Tag Archives: MUNI

I would sound like an asshole if I called this a newsletter

Because it’s not really news, any of it. So just because I’m only averaging one blog post a quarter doesn’t mean I can call it a newsletter. And “quarterly blog” sounds stupid. So I’ll just go about business as usual and pretend that it’s acceptable to administer a blog that only has about 5 updates a year.

ANYHOW, here are some lists:

-I took MUNI once last month. Nothing of note happened. More than I can say for the woman who got stabbed with a fork on the 22 a few weeks ago.

-This is a two item list. The second item is just to say that the first item is really the only thing to note about MUNI.

I have lots of things that you can read, if you are in the middle of something you don’t want to do and feel like procrastinating. Here they are, with the most recent first.

-Review of Barry Graham’s Nothing or Next to Nothing in the latest issue of American Book Review. Even if reviews aren’t your thing, you should still read the book. Also, error correction for said review: there is a reference to oatmeal in the review that SHOULD be a reference to Cream of Wheat. I was craving oatmeal a lot when I was pregnant, and this is duly reflected in my inaccurate citation.

-A poem up in the really wonderful and recently created Thrush Poetry Journal.

-A short short out in the Pachydermini e-chap series by Turtleneck Press.

-A story up at Strange Horizons, all speculative fiction culture.

-A poem up at NAP. About birds and attempted suicide – what else is there to write poetry about, really?

-An audio adaptation of A Simple, Rigid Structure (originally published by Barrelhouse) in My Audio Universe.

-A story up at HOUSEFIRE. Also about birds. I mean, let’s be honest. You know it an I know it: the only thing I ever write about is birds.

-Roxy is really fucking cute. This is another example of something that is not news.

-We’ve been “crying it out” with her this week. Which means forcing her to nap in her crib, without rocking her and singing for 20 minutes first, and without having my hand on her for the entire duration of all of her naps, which had formerly been the case. It seems to be working (aside from the part where I listen to her crying, and then I start to cry because I feel like my heart is being scooped out by a very large mellon baller). She is taking just three long naps during the day, instead of a half hour nap every hour, and she’s in a much better mood. Sometimes, she goes to sleep when I put her down without any crying. Other times, like right now, I put my headphones on full blast to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah while her father (a saint) monitors her sobs.

-One thing Roxy doesn’t have a problem with is sleeping through the night. So much so, in fact, that (maybe TMI? alert) after going for 10 hours straight without a baby sucking on them, my boobs decided that there must be no more baby and therefore, no need to make any more milk. Luckily I have a doctor who has no qualms about prescribing medicine for just that problem,which is available in Canada, but not the U.S., since our healthcare and pharmaceuticals oversight kind of sucks.


Baby turtle

Baby rhinoceros

-I burst into tears when I found out Maurice Sendak died.

-And to bring it back around to happy, here is some hamster on gerbil action

My Favorite Things That Happened On MUNI Yesterday

6) Playing “Is that a pool of dried blood or dried soda on the seat next to me?” when I knew full well what the answer was.  Hint: the answer was not soda.

5) The lady that decided to sit on the (really, actually, quite large) pool of dried blood on the seat next to me, even after she had been warned about it.  Quote: “My jacket is dirty anyway.”

4) Accidentally stepping in vomit inside one of the cars on my way back from lunch.  MUNI, you are ADORABLE.

3) Running into my neighbor and boarding the MUNI with her on the way to work.  Trying to assure her that folks not standing up on MUNI to give a pregnant lady a seat is just the normal course of events and nothing to worry about.  Watching her shout “Will someone please give this pregnant lady a seat” 3 times, give up, and resort to looking straight at each person sitting in the disabled section and repeating the question to them directly.  It took her seven tries.

2) Listening to the stories about her brother in a maximum security penitentiary in Houston for the next 20 minutes.

1) THIS DUDE ———————————————————->



What’s that?  You’re not quite sure what you’re looking at over there?  No problem… Let’s get a close-up


In case you’re still not quite sure, that’s Nicole Jordan‘s “To Desire a Wicked Duke,” apparently the concluding novel to the “Courtship Wars” – a six book series.  This man was so unabashed in his enjoyment of this romance novel that I didn’t even care my MUNI was delayed by 20 minutes!  THIS GUY JUST WENT AHEAD AND ROCKED OUT WITH HIS COCK OUT.  THIS GUY HAD BALLS.  THIS GUY IMPRESSED ME.  I TIP MY HAT TO YOU, SIR.

I see London, I see France: A San Francisco Girl’s Guide to Touristing These Parts

You know what?  “Tourist” can be a verb if I say so.

THINGS TO DO: London looks a lot like New York, except older and dirtier. If you like churches, you’re set. Also, all of the museums are free, so this should probably be taken advantage of since the city is fucking expensive. The Tate Museum was one of my favorite parts of the whole vacation, for reasons like “An Oak Tree” by Michael Craig-Martin:

The phone booths are also pretty fun to check out, since they seem to single-handedly support the London sex trade.







Finally, you can go just outside of London to Stonehenge, where you can look at very big rocks in a very windy location, or to Bath, where you can keep things classy by eating at a KFC housed inside of an otherwise perfectly preserved 17th century building.

GETTING AROUND: Compared to MUNI, the Underground might actually be a portal straight into heaven. The trains come roughly every 5 minutes and the worst smelling car we entered the entire time smelled faintly of zoo.

Also differing from MUNI is the London idea of a “transfer” station. Making a transfer does not simply mean that you’ll walk to the other side of the platform. What it actually means is that you will be walking through a labyrinthian system of underground tunnels, up and down a catastrophic number of stairs for anywhere from a 1/2 to two miles, all the while searching for a sign to indicate that you might still be heading in the right direction. For this reason, it is essential that you either pack light or travel with someone who doesn’t mind carrying all the suitcases the whole time. (Obviously, I chose the latter.)

THIS N’ THAT: Perhaps, on your first day in London, you’ll land at 9 am after travelling for 22 hours. Perhaps the hotel will be full and you won’t be able to access your room until 2 pm, so you’ll get onto Yelp looking for a breakfast place and walk 5 miles to the restaurant with 4 stars. Perhaps you’ll be so impressed by this breakfast place that you’ll think everything you’ve heard about London food is a load of B.S. and that dipping down to 3.5 stars on Trip Advisor or Yelp is a safe proposition. DO NOT BE FOOLED INTO THIS MODE OF THINKING. For reasons equally inexplicable to Baryon asymmetry, there is an unbridgeable gap between a 4 star rating and a 3.5 star rating in London, both in terms of food and lodging. If you dip down to a 3.5 star rating, you will end up at a shitty bed and breakfast in an attic room with a ceiling so low that you have to crouch down to move around, just outside of wi-fi range. Likewise, the food becomes so inedible that, instead of finishing your meal, you will opt for some potato chips from the hotel vending machine. The food really is just as bad as you’ve heard.

THINGS TO DO: Again, if you’re into churches, you’re all set. Probably the best thing to do in Paris is to wander around, get lost, and take pictures of pretty things that you later realize are important monuments. Paris also has lots of “Sexy Girls,” which must be at the top of the list for English and American tourists, since all the signs outside the sex stores and strip clubs near the Moulin Rouge are written in English. If I would have had more time, I would have gone into the Museum of Sex; instead, I just took a picture of one of their (used-looking) contraptions through the window.







If you make it into the Museum of Sex, do drop me a line and tell me about it, won’t you?

Basically, you can’t go wrong. The whole place is so pretty and so exactly what you’d expect (right down to the red geraniums hanging out on all the window balconies) that at some point, you’ll begin to feel a little embarrassed for Paris, like it’s trying too hard.

If you only have time to do ONE touristy thing while you’re there, go to the catacombs, which are just as weird as they sound. You will also not be disappointed by a night-time cruise up the Seine, which only costs 8 euros. Finally, if you’re looking to get some party on, just stroll down to the banks of the river any night of the week. It’s like Dolores Park in the summertime, except it goes for miles and miles and it’s on a river and there are less hipsters and more tango dancing. Basically, it’s Dolores Park in a perfect, parallel universe.

GETTING AROUND: Even more reliable than the Underground – during the day, the trains come every 3 minutes. Closer in bouquet to MUNI, with bright notes of human feces and a heady background of stale urine and body odor.







Similar to the Underground in the M.C. Escher-like transfer set-up. The reason French people can eat whatever the fuck they want is because they spend half their lives climbing stairs.

THIS N’ THAT: Contrary to what you may have heard, people in Paris are extraordinarily polite and helpful, even outside of the super touristy areas. Allergies acting up? Don’t worry about it! The sweet pharmacist will sell you some Claritin over the counter, even though it’s prescription-only in France. On the downside, you may want to avoid putting a damper on your trip by visiting the Museum of Jewish History which, although professing to be a chronicle of Jewish life in France from 13th century through present day, quite inexplicably neglects to cover World War II.

I think that about covers everything. This was way more helpful than the Lonely Planet guide, wasn’t it?  You can thank me later.

Mid-May Check-in

Highlights so far this month:

1. Nyan cat scarf
2. New story up at the latest online issue of Barrelhouse, guest edited by the ever lovely Mary Miller
3. New work up at Vinyl Poetry
4. Story reprinted from Whiskey Island up at Zine-Scene, remixed by Lauren Becker’s edgy persona
5. Undisclosed
6. Pineapples
7. Leaving work early to sit around in the park
8. Bear Lawyer LLC

1. Not having enough disposable income to justify buying a $75 Nyan cat scarf
2. Lack of sleep

Honey Badger cares about trivia

but he’d never let YOU know that.  Because he only cares for questions about important things, like AshleyMadison.com or Guns n’ Roses or Denny’s.  And you know what?  The rest of the questions can go fuck themselves.

I would like to stop for a moment here to clarify that this post has nothing to do with whether or not MY team, which may or may not have been named “Honey Badger Don’t Care,” won at trivia tonight.  This post has everything, instead, to do with Honey Badger’s personal feelings about trivia.

This post also doesn’t have anything to do with being consistently, unreasonably, outraged by the fashion choices of MUNI passengers.  Or listening to Hall N Oates’ “Rich Girl” on repeat all the way home as some sort of passive-aggressive retribution in response to a lack of Hall N Oates trivia questions.  Or discovering that my apartment building’s elevator is actually the epicenter of solitary drunk dance party bad-assness.

Nope.  This post is only to let you know that Honey Badger is a nasty-ass competitor who drinks himself silly out of spite when he loses a pub trivia quiz.  In case you’re wondering – in case you ever run into him – his beverage of choice is Maker’s Mark.