June 18th, 2006 § Comments off § permalink

In the past two weeks, three of my friends have told me that they saw an almost-exact double of me somewhere in San Francisco. I have no idea what to make of this trend. Do I have a heretofore undisclosed identical twin who lives nearby? Is the Bay Area converging upon some sort of Hipster Event Horizon, at which all middle-class, twenty-something, skinny white males take on a single appearance? And is Wikipedia correct to say that these doppelgänger sightings may “bring bad luck, or indicate an approaching illness or health problem”?

My best guess is that San Francisco was hosting a convention of Louis Theroux impersonators.

All-natural smackdown

June 6th, 2006 § Comments off § permalink

From a Michael Pollan article about eating wisely, I bring you my new favorite out-of-context quotation: “Culture in this case is just a fancy way of saying ‘your mom.’”

I learned this at the uni-versity

January 11th, 2006 § Comments off § permalink

One of my coworkers sent an instant message to my office this evening, asking if anyone wanted to join her at the sushi place down the street for a “Rock ‘n’ Roll roll.” I promptly diagnosed her with a severe case of sushi stutter. It’s usually caused by eating raw fish in combination with cream cheese or avocados.

Shockingly, no lifeguard was on duty

January 4th, 2006 § Comments off § permalink

This was the highlight of my day: A woman was searching for her shopping companion in Berkeley Bowl‘s cavernous produce section. She didn’t see him, so she yelled, “Marco!” Several people immediately replied, “Polo!”

Then again, plenty of churches serve cheap wine from a jug

October 19th, 2005 § Comments off § permalink

My sample ballot for California’s upcoming Colossal Waste of Taxpayer Money Special Statewide Election says that my polling place is the “Shattuck Ave Meth Church.” Something tells me they’re about to get their tax-exempt status revoked.

Other songs include “One of My Protected Left-Hand Turns” and “Waiting for the ‘Burbs”

October 17th, 2005 § Comments off § permalink

I’m working on an epic rock album and film about a troubled city planner’s descent into madness. It’s called The Mall. Here are the lyrics for two of the songs, titled “The Happiest Allees of our Lives” and “Another Brick in the Mall, Part II”:

When we got into planning school
There were some professors
Who would change a streetscape any way they could

By putting London planes and benches in the right of way
No matter what the well-intentioned traffic engineers
Had to say

But in the studio, we knew when they got home at night
They led sad suburban lives
At strip malls in the SUVs they drive

We don’t need no Lewis Mumford
We don’t need no William Whyte
No traffic calming for the locals
Robert Moses had it right
Yeah! Robert Moses had it right

All in all, it’s just another brick in the mall
All in all, you’re just another brick in the mall


September 29th, 2005 § Comments off § permalink

Henceforth, I intend to refer to all oddly-named items used for religious purposes—tefillin, chasubles, and the like—as “churchamacallits.”

Good luck improving on “Fjällviva”

September 15th, 2005 § Comments off § permalink

I went to Ikea this morning and purchased new bedding and a potato masher. Help me think of a humorous and/or erotic story that explains this combination. (Extra credit: Invent funny Ikea names for the products I purchased.)

Mixed messages

September 9th, 2005 § Comments off § permalink

A public service announcement about childhood obesity is posted above a McDonald's billboard.

Taken near my house in scenic Oakland, CA.

An open letter

August 6th, 2005 § Four comments § permalink

agnès b.:

You, madame, are one foxy French corporation. Most of your men’s clothing is a perfect match for my own aesthetic (although I wouldn’t have guessed it from your current website). Even your store in San Francisco suits me—simply appointed, with early-vintage Cure songs playing from overhead speakers. Also, since I have the build of a Frenchman, I can only assume that your shirts would fit me properly rather than billowing out like sails.

Your prices, though, give me pause. As much as I would like to exchange $180 for one of your fine shirts, I simply do not, as we say in the States, have that kind of scratch. I’ll let you in on a little secret, though, one that your market research may not have turned up: In America, we have never had a royal family, so the grandchildren of former viscounts who apparently comprise your target market are unlikely to materialize. Might you be willing to offer, say, a 75 percent discount to those of us who are not descended from nobles?

By hoping that this solution will appear interesting to you, I remain, agnès b., sincerely yours,


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