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Archived Smirk

Every time I see a new series on HBO, I have to replace my old favorite show with a new one. Larry Sanders was pretty good, and I really, really like Arli$$ and Dennis Miller Live and Tracey Takes On and Oz, and I lo-o-ove Sex And the City, but The Sopranos….oh! The Sopranos is by far the very, very best of them all. This show keeps me on the edge of my seat for the entire 45 minutes, nay, for the entire rest of the week while I wait for a new episode. You must watch. It has a lot of violence and swearing, it being a show about the Mafia and all, but that's what makes it so good, and why HBO will always have the best, closest-to-real-life, people-actually-do-these-things shows on television. 

Posted in Smirks.


Like a phoenix

Janet and I made a quick stop into Mollie Stone's Market this afternoon.

Back when we used to go to Gorilla Sports (a gym in San Francisco&#41, we used to go to Grand Central Market on our way home. We had a real love/hate relationship with Grand Central… the meat was some of the best in the city, and the deli was fantastic… but the shelves were cluttered and the aisles were really small. Add a bunch of blonde-hair-in-a-ponytail yuppie girls and the stress level outweighed the great selection of meat and fish.

This afternoon we were coming back from a baby shower near Grand Central and we decided to stop in to see how the renovations went. About 8 months ago, Mollie Stone's bought out Grand Central. Mollie Stone's is a gourmet food store chain that is known for its selection of cheeses and meats. It also is the only grocery store chain that carries Empire Kosher poultry. However, up until the purchase of Grand Central, there were no Mollie Stone's in the area.

Boy, what a change. The new market is bright, where the old Grand Central was dark and dingy. The meat selection is the same, as is the fish selection. The deli is a little different… but overall… wow. The produce is amazing and the new layout has larger aisles and a better selection of general foodstuffs.

What floored me was the beer selection. Anchor Small Beer! Anderson Valley Boont in 22 oz bottles! Oh my god… is it true? A bottle of Lagunitas Brown Shugga?!?

Now it's 10 pm, I have what might be the last bottle of Brown Shugga available anywhere in the city in my fridge and now I have a new favorite grocery store.

Posted in Smirks.


Credit Cards and Speakeasy

WEDNESDAY

Wednesday night we made our regularly scheduled trip to the Toronado for a few beers and to hang out with Ian. Nothing extremely interesting happened, aside from it being “Asshole Yuppie Night” once again.

Aah, yuppies..l how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways…

  1. Assume that everybody takes credit cards… even if you don’t see credit card machines, or credit card logos on the door or window. Then place your order, take a sip and then put down your credit card and when you find out that they don’t take credit cards go oops… I don’t have any cash.
  2. Order a “Sierra Nevada” and then look confused when the bartender advises you that they have Sierra Nevada Celebration and Harvest Ale. Then ask the bartender for the normal Sierra Nevada. Ok! For the last time people: Sierra Nevada is a brand not a beer. The beer in the green-labeled bottle that you normally get is their pale ale… and they don’t sell it at at the Toronado.
  3. Ask for a Bass or Newcastle Brown Ale, even though they don’t see it on the draught beer list or the bottled beer list.

  4. Ask for a Corona without even consulting the draught beer list or the bottled beer list.
  5. Ask for a White Russian. When you’re informed that they don’t sell hard liquor, buy a beer, don’t tip, drink less than half of the beer and then leave.

Still, all yuppie annoyances aside we stayed long enough for me to kill three glasses of beer: a pint of Arrogant Bastard, a pint of Prohibition Ale, and a 11oz tulip glass full of Cantillon Brouscella. Janet had two imperial pints of Guinness. Ian had a good liter and a half of Calistoga Water.

FRIDAY

After my last trip to Speakeasy Brewery two weeks ago, we promised Forest (the president of the brewery) that we would be back soon… and scheduled to go after work on January 29. However, the fates were with me yesterday, as I was able to get the day off from work… so I talked to Forest and he gave me the go-ahead to get there at 3pm.

The plan was simple. Carlos would meet me for lunch at the Toronado, where we would have a sausage and a warm-up pint (I had a Lagunator and 1/2 a pint of Prohibition and Carlos had a Brouscella, a Hair of the Dog Fred and the other half of the Prohibition) and then we would head down to the brewery. Janet would then head over as soon as she got out of work (she arrived a little after 5pm).

In addition, the bartenders and the rest of the staff of the Toronado were invited as well… but none of them showed. But in the end, it didn’t matter… because we had a hell of a good time without them. So, from 3pm until almost 8:30pm we talked to Eric (VP of Brewing), Forest (President) and Steve (VP of Sales/Marketing) while enjoying pints of Speakeasy beers and smoking cigars on the loading dock.

Speakeasy beer… the beer that beats Anchor six feet into the ground. Sorry Fritz… you’re now a distant number two when it comes to San Francisco beers.

Posted in The Barfly Chronicles.


Excuse You!

After hearing girl after nauseating girl use the phrase “Excuse You!” whenever someone accidentally bumped into them without saying anything, I decided that I hate that phrase. It seems so ineffective to me; I mean, why not just call the person an asshole and be done with it? Anyway, Wednesday night at the Toronado was OK, that is until a couple came up to the bar and asked for some mixed drink or another, and when they couldn’t get that they hemmed and hawed and the girl didn’t know what to do since she obviously didn’t like any kind of beer, and the guy started panicking too and eventually ordered an Anchor Steam, which is the cheapest, most mainstream beer available. After squirming around and “umming” and “I don’t know-ing” for five minutes, the girl finally settled on a Raspberry Cider (no surprise there), then they dragged a bar stool over and both tried to squeeze into the one-person–sized space next to me at the bar while the girl tried to appear as if she actually had a brain. “Apple Cider and Raspberry Cider taste exactly the same,” she said to her date. “This is good. It’s really…soft.” As she fidgeted around, trying to adjust herself on her bar stool, she elbowed my arm…hard enough to slam my pint glass against my teeth as I went to take a drink of my Guinness. I just stared at her, waiting for her to acknowledge that she almost caused me to spill my entire beer all over my face, but she just stared straight ahead, ignoring me, elongating her neck like some sort of retarded swan. I couldn’t think of anything to say to her; I was speechless. Ironically enough, the only thing that came to mind was “Excuse You!” but I couldn’t say that…I wouldn’t say that. So I said nothing, but we all mocked them incessantly until they moved to a table. [Note: after all was said and done, the girl couldn’t even finish one pint of her “soft” Raspberry Cider. *Snort* Figures.]

Posted in The Barfly Chronicles.


Raining…

Tuesday morning, I left for work at the usual time. It had been raining horribly all throughout the night, and the wind was gusting so strongly that the sound of the windows rattling woke me up a few times.

Still, when I left Tuesday morning, the rain was letting up… it was really gray and drizzly, but nothing that severe. The morning news reported no delays on MUNI, so I figured that it would be an uneventful ride to the office.

Boy, was I wrong.

As soon as I stepped out of the door, I noticed a bus coming down my street… which is bizarre, because the buses don’t run on my street. The buses run on Haight street, one block south. I figured that it was out of service and returning to the depot. Then I noticed that it was full of people.

The bus pulled up to the corner and opened its door, so I ran up to the door and got in. I figured, what the hell… it’s a 71 Noriega bus, and it’s heading in the right direction… even if it’s on the wrong street.

It ended up that a large tree fell down on Haight Street between Steiner and Pierce. It totalled a couple of cars, blocked traffic, and it also knocked down the electric bus power lines. You see, in San Francisco, most of the east-west buses run on overhead power lines. You lose the Haight Street power grid, and only the infrequently scheduled half-sized diesel buses run. The result? Thousands of people crammed into these oversized mini-vans running at 1/3 the normal bus schedule. Needless to say, the commute in sucked.

No wonder the Examiner (the afternoon paper) reported that on a recent survey over 80% of all MUNI passengers are dissatisfied with MUNI service.

Posted in Muni Chronicles.


Janet Goes to Court

" About a month ago, my boss got called for jury duty. A couple of weeks after that, one of my co-workers got called for jury duty. "Ha ha," I said to them, "I've never been called for jury duty." A week later I came home from work to find my very own personal jury duty summons in the mail. Great, I thought. The way everyone talks about trying to get out of it, this is going to be sheer hell. I told practically everyone I knew that I had jury duty, and everyone relayed to me their various tactics that were sure to keep me from being selected: Don't wear your best clothes! Show your tattoos! Tell him that you think s/he's guilty no matter what! Tell them you're not able to be impartial! I told everyone that I didn't feel fit to decide some stranger's future. They all disagreed. "It'll be fine" they said. Sure, I thought, all anxiety-ridden.

Just what it was that I was worried about, exactly, I'm not quite sure of now. I thought I was doomed for certain when I was the first group picked to go into a courtroom, and then one of the first people chosen to sit in the jury box and answer all the personal character-type questions. The trial that I was eventually picked to be on the jury for happened to be a high-profile case involving activists (with a capital A) throwing pies at the mayor. The excitement surrounding the case may have been why I ended up actually –dare I say it — liking jury duty. I learned a hell of a lot about the legal process — all the stuff I studied in Junior High suddenly came to life! Wow! Actual application of knowledge, how novel!

I also learned that there are many, many, many people in the city of San Francisco that don't know how to speak English very well, if at all. So many people, mostly Asian, in the group that my jury was chosen from didn't even understand the questions that the lawyers were asking them, and spoke in very broken English. One Russian woman claimed that she didn't even really know English. All of these people were promptly excused. How fair is this? People immigrate to the United States, take advantage of all this country has to offer and yet will never have to fulfill their duty of having to serve on a jury because they can't speak English? How do these people even get citizenship in this country?

All in all, I had a very educational time. Courts are not like the ones shown on Ally McBeal. They're small and carpeted, not big and shiny like on TV, and the evidence isn't in little plastic baggies, either. And the whole jury selection process: I mean, I knew that they just don't pick 12 random people out of a crowd, but it was interesting to see just what kind of people they passed for cause, and what kind they excused. Fortunately, the people on my jury leaned toward the young side, so everyone got along really well for strangers joined together by fate. I really feel that people get along best when they're thrown together under adverse circumstances, like Customer Service telephone-answering, or jury duty. We got to do fun group activities, like go out for lunch together, guarded by two bailiffs who took us out a secret back entrance. But after discussing ourselves and our values and opinions and thoughts, not to mention the fates of the defendants, it just…ended. After the verdict was read, we all made a point to leave together in the same elevator as sort of a last group activity. In the elevator, the person we elected as foreman said jokingly, "Well, it's been pleasure; let's do it again sometime," and everyone in the elevator responded in unison, "Two years!" and laughed. Then everyone filtered out the front door of the courthouse, split up and went their separate ways. It was, to tell you the truth, a confusing letdown. And I may be overly-analytical or overly-emotional, but the whole experience really made me think. Gave me bad dreams, but made me think, and made me examine myself and what I thought, and how I thought of other people: as human beings or criminals, whichever the case may be. 

Posted in Observations.