Since I have to take el Bus into Portland next week, I thought, why not take the bus into Portland earlier and spend the night there, a girl on the go, a night on the town? I'm looking for some inexpensive places to stay and found this, which seems to be somebody's actual house, with 2 converted bedrooms. More power to you, I guess, but I think I'll stay somewhere else.

So I asked the experts at CCM how long I should expect my skates to last and got the following response:
"if you play 3-5 time a week they should last 2 or 3 seasons max if your a hard skater it\'s very good from a skates to last 2 or 3 seasons."

While it's great to have that information (guess I should be looking for some new skates in the next couple of months), the lack of professionalism astounds me. Now that I do technical support, I have a new respect for the effort involved in doing it right but also a respect for the customer, who deserves to be greeted, to be thanked for using the product and to get a coherent answer.

But that's just me.


I don't suppose you could use ebay to sell Wacky Weed these days.

Thanks to Amy for pointing out that marijuana (aka Wacky Weed) is a homeopathic medicine, though I doubt that's quite what Wen had in mind when she gave me solid advice on getting the pulled muscle(s, there are 5 in there and there's no way it would hurt this much if only one was pulled) in my chest to heal. Thanks Wen!

The Roo is getting fat
Today Rainie weighed in at 54.5 pounds, 2.5 more than in April. She has not grown taller, just fatter, thanks to eating Patrick's food in addition to hers. I bought some lite food, we'll see if that helps. Of course walking her would help too.

Fucking $204
Caltrain raised their prices, it now costs me $204 a month to go to work. Two months of that is an entire hockey season or 1152 skates or shit, a ton of nice meals out. But that's how today's market is, I go where the job is. At the moment, my employer is too cheap to pay for any of this.

Mom just offered me that if I came home tonight, she'd give me some elk meat. I am not kidding.

My mom is seriously bored today. I have her on the phone and she won't stop talking. Which is fine when I have the time, but not when I have a lot to do and can't get a word in edgewise.

Maybe playing 2 games back to back on a weeknight is not a good idea. By the end of the second game, my chest muscle had been pulled so badly, I crouched in one position and sat out the rest of the game. Today I'm very sore and not sure I can make my final class tonight. We lost both games, but the A-Team looked twice as good against the Cones 2, who had whalloped us 10-1 last time. Last night was 5-2 so hey, twice as good! I found myself shoving them a lot -- they're mostly roller bladers who can do everything but skate, a little shove will often be enough to knock them down, so I did, mostly to the same guy. At one point, I was near the crease and got the bright idea to shove the guy I was guarding, I knew he was going to shove back. So he shoves, I fall (note: I did not try very hard to stand back up) into the crease (which is essentially a no-fly zone) and they get a penalty, leaving us with 5 on 4 and no goal scored.

And the Oscar goes to.....Liz Dow-tay!

The second game wasn't so bad but by this point, the muscle tear was bad enough that I was on the verge of tears. It may be time to 1. invest in a backpack that distributes weight more evenly (that's how I do this, running for a train/streetcar with my backpack on, yes, it's as painful as it sounds) 2. stop running for trains/streetcars and 3. ask for stronger pain pills. Note that not playing hockey is not one of these options. Lucky for me, I won't be playing at all next week so if I can just get through tonights class, tomorrow's class and Sunday's game, I get some r-e-s-t.


All you budding female hockey players out there, the ice slot for Give Hockey a Try Day (GHATD) has been scheduled for Aug 4, Sunday at 12:00pm to 1:30pm. I assume that would be at Belmont Iceland, in Belmont. Don't have gear? Don't worry! Nice volunteers like myself will bring our gear and show you how it works then get your ass on the ice for some hock-ay fun!

We picked up Bessie last night, I just couldn't leave her at the shelter. She's spry, funny, sort of wants to play with the Roo-lets, very small (like 40 lbs) and moans like an old man when you rub her ears. What's not to like?


I finally updated the archive page for all you lovers of old-ass lizspeaks. Enjoy!

Wanna know when Lee Horsley will be on TV? Here ya go!

Looking for Lee Horsley products? Look no further!

Workwise, today is 3 days in 1. Does that mean I get the rest of the week off?

I'd like to thank loyal readers #4 and 5 for sending me email today. You guys kick boo-tay.

Radical BassetMobile Driver Dena, getting busted for speeding in the minivan.

This morning, I had the unfortunate experience of reading this article on blogs. I'm sort of hesitant to even link to it because I do NOT want to be featured in any kind of print article on the topic but it did bother me enough to not only remember it after I got off the train, but to look up the link and write about it so here we are. While I do question the neccessity of having a class on blogs, this guy is missing something about why we (or at least I) do this. I blog because the dang old Internet has changed the way I write or maybe it's perfect for the way I write. There's no more struggling to get a full page of text when all I had was a good one liner (e.g. "I am surrounded by people using office equipment"), no more waiting to get a lot of stuff together before putting it out for the world to see.

There is no doubt that I'm uncomfortable with the sheer volume of hits this page gets. I mean really, kids, I don't know most of you and at times that's a bit creepy (so please, say hi, would ya?) but most of the time I just assume that my loyal readers are Andrea and Amy (and maybe Lee Horsley) and go from there. I certainly didn't create this ever-growing manifesto because I'm one of those "people who think their warped relationships, car trouble and mental illnesses are of interest to a vast audience." as Mr. Authority on Blogs proclaims. And what is vast? 3? 3000? 3 million? It's not like the entire Internet is beating a path here looking for great insight into life and infectious diseases because it's just not here. All I have, my 3 loyal readers, is a bunch of one liners and a glimpse into a life that I think is pretty interesting.

So why did I start one? Because brig did and it seemed pretty cool.


I don't know why this is so funny but here's an email I got today:
anyone seen the hand truck??? it's been missing for 2-3 days.

I am surrounded by people using office equipment.

In honor of my prolific postings today, I offer you (Amy) this timeless classic:

This hot action video is the funniest thing I've seen in a while. I can't stop watching it, it's so funny I nearly peed my pants. And I'm not kidding.

It seems that Gail has a reputation for letting kids get into trouble on the 4th of July so this year she plans to combat it by sticking around all day. Which means that my ride to the Portland airport is via the lovely Amtrak bus, then Portland's light rail, which I never rode while I lived there. Now that I'm a native of public transit and the proud owner of an iPod, I'm prepared for this adventure.

Need help?

Curly12, on Todai: "Best place to go after a couple fatties." -- curly12, 03/08/2002"

Four summers ago my mom was enjoying her new beagle, Buddy. His arrival brought her out of a funk so deep I thought she'd never return.

Three summers ago we were watching our new arrival, Alice, with wonder and amazement at her every move. After 5 minutes of knowing her, I couldn't imagine life without her. At the end of that summer, Buddy was diagnosed with a malignant melanoma, the doctor thought he'd be gone by Christmas of that year. Today, he's miraculously in remission and Alice is gone.

Two summers ago we were nursing Ellie, struggling every day to get her to eat, to take pills, to stay comfortable as she fought a valiant fight against the cancer her former owners hadn't bothered to treat. Alice was our little clown, getting into trouble and still holding my heart captive.

Last summer we were watching Rainie Roo grow from a wee pup (say goodbye to baby teeth and remote controls!) as Alice prepared to leave us. For months, she and I spent hours in the bathroom as I steamed up the room then whacked her on the back to loosen the gunk in her lungs. We managed to fight pneumonia and win 3 times, Al and I, before the brain infection came in November.

This summer I am grateful for having been Al's mom and for the chance to watch my (now) two Roos grow, living proof that my Ellie's life was not in vain, that her legacy lives on in 12 puppies scattered across the west and in my heart, which is still broken wide open without Alice in our lives.

Zeus and Gus would like me to point out that they were both winter arrivals and that I'll chronicle their arrivals at a later date. They know that they are loved every bit as much as any of the dogies in my life.

The Oracle
We've discovered that among Gus' many talents lies the power of the Magic 8 ball. Ask him a question and he'll answer. "Gus, should Andrea get a new car?" Answer: a pretty clear moan of NO! much to my chagrin. We've asked him about world peace, if he's happy (yes, unnnh, that one got an ear rubbed into my arm for emphasis), if he's the prettiest big dog in the world (again, yes) and then if Andrea should get an Explorer (stony silence on that).

If something is troubling you, let me know and we'll ask the Oracle Augustus on your behalf.

Friday night I came home and had The Talk with Spice, about how there seemed to be something in her head that I just couldn't fix and that we were going to let her go the next day, I was sorry, etc, etc. Then I give them all treats and Spice, Ms. Food Agression says to Zeus, no no, you go ahead and eat that treat out of my mouth, I won't bother you. She goes on to be very nice with my dogs and to really calm down about eating. So she bought herself a reprieve and wound up going on an overnight visit that will hopefully lead to her adoption with a very nice family last night!

Which means that I'll pick Bessie up tonight, she goes to her permanent foster home on Saturday.

And speaking of small miracles, the A-Team celebrated our 2nd win ever yesterday, thanks to making great changes in our lines, the addition of Bob ("the Enforcer") and most importantly, of Gerald in net. With a goalie we can count on, we are a completely different team, who isn't so worried about getting back in time to help the goalie. Come to think of it, we had far fewer breakouts with him there. Funny, since you'd think with a weaker goalie (i.e. the goalie who is not Gerald or Naomi) in net, we'd prevent more breakouts to keep the goalie fresh but oh well, there we were. Their team had a guy who really should not be playing at the EE level but even with Mr. Ringer+ Man, we still managed to win, 3-2. Woo!


Who says drinking your sorrows away is bad? Thank God for Red's, where you can have a beer, fries and a burger for $5.

It's official. Spice will be put to sleep tomorrow. Farewell little dog, I'm sorry that life made you so angry and that I couldn't help.

Don't Bother
The good part about having to euthanize Spice is that we're now free to short-term foster Bessie, the sweetest 10 year old basset you ever did see. The Nice Lady taking in bassets in the central valley has room for her next week, all we have to do is hang on to her, then give her a ride at least part way there. I'll be picking up Bessie when I take in Spice, sort of like a deposit/withdrawl, which feels weird as hell and sad, but here we are.

Around this time last year, I scrambled to save a 12 year old basset and get him a series of rides to this same Nice Lady. One leg of the trip backed out *after* the last minute, saying some bullshit about how she was getting married soon and her fiance thought that it would 'make her crazy' to do this run. Which would be fine, except that left the dog with no place to go. He ended up getting stuck in a foster home, which miraculously fell in love and adopted him so it worked out okay, but I'm not too inclined to rely on this woman.

Today I heard from her, offering to take Bessie but now she's 6 months pregnant so long car rides are no picnic for her and she'd have to take time off work to do it so only ask her if nobody else can do it.

Not to be all up in her business, but if that's your track record/availalability, there are about 1,000 different things you could do to make the world a better place besides transport dogs.

Lest I forget the one truly good thing that happened yesterday (this will have to count as everything good for the week): Andrea surprised me with an iPod of my very own!!!

Woo! She's loading it up for me now, with all the music from my collection that she converted to MP3. So I know I'll like it.

Just to make sure that my week really sucks, it's official. Holly, Leo and Kevin are outta here. She got a kick ass job offer in Cincinatti, near his family and her brother so when she goes to visit on July 2nd, she's not coming back. I'm glad that financially things will work out okay for them but almost too bummed to speak that they're leaving. It sure was fun having you here.

Sugar and Spice, but not very much nice
Picked up a foster dog yesterday because she was totally out of time and would have been euthanized. She is food agressive but silly me, I thought, Alice was food agressive, that's no big deal. Spice is a whole different kind of agressive, eating in her crate she growled and bared her teeth at my dogs for just walking by and started to lunge at them when they got too close. I'm afraid to touch her, afraid that she'll bite me.

Unfortunately, there is nothing placeable about this dog and I will have to take her to be euthanized. I've never had to do this for one of my own (though one was euthanized after placement, after he bit somebody, a thought that's very much with me as I look at this dog and am reminded that I felt the same way about that other dog.) This time I'm listening to my gut and not letting the dog become a liability.

Please keep Spice in your thoughts as we send her on to the afterlife. I hope she understands and is then free of the demons that make her so angry.


Unbelieveable -- we're both so worn out (emotionally and physically) that there will be no skating tonight.

It's been a rough day, work exploded (the fire was contained after a bit of hard work and a serving of crow on my part) and it didn't get much better after that. This is about the 4th such day in a row -- am I caving under the stress of too much work for one person? I'm not sure.


It's about time.

It looks like I've gotten myself a spot on a hockey team that's headed to Sydney, Australia for the Gay Games in November. Stay tuned for news of bake sales and other assorted whoring to pay my way. Andrea will of course be going, both as my fabulous girlfriend and equipment manager. I will, of course, pretend like it's really the Olympics while we're there.

Last October I bought some pretty nice hockey skates on a whim while I was in Columbus. They were a very reasonable price (much like the bi bim bap served near my old office in Oakland) so I took a chance. I guess I haven't been treating them right because they're starting to come apart. I'm proud of the rips and crap on the toes, that means I'm working hard out there but the coming apart part worries me. Not so much for the money required to buy new skates (which isn't a small amount) but because it took 6 weeks of hell and pain to get these bad boys broken in. I am in no hurry to go through that again.

I know, it's a huge crisis. But it kind of is.

With so many folks in my life who have been around me for years, it's easy to get spoiled with the kind of relationship we have, where some things go unsaid, where I'm comfortable with who I am around them and not constantly worried that I'm being judged. That said, we hung out with a new friend of Andrea's this week and I found myself very on edge, listening carefully for judgemental comments (which did come, intentional or not, why does *everyone* feel the need to tell me that 4 dogs is "a lot"? You think I don't know that when I buy their food or struggle to make room on the couch for myself or pay vet bills or look at them and know that even though there are indeed 4 of them, they are all part of my heart and I wouldn't have it any other way so fuck off, would ya?). I guess I'm just spoiled by, and more comfortable around my long time friends (lifers, sorry y'all are stuck!) who see through the outside view of my life and into my heart.

It was pointed out to me that Patrick is not listed in my 'Regulars' list. I apologize first and foremost to Patrick (the handsome fellow) himself and to all Squishy lovers who were offended by this ommission. He is now prominently listed there as he has been in my heart since the moment we met (okay, since the day after we met, when he stopped being so freaked out about being away from his foster mom and starting to get to know us, now it's like we've had him since the day we had Roo).


Send an Alice card! Thanks Susan!

Am I healed? No. The loss of Alice is still very present for me, around the edges of my vision is a split second where I forget that she's gone, imagine she's there and then the heartache starts again, she's gone. But I do feel that the intense pain I was in this winter, followed by a deep fog of disbelief this spring, is starting to wear off a bit. There are moments where I'm not in that zone far away, but rather right here, present in my own life. According to this site (as we all know, all websites are of course by reknowned experts in their field, though this one does seem to be somewhat reliable or I wouldn't be linking to it), this means I'm moving into the final stage of grief. What they don't mention is what happens after that? It's not like your life is ever 'normal' again.

Here's my journey through these stages:

1. Denial and Isolation.
At first, we tend to deny the loss has taken place, and may withdraw from our usual social contacts. This stage may last a few moments, or longer.

The moment every morning after she died where I would wake up to check on her (at the foot of our bed) and remember that she was gone. Right afterwards, I wanted people to call, to stop by, then wanted them to leave as soon as they arrived.

2. Anger.
The grieving person may then be furious: at the person who inflicted the hurt (even if she's dead), or at the world, for letting it happen. He may be angry with himself for letting the event take place, even if, realistically, nothing could have stopped it.

I thought it was my fault, for bringing younger dogs into the house who got in her way, for installing a bigger doggie door than might have been good for her little neck, for not being with her enough, for being there too much. It was all my fault, until we learned about the brain infection that really caused it all. I was off the hook.

3. Bargaining.
Now the grieving person may make bargains with God, asking, "If I do this, will you take away the loss?"

It was not that specific. It was more like "if I keep moving, don't stay at home long, don't hardly speak to our other dogs, play hockey 5 times a week, stay in motion, maybe I'll stop feeling the pain that's tearing me apart." Some people use medication, I chose hockey and it's certainly improved my game, though I'd have stayed in Green forever if it meant Al was still here, and healthy.

4. Depression.
The person feels numb, although anger and sadness may remain underneath.

Yup, I've been in a fog since January.

5. Acceptance.
This is when the anger, sadness and mourning have tapered off. The person simply accepts the reality of the loss.

The fog is lifting and the truth is still there -- she's gone. Life does go on, my heart still beats despite the gigantic hole in it, sometimes I even enjoy myself.

My dad, on Patrick: "That is quite a handsome fellow."

Aww shucks.

I haven't even been here 1/2 hour and it's already proving to be a long ass day. Our customers are doing silly things and I feel the arrogance of 1998, when the dot-com boom was in it's heyday and even a person of limited skill could be considered a guru, capable of scoffing at almost any request because it was beneath them, rearing it's ugly head. I must remember that in today's world, I build forms and smile while doing it because it provides me with a steady paycheck and regular working hours, something unheard of during those heady days of splendor.


For the record, that shirt on top of Leo's head is in fact, one that we gave him. It prominently features a large dump truck with a full load.

Separated at birth?



I am one of those obnoxious people who gives a gift to parents of young children then asks "oh is that the shirt I gave him?" like they're obligated to dress the kid in it just because I gave it to them. Doh.

I have a bloody nose. WTF?

My esteemed co-worker was walking towards work this morning (minding her own business, as you might imagine) when a SamTrans bus pulls up next to her, opens the front door and the driver says "Hi! Where are you going? Do you need a ride? Can we have lunch?"

Rainie ROo and Patrick Too (and their big brother Gus the pointer mix) had a big day yesterday. I'll let them tell their story:

Patrick here: first mom got us all excited because she got out me and Rainie's leash (we share one with a coupler since mom says it's easier for her) and I thought ohboyohboyohboy!! we must be going somewhere! But then instead of the front door, we went out the back. I mean wait a minute, why would we need a leash for that? We have our own little door there already!

Mom hooked us onto a table and then our other mom turned on the water, then started hosing us down! It was awful, but then she turned off the water and they both started touching us, rubbing some slimy stuff onto our delightfully dirty coats, but they were touching us so that was okay.

Rainie here: after it was all over, I RAN to the concrete and tried to roll the clean away. Patrick decided to bark his clean away and stood on the stoop, glaring at our mommies, barking his little head off saying "you @)#(@)#(!!! how dare you make me CLEAN!"

We both ran inside and rolled our wet selves all over the couch. All mommy could was laugh. Rainie Roo and Patrick Too, clean and not too happy about it in CA with Gus, Zeus and mommy Liz

The A-Team suffered another loss, and had some on-ice drama to boot last night. The other team's goalie decided to whack one of my guys in the face while he was down on the ice (after a different A-Teamer had drawn a penalty on a guy, then laughed as the guy was carted off to the box, then the penalty guy went a little crazy and started swinging so the ref put him in a half nelson (I am not shitting you, I was standing right there, mouth agape) while the A-Teamer stood there watching). Immediately following the goalie swipe, first one, then two then 3 then 4 of the other team's players all descended on the A-Teamer who had been attacked by the goalie. This, I've recreated from witness accounts, I wasn't really paying attention when it all started, I just looked up to see our guys in the middle of a gigantic brouhaha. I went off myself, shouting "STOP FUCKING FIGHTING! THIS IS NOT WHY I STARTED THIS TEAM, IF YOU WANT TO FIGHT, GO SOMEWHERE ELSE!!"

Later I learned that in this instance the A-Teamers did not start the fight or do much to participate in it (though they did stand there in the mob rather than leaving), so while I may have been off-base with that, at least now the team knows how I feel about fighting, which is that it's a waste of time.

I was up most of the night stressing about this, maybe too much, I don't know. It's frustrating because we're not doing very well and I'm trying to make it better.

But at least I have blue pants.

Friday, I was lucky enough to sneak out of here a whopping 25 minutes early when Amy picked me up and we headed to the Sports Basement, aka my new Happy Place. It was astounding and I spent far too much money in a very short time. Afterwards, I headed home on the train, armed with a beer from the nice beer lady ($2.00 for a Sierra Nevada, including a lovely paper sack to drink it out of!).

It was a hockey-filled weekend, so much so that for once I feel robbed of my weekend. This weekend looks much more managable -- I have only 1 game and Andrea has a game. Phew, because I'm supah tired after 3 games and a hard-core practice.

I did get my spiffy new blue pants and new shin guards yesterday. They both kick ass! Thanks, Brian, for the hookup.


Woo hoo! My new hockey pants have arrived, I'll get them on Sunday. The best part is that they're blue. I also am getting new shin guards (literally the day after I ordered them, the old ones started to chafe -- bad) and shoulder pads. The first two items I'm getting at cost through the help of a very nice man on my hockey team. Woo! They'll match nicely with the had-to-upgrade-because-Gerald-took-me-out-in-practice elbow pads that I recently purchased.

I've been so giddy about having a full-sized paycheck these last 2 months, last month I went a little overboard on spending. I couldn't stop, it was so thrilling to think that in 2 weeks, there will be more money coming in. And 2 weeks after that, and 2 weeks after that.

Wow. Someone has been sitting here all morning voting Rainie Roo down. Why would someone do that? I'm taking this very personally.

I curse everyone who gave Rainie a low rating.

Someone (perhaps one of the 3 of you readers??) has sabotaged Rainie's entry and she's now the #1 lowest rated dog. Fuckers.

Walt speaks: I'd rather be a boozer that a loozer.

We should use that as some sort of education campaign for young kids.

There was another shipment of gigantic cranes under the Bay Bridge today. We headed outside to check it out while my co-worker peeled off to the can. I went to the conference room that looks out on the Bay Bridge to see if we could see anything and sure enough, I could. I saw the cranes moving past the window, the event over. Oh well.

Rainie ROo has cracked the Top 10! at ratemypooch.com (not to be confused with ratemypoo.com)! I am way giddier about this than I have a right to be. She is, after all, the world's cutest dog.


Rate Rainie Roo!

Make up your own caption, because they're not talking.

Today has been the day from hell. Work spun out of control as a project I'd been chugging away on came due, it was pretty boring work and my heart wasn't in it, but I did what I thought was a decent job. I guess it wasn't enough because now they're so unhappy (with things like "on the old site, that line wrapped after the third word, NOT the fourth!") that we may lose the account. Fuck.

I think I fixed it, but who knows? Good thing they didn't see it a week ago when half of the links didn't work.

I've also been forced to do a lot more javascript at the same time than ever before. Thanks to many days of stress and the help of my smart friends (thanks JT and Gerald) I can check errors in almost any way you can dream up.

Working at home today, I figure it's time to get Weezy, my 72 VW Squareback, up and running again, so I call the mechanic who says, sure, bring her over. I call AAA, who I need to tow her there and get ready. The guy was so full of attitude it was unreal. He sits there making snide remarks about her "this thing really runs?" "you only need a new battery on this? Come on!" and then refused to take her because I didn't have the registration sticker on. I ran in the house to look for it, but no luck so I sent dufus away. Of course I found it 5 seconds after he left so I called them again. Of course I mentioned to the AAA operator how rude that guy had been.

The second guy who came out must have been the owner/manager. He was like "Hi Ma'am! How are you? How can we help you today?" My kind of guy. Weezy is now on her way to being fixed up and ready to drive.


The best no response to an evite for a hockey game: Willie: here comes my friend, the bride down the aisle.

I guess that's a good reason to miss one...

As seen on a bumper sticker by Amy: "Prayer always fails"

I will make sure to tell our new christian clients that.

The sum of my experience developing stuff for the web seems to be culiminating in spending most of my time creating forms. At least they're for a variety of clients but in the end, they're all just forms. Woo.

Another sign of change in the web world:
Company lunch in 1999: catered with hot food, quality beer and moderate wine.
Company lunch in 2002: make your own sandwiches (sorry, we're out of bread, use dinner rolls and oops, no more turkey, hope you like ham), shitty beer and wine in a box.

Of course I'm greateful for the free lunch but that doesn't prevent me from commenting on the change.

Looking for a culinary adventure? McDonald's trials Spam breakfasts in Hawaii. Of course "The Spam breakfast also includes egg and rice." Think of it, the Spam breakfast is a nice compliment to a local favorite, Spam sushi.

It is not very often anymore that something I see in rescue makes me cry, but Izzo most certainly did. Do NOT click on the slide show unless you're prepared to see the most horrific thing that was done to the most beautiful looking dog. If you have some spare change, please send it Izzo's way. People can really suck sometimes....


Ode to Red's
Falling into the water
Burger and beer $4.05
Who cares if it falls?
Gimme another Bud for the trip!

It was a rough morning -- screw the diet, I'm going to Red's for lunch. No beer, though.

We just signed a deal with a seriously right wing church, their first question was 'how do we keep the non-beleivers away from the believers?' I suggested a big bag of hockey gear.

I suppose I've also learned that people don't read minds.

I suppose that being too nice can really kick you in the ass because 1. you get kicked while you're standing there, trying to let things pass and 2. when you do finally say something, people are surprised, then pissed. Today, it feels like you can't win. Or rather that I can't win.


It seems that Patrick (aka Squishy) has settled into our home just fine. He's finally eating (we learned the hard way that he likes his kibble best when it's super mushy, then he attacks it with gusto!), though pretty much just once a day instead of twice a day like everyone else.

Late last night, our little man decided to see what was on the counter for his persual. I get up at 6 am and do not enjoy nocturnal wanderings, even if they are by the world's cutest boy basset. He found a small package of Combo's and headed outside with them for some fun. Of course the rest of the gang had to follow, so their other Mommy, Andrea, got up to see what all the ruckus was about.

Patrick was holding the bag, wagging his tail as if we'd left it there for him and ohthankyousoverymuchmommies! Which I suppose we had left it for him (this is where we still haven't fully adapted to having dogs who can reach the counter). Andrea escorted the little troublemaker with the beauty mark into his crate, where he proceeded to whine the trademark (all of Ellie's pups have this charming feature) whine, which after a year of listening to Rainie do it, I've learned to sleep with.

What I've not learned to sleep with is Andrea going "PATRICK!! SHUSSH!" over and over as Patrick's volume ebbed and flowed. Finally, we gave up and let him out, leaving me with a whopping 3 hours of non-consecutive sleep.

When I left this morning, Patrick and Rainie were curled up on the couch, too tired from the night's adventures to greet me as I left. Punks.

Someone on my beagle mailing list posted pictures of their very cute lemon and white beagle puppy. They are almost too much to bear, as I imagine that Alice didn't look much different from this pup as a wee one.

What a weekend! Had a lovely couple of days doing not a whole lot with Andrea. Saturday was the beaglefest, the first since Alicepolooza (aka the fall 2001 beaglefest) so I thought it would be a hard day, and it was, though not as bad as I'd anticipated. I very much felt checked out from the beagle scene, not interested in talking to many of the beagles there and hardly talking to folks. Something tells me we won't make the next one.... Afterwards we came home, had a nap, then got up in time to watch bad movies on TV (the worst? Battlefield Earth. Ugh.) then go back to bed.

Sunday we awoke well-rested and ready for the A-Team game at 3:15. I was nervous, it was to be my debut at center (something I've played on the smaller rinks but not on full-sized ice) and Andrea was all worked up about her A-Team debut. We got there early, were all set to go when the Zamboni stopped in the middle of the ice, dropping the gigantic blade onto the ice. It ended up creating a huge gouge with two softball sized holes at either end so we were forced to cancel the game. On a whim, I decided to rush to Belmont and see if I could scam my way into the 6 pm Maroon game. It was up in the air until the last moment, when the captain said, okay, get dressed. So I rushed to get ready and played defense for Sangria, the team I'd played with last week. It was so much damn fun! Afterwards a couple of the team members asked the captain if I could sub in for them in the future. Of course! I'm SO glad I went up there, gear in hand.


The other day I was in the bathroom at work, uh, doing what needed to be done when I noticed that the little trash can for 'feminine products' was a free standing thing that says 'PUSH' in huge letters. I thought, well, hell, I *am*!

Not quite as good as International Jock, but The Man Store offers many many fine jock and jock accessories.

There are moments where I'm fine, moved on and healed, (never whole). Then I remember the feel of Alice's paw in my hand, the way she said 'aoww, wow, wow', the way she looked in her raincoat, how she looked at me during the day at work and my heart breaks all over again.

"I never thought I'd love anyone so much" -- Bonnie Raitt

Tales from Dena in Phoenix: I looked up Cracker Barrel in the phone book to get the address and right before it was the Craaaaaaaack hotline. I guess they wanted to be the first Crack hotline in the book!

How Suave I Am
Across the hall from my office is this trendy ass architecture firm. The first desk in the office points toward us and the other day, there was a new chippie there, perhaps a friend of Dorothy like myself (in other words gay). As I emerged triumphant from the bathroom, she checked me out so of course I checked her out too, trying to look all suave until I used my little key card thing to get into the office, then walked right into the doorknob. I now have a gigantic bruise on my thigh and a nice girlfriend to laugh at it, proof that I am indeed Rico Suave.


I can tell my dogs apart by their sounds, the way they walk or drink water, or go through the doggie door. I love that, but many times I still find myself listening for Alice then remmbering once again why I don't hear her. I miss her so damn much.

There is someting very nice about working with the delightful sound of baby bassets wrestling in the other room.


And for the record, Wen and Kieren are both Mighty Fine dancers!

Big Fun in the Citay
Last night, Andrea had a game scheduled for 8:15 in Belmont, about 1/2 way home from here. So I made all these grand plans in my head "I'll hop on Muni and go to the Castro!" "I'll go to the Sports Basement!" "I'll eat at the House of Nanking" but in the end, I stayed at work late, then walked to the train station. I decided to stop for a quick dinner on the way, passing up some trendy cafe thing where I think Andrea used to eat back when she worked in the citay and heading to McDonald's. 2 doors away from McDonald's, I pass a teeny tiny pizza joint and know that's the place for me. I order my slice then realize they have beer! What a coincidence! I love beer!

So I get a Miller Genuine Draft and much to my surprise and amazement, it comes in a 32 ounce cup! That's right, 32 ounces of beer + 1 slice of pizza (which started to seem irrelevant the more I thought about the beer) cost me a whopping $5.40. I enjoyed that beer so much I almost missed the train and by the time I started walking over to the station, I was drunk enough (think about it, 32 ounces is almost 3 bottles) to need to pee really badly and to be muttering to myself. The muttering, I think, is like a forcefield, preventing folks who mutter on a regular basis from messing with me and encouraging old women to keep a wide berth as I stumbled along the sidewalk. I muttered to myself for most of the train ride but had unfortunately sobered up a bit by the time I got to Belmont for the game.

Because it's summer, every ice rink in the Bay Area (save San Mateo, which is amazingly pristine) is all jacked up, the ice is never fully frozen. Okay, I don't know about Oakland, but I have skated in 5 other ice rinks in the last 2 weeks so I have some accuracy in making that statement. Belmont, traditionally the worst, lived up to it's repuatation (Lake Belmont) and had a wet spot that took up about 1/5 of the ice surface. So the game was converted into a practice and I hopped back on the train and went home.

I finally pull into my driveway at 9:40 when my neighbor accosts me. At this point I haven't been home since 6:39 am and would like very much to be on my couch w/ the dogs. But no. The neighbor talks and talks but I managed to get away from her in about 7 minutes. A new record.


When I lived in Columbus I used go to The Panda Inn all the time because their kitchen was open super late (how I managed to stay out that late all the time, I'm not sure now...). While they were still serving yummy food late at night, the place would be packed, I was always one of 2 white people in the room, the other being my date at the time. Folks would be gathered around the karoke machine and it seemed someone was always singing the crowd favorite "Do it to me one more time."

Is that wrong or so very right?

I sang once but gave up when I discovered that Santa Claus is coming to town actually has like 6 verses, only one of which I knew (I'd never heard of Rooty Toot Toots or Rummy Tum Tums).

Thanks Brad

At long last, HBO has released Mr. Show seasons 1 and 2 on DVD. This show was the best sketch comedy ever. For more infomation, visit their fine website. Rumor has it that they're going on tour in the fall, I'm so there!

Saw this line and link in an email to the basset discussion list I'm on: Praying for Revival in our Land. I'm glad somebody is working on that, because I'm not.

My eye is still swollen, though less so than yesterday, only now it's all red. Just call me Left Eye.

Some really cute basset hound t-shirts! Not as cute as our two Roos, but still very very cute.


It seems wrong to be IMing my mom while listening to a song called "My Nuts."

One social situation that I'm never prepared for is when you see an old friend and they've changed since the last time you saw them -- now they're the opposite sex. They look largely the same but have a different body shape and a much lower (or higher) voice. I imagine that I would be like "hey what's up? Since we saw you last, I've become a man! Check it out, I have a (whatever body improvement) now, I went through blah to do this, it took this long, whatever."

But that's me, maybe I'm less private than the folks I know who have gone through this. They tend to be pretty shy about the whole thing and just speak to me in their newly deepend voices quietly, as if they hope any reminder (me) of their old life will go away. I maintain that the experiences gained while as a member of the 'wrong' sex make you who you are today, it's not like having a sex change erases the life you had before. Why is it so natural to want to erase who you were beforehand?

Which brings me to my new philosophy: there are no mistakes in life. Every experience is valid (yes, Amy, even some of *those* nights we spent with silly boys and Mickey's Cream Ale) and it all leads you to be a better person in the end. The trick is to learn from it, not let it bog you down.

This weekend's festivities have given me a sore throat and a swollen eye. Yummy.

Sunday we headed to first drop Buddy off, then went on to Santa Cruz Pride. These days, Pride events generally make me feel old, or un-hip since my hair is kind of shaggy and I don't dress all hip like them young dkyes do. But this time it wasn't quite so obvious, or maybe it was the demographics -- by and large the average age seems to have risen and this time, there were a lot more people with kids. Wen and Kieren looked like pros as they salsa danced and we had a chance to hang out with a bunch of folks who we hadn't seen (and Andrea's hockey captain, who we had hung out with the day before). We also registered as domestic partners, or at least had the form notarized. I guess after almost 6 years, it's about time we did that.

Friday's Bay Bridge Fish Parts Incident absolutely impacted my life. Between a Giants game and the Fish Parts, traffic was totally backed up getting onto the Bay Bridge, which meant that traffic everywhere else was also backed up, including my good friends who drive the Muni streetcars, which as the name implies, ride on the street, and thus in traffic. 4 street cars came by my stop right in a row, I managed to get on the 4th one, but at the CalTrain depot they were stacked up so we sat there, not moving for an extra 5 minutes, which was good enough to make me miss the supah express train.

Finally got home too late to see Andrea off for her hockey clinic, but had time to eat dinner, hang with the putters and still get to my clinic early enough to stop by Andrea's and to get completely lost getting to the San Mateo Ice Chalet. I decided to take the more advanced clinic since I'd always rather be last in line on a drill than first. It was quite a workout and I think even the most advanced players (some play for the Oakland Seals) got something out of it. Meaning, of course, that I got a lot out of it.

Saturday I played one game, Sunday was the big double header. I was so nervous about playing for Maroon, felt like I had so much to prove, but like I usually manage to, once the game started, I kept my head in the game and concentrated on being where I was supposed to. I had a few good moves, and most importantly, didn't do anything totally stupid. Andrea was nice enough to be my chauffier, whisking me and my bag of gear (most of which I was wearing) to the Ice Center in San Jose after the game in Fremont. Chris, Lisa and Linea were also there for my big moment, which was just awesome!

We finally placed Buddy the foster dog after 2 months in our care. I'd been really picky about where he goes and I think it paid off. I've never asked so much and so many things of an adopting family but in the end they came through. He seemed really happy there and loves their little girl. Buddy scampered off to have a tea party with Camille as we left so we didn't say goodbye. That's how you know the dog is home -- when they don't look back.

My new goal in hockey has been to really challenge the person with the puck, taking those extra two steps instead of coasting into them, allowing enough time for them to dump the puck away from me. The upside to this is that I was able to get possesion of the puck more often, the downside is that more than once, this strategy gets me knocked on my ass. I actually have rugburn on both knees from my shin guards (which cover your knees). Somehow, my left eye is all swollen up and I have a sore throat. I think it's time for a few days off from hockey.