clamhead

Geek girl shopping trip

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SFPD? Cookies are on the way.

So, we're sitting here drinking wine and watching The Godfather Part II (part of the Friday night Michael film education series) and we get a call. We ignore it as per usual.

A little while later, Michael listens to the message. It's from SFPD asking for Erika Hall (???) and informing us they found an iPhone.

I call back and talk to Officer Tony. Yes, they found my iPhone and if I can pick it up in the next hour, they'll just give it to me. Otherwise, they have to book it as found property and I'll have to go get it at the Bryant station.

I've had a little wine and the station is in the Tenderloin, so Paul graciously agrees to drive me. There's no legal parking, so Paul parked right in front of the station - in between two cop cars - and blocking the station driveway. I went in, and they immediately knew who I was (they had seen the photos on the phone), and Officer Tony came out. He held up my iPhone - my Precious - in perfect condition. I literally clapped my hands and jumped up and down.

"Where did you find it?" I asked him, incredulously. "On a homeless person," he said. Officer Tony went on to explain the homeless person insisted it was his, but Officer Tony said, "Uh, I can't even afford an iPhone," and took it from him. The battery was dead, so get this - THEY TOOK IT TO THE APPLE STORE AND CHARGED IT. I guess "Hall" is close to "Home," which explains the name mix-up, but they found me just fine.

"Um, you may want to clean that off pretty good," Officer Tony advised me. I thanked him profusely, and dashed outside to rescue Paul from his precarious and illegal location.

I'm now sitting here watching my little iPhone charge away, so very, very happy and delighted they took the time to find its rightful owner. Seriously. Who does that?! So very very very very cool.

Thank you thank you thank you, SFPD. And Tenderloin station? Your cookies are on the way.

QotD: Stolen Goods

What's the most valuable thing you've ever had stolen?

Oh, Vox. It's like you follow me on Twitter or something.

This question is especially timely considering I spent part of last evening in front of a bar in the Mission dressed as Madonna (Borderline/Lucky Star) examining each and every bag that came out of the door.

My bag went missing last night (well, technically, this morning) and with it my wallet, phone, and a friend's wallet and phone I was carrying. And we were there. We were Standing! Right! There! Right next to the bench with all of the coats - piled on top of the bag - and still it was swiped.

I've never had my bag stolen before. And you know, there's this optimism - it will turn up, SURELY it will turn up - which is rapidly replaced with a horrifying, sinking feeling when you realize that, no... no, it's gone. Then your mind races, taking inventory of the bag's contents. MY IPHONE! SHIT! MY WALLET! SHITSHIT! REBECCA'S PHONE AND WALLET! SHITSHITSHIT! Then you break it down further, and take stock of what was in the wallet. MY DISNEYLAND PASS! OH DEAR GOD NOOOOOOOOOO!

What a helpless feeling. No money, no cards, no phone to call somebody who might have money, phone, or cards (but this was handled nicely by Rebecca who grabbed a random person and said, "Can I use your phone?"). But still, still, you hold out hope that it was somehow a case of mistaken bag identity and the person who accidentally took it will be a good, decent human being and return it, untouched.

This was debunked when our cards were used to buy gas in the wee hours of the morn.

This is the point you realize that your bag and stuff is gone, all gone... And you now have permission to start calling people "fuckers."

But then you count your blessings. I, for instance, debated whether or not to carry my Nikon D50 around last night, and decided against it (based on some sound advice I received). My ID still has my Southern California address on it, so I don't necessarily need to change the locks (though I probably will anyway). My iPhone had been synced recently. I didn't have a ton of cash in my wallet. It wasn't a particularly expensive bag (though well-worn and well-loved; dubbed "The Woobie" by Paul because I carry it around so much). So yes, it could have been a lot worse.

But it could have been a lot better if some people didn't suck and weren't, indeed, how shall we say, fuckers.

Old-school Twitter

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QotD: Sticks and Stones

What's the meanest thing you've ever said to someone?

"I do."

Ba-da-bum.

The Conet Project: CREEPY.

My friend LoMac found a website to the creepiest sounds ever. I'm famously (well, in my circle of friends and family) terrified of the Screen Gems logo, so she knew these sounds would creep me the hell out. They did.

Here's the Screen Gems logo, for reference:

S From Hell II

It's called The Conet Project, and it's a collection of shortwave numbers/music/what-have-you:

"Shortwave Numbers Stations are a perfect method of anonymous, one way communication. Spies located anywhere in the world can be communicated to by their masters via small, locally available, and unmodified Shortwave receivers.

These stations use very rigid schedules, and transmit in many different languages, employing male and female voices repeating strings of numbers or phonetic letters day and night, all year round. The voices are of varying pitches and intonation; there is even a German station (The Swedish Rhapsody) that transmits a female child's voice!"

The audio is all distorted, other-worldly, and bizarre. As I told her, it's the soundtrack to my nightmares. But it's so fascinating... I can't stop listening.

Here are a couple of samples. Sweet dreams.

"The Swedish Rhapsody"

The Conet Project

"Three Note Oddity"

The Conet Project

"I Miss Moranis"

This pretty much rules. Wish I had made this. Gotta love how he walks around town with a huge picture of Rick Moranis (it's from Little Shop of Horrors by the way... swoon...).

I MISS MORANIS

Yay for flying!

Yesterday, as a Weekend of Fun™ installment we so desperately needed, Paul took me on my very first flight in a single-engine airplane. Of course, the weather thwarted us somewhat, but finally relented and allowed us to go on our merry way.

I put together a little video documenting the occasion (as I am wont to do), but here are a few observations.

1) I could never be a pilot. Oh, I'm sure I could learn how and all, but I have no patience. All the checking beforehand would be met with, "Ah, I'll do it next time. Really, what could go wrong?" As it was, I was calling bullshit on the visibility the weather service was claiming, and telling Paul, "Let's just go, okay?" That, and I'd probably kill myself trying to document the flight with various cameras.

2) It didn't seem that much different that riding in a commercial plane. By that I mean the sensation wasn't much different. I expected to have a more pronounced sensation of speed, but I didn't. And the ride was rather smooth, so not much in the way of bumpiness. Sitting right next to the pilot who happened to be my husband was a departure from commercial flights, however.

3) IT'S REALLY, REALLY LOUD IN THE PLANE.

4). You get to places a lot quicker than driving. What would have taken us about 2 1/2 hours came out to about 40 minutes. I know, duh, but I was surprised at how much quicker it was.

5). I wasn't scared or nervous at all. I thought I would be, but no, I was just excited and impatient. I wanted to go, and wanted to go NOW. (My family will not be surprised at this observation.) I was more scared on Supreme Scream at Knott's Berry Farm than climbing into a circa 1977 single-engine plane.

6). Paul looks good in his headset, and he sounds so official when he's talking to the tower. Like a real-live pilot!

In case you haven't seen it on Paul's blog yet, here's the video:

Flying

Some people had better weekends.

We took Friday off to finally get the remainder of our stuff (yeah, mostly mine) out of the house that will now be referred to in subsequent posts as, "The Rental House."

It didn’t seem like a lot of stuff to do.

Let me recount my weekend to you, starting with Thursday night:

Thursday

Work late on a project. Beg designer to stay late to work with me. Drive her home. She lives in Oakland. Drive from San Jose to Oakland to San Francisco. Get home at about 10:00.

Paul beats me home by only a few minutes. Pack. Go to bed around midnight.

Friday

Alarm goes off at 5:45.

Head to the airport for a 7:30 flight.

Arrive in Ontario at 9:00.

Have a phone conversation with colleague about project while waiting for rental car.

Drive to the house. Pick up my BMW 318 ti and drive to the mechanics.

Get Miguel’s burrito (yum).

Go to the house. Take stock of what needs to be done.

Lowe’s for smoke alarms and wood screws (heh).

Get a call from the mechanic while driving back. My sweet little car is pretty much totaled (whole separate post).

Sob into my hands until we get back to the house.

Starbucks for coffee and Internet access. Work for a couple of hours.

While I work, Paul installs smoke alarms and calls a locksmith to install front door hardware.

Back to the house. Hour conference call about project.

Talk to the mechanic again. Mechanic will buy 318 ti.

Go to AAA to get a duplicate title for the 318 ti, transfer ownership of the ’67 Sunbeam Alpine into my name, pay for Sunbeam registration.

Off to the bank. They show we have indeed paid for 318 ti. But no notary (which the DMV requires). Have them mail it.

Drop off new house keys at property management company.

Drive to mechanic’s to clean out sweet little car.

Cry.

Back at the house. Paint the bathroom cabinets.

Shower and go to dinner with in-laws.

Go to mother-in-law’s and collapse.

 

Saturday

Wake up at 6:30.

Put ad on Craigslist to sell washer/dryer.

Go to UHaul and get pickup truck and appliance dolly.

Paul goes to the house. I go to Kragen for Sunbeam battery. They don’t know which one it takes.

Starbucks.

Back to house. Paul is painting cabinets.

Check battery product number. Call Kragen. They have it.

Start fielding calls from people wanting the washer/dryer.

Move giant, heavy dining room table into truck.

Load boxes in truck.

Drive to storage unit. Get storage unit.

Unload giant, heavy dining room table (and boxes) into storage unit.

Back to house.

Eat leftover, cold burritos from Friday (yum) while standing in kitchen.

Paul tries to unhook washer/dryer. Can’t do it without tools.

I drive to Lowe’s for cheap tools.

Back at house. Paul unhooks washer/dryer and moves them to driveway.

Return truck and dolly to UHaul.

Back at house.

I install battery in Sunbeam. Still won’t start.

Call Mom/Dad. Get advice on how to start it.

Try again. Starts right up.

Move Sunbeam out of garage. Paul and I wash it.

Shit. Find more stuff that needs to go into storage.

Go through house and find odds and ends. We have more trash than will fit in the garbage can.

House next door is vacant. Realtor is there. I ask for that can. She gives it to me.

Fill up that can too.

Paul cleans out refrigerator. I sample every alcoholic beverage before pouring them down the drain.

Buyer for washer/dryer calls. Will be at house in 40 minutes.

Buyer shows up 60 minutes later. They haul the washer/dryer away.

Go to Subway and Golden Spoon.

Eat at mother-in-law’s.

Have a long shower.

Watch TV for 30 minutes.

Go to bed.

 

Sunday

Wake up at 8:00.

Starbucks.

Back at house. Pick up stuff for storage unit.

Drive to storage unit and drop stuff off.

Go to Target for car cover. They don’t have one for a small car.

Go to Auto Zone for car cover. They don’t have one for a small car.

Go to Pep Boys for car cover. They don’t have one for a small car.

Go to Kragen for car cover. They don’t have one for a small car.

Back at house. Try to hang cabinets in bathroom. Hinges I got won't work. Fuck it. Use old hinges.

Drive Sunbeam to mother-in-law's.

Offer to pick up lunch for mother-in-law.

Back to house. Move dresser to driveway for Salvation Army.

Finish picking up and sweeping.

In-N-Out for lunch.

Go to Paul’s aunt’s house to visit for an hour.

Back to mother-in-law’s. Shower.

Pack.

Sit for 20 minutes looking at old photos. They're awesome.

Paul drives me to airport. He goes to hotel because he has a meeting in Orange County the next morning.

Work on project before getting on plane.

Work on project on plane.

Drive home.

Pour big-ass glass of red wine.

Work on project.

Don't even finish half the wine.

Bed at midnight.

...But we finished.