San Francisco Living...

Now that I've received my first paycheck, I'm thinking realistically about where I'm going to live--away from home--like a regular, functional, self-sustaining 29-year-old.

Fortunately, I found this handy map to assist me in my increasingly frequent forages through Craigslist (yep, I'm already back on Craigslist):


It's San Francisco's "yuppie index" wherein the red signifies the highest concentration of yuppies in a given neighborhood. Their definition designates a "yuppie" as a young professional making more than $100,000/year. While the entire city is clearly blanketed by a pinkish hue, it is not surprising to me that my brother's neighborhood, the Marina, is #1. Equally as unsurprising is the fact that I have a long way to go before I fit this description, at which point, I'll no longer be young.

Digging further, I found a fantastic website--TownMe--where other maps are available for like minded curious real estate shoppers. In addition to yuppies, there are maps for populations of cougars (also highly crimson in my brother's hood), sugar daddies, starving students, single moms, single dads, and most relevant to me, people overextending themselves on rent, which sadly, will inevitably include me, as well as most people in the city.

At least I can rest assured, though, that Manhattan is more in the red on this front than San Francisco.

I'm still actively working to overcome lingering sticker shock from my time in the Midwest, a magical and glorious land of sub-$500 rents. Once the prospect of writing a monthly rent check with more than three digits doesn't make my heart race and my eyes tear, there will be no stopping me.

Shopping!

Are you guys Black Friday shoppers?

Hell hath no fury like herds of bargain-lovers who have waited in the cold for 12-plus hours on Thanksgiving Day.

While I thought about complaining that I had to work yesterday evening, I stopped to consider retail employees who spent their Thanksgiving evening preparing to deal with overzealous shoppers who would sell their own mother up the river for a good deal on an electronic pet hamster

I don't ever intend to subject myself to such things. But thanks to the Internet, I'm the proud owner of two new sweaters from JCrew. Bought 'em for 20% off sittin' in my PJs eating leftover sweet potatoes.

And for the record, 9:30 am is fast approaching, and I've read nothing about old ladies getting trampled or gunfire breaking out over the last Craftsman Drill Set.

I'm considering it a successful day.

Thoughts....

I have nothing in particular to discuss today (further evidence that I don't get out enough), but I thought I'd share with you my thoughts (read on, I promise they're not flying turtles though, they're equally as arbitrary.)

1. There is a Subway next door to my gym. The garage smells like fresh baked bread, resulting in a brutal daily walk from my car to the elliptical machine, where rather than consuming hundreds of empty calories worth of warm fresh starchy goodness, I sweat and pant and watch crappy shows on VH1.

2. I finally took the Missouri plates off my car today. Now the silver bullet looks like any other boring California car. The UCSB plate holder, the SF Giants decal, it's all so banal now. I'm still hangin' on to my Missouri drivers license because, frankly, I'll never take a photo that flattering ever again.

3. The latest thing making me laugh:



As my friend Sean poignantly noted, these guys pretty much comprised our entire college play list. And Bob Marley. And John Mayer. And a lot more Bob Marley.

4. These thanksgiving turkey substitutes are funny. And disturbing. And make me unquestionably thankful that I eat meat. Bean loaf? Tofu shaped like turkey? I'm all for health, but an imaginary Thanksgiving ethics line has assuredly been crossed.

5. A friend told me about Regretsy, which is a website dedicated to finding ugly crap sold on Etsy. And it's not a joke. This is real live commerce here, people.
(p.s. If you like shopping and haven't been to Etsy, go there now. It's awesome.)

My favorite featured on today's page:
Fighting for one's country is no reason not to look one's best (this reminds me of Buster's army stint in Arrested Development. Anyone else?)

Also, a super creepy fairy sculpture (that I'm not entirely convinced doesn't come to life in the middle of the night) and a nice little "frame ready" portrait for above your bed.

"Boom boom boom..."

A large part of my job at the Ritz-Carlton is preparing special occasions for visiting guests.

This typically means rose petal-covered beds for anniversary or honeymoon couples and chocolate covered strawberries for birthdays, champagne for proposals and infant gifts for "babymoons" (a HUGE new fad--have you guys heard of these???)

But sometimes it's more fun than that.

A couple came to the hotel this week to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.

50 years! Of being married! 50 years of being married! That's a long-ass time and to me, certainly deserving of all the bells and whistles the Ritz can produce.

So in addition to the regular flowers and a cake, we made a CD of Billboard's Top 10 Hits from the year they were married.

I put it in their room and set the CD player to repeat, ensuring that one such ditty will be playing upon the happy couple's entrance into the room (Only took me 10 minutes to figure out--I totally rule at technology.)

So romantic, right?

But, alas, here's why:

The songs are from 1959.

It's Frankie Avalon singing "Venus," The Platters with "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes," and "Lonely Boy" by Paul Anka.

Say what you will about music from the 1950s and early 1960s--that stuff's charming, if a bit saccharine and overly sentimental.

And this got me to thinking:

In the year I get married, what will be the top 10 hits of the year?

What are/will be the top 10 hits from your wedding year?

I guarantee you it won't be as romantic as if you were married in 1959.

For example, if you were married last year, some of the songs on your CD would be "Love in This Club"(Usher,) "Touch my Body" (Mariah Cary,) and "I Kissed a Girl" (Katy Perry.)

2007?

It's "Buy You a Drank" (T-Payne), "Crank That" (Soulja Boy) and "Kiss Kiss" (Chris Brown.)

Totally not the same effect.

It's "a lovely girl with sunlight in her hair" versus "Got me wantin' to give it to you all night."

It's "I'll make her happy just wait and see" versus "I know the club closes at 3 what's the chances of you rollin' wit me?"

So even though I know my work enhances the Ritz Carlton brand, I can't help but smile knowing that these little things will make a couple's anniversary that much more memorable.

Even if they're in their $700/night room, bumpin' to "Boom Boom Pow" and "Poker Face."

November 17....

...the day I officially started listening to Christmas music.

I freakin' love Christmas music.

I typically steer clear of Rudolph and Frosty and Jingle Bell Rocking. I avoid like the plague Alvin and the Chipmunks, Grandma getting run over by a reindeer, and mommy kissing Santa Claus.

But I'll take most of the other stuff.

Before you call me overzealous, let me first tell you that I may have begun my holiday season a week earlier last year. My roommates laughed at me and called me a nerd (let it be known that they began listening that very day. Hypocrites.)

But listening in mid-November made sense, and here's why:

I was in the middle of Missouri. It's cold there. Today, it's 41 and raining.

Now that I've migrated out West, my foray into an early season just isn't the same.

I'm in California. It's not so cold here. It's 63 and sunny.

In honor of my day off, I jubilantly hopped on Pandora in anticipation of some solid New York Times reading and Christmas music reveling.

But it just doesn't feel right.

I'm not curled up on my bed being blasted with hot air from my space heater, a giant mug of something hot in hand.

I'm sitting here in short sleeves drinking cold beer.

Yep, things have changed a bit.

One song really caught my interest, though. Maybe because it's not overly Christmasy. I've always loved it. It's simple and perfect and can be listened to any time of year.

Otherwise, I'll put the Christmas tunes on the back burner for a little while longer. John Mayer's got a new album out that should keep me busy for a while....

Fake grammar is totally better than real grammar....

I'll talk about something my fellow journalism peeps already know and love, but that requires mentioning at some point on my blog, for my less grammatically savvy readers, since it makes me laugh nearly every day.

It's Fake AP Stylebook.

And the reason it's so funny is because it ridicules the AP Stylebook itself, the virtual bible of writing, which is just that in journalism circles.

It's gospel. Scripture. Words to live by.

And you shall worship no other stylebook above it.

It's a thick and boring and updated yearly and is absolutely essential if you're writing for publication (excluding the blog you're presently reading.)

If you want to know when to underline or italicize or capitalize or abbreviate, you consult it.

If you want to know when to use "affect" versus "effect" or can't for the life of you figure out the difference between "their, they're and there," you consult it.

If you have a penchant for extraneous apostrophes (ex. "large pizza's" and "green bean's) you consult it.

If you want to escape painstaking grammar, aren't one for morphology, or just want to laugh, consult the Fake AP Stylebook.

I thought I would mention a few from past days that made me smile:

The antecedent for "she" in "that's what she said" is generally understood to be "your mom."

"Bloody Mary" on first and second mentions, "Mary" on third to avoid summoning her through the mirror.

If a person has both played a recurring role on ALF and won a Nobel Prize for Physics, emphasize the former.

When referring to litters of children conceived through IVF, always include a quote from a source about "God's precious miracles."

In a byline, "With additional reporting by" can be shortened to "Big Ups To."

And finally,

There are differences between "pass," "enact," "approve" and "adopt," but remember: your readers don't care.

Funny, right?

Or is this just my journalism degree speaking?

"A good friend who hated Glenn Beck and loves to dance...."

I love this, not only because it's funny, but also because I used to be a Glenn Beck fan, back when he was a regular radio host and not an arrogant, insolent, nefarious, unscrupulous sellout.

Please enjoy.

"I heard someone screaming, and I thought it was just an accurate impression of Glenn Beck talking normally."


Victim In Fatal Car Accident Tragically Not Glenn Beck

Pancake envy....

A new friend of mine trying to get me to visit him in Southern California.

Seemingly out of nowhere, I received something like this on my phone:


(photo is too big to fit on the blog, which I personally think is awesome)

The craziest thing is that he had no idea how nutso I am for pancakes.

NUTSO.

I love them. Even crappy pancakes I kind of love.

Even cold ones. Or boring ones. Or ones that are kind of raw and gooey in the middle.

Anyone who knows me knows that they could possibly be my favorite food ever (excluding quiche, of course.)

It's this place called The Griddle Cafe in Hollywood. So I checked out the menu, and it just so happens to be the most awesome pancake menu in the universe.

And though I hate admitting that LA does anything better than the Bay Area, I have yet to find this caliber of pancake rhetoric north of the central valley.

So in honor of my love for breakfast, and my new friend Eric for recognizing this even before I expose him to the off-putting display of gluttony associated with my pancake habit, I thought I would share with you a few of my favorite things from their menu (the top two of which happen to be french toasts--I sense a new addiction coming on...)

Apple cobbler french toast (apple bread rolled in cinnamon crunch batter served with baked cinnamon apples.)

Creme de la creme (graham cracker crusted french toast drizzled with creamy cheesecake topping and powdered sugar)

The Golden Ticket ("Banana nana" pancakes filled with caramel, walnuts, and streusel.)

And two that are over the top but unequivocally deserve mention:

Chocolate chip cookie crusted french toast and crushed oreo-filled pancakes.

I don't like LA. Few things get me down there. But dreams of these pancakes might just be all I need to book a flight.

Just don't tell Eric.

"From our mother in law's house to the unemployment office and back..."

It's Onion Frid---er, Saturday! I'm a day late. I'm a workin' girl now, don't judge.

Introducing: Ford's new model for 2010. Hilarious.

In the words of one happy customer, "Basically, I just need a car. And the '93 Taurus is one."


Ford Unveils New Car For Cash-Strapped Buyers: The 1993 Taurus

Public service announcement...

..about the new Michael Jackson movie.

On my last day of freedom, my mom and I went to see "This is It."



Purses filled with pumpkin beer and microwaved popcorn, we only hoped for an entertaining couple of hours.

That day may have seen the best $8 I've ever spent.

Incredible.

I wouldn't consider myself a die hard fan of MJ necessarily. I didn't cry when he died. I only own the greatest hits album, a surefire indicator of a so-so fan. I like the Thriller video, but who doesn't?

And thanks to a tremendous job by our own ruthless American media, I thought he was a strung out weirdo when he died.

If this movie accomplishes anything, it's teaching people that he was actually very lucid and energetic in his final days.

Rehearsing for what would have surely been the best concert experience that ever was, MJ rocked his signature dance moves in tow with his signature perfectionism, a rare quality for pop artists these days.

This says nothing of the amazing editing and organization on the part of the movie's producer. Just awesome.

I want to go again. Plus, I'm now the proud owner of just about the entire Michael Jackson catalog. It's all I've listened to for the last few days.

"Remember the Time" is the song playing at the moment.

To think of all the hours I wasted listening to anything else.

She works hard for the money....

I totally worked today, you guys.

As my bestie roommates and I would have said in Missouri, there's now an "Andy-shaped hole in the couch."

For my friends elsewhere:

It was 80 degrees today.

This is what it looked like there:



We spent most of the day in a conference room learning ALL about the hotel (which we will repeat tomorrow) but we did get to take a sweet tour in a golf cart all around the grounds.

We also totally ate creme brulee.

It was awesome and I'm a happy girl.

Roughin' it, college style

On our way home from the airport in Boston the other day, I saw a set of stunning new high rise condos overlooking the Charles River. Or at least what I thought were condos.

They were not. They were the new dorms at Boston University--the "skycenter of the BUniverse."

These are them:


This is their view:



For comparative purposes, I thought I'd share with you the cinder block-laden architecture of my college dorm.



And my view:



Now, I can't quite figure out why I feel resentment rather than excitement for these very lucky young people who will never again be impressed by any building they ever live in again, ever.

Maybe I'm just getting old and cynical, jaded by my recent foray into apartment searching in downtown San Francisco.

Sadly, the $13,000/year price tag on the BU dorms is really an amazing deal by San Francisco standards.

I was impressed and surprised by this, and when I turned on the Today Show this morning, it seemed their producers were impressed as well. The BU dorms and some other new dorms from Purdue won their own segment on this morning's show.

Ah, college.

In the words of one mother moving her child into aforementioned luxury, "Life is tough. I'm going back to college. If there's a martini bar, I'm staying."