and they were staring back. I couldn’t stage dive, there was no music! So I daintily sat on the edge and had a couple of cute punk boys help me down. I think I ran to the bar after that!

July 29, 1999 More muni stories for you:

It's 4:45, the bus is already five minutes late and it's not even Friday, ok, deep breath it'll be here soon. It does, I prepare to board thee 31AX Express baby, and being the 26th person in line (yes, we line up at the bus stop after work, after all it IS the Financial District and we're all so bloody civilized! )and as a result I miss out on the antics dished out by the 25 people ahead of me. So I climb on and flash my pastel bus pass to the driver who ignores me because he is going on about how MUNI is going to go out of business because of whatever stunt one of passengers had just pulled. Then the almost incoherent but LOUD driver informs us that he's not going to leave! I'm thinking to myself "Just put on your headphones, get your book out, the bus will move."

For the next five minutes or so people are still getting on the bus and are really confused by the driver's ranting, as am I, but here is where the magic of cell phones comes in to rescue me out of the pit of mystification. There was this woman behind me on her cell phone and she was providing a play by play description of the happenings on the 31AX Express!

Cell phone woman says "Yes, this woman got on the bus and told the driver she had lost her pass and wasn't going to pay the fare, then she just sat down! No, she didn't pay! No, she doesn't care, apparently she thinks it’s alright to state that you have lost your pass and just sit down and now the driver says he’s not going to drive the bus! Yes, some people are just horrible!”
Then I see this young guy get up and goes to the driver, cell phone woman says to her friend, she says “Oh wow, and now this man just paid this woman’s fare!” cell phone woman turns to horrific 31AX Express bus rider “You REALIZE that he just paid for you don’t you?” Bus moocher says nothing, cell phone woman continues with her description of the goings on and finishes with “No, she never even thanked the man! I believe anything at this point!”

I make it through chapter 19 in my book.

On another disturbing note: getting off the bus on Friday, right there on MY STOP, I'm waiting for the doors to open so I can get out, and this man, this BIG man who has a wee crop of hair on his head and when he stands his feet are completely facing outward on the floor, you know like clown feet, anyway he starts screaming "STOP IT! STOP ASSAULTING ME!!" I'm about to walk off the bus but my brain goes "what the hell...?" and I look over towards the front of the packed bus and mr. clown feet is loosing it just yelling for someone to "STOP IT", he goes on to say: "You stepped on my feet (clown feet) and now you're mumble, mumble, STOP IT!!" I see this other creepy guy that rides the x-press as well, close to mr. clown feet and wonder if he's the one accused of the assault, he seems un-affected though, so who bloody knows...I get off the bus and cross the street, the screams are still audible, I hear a final "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" and mr. clown feet exists the bus. Crossing the street with fellow commuters I just sigh and say "Aren't you glad this was OUR stop?" Nervous smiles agree with me as we make our mad dash to the safety of our apartments. COMMUTING, YOU GOTTA LOVE IT!

6/21/99 HAPPY SOLSTICE!

4/30/1999

Ah, the good times!

About nine months ago, I had the grand experience of jury duty in San Francisco where every trial is a criminal trial. After the run around of "come into the court room" "now go back to the waiting room" and endless waves of people being interviewed for the jury, I had the honor of being in the jury box, eeek paranoia began to creep into my heart as I considered developing a twitch or just faking a fainting spell. As luck would have it another potential juror beat me to that move as one of our days ended early because the paramedics had to be called in to care for a fainting victim, dang!! Come back the next day I must, so armed with my paperback and very sloppy clothing I sit in chair number five listening to the eleven around me speak of their fears, prejudices, medical conditions, criminal records, favorite ice cream flavors, etc...my goal is to sound as unstable as possible but always telling the TRUTH less a bolt of lightening leave a mountain of smoldering ash in my place.

I get to hear the case, it's assault with a deadly weapon. Apparently these five men were accused of going on a rampage at a tenderloin hotel (tenderloin is synonymous to skid row), beating people up, waving a gun around, and stealing stuff. The first thing that flashed in my head was, ok, five young men in the tenderloin, late at night, obviously they were up to no good. How's that for prejudiced? But I swear on my record collection, that was the first thing that crossed my mind! The day that they actually brought the defendants in to the court room, we had to respond if we thought they were guilty without hearing any testimony, I raised my hand (thinking: this ought to excuse me, no doubt) and said looking from one defendant to another "Now you must understand that I thought this BEFORE I laid my eyes on any of you. I figured 5 men out at 2 am in the loin were obviously into something evil." I tried to see if any of the accused flinched, but they didn't, they were busy throwing me the lightening bolts I had feared earlier! Guess what? That didn't get me off! The day went on. After lunch one of the accused said he felt sick, so we were excused at 1:30. As the court room was adjourning, I watched one of the defendants slip a note to another and though this really freaked me out I didn't say anything, because the way things were going I wouldn't be excused anyway. As a matter of fact I bet they would've decided to keep me seeing how I was blessed with the hawk eye and all.

The next day, we turn up, the defendants turn up...surprise!! One of them is wearing a Trader Joe's T-shirt!! Now Trader Joe's t-shirts are given to employees only, and I had said that my husband worked for TJ the day before, so is this guy trying to make my head explode or what? I write a note to the judge about this...I don't get excused! Second round of questioning is taking place, they want to know if I have a problem with law enforcement. I re-tell my adventures as a punk rocker in Los Angeles and the abuse received at the hands of the LAPD. I tell them that this has left me suspicious and sometimes fearful of the law, I receive sympathetic nods from the defendants. I realize I'm playing both sides here, this HAS to get me off or someone is going to take me O-U-T!

The District Attorney shared my name and she dressed like k.d. lang, so I'm sending her the mental message that basically states how sucky I would be as a juror, apparently she got it because as she is calling names I see her flinch, pause, look up at me, look back down and then say my name! I wanted to run out of that court room as fast as I could, but I didn't, I calmly picked up my belongings, thanked the court and walked out confident I wouldn't be needed for two more years…guess what I got in the mail yesterday? Jury duty summons! Ah, I love this city!