The Space Between Earning a Living and Not Giving a Shit
Due to popular demand (two people) I will now describe in greater detail the finer points of my sotra-but-not-really-if-you-consider-the-cost-of-living-in-southern-california gainful employment. My official job title is “IRB Assistant, Committee C” (IRB stands for Institutional Review Board). My job is also classified under the broader term “Assistant Administrative Analyst.” The IRB at UC Irvine is charged with reviewing all research conducted by UCI staff, faculty, and students that use human subjects, animal subjects or DNA. I work for the Human Subjects part, called Human Research Protections. There are three committees that deal with human research at UCI: A, B, and C. Each committee is staffed by an Administrator, Coordinator and an Assistant. Committees A and B deal with biomedical studies, in other words, clinical trials of new drugs, experimental medical procedures, etc…anything having to do with medical procedures basically. Committee C, the one I work for, deals with all the social/behavioral studies at UCI, like psychology tests, ethnic studies and the like. In order for a person affiliated with UCI to conduct research involving human subjects they must first apply for IRB approval. I basically help process the applications and get them ready for Committee review. The committee reviews these applications to make sure the human subjects are not being exploited or put into any unnecessary risks. Then the committee will approve the study, and I process the approval. Then end. See, aren’t you sorry you made me do that? I bet you fell asleep while reading it, or didn’t even finish it. Which means you’re not reading this part, so I can say whatever I want. You’re all assholes! I hate you! Bah!
In any case, as long as I got you here, I may as well force my well documented extraordinary musical tastes on you.
Some good albums I recently bought:
“Illinois” by Sufjan Stevens
“Odditorium or Warlords of Mars” by The Dandy Warhols (yeah the title is stupid as all get out, and they think they’re cooler than they are, but some songs are really good.)
“All Maps Welcome” by Tom McRae (yes that tom McRae from the car commercial. Hurrumph.)
“Shout Me, Loud Runner” by Lefty Gainwaller
Happy Link Time!!!
My Office
In other news and let downs:
You may have noticed that right after I said that I changed my subtitle with every post, I stopped changing it. "I ain't hep to that step but I'll dig it" is the title of a song by Fred Astaire. I think it says a lot without saying a lot, you hep? So I think I'll keep it up for a while.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Why I Can't Have Nice Things
So I just saw a commercial on TV with the Tom McRae song "A Day Like Today." Granted it was a really well done commercial for some car (the tag line was "beauty has its dark side"-fitting if you know Tom McRae’s music.) But of all the artists I like, Tom McRae was the last person I expected to sell his music to be in commercial. Perhaps he had no choice; his record label made him do it. But I doubt it. And I really like that song. Not that I won't now. But I have a reputation to maintain people! Oh who am I kidding, no I don't.
I just realized that I never posted anything about my new job on here. Well that just shows you how important it is to me, that is to say, not very. For the record, after temping at the same office at UCI for six months, the offered me a permanent career position as an assistant to the Institutional Review Board, Committee C. Sounds kinda weird, like I’m getting coffee and answering phones for ten people, but it’s not like that kind of assistant. I’d go into more detail but I doubt anyone’s interested, so moving on.
Ummm…ok, I guess I’m not moving on. Oh well. See y’all later. Or as they say in Topeka, “laterz”
So I just saw a commercial on TV with the Tom McRae song "A Day Like Today." Granted it was a really well done commercial for some car (the tag line was "beauty has its dark side"-fitting if you know Tom McRae’s music.) But of all the artists I like, Tom McRae was the last person I expected to sell his music to be in commercial. Perhaps he had no choice; his record label made him do it. But I doubt it. And I really like that song. Not that I won't now. But I have a reputation to maintain people! Oh who am I kidding, no I don't.
I just realized that I never posted anything about my new job on here. Well that just shows you how important it is to me, that is to say, not very. For the record, after temping at the same office at UCI for six months, the offered me a permanent career position as an assistant to the Institutional Review Board, Committee C. Sounds kinda weird, like I’m getting coffee and answering phones for ten people, but it’s not like that kind of assistant. I’d go into more detail but I doubt anyone’s interested, so moving on.
Ummm…ok, I guess I’m not moving on. Oh well. See y’all later. Or as they say in Topeka, “laterz”
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Butternut Squash Soup.
Hello, my name is Debby, and today I’ll be teaching you all how to make Butternut Squash Soup. This soup is a wonderful dish for the transition from summer to fall, and can be served anytime from late august to early October. If you decide to serve this soup in November however, you may experience the scorn and ridicule of your lady friends as they realize you’re nothing but a poser and fake trying in vain to keep up the appearance that you have a happy life with no marital problems whatsoever. None! Whatsoever! Plus the fact that you’re serving the soup a month late. (Bigger faux pas than wearing white shoes after Labor Day!) Step one: buy butternut squash soup from Trader Joe’s. Step two: Heat soup and serve. Try and resist the temptation to add various cleaning products to the soup, for as they might provide immediate relief to the constant whining, belching, farting, scratching, non-money earning, gambling, and drinking activities of your good for nothing husband, in the long run it could lead to prison and the unwanted affections of a large woman named “Wedge.” While the soup is heating, you might try and get some needle point done, or, if it is needed, some light dusting. Personally, I prefer to hunt. Currently there is a large family of bunnies living in one of my hedges. I have been able to kill quite a few of the bunny siblings, however the mother and father bunny are much harder to catch. I spotted the mother one, scurrying across my lawn with some greens clutched in her mouth, no doubt for her hungry babies at home. I quickly reached for my gun (I always keep it loaded and ready right next to the microwave), and I was able to squeeze off a few shots, but unfortunately the bunny was too quick and got away. To make matters worse, one of my bullets somehow found its way into the skull of my next door neighbor. The police were very nice and understanding, although I did have to tell a tiny lie, and also leave out the part about how my neighbor and I had been feuding for some time now over his daughter’s strangely close relationship to my husband. His daughter also happened to be outside at the time, but somehow escaped unharmed. Well done dear! I suppose that is all for now, I trust you’ll find your own special way to make Butternut Squash Soup a staple with your family for years to come, and so I wish you good luck and happy hunting!
Hello, my name is Debby, and today I’ll be teaching you all how to make Butternut Squash Soup. This soup is a wonderful dish for the transition from summer to fall, and can be served anytime from late august to early October. If you decide to serve this soup in November however, you may experience the scorn and ridicule of your lady friends as they realize you’re nothing but a poser and fake trying in vain to keep up the appearance that you have a happy life with no marital problems whatsoever. None! Whatsoever! Plus the fact that you’re serving the soup a month late. (Bigger faux pas than wearing white shoes after Labor Day!) Step one: buy butternut squash soup from Trader Joe’s. Step two: Heat soup and serve. Try and resist the temptation to add various cleaning products to the soup, for as they might provide immediate relief to the constant whining, belching, farting, scratching, non-money earning, gambling, and drinking activities of your good for nothing husband, in the long run it could lead to prison and the unwanted affections of a large woman named “Wedge.” While the soup is heating, you might try and get some needle point done, or, if it is needed, some light dusting. Personally, I prefer to hunt. Currently there is a large family of bunnies living in one of my hedges. I have been able to kill quite a few of the bunny siblings, however the mother and father bunny are much harder to catch. I spotted the mother one, scurrying across my lawn with some greens clutched in her mouth, no doubt for her hungry babies at home. I quickly reached for my gun (I always keep it loaded and ready right next to the microwave), and I was able to squeeze off a few shots, but unfortunately the bunny was too quick and got away. To make matters worse, one of my bullets somehow found its way into the skull of my next door neighbor. The police were very nice and understanding, although I did have to tell a tiny lie, and also leave out the part about how my neighbor and I had been feuding for some time now over his daughter’s strangely close relationship to my husband. His daughter also happened to be outside at the time, but somehow escaped unharmed. Well done dear! I suppose that is all for now, I trust you’ll find your own special way to make Butternut Squash Soup a staple with your family for years to come, and so I wish you good luck and happy hunting!
Monday, August 29, 2005
Is it cheryl's b-day? When did this happen??? Oh well. I guess I'm an ass again. Happy birthday you 'ol so and so.
p.s. sorry 'bout the lack of posts lately, but when it's not happening, its not happening. It's the whole thing about transferring jobs, being all growned up, and then there was the six feet under series finale which felt like a punch in the stomach (the good kind though, you know, the kind that makes you feel all good afterwards....oh nevermind....)and then there was that movie "war of the worlds" in which the whores of the earth saved us all by spreading their skank to the aliens, who I'm guessing died of a combination of the hiv and some type of genital warts. (there was probably some type of hepatitis in there too.... ) In any case its been a slow couple of weeks and I just haven't been able to get it up for this blog much. But that's how life is I guess, and as Nate from six feet under said, "Narm!!" and then as he said later,.."You only have one life, don't fuck it up." and that's my birthday wish to you Cheryl. Only without any of the rude harshness and only the happy lifeness. Or something like that.
pps. Rocket fuel malt liquor. It's crizappy...daaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmn.
ppps. Is it ironic that blogger doesn't have the word (or non-word) "blog", or "blogger" in the spell check thing? Or is it just weird? Ever since that alanis debacle I get nervous calling things ironic. Remember that? yeaaahhhh...........good times.
p.s. sorry 'bout the lack of posts lately, but when it's not happening, its not happening. It's the whole thing about transferring jobs, being all growned up, and then there was the six feet under series finale which felt like a punch in the stomach (the good kind though, you know, the kind that makes you feel all good afterwards....oh nevermind....)and then there was that movie "war of the worlds" in which the whores of the earth saved us all by spreading their skank to the aliens, who I'm guessing died of a combination of the hiv and some type of genital warts. (there was probably some type of hepatitis in there too.... ) In any case its been a slow couple of weeks and I just haven't been able to get it up for this blog much. But that's how life is I guess, and as Nate from six feet under said, "Narm!!" and then as he said later,.."You only have one life, don't fuck it up." and that's my birthday wish to you Cheryl. Only without any of the rude harshness and only the happy lifeness. Or something like that.
pps. Rocket fuel malt liquor. It's crizappy...daaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmn.
ppps. Is it ironic that blogger doesn't have the word (or non-word) "blog", or "blogger" in the spell check thing? Or is it just weird? Ever since that alanis debacle I get nervous calling things ironic. Remember that? yeaaahhhh...........good times.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Helpful hint for gays in the military: Avoid baseball bat wielding closet cases. (see: Soldier's Girl )
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Miles to Go Before I Sleep
(but like literal sleep-not death sleep)
You may have noticed that I haven’t posted anything since the 15th. Now some of you may be wondering where I’ve been and why haven’t I posted anything new, and why should you bother coming to this site if I’m not going to put any effort into keeping it up to date like I said I would a while ago, besides-you never really liked the blog anyway, you just visited cause you were my friend but always secretly thought me annoying and self centered and when you think about it you don’t know why you ever wanted to be my secret lover in the first place, and what’s that strange smell coming from the mattress? Well, I say calm the fuck down. Don’t make this blog your main source of vitamins and minerals ‘cause you’re gonna end up pale and with fragile bones. And take that dead hooker out from under the mattress; she’s stinking up the whole building. As far as the whole secret lover thing, well, you’re still on your own with that one, so nothing’s changed. But give me a call; I’ll see what I can do.
San Francisco! City of lights and fog! Metropolis by the bay! Home to scallywags and un-stanched wenches! Jewel of the Mississippi!
Well, at the very least, San Francisco is a city. I spent the first part of my vacation in said city and it was all that the names suggest, except that I didn’t see a steam paddle boat even once. Obviously Mark Twain was crazy. I stayed with my friends Christine and Caroline, whom I have known since High school. They live in the sunset area of San Francisco with two other roommates, both from Europe and both gone for the summer. It just so happens that a friend of one of the other roommates was in town visiting the same week as me, and also stayed at the house. Dimitri lives in Switzerland but is originally from Belgium, and was quite surprised that any of us actually knew where Belgium was. In any case he was a really cool guy and the twins and I spent some time that week hanging out with him. We went to a theater festival in Downtown, Muir woods and various other San Francisco-y things. We also had some fun nights at the house, just sitting around taking and eating. Eating sweet delicious carbs. And babies. Ok, not babies. They were more like toddlers.
All in all I had a great time, got to meet some cool new people and also visit with friends that I hadn’t seen in a long time. I kinda didn’t want to leave but the funky whispers and gamey scent of Arcata was calling me and I had to answer, ‘cause If I didn’t Arcata would just keep calling, and calling and calling-untill I would loose it and yell “Is Wayne Brady gonna have to choke a bitch??!!!” Then Arcata would look at me all weird and say “I don’t get it. Who’s Wayne Brady?” Then frustrated I would just turn and walk away and Arcata would yell after me “Fine then, just leave! That’s what you’re good at, you emotionally dead eel lover!” But that’s a story for another day, onward and northward!!!
Arcata!!!...........uhh………Arcata!!!
My time in Arcata can best be described by a word I first heard from Stacy. Boozery. Yes, Arcata offered up its alcohol filled teats to me and I suckled like a wee little babe. First night –bar. Second night-drinking at Kelsey’s. Third night-bar. It was great to be back up there and big thanks go out to Stacy and Chris for letting me stay with them.. I Also got to visit my old place of sort-of gainful employment; HSU Media. My old co-workers were still up to their same ol tricks. Kelsey was still trying to pass off baby powder as high grade cocaine (to make a little extra on the side), Raphel was still plotting world domination (her current plan involved cotton candy and North Korea, but I was too scared to delve further.) Will of course is still bat shit insane. But really, who isn’t these days? So Wednesday night Stacy, Chris and I went to Toby and Jacks, my fave Arcata bar and had a leisurely time of it. I didn’t drink too much but I did get buzzed. The next day I went to go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with Will, Kelsey, Raphel, Kalindi and her friend Tom for Bob or Rupert or whatever. After the movie, Kelsey and I went back to her place to hang out and we were soon joined by Will. I was treated to an impromptu performance by Will on the bongos and Kelsey some big drum which I think was called a mokimbu. Or a Fortuna. Whatever. I just kinda stood there and watched, because although I am half Latino, I was born with no innate sense of rhythm. I was however born with an innate sense of what animals are thinking, which I will put to use on my new television show: “Mr. Anthony Communes with the Beasts of the Forest.” The next night I was able to convince Will to join Stacy, Chris and I at the Bars where we had a jolly good time. Stacy became inebriated quite quickly thanks to a large VODKA and redbull. I, however, was a little slower in reaching my saturation point. After a pint of Guinness, 4 or so glasses of Newcastle, a mai thai, and then a few more glasses of great white, the bar decided to do its best impression of Gumby, and got all bendy on me. Which of course means it’s time to drink more! So I had a shot of tequila with strawberry stuff and I was gone yo, just gone. When I got back to Stacy’s place I was quite nauseous, and almost didn’t fold out the futon and considered sleeping sitting up. But eventually I did unfold the bed, but I also didn’t turn off the light or change my clothes. Sweet lady Alcohol is a harsh mistress. Before I knew it, my vacation time was up and I had to start heading home. Stacy and Chris tried to get me to stay a few more days, but I resisted their bribes of money and sexual favors and drove back to san fran on Saturday.
That night Christine and I went out to Cheesecake Factory and had a nice meal, but I was very tired from my long drive that day (which, by the way, wasn’t helped by the fact that I was still kinda tipsy from the night before.) and I’m afraid I wasn’t much of a companion that night. But Christine was still nice to me, and great hostess to boot, and I was sad to leave on Sunday.
The drive from San Francisco was long and tiring. Bugs hit the windshield, I stopped for food. More bugs. Stopped for gas. Bugs. Slow cars, honking, bugs. Home! Sleep.
Much fun was had by me, and I hope fun was had by others, namely the others mentioned in this post. I hope I can see everyone again soon-like.
(but like literal sleep-not death sleep)
You may have noticed that I haven’t posted anything since the 15th. Now some of you may be wondering where I’ve been and why haven’t I posted anything new, and why should you bother coming to this site if I’m not going to put any effort into keeping it up to date like I said I would a while ago, besides-you never really liked the blog anyway, you just visited cause you were my friend but always secretly thought me annoying and self centered and when you think about it you don’t know why you ever wanted to be my secret lover in the first place, and what’s that strange smell coming from the mattress? Well, I say calm the fuck down. Don’t make this blog your main source of vitamins and minerals ‘cause you’re gonna end up pale and with fragile bones. And take that dead hooker out from under the mattress; she’s stinking up the whole building. As far as the whole secret lover thing, well, you’re still on your own with that one, so nothing’s changed. But give me a call; I’ll see what I can do.
San Francisco! City of lights and fog! Metropolis by the bay! Home to scallywags and un-stanched wenches! Jewel of the Mississippi!
Well, at the very least, San Francisco is a city. I spent the first part of my vacation in said city and it was all that the names suggest, except that I didn’t see a steam paddle boat even once. Obviously Mark Twain was crazy. I stayed with my friends Christine and Caroline, whom I have known since High school. They live in the sunset area of San Francisco with two other roommates, both from Europe and both gone for the summer. It just so happens that a friend of one of the other roommates was in town visiting the same week as me, and also stayed at the house. Dimitri lives in Switzerland but is originally from Belgium, and was quite surprised that any of us actually knew where Belgium was. In any case he was a really cool guy and the twins and I spent some time that week hanging out with him. We went to a theater festival in Downtown, Muir woods and various other San Francisco-y things. We also had some fun nights at the house, just sitting around taking and eating. Eating sweet delicious carbs. And babies. Ok, not babies. They were more like toddlers.
All in all I had a great time, got to meet some cool new people and also visit with friends that I hadn’t seen in a long time. I kinda didn’t want to leave but the funky whispers and gamey scent of Arcata was calling me and I had to answer, ‘cause If I didn’t Arcata would just keep calling, and calling and calling-untill I would loose it and yell “Is Wayne Brady gonna have to choke a bitch??!!!” Then Arcata would look at me all weird and say “I don’t get it. Who’s Wayne Brady?” Then frustrated I would just turn and walk away and Arcata would yell after me “Fine then, just leave! That’s what you’re good at, you emotionally dead eel lover!” But that’s a story for another day, onward and northward!!!
Arcata!!!...........uhh………Arcata!!!
My time in Arcata can best be described by a word I first heard from Stacy. Boozery. Yes, Arcata offered up its alcohol filled teats to me and I suckled like a wee little babe. First night –bar. Second night-drinking at Kelsey’s. Third night-bar. It was great to be back up there and big thanks go out to Stacy and Chris for letting me stay with them.. I Also got to visit my old place of sort-of gainful employment; HSU Media. My old co-workers were still up to their same ol tricks. Kelsey was still trying to pass off baby powder as high grade cocaine (to make a little extra on the side), Raphel was still plotting world domination (her current plan involved cotton candy and North Korea, but I was too scared to delve further.) Will of course is still bat shit insane. But really, who isn’t these days? So Wednesday night Stacy, Chris and I went to Toby and Jacks, my fave Arcata bar and had a leisurely time of it. I didn’t drink too much but I did get buzzed. The next day I went to go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with Will, Kelsey, Raphel, Kalindi and her friend Tom for Bob or Rupert or whatever. After the movie, Kelsey and I went back to her place to hang out and we were soon joined by Will. I was treated to an impromptu performance by Will on the bongos and Kelsey some big drum which I think was called a mokimbu. Or a Fortuna. Whatever. I just kinda stood there and watched, because although I am half Latino, I was born with no innate sense of rhythm. I was however born with an innate sense of what animals are thinking, which I will put to use on my new television show: “Mr. Anthony Communes with the Beasts of the Forest.” The next night I was able to convince Will to join Stacy, Chris and I at the Bars where we had a jolly good time. Stacy became inebriated quite quickly thanks to a large VODKA and redbull. I, however, was a little slower in reaching my saturation point. After a pint of Guinness, 4 or so glasses of Newcastle, a mai thai, and then a few more glasses of great white, the bar decided to do its best impression of Gumby, and got all bendy on me. Which of course means it’s time to drink more! So I had a shot of tequila with strawberry stuff and I was gone yo, just gone. When I got back to Stacy’s place I was quite nauseous, and almost didn’t fold out the futon and considered sleeping sitting up. But eventually I did unfold the bed, but I also didn’t turn off the light or change my clothes. Sweet lady Alcohol is a harsh mistress. Before I knew it, my vacation time was up and I had to start heading home. Stacy and Chris tried to get me to stay a few more days, but I resisted their bribes of money and sexual favors and drove back to san fran on Saturday.
That night Christine and I went out to Cheesecake Factory and had a nice meal, but I was very tired from my long drive that day (which, by the way, wasn’t helped by the fact that I was still kinda tipsy from the night before.) and I’m afraid I wasn’t much of a companion that night. But Christine was still nice to me, and great hostess to boot, and I was sad to leave on Sunday.
The drive from San Francisco was long and tiring. Bugs hit the windshield, I stopped for food. More bugs. Stopped for gas. Bugs. Slow cars, honking, bugs. Home! Sleep.
Much fun was had by me, and I hope fun was had by others, namely the others mentioned in this post. I hope I can see everyone again soon-like.
Friday, July 15, 2005
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