how 'bout some cheese with that whine?

Because we all secretly wish we were sommeliers for a 5-star Michelin restaurant, we decided to head on over to Periscope Cellars for their "Wine Wednesdays".

It's another excuse for me to pretend I'm actually from Sonoma and that I know anything about wine tasting. Sure, I'm pretty sure you swirl the glass and look at the legs, then smell, then taste then to a thing where you smack your lips with your tongue as if your tasting. And last but not least, you mention that it's "oak-ey".

The tastings are gratis, which in this economy makes me a very happy whino. I recommend the Sangiovese because it's good and fun to say. And they had some wonderful cheeses, including some aged Monterey Jack from Vella Cheeses in Sonoma.

It's nice to change up your Happy Hour routine every once in a while. Especially to head to wineries that have $5 full glasses of wine paired with cheese and crackers.

And since Emeryville is thee hot spot of the Bay Area, this was probably the third time I've been filmed by a television crew in the past month. I'm not exactly sure which TV station it was, but hey, they asked us is they could film us. I doubt we'll be on television though because my group was having some pretty racy conversations. Not quite G material if you catch my drift.

No worries, though. We'll whine about it later. For now, it's all about the wine.

an apple a day

When I was a kid my grandfather had a business partner that worked for Mattel Co., so sometimes when he came over for dinner, he would bring a new toy that wasn't on the shelves yet. I got my second Cabbage Patch Doll from him - one with the "corn silk hair" instead of the regular yarn that passed for hair. I was one of the first people to get that doll, along with a cool Play Dough Factory set.

I'm not bragging. That was in like 1987, but I thought I was the shit back then. All my other first grade classmates had to figure out cool ways to do things with their funky smelling Play Dough - and that didn't include eating it.

Ever since then, I've been playing "keeping up with the Jones'". I'm materialistically insecure. It comes with being a total outsider in a wealthy upper-middle-class suburb.

As a shop-a-holic with an eye for the latest trends, and a B.F.A. in Fashion Merchandising that I don't happen to put to any use, I like the thrill of having something new. Having some thing new and being one of the firsts to have it is a conversation starter. I get a little chill whenever someone asks me what I'm wearing -even if it's a knock-off of a Marc Jacobs sweater.

This wacked-out mentality would explain the insanity that went into getting up early on Friday morning to stand in line for the new iPhone. I had been counting down for this since June 1st. And by the look of the line, so had everyone else.

I got to the Apple store in Emeryville by 7am, thinking that if I got there an hour before they opened their doors that I would have some sort of chance. NOT! The line wasn't around the block or anything drastic like that, but it was pretty damn long.

And just like I had imagined, I was surrounded by a bunch of Pixar dudes. You can't go anywhere in Emeryville without seeing Pixar guys. It's cool though, I happen to have a soft spot for animation geeks. Unlike the ones I rode in the elevator with at art school, these actually smelled like they'd taken a shower. Plus, I get the dirt from within the compound.

At 8am the line started moving and they started handing out water to compensate for the free Peet's Coffee they had already given us. It was obvious that they were trying to see who had the strongest bladder. And then a camera-crew came. As I was sending a text to one of my friends, I got a camera shoved in my face. "So, you're upgrading that phone?" I looked at the chick holding the camera. "Um, yeah." Duh. No, I just thought I'd get up two hours early to stand in line for two hours just for shits and giggles. "Who's the first person you're going to call on your new iPhone?" I shrugged, "My boss because I'm late for work." I was getting nervous and just wanted to have the camera move to one of the Pixar dudes. "What would you say to Steve Jobs?" Um . . . "good job, Jobs?" Hahahaha. LAAAAAAAAME!

Hey, in my defense I was half asleep, had to pee and was running incredibly late for work. I bounced at 9am for fear of losing my job and hence having no cash to pay for the damn phone/ipod. Had I stayed an extra hour, I might have gotten one.

But, being a glutton for punishment, I came back for seconds and then thirds. And I have yet to get one. It's ridiculous. I've turned into my worst pathetic nightmare.

I'm not the type who stands in line for anything. Now I know how the peasants of the Soviet Union felt while waiting in line for bread.

I've taken it as a sign. So, I have decided to wait out the frenzy and get my iPhone in a couple of weeks when I can afford it. Maybe I can get one next week, when I don't have to wait in line hearing people pass by shouting "Losers!" to all those standing there.

Sticks and stones.

i needed this

I've been thinking a lot about this sketch, where it has been, who it is with, is it thinking of me and will it ever return . . . okay, not really. But it did take me a while to find it on You Tube. That's okay though because I really don't have much of a life. I can sympathize Scott Thompson's French-Canadian whore somehow. Although I could give a fuck about where Tony is right now.

a world without tomatoes

Imagine no more fresh salsa to dip your salty lard-fried tortilla chips. It's a terrifying thought. I had a glimpse of a life with no tomatoes this week thanks to a salmonella outbreak throughout the country that sickened nearly 300 people from sea to shining sea. So, for a week there was no salsa, no bagels with tomatoes, no burgers with tomatoes, no sandwiches, no Taco Bell nachos, no . . . well, you get the picture. I was glad to learn that my favorite morning stop, Ruby's was back to being stocked with vine ripened tomatoes - the only tomatoes that were not "affected". It's good because I was about to go insane from missing the red, ripe, not sweet fruit. It was eye-opening . . . and scary. Nothing is good without tomatoes. Sandwiches are missing flavor and nachos are missing acidity. I want ALL tomatoes back. NOW!!

mamma mia! i want to believe

I'm not much a movie patron these days since you end up paying $10 to sit in a dark crowded room with annoying strangers. However, I am very surprised by the blockbusters coming out this year. Indiana Jones returned after 15 years. (I haven't seen that yet.) I'm excited about the Get Smart movie with Steve Carrell. And of course I HAD to sit through two and a half hours of the cheesiest and longest big screen "Sex and the City" episode EVER! Definitely not as good as the show, and I knew it was going to be like that, but I couldn't sit by while everyone said they'd seen it.

But now there are two more movies I have to look forward to . . .

instant karma

I've been thinking a lot about karma lately. You know, what goes around comes around goes around comes all the way back around? Yeah, anyway . . . I'm just trying to figure out what it's all about.

Karma is "the cosmic principle according to which each person is rewarded or punished in one incarnation according to that person's deeds in the previous incarnation."

I happen to believe in past lives and reincarnation. That's just part of my personal spiritual philosophy. Maybe I just find it comforting much like peasants had to believe that if they work hard in their lifetime they would be rewarded in heaven.

It might sound like new age mumbo jumbo, but it helps me get by and understand certain events and relationships I have encountered. I really do need therapy, but this is cheaper. And it's somewhat more productive than blaming what ever is going on in my life on someone else. I can just blame it on my past actions.

With karma, you do good and good things happen to you because you're making up for bad shit you did in a previous life, or previously in this life. But I like to think I've racked up enough karma points in this life to make up for whatever shit I did in the last one and therefore offset whatever shit gets thrown at me in this one.

The sad truth is that I don't do enough good deeds. I recycle, vote, try not to use up too much water and make sure to turn off the lights every time I leave a room. But I'm not saving the world or anything.

Regardless, I am a firm believer in the notion that every bit counts - even if that means donating old clothes to The Goodwill or holding off on printing emails.


I don't frequent Whole Paycheck, er, Whole Foods that often for the obvious reason. But last time I was in there I was on a "green" mission. I purchased two very nifty items to keep me green and on the go.

1.) An aluminum water bottle from Swiss company SWIGG - keeps the water cold and once you get used to the copper flavor of the water, it's pretty rewarding just knowing that I'm doing something for the environment.

2.) A canvas grocery bag that folds up into a little burlap sack. The best part is that by purchasing that bag I not only get a nifty bag to tote things in. I also did something decent. The money went toward feeding 100 children in Rwanda. Sweet.

It's a start I guess. I'll help save the world eventually, but until then I'll pack my Certified Fair Trade organic sustainable produce around in the tote.

glow-stick dungeon

I'm in recovery today. I've been partying since Thursday and I think my liver is about to explode. Well, not really, but it can't be good. After work Friday night, a group of us young-ins from the office headed down to the Missouri Lounge on San Pablo Avenue in Berkeley. It's on my way home, so I figured one PBR wouldn't be a bad idea. Plus, there's nothing like bonding with coworkers over some shit-talking and cheap beer at a hipster dive bar.

We all had the $5 special: a shot of bottom-shelf whiskey with a PBR can chaser. I double-fisted the shot of whiskey with the can of beer. We all did though, so I didn't feel totally uncool. One PBR can turned into 2 and then three. I knew I had to get out of there before I got totally drunk and started flirting with one of the cute boys I work with. That's just a no-no for me. But I do work with some very attractive and charismatic people.

The party continued on Saturday. One of my coworkers had his first gig as a DJ in a Chinatown cave. Seriously. The place was dark when I arrived with another coworker and her friend. We honestly thought the creepy Chinese bartender going down the stairs was going to kill us. So, we ran back to the lounge area to listen to the soothing sounds of the '70s. The bar jukebox was playing Neil Diamond when we walked in and "Nights in White Satin" when our guest DJ found us. Dude, how often do you hear The Moody Blues at a bar in Chinatown? After my second vodka-Red Bull and the jukebox's selection of The Village People hits, we all agreed it was time to conquer the dragon that might be lurking downstairs in the dungeon. People were looking at us funny for doing the hand gestures to YMCA as if we were at some barmitzva. I forgot how uptight people in San Francisco are.

We stumbled downstairs to find our DJ buddy's pals handing out glow sticks. Oh, wow. I was waiting for them to start handing out hits of ex. That never happened, but there was dancing. Oh, yes, there was lots of dancing which apparently justified our mass consumption of liquor. I almost felt 21 for a split second, except that I was with somewhat more mature people than I had known when I was that age. It's great when people actually take turns buying rounds of drinks and shots of whiskey.

Downstairs was where the action was though. By 10 pm, the bottom dance floor was full of my coworker's friends and frat brothers. A room full of cute young frat boys, oh my. I haven't danced that much since drum and bass nights at Cat Club back in 2001. I was definitely one of the oldest people there. (Except the cougar that found a cub to latch on to.) But I don't mind, I act and look like I could still be 25. I didn't think I could still dance. And to be honest, I'm paying for it now. I'm in so much pain. But he spun some really awesome shit, so it made it less painful.

The bar kicked us out right after last call when the music stopped abruptly. A group of us headed back to my coworker's place a few blocks up on Stockton Street to the tallest building in Chinatown. There was cake, more drinks, the biggest bong I have ever seen and the best view of The City I have ever seen. I took a picture with my camera phone but it didn't do justice. We're talking 15th floor with a direct view of the Pyramid and Bay Bridge looking out to Treasure Island and Berkeley. I could have stayed on the balcony forever with the Coit Tower to the left and Twin Peaks to the right.

Good thing it wasn't a clear night otherwise I would have never gotten off the balcony, which would have worked just perfect for me because after pretending to take a bong hit (I was the designated driver), the apartment became like an episode of "The Real World". My companions were slightly baked, so they thought it was just the weed that was making them paranoid and freaked out about drama. I reassured them that I was completely sober and was still weirded out.

That was pretty much our cue to leave anyways since it was 4 a.m. and I live out in the boonies. I feel like after two years of living out here in the East Bay, I'm finally starting to find some cool people to hang out with. Not that I would do this every week, but it's good to know I still can.