Hi there -- I'd like to do a short piece for Alameda Magazine about your site. What's a good number to reach you -- and are you available to meet for a cup of coffee, etc? Thanks -- Julia Park Associate Editor Alameda Magazine

Do I have the worst timing or what?

So I just met the buyers of my house. They LOVE my fire chicken [inlink]twisted,134[/inlink] kitchen. Thank God!

The guy works at Absinthe in the city. He says it's decorated just like my kitchen. Actually, I think my kitchen is a little too mainstream trendy - but I like it and I'm glad they like it.

So for the second time in like 2 weeks I was asked where the fuse panel is for my house. How am I supposed to know? Oh right, I guess I should. I didn't think it had fuses. But then they say they're looking for a subpanel or some damn thing. Honestly, I only want to know that sh!t on a need to know basis. Luckily I have not had to change a fuse in the 3.5 years I've lived here. If I can just make it another month and half - then it's their problem.

p.s. - I hope Mark is having fun at Burning Man

All you've gotta do is... show him that you won't put up with his fcuking bullsh!t!

Yeah. That worked. For now anyway.

Last night I got to cap off an absolutely STELLAR evening (thanks (e:Ajay)!) with a sleepover at Brodie's house. It's not what you think. Brodie is my friends' dog, and seeing how disfunctional some of my friends' dogs are, it's a good thing most of my friends don't have kids. Anyways, Brodie does not like to sleep alone, so last night I slept with Brodie. (Hey, come to think of it, how come I don't get to claim some special need like that and have everybody go to great lengths to accommodate me? Hmmmm?) To top it off, Brodie is an aggressive spooner. We started out the night claiming proportionate portions of the bed. By morning, I had been spooned to the outermost edge of my side.

Perhaps I'm a little too accommodating.

Speaking of accommodating: Thanks (e:Ajay) for restoring my faith in the male gender of the species, among other things! I'd like to officially issue an advisory to the women of NoCal: He can cook, he can converse, he can hang pictures with machine-like precision. Quit yer bitchin' ladies! It's open season.

Brush your teeth & shower @ the same time!



If you can't tell from the cell phone pic - that's a sink conveniently installed inside the shower stall. It's a miracle of modern plumbing!

Oh - you've got to pee? Just a short flight of stairs up to your left. I am not kidding.

One more thing - the shower/sink combo? It's right inside the bedroom.

Welcome to San Francisco!

p.s. - Here's the MLS description:

A very Cool & Unique 'Artist's Retreat' on an Amazing Block! A bit of Europe greets you as you enter this 4 room apartment at the rear of a beautiful 3-unit Edwardian. Overlooking the garden, which is Exclusive Use for this unit, there is a private walk-out deck. Dining room & living room open to each other & have oversized windows. There is truly a 'one-of-a-kind' bath in the bedroom! Very Adventursome! And there is an additional & Separate room, now used as an office!

Someone just emailed me these pics (how did I get so lucky?) and I thought they still might provide some inspiration for the Anything But Clothes [inlink]keith,42[/inlink] party.







I'm usually a strong proponent of recycle/reuse, but this may be an exception. Your standards of hygiene and available resources may vary. As always, use your own judgment.

I've responded to exactly three craigslists posts in the past three weeks (has it only been that long?) resulting in the three Steves (as I like to call them). I don't know if Steve #1 will figure as prominently in my future as it once looked when our credit scores came up a perfect match and we took the plunge and made an offer on that 3-unit Victorian. I am still heartbroken it didn't work out, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

Just to reiterate I am not the only nut case attempting to buy [inlink]twisted,250[/inlink] property with a complete stranger, the Chronicle recently ran a front page story about the trend. Of course, I upped the ante by also proposing we be roommates. (I like to think of it as pioneering a new craigslist category!) Although, I have to say the scheme sounded MUCH sketchier when I suddenly found myself explaining it to Steve's mom. (How did that happen?) Well, you'll be happy to know I got Mom's seal of approval. I did have quite the reality-shock moment when I heard her say "well, this place needs a lot of work, but you kids are young!" OMG. Talk about seeing your future life pass before your eyes! Maybe it's just as well we didn't get that one. Although we are still looking at places together and hashing out a TIC agreement, just in case.

All that housing drama put me in dire need of some distraction. I guess it's been a slow month for music, since even Larry didn't have anything lined up until the Lovemakers last night, yet we already have seven gigs on tap for September. Anyway, this dry spell was killing me, so I turned to craigslist.

I already gave you a preview of [inlink]twisted,254[/inlink] Steve #2. In hindsight, it was a bad idea to blindly (or in this case, deafly) take his recommendation for a first musical date. I guess I've been spoiled with Larry and "E" knowing and liking what I like. But I figured a distraction is a distraction and I' didn't want to let too much time go by from initial email exchange to first contact so I picked the first time I was free. Let's just say I won't do that again. Nevertheless, Steve #2 (hereinafter referred to as "Stevil" from his college radio DJ moniker) seems like a really nice guy and is pretty damn cute to boot. A quick review of recently seen shows indicates there is plenty of common ground. I'll just have to be vigilant about screening from now on. Also, he's a DJ at the station where "E" usually wins tix. So it's like cutting out the middleman! (Ha! Just kidding!) In any case, a cheap date is definitely high on my list since Larry seems hellbent on blowing my music wad each month.

Oh god. Is this post over yet? Almost.

Since it's never a good idea to put all your eggs in one basket, at least in craigsland, I responded to one other post. Maybe because Stevil was so very cooperative, I was immediately put off by this guy's curt reply insisting on stats and asking if I "read and fit" his posting. WTF? Ok, to be fair, I admit I was testing the waters to see if he might be negotiable on his age requirement. It pisses me off when a guy puts the upper age limit for his date at 5 years younger than he claims he is himself. That's an immediate red flag the guy is either delusional about his age, or looking for a LTR with kids as part of that picture. Which is why I explicitly stated that was not for me in my initial response.

Anyway, the whole thing irked me enough that I sent this reply:

"Well, it was a nice thought. Like most guys on CL, you'll go out with someone half a decade younger, but not half a decade older, even though I might be more likely to get carded than you. That's why I ask the procreation question. It's really the only legitimate reason for that in my book."

His reply:

"Actually I put the age thing in the post because I thought that women my age would be judgemental about what could be viewed as a case of arrested development rather than youthful outlook.

If you want to meet for a drink in Alameda or Oakland then by all means" with his phone number and how long he'll be in email range before leaving work.

And then another email with the clincher:

"Actually I adjusted my age down since I look young. I'm really (3 years older than he said)."

Ok, now I'm REALLY irked. I send a reply I'm really not proud of right now but it felt good at the time.

Next morning the whole thing is still weighing on my mind, so for some reason I decide to write to him again, owning up for taking out my age discrimination frustrations on him, while reiterating once AGAIN if everybody lied about their age next thing you know there's anarchy in the streets.

He immediately shoots back an email with a bunch of stuff about himself. I'm feeling relieved we cleared the air and when I get to the part where he tells me his name is Esteban I think, "at least it's not another Steve" as the realization slowly sinks in that all the Steves in my high school Spanish class were called "Esteban." D'oh!

Anyway, after at least 10 email volleys, a solid hour and a half chat, several pics and one cellphone karaoke ringtone (his side business) exchanged, we have a date set up.

Ok, I'm going to spare you some details here and cut to the chase. Date day comes, and he sends this email:

"I wanted to let you know I won't be going tonight & I wanted to save you time on a meeting.

I recall reading the posts of yours you mentioned & I must not have fit the criteria as I didn't reply so we're likely not a match.

Good luck out there,
- E."

Ok, WTF just happened? Cold feet? Harsh light of day? Pre-emptive rejection? Snooze time on the biological alarm clock up? Guess I'll never know. I've never specified any "requirements" in my three lone w4m posts, so that's bullsh!t. Frustrating, but probably just as well since I already have one "E" in my life and now I'm not sure how many "Steves."

So I had to go see The New Pornographers' free show at Amoeba records on my own, which is what I would have done in any case. Like I really need an excuse to go to Amoeba anyway.

Oh, speaking of "E," the original managed to resurface again this week. It's about time! If he would just cooperate, I wouldn't have to go through this mess!

This post is officially over.

UPDATE: Apparently August was not a "slow month" for the [inlink]twisted,222[/inlink] attractive brunette. That's it! I'm thinking an "E" for an "E"...

I'm not sure where to start defending myself. Oh, here's one:

(Posted behind the scenes by moi on 02/16/05 07:25am PST:)

"Also, don't forget about the gmail bug. Here's the actual gmail source of the last bit of the confirmation link:

=34fabd3e35ff82297044508a73b5e7<WBR>ca

</a></p>"

I rest my case.

The ONLY reason I have a freakin' gmail account in the first place is to test estrip sign-up! It's not my fault my friend Zim who works for Bloomberg/London "just managed to install google talk on my machine here at work -- a minor miracle, given the restrictions our IT dept. put on our machines. if you happen to be testing it out, or using a chat program that supports the chat protocol Jabber, try me."

I give and I give and what do I get in return? Well, that's another story.

p.s. - It's been a weird week.

I really wasn't sure how to take it when I came home and found this sign added to my house:



Oh sure, maybe it's true. But if you have to announce it to the world, that just reeks of desperation. I'm so sorry my little house has to suffer this indignity.

In my realtor-to-plain-English dictionary that translates to "so don't go by this hideous exterior!" Of course, we all know what a cynic I am. My poor house isn't that bad! And it certainly isn't it's fault, just because I inadvertently killed the passion vine framing the front porch in that unfortunate pruning mishap of '04, and other than a few hardy souls most of my garden did not survive 2 weeks without water when I went on that sailing trip. It's not like we even get any measurable rainfall here between June and October, so I guess I should have seen that coming.

I'm sorry house! I'm sure in the right hands you could once again be beautiful outside as well as inside. Please, somebody take it off my hands. I need the gritty city life.

"May I speak to a male head of household?"

"Nope. Good bye."

What is this, the freakin' 50s?