I have a site meter on my blog, which lets me keep track of how many people are looking at my blog. It also tracks all sorts of other information, like where the people who looked at my blog are, whether they use a Mac or a PC, and who their Internet Service Provider is. But one of the best things the site meter keeps track of is how people found my blog--whether they just typed in the address or if they found it through some sort of search, and if so, what words they used for the search.
This has been very educational. The blogs I wrote about IPod Dater and Mobile Alibi have apparently brought in quite a few blog readers who searched for those terms. But there have been some more unusual search terms that have somehow brought people to my blog:
"Claire in the Big City"
"Covered in Tumbleweeds"
And, my personal favorite search so far: "I hate hanging out with middle aged people"
I have no recollection of trashing middle aged people in my blog, so I'm a little puzzled how exactly searching for that would lead you to me, but there it is. I hope this middle-aged person hater enjoyed my blog, or at the very least, is now writing a blog of his or her own called "I Hate Hanging Out With People Who Are Either Middle Aged Or Embrace the Awkward." That would be pretty sweet.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Friday, December 22, 2006
Tumblin' Along With the Tumblin' Tumbleweed
As bad as the blizzard that hit Colorado on Wednesday was, the worst--or at least strangest--aspect of the storm was in Pueblo, CO, where people's homes and cars were completely covered by tumbleweeds. Some folks were literally trapped inside their homes because of the massive accumulation of tumbleweeds outside their doors.
Now don't get me wrong. In Pueblo, people were also struggling with snow and ice, but there were also the flying tumbleweeds to contend with. Apparently, when the blizzard's wind picked up, it was launching tumbleweeds all over the place and they were blocking roads, accumulating against fences and cars and buildings and gnereally making a big pain in the ass for the good people of Pueblo.
Fortunately, now that it has stopped snowing, the tumbleweed problem is fairly easy to handle. According to the news, people are just setting them on fire and watching them burn.
And just because I know this sounds odd enough that I have to think you might not believe me, I found some pictures to prove it:
Now don't get me wrong. In Pueblo, people were also struggling with snow and ice, but there were also the flying tumbleweeds to contend with. Apparently, when the blizzard's wind picked up, it was launching tumbleweeds all over the place and they were blocking roads, accumulating against fences and cars and buildings and gnereally making a big pain in the ass for the good people of Pueblo.
Fortunately, now that it has stopped snowing, the tumbleweed problem is fairly easy to handle. According to the news, people are just setting them on fire and watching them burn.
And just because I know this sounds odd enough that I have to think you might not believe me, I found some pictures to prove it:
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Welcome Home
So I'm home in Colorado for the holidays right now. Within 12 hours of my arrival in the state, nearly a foot of snow was dumped on Colorado Springs (with even more in Denver and other parts of the state) in what has been called one of the 5 worst blizzards of all time. It was so bad that Denver International Airport is SHUT DOWN, both the North-South and East-West freeways in the state have been completely closed, and Governor Owens has declared a state of emergency and called in the National Guard to help rescue and evacuate people stuck in their cars.
While it'll be nice to have a white CHristmas (assuming, that is, that any of it lasts until Monday) it has reinforced for me how much I don't really care for snow. I certainly don't care for snow enough to need to have some in the winter. I definitely don't care for snow enough to want to move back to a place like Colorado (or Boston) just to see it. Rainy and (semi-)cold is crappy, but I can accept it as a substitute for snow any day.
Also, I just want to note that my bad flight karma has finally (apparently--knock on some serious wood) broken. For the first time in years, I am not the person stranded in the airport without a flight home. And while I really feel terrible for all the people who are stranded and might not make it home for the holidays, I am grateful that for once, I--along with my luggage--safely made it home. And on time, no less.
Also, just a side note: my parents adopted yet another dog last year. His name is Sammy. He's cute enough, I guess, although kind of lacking in personality. The only thing of note about him is that he is afraid of the dark. He will literally not go outside into the yard after the sun sets. If the rest of the family goes out into the guest house (yeah, there's a guest house. I know it sounds pretentious) to watch movies, he will not follow. If he has to pee, he just won't. He'll hold it until daylight. Apparently, the dog has quite the capacity for holding it.
While it'll be nice to have a white CHristmas (assuming, that is, that any of it lasts until Monday) it has reinforced for me how much I don't really care for snow. I certainly don't care for snow enough to need to have some in the winter. I definitely don't care for snow enough to want to move back to a place like Colorado (or Boston) just to see it. Rainy and (semi-)cold is crappy, but I can accept it as a substitute for snow any day.
Also, I just want to note that my bad flight karma has finally (apparently--knock on some serious wood) broken. For the first time in years, I am not the person stranded in the airport without a flight home. And while I really feel terrible for all the people who are stranded and might not make it home for the holidays, I am grateful that for once, I--along with my luggage--safely made it home. And on time, no less.
Also, just a side note: my parents adopted yet another dog last year. His name is Sammy. He's cute enough, I guess, although kind of lacking in personality. The only thing of note about him is that he is afraid of the dark. He will literally not go outside into the yard after the sun sets. If the rest of the family goes out into the guest house (yeah, there's a guest house. I know it sounds pretentious) to watch movies, he will not follow. If he has to pee, he just won't. He'll hold it until daylight. Apparently, the dog has quite the capacity for holding it.
Monday, December 18, 2006
A pre-holiday weekend rundown
1) Always check the name of the bar before you go in and buy yourself a drink. This way, if you're not actually at the bar where you said you'd meet your friend, you don't have to either abandon a perfectly good beer when you leave to go to the correct bar, or pound down a Fat Tire in 30 seconds flat. That's kind of rough.
2) Red Velour Pants Suit? (On a man, no less.) Never a good going-out option, even if it is December.
3) Even if you suck at pool, it's still possible to win. Just hope the person you're playing scratches when they try to sink the 8-ball. Then talk shit the rest of the night like you really schooled them, despite the fact that 5 of your balls were still on the table when he scratched.
4) Chicken and Waffles? Always good. Chicken and Waffles at 3 in the morning? A gift from god.
5) If you're going to hang out in Jack London Square at 3 in the morning, be prepared to be the worst dressed people there.
6) The holiday tradition continues: get really dressed up, pretend to be swanky, then go to a posh bar and try to fit in. (While making fun of the midwestern tourists who clearly don't fit in!)
7) Even better: go to some really sketchy hole-in-the-wall place for dinner and watch people stare at you. (This year we went to Shalimar--an Indian joint in the 'Loin, and yeah, it was sketchy. Really good food, though. I highly recommend the eggplant.)
8) The Redwood Room: Where apparently it's acceptable for unattractive middle-aged people to make out and grope each other on a couch in the middle of the lobby.
9) If your waitress who looks like Natalie Maines doesn't want to get you "berry juice," don't push it. She'll hate you so much she actually trades you to a different waitress.
10) $600 on New Year's Eve at the Redwood Room will get you "a table for up to 5 people, a bottle of champagne, and admission to the party. It's a really good deal."
11) If you're looking for a good time, bring along the guy who's willing to bust out the greatest hits of the white man's dance repertoire (despite the fact that he was not white himself). He was using moves I've never even seen before, like one I'll call "the jump-rope."
12) Finally, tye-dyed pants are never never never acceptable. Especially in a place as pretentious as the Redwood room.
2) Red Velour Pants Suit? (On a man, no less.) Never a good going-out option, even if it is December.
3) Even if you suck at pool, it's still possible to win. Just hope the person you're playing scratches when they try to sink the 8-ball. Then talk shit the rest of the night like you really schooled them, despite the fact that 5 of your balls were still on the table when he scratched.
4) Chicken and Waffles? Always good. Chicken and Waffles at 3 in the morning? A gift from god.
5) If you're going to hang out in Jack London Square at 3 in the morning, be prepared to be the worst dressed people there.
6) The holiday tradition continues: get really dressed up, pretend to be swanky, then go to a posh bar and try to fit in. (While making fun of the midwestern tourists who clearly don't fit in!)
7) Even better: go to some really sketchy hole-in-the-wall place for dinner and watch people stare at you. (This year we went to Shalimar--an Indian joint in the 'Loin, and yeah, it was sketchy. Really good food, though. I highly recommend the eggplant.)
8) The Redwood Room: Where apparently it's acceptable for unattractive middle-aged people to make out and grope each other on a couch in the middle of the lobby.
9) If your waitress who looks like Natalie Maines doesn't want to get you "berry juice," don't push it. She'll hate you so much she actually trades you to a different waitress.
10) $600 on New Year's Eve at the Redwood Room will get you "a table for up to 5 people, a bottle of champagne, and admission to the party. It's a really good deal."
11) If you're looking for a good time, bring along the guy who's willing to bust out the greatest hits of the white man's dance repertoire (despite the fact that he was not white himself). He was using moves I've never even seen before, like one I'll call "the jump-rope."
12) Finally, tye-dyed pants are never never never acceptable. Especially in a place as pretentious as the Redwood room.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Tango
I just came back from my first post-Argentina tango lesson. I learned a fun new fact: while being in Buenos Aires definitely makes learning tango fun, tango is still fun even when you are no longer in Buenos Aires. It was really great; I wanted to keep dancing and learning new steps all night. And I actually remembered what I had learned in BA, still managed not to step on toes or full-out trip and fall on my face, and I'm slowly but surely learning how to let the guy lead. When one of my tango partners started mixing up the steps a little, I actually was able to roll with it. I think we even had moments where we almost looked graceful and like we knew what we were doing. Awesome. I will definitely be keeping this up. If anyone else is interested in joining me, it's 7:00 pm on Wednesdays, at the Lake Merritt Dance Center .
Sunday, December 10, 2006
(Belated) Weekend Update
Sorry kids--this post isn't actually about this weekend, but rather, about last weekend. I meant to get around to blogging it, but laziness and busy-ness kept me away. Still, it was random and strange enough that it deserves to be blogged. So here goes:
My friend Marcos was celebrating his 26th birthday (oh. . . .they grow up so fast!) last weekend, and since I've bailed on the last few throw-down shindigs he's had, I knew I needed to do more than just make an appearance. I needed to bring my game face. And boy did I pick the night to do it!
Things started with dinner, and cryptic whisperings between Marcos' other roommates about the rest of the evening's plans. We then walked to a club a few blocks away called Asia SF, which is best known for being a. . . wait for it. . . .
Tranny Bar.
Yup. Men dressed up as really hot women putting on quite the dance show. We spent most of our time on the lower level, dancing with a combination of transvestites and bachelorettes. (Seems Asia SF is also the place for bachelorette parties.)
After Asia SF, we got in a cab and hit our next stop of the night: a tranny Karaoke bar called Divas. This is where the night got interesting. The sight of a 6'6" man wearing platform heels and a leopard print evening gown, belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart"--in Spanish, no less--is one that's gonna stick with you for a while. I think my life might be changed forever.
Anyway, the party rolled on into the wee hours (as it has a tendency to do when Marcos is involved. Witness my 8 hour long house-warming party in March as proof) and I think the birthday boy had a pretty good time. I know I definitely did.
My friend Marcos was celebrating his 26th birthday (oh. . . .they grow up so fast!) last weekend, and since I've bailed on the last few throw-down shindigs he's had, I knew I needed to do more than just make an appearance. I needed to bring my game face. And boy did I pick the night to do it!
Things started with dinner, and cryptic whisperings between Marcos' other roommates about the rest of the evening's plans. We then walked to a club a few blocks away called Asia SF, which is best known for being a. . . wait for it. . . .
Tranny Bar.
Yup. Men dressed up as really hot women putting on quite the dance show. We spent most of our time on the lower level, dancing with a combination of transvestites and bachelorettes. (Seems Asia SF is also the place for bachelorette parties.)
After Asia SF, we got in a cab and hit our next stop of the night: a tranny Karaoke bar called Divas. This is where the night got interesting. The sight of a 6'6" man wearing platform heels and a leopard print evening gown, belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart"--in Spanish, no less--is one that's gonna stick with you for a while. I think my life might be changed forever.
Anyway, the party rolled on into the wee hours (as it has a tendency to do when Marcos is involved. Witness my 8 hour long house-warming party in March as proof) and I think the birthday boy had a pretty good time. I know I definitely did.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Chemistry
Recently, some friends and I were discussing our worst first dates. It occurred to me that I don't actually have a worst first date story--I've never been on a really bad first date. Now don't get me wrong, they haven't all been fantastic, but the worst I can say is that the guy was nice but we didn't really connect. No horror stories. Nothing more awkward than running out of things to say and neither of us being that interested in what the other person wanted to talk about.
In fact, as I expand the pool to consider all the dates I've ever been on, very few of them have been bad. I can actually only think of two, and both of those were totally my fault.
This is not to say that every date I've been on has led to happily-ever-after. That's not true--certainly not in the long-term, and not even in the stort-term. (Obviously, or I wouldn't still be going on damn dates.) It's just to say that chemistry and attraction are funny things. It's funny and strange and a little mysterious how you can go on a date, and have it be a perfectly good date, with someone who is smart and funny and attractive, and not feel even remotely inclined to hang out with them again. And the fact that possessing good qualities like being smart and funny and attractive doesn't necessarily equal attraction and chemistry makes it even more mysterious when it suddenly does.
I once dated a guy who was getting his PhD by studying online dating. More specifically, he was studying how (or really, if. Or why) online attraction translated into real life attraction. We met online, and the chemistry we had in real life was both immediate and intense. But that was a total crapshoot--who the hell knows why? He was trying to discover if there was a way to determine a couple's real-life success based on how they had interacted online, or what had intially attracted them to each other online. I often wonder if he realizes that that's the 10 million dollar question of dating--is there a way to know that this other person and I are going to hit it off and work out in the long-run?
For now, there's no way to know. For now, we're left with the mystery of why we sometimes don't work with the smart, attractive guy but totally hit it off with the one who's clearly a trainwreck. For now, it's a little bit like trying on jeans. The number on the tag says that the jeans should work, but you still have to try on a hell of a lot of pairs to find one that really fits.
In fact, as I expand the pool to consider all the dates I've ever been on, very few of them have been bad. I can actually only think of two, and both of those were totally my fault.
This is not to say that every date I've been on has led to happily-ever-after. That's not true--certainly not in the long-term, and not even in the stort-term. (Obviously, or I wouldn't still be going on damn dates.) It's just to say that chemistry and attraction are funny things. It's funny and strange and a little mysterious how you can go on a date, and have it be a perfectly good date, with someone who is smart and funny and attractive, and not feel even remotely inclined to hang out with them again. And the fact that possessing good qualities like being smart and funny and attractive doesn't necessarily equal attraction and chemistry makes it even more mysterious when it suddenly does.
I once dated a guy who was getting his PhD by studying online dating. More specifically, he was studying how (or really, if. Or why) online attraction translated into real life attraction. We met online, and the chemistry we had in real life was both immediate and intense. But that was a total crapshoot--who the hell knows why? He was trying to discover if there was a way to determine a couple's real-life success based on how they had interacted online, or what had intially attracted them to each other online. I often wonder if he realizes that that's the 10 million dollar question of dating--is there a way to know that this other person and I are going to hit it off and work out in the long-run?
For now, there's no way to know. For now, we're left with the mystery of why we sometimes don't work with the smart, attractive guy but totally hit it off with the one who's clearly a trainwreck. For now, it's a little bit like trying on jeans. The number on the tag says that the jeans should work, but you still have to try on a hell of a lot of pairs to find one that really fits.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Genius
The link to the site Instructables was left in a comment on my blog recently. It's basically a site where people document how they made something. There was also a special link to this project, a cosahedron made out of pecan pie.
As you can see, it's pretty awesome. But what is even more awesome is the amount of work--and mechanical know-how and precision--that went into making it.
I don't know whether to be admiring or horrified that there are people out there with this much time they're willing to dedicate to building structures out of pie.
As you can see, it's pretty awesome. But what is even more awesome is the amount of work--and mechanical know-how and precision--that went into making it.I don't know whether to be admiring or horrified that there are people out there with this much time they're willing to dedicate to building structures out of pie.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Argentina: Favorite Things Part 3
I definitely need to blog about my weekend (which was truly bizarre), but first, one more post about Argentina. The one thing my friend Sejal was insistent that we do before we could leave the country was take tango lessons. We were we all pretty excited about doing that when we were still in the States and it was just a funny idea; however, everyone's enthusiasm (except Sejal's) had severely waned by the time we actually got around to taking the lessons.
Nevertheless, Sejal dragged us all to the Academy of Tango where Rosalinda the Tango Teacher tried to teach us the basics. We all did pretty well, and I think we were even feeling like pretty hot shit until we looked up and saw the students in the advanced class, spinning and dipping and wrapping their legs around each other like they were playing a serious game of Twister.
Nevertheless, Sejal dragged us all to the Academy of Tango where Rosalinda the Tango Teacher tried to teach us the basics. We all did pretty well, and I think we were even feeling like pretty hot shit until we looked up and saw the students in the advanced class, spinning and dipping and wrapping their legs around each other like they were playing a serious game of Twister.
Me and Rosalinda the Tango TeacherI don't know that I'll ever get to that level (although I'm thinking about keeping up the lessons here in the Bay Area), but I felt pretty good that I managed to let the guy lead, didn't step on anyone's toes and never once was at risk of tripping and falling on my face. I think that's about as good as it gets.
See? I'm not stepping on his feet!And it helps that we all looked hot, too. A little overdressed (OK--a lot) compared to our tango classmates, but I like to think it helped my dancing skills.
This is Jeff, the middle-aged close talker from Mill Valley. 
4 Hot Women and a Tango Teacher
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