Cut the crap

Apparently we in San Francisco are the 11th meanest to the homeless in the nation. This has nothing to do with the general public's meanness, but instead the meanness of the policies that work against the homeless. We were 8th in 2004. Now we're 11th. Sarasota, Florida is number 1. I'm sure that a lot of San Franciscans don't like the thought of even being #11.

Just the other day in my neighborhood I walked past a bunch of somebody's crap in a shopping cart (pretty standard), then walked by a pile of somebody's crap. Definitely not dog crap. I know what that stuff looks like, I live right near Duboce Park - the Paris of San Francisco in terms of dogshit per square foot on the sidewalk.

Back to the human shit on the sidewalk. I'm sure we've all seen it in one place or another in our fair City. Probably next to some plastic bag or whatever they used to wipe their asses afterwards (another clue that it's not a huge dogshit). Seems like whichever person without a home and thus a bathroom to crap in doesn't really take his neighbors into consideration when squatting. It might even be seen as being mean to subject the surrounding neighborhood to his or her feces. Probably doesn't have happy thoughts about The City in general while taking a dump on the street.

San Francisco is #11 in the "mean to homeless" category. On its face, that sounds like we really ought to be nicer to them. And invite more of them here. And more of their shit.

Should I stay or should I go?

Ever get a nosebleed in the shower? It's the most odd place to get a nosebleed (not that getting a nosebleed in any other place is common) because there's always this sense of "should I get out of the shower now or should I just stand here and plug my nose until it goes away?"

Getting a nosebleed in the shower always reminds me of the shower scene in Psycho. But in color. And without the scary knife coming through the shower curtain. But the blood thing all over the place, that reminds me of Psycho. And then I usually wonder if Hitchcock got a nosebleed in the shower and that's where he came up with the idea for one of the most famous and memorable scenes in all of cinema.

Once the nosebleed starts, it's kind of too late to stop it from getting more than a few drops all over the place. Can't really get tissue paper to plug the nostril because it will get all wet and fall out anyway. Don't really want to get blood all over the towels. So invariably I press my finger on the outside of the bleeding nostril and press it against the septum.

Standing there in the shower wondering when it's safe to get out.
Ah, what a conundrum.

Apple store adventures - part 4

(This is really Apple store adventures - part 5, but I didn't report part 4 when it happened, so this is part 4. Not the actual part 4, but this one is part 5 which will be called part 4.)

I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't let Lee Lee the Musical Bee turn into a parent column, now that I've added "parent" to the list of roles I fill. So I'll keep the references to consistency of baby poop to a minimum.

On top of learning to deal with life as a sleep-deprived zombie, last week my desktop computer monitor went on the fritz, my cell phone died, and I found a new infestation of ants in my home. All on the same day. Perfect.

On Wednesday, we noticed a blue line on the left third of our monitor. Phoned AppleCare and went through the standard "turn it off, unplug peripherals, turn it on, zap PRAM" rigamarole with the Apple customer service rep on the phone. (Are they called Geniuses too?) Finally after exhausting the myriad of possibilities that always includes starting up from the OS install disk (which I already did), she finally tells me to bring it into the Apple Store. Brilliant! That's what I could have done an hour earlier if they gave their customers the benefit of the doubt and believed that I really need my monitor repaired, even though I sit on the wrong side of the Genius bar.

I decided to go down to the Stonestown Mall Apple Store instead of the downtown Apple Store simply because there's no place to park downtown and I didn't want to carry a huge 30" display box down Stockton street. I made my "appointment" for the Genius Bar online, and drove down to Stonestown. God forbid I should be able to make a real appointment with my AppleCare purchase, Steve Jobs wants me to buy Apple PRO now for another fistful of dollars.

After driving around the Stonestown Mall 3 times to look for the big white Apple logo, I decide that the only way I'm gonna find the store is to go inside. I park, grab the huge box and find the nearest mall directory. Then I realize I couldn't have parked further away from the Apple Store than I did.

I don't know if you've ever carried a 30" display box, but it's a great way to throw out your back. There's a little plastic handle on the top that makes you think that you're gonna carry it that way. After about 29 steps, I realized that just heaving the thing up into my arms and carrying it like a bundle of lumber was the way to go. I picked up the pace as my arms began to burn. "What an interesting way to dump this monitor" I thought, "on the way to getting the damn thing looked at". I picked up the pace more. The looks I got were interesting: Mall-goers glared at my armful with a mix of wanting it and then realizing that it would be fucked to have to carry that monitor anywhere including back to the Apple Store for repair.

I ran into people. People ran into me. I finally made it into the Apple Store and some geek smiled widely and beamed "nice monitor!" as I trudged in. I set the huge box down next to the Genius Bar. I was next in line on the screen, followed by a person named "Lee B". The people behind the Genius Bar wear black shirts that say "Genius" in white type in the middle of the chest. I want a similar shirt that says "Idiot" for my next trip in, which at my current rate will be in another 4 months.

People with iPods waited at the counter. I realized I left my car door unlocked. The nearest Genius was doing something on his PowerBook and I was convinced he was only checking his e-mail and surfing the web. They called my name. I cut through the regular crap of explaining and gave the guy my case number. He went over to his PowerBook and probably looked through the latest iMixes to appear in iTunes, then got to the tedium of entering my case number. He took my monitor out of the box and set it up on the counter. He gave me a sheet of paper with my repair order and sent me on my way with the empty display box. Much lighter.

I'd get into the whole ordeal of getting my cell phone fixed, but you don't want to know. You do not want to know. But know this: that repair insurance stuff where you pay 5 bucks a month so you can break your phone and get a new one is a scam. It doesn't take a Genius to figure that out.

Know your rights

The following entry was intended for last week, but an early trip to the hospital delivery room pre-empted posting. So the holiday relevance may be irrelevant, but I'm too busy learning how to change diapers to make a new one this week. Thanks for reading!



This holiday shopping season I've been trying to vote with my wallet. Easier said than done. Buyblue.org takes care of the checking on the store you're planning on throwing money at. The rest is up to you.

Do you wanna support the Red (i.e. EVIL) companies? Go to Wal-Mart. Duh. But who else? None of those tree-hugging, parka sporting companies in the Northwest, right? WRONG. Every time you click the purchase button on Amazon, you're giving more money to the Red party than the Blue.

Instead, go to the co-op of all co-ops, REI and buy some gear. 100% Blue. Not that everybody on your holiday shopping list is gonna want lanterns and snowshoes, but everybody appreciates a nicely pitched tent.

Need some toys for some nieces and nephews? Mattel gives 81% of their money to the Blue party. If you buy "it" on eBay you're giving 56% Blue. But if you walk into KB Toys and slide that credit card, it's now 100% Red.

And when you go home and order a pizza at the end of your shopping day, picking up the phone and calling Domino's will give 100% of your money to Republicans. Surprisingly enough, so does California Pizza Kitchen. You know you're funding corporate America when you go to the big burger chains like McDonald's
and Burger King, but what about In-n-Out Burger? In-n-Out actually gives a larger percentage of their donations to the Red party than the other two.

Well that's all for this week's installment of LLMB. Gotta get a Blue coffee. Where? Surprise surprise!

Lost in the supermarket

Lately I've been receiving a lot of inadvertent e-mails to one of my bazillion e-mail accounts. Specifically my Gmail account. I never use that one because they scan each and every one of your e-mails for marketing clues. It's true. Says so right on the user agreement.

I always love getting random e-mails to my accounts that have pictures attached. I received one e-mail that had this one attached. The sender said "You look so cute in these. Here you go."



I wish I knew which one of these cute guys he or she thought was me. Striped shirts and dark belts, coronas, clean shaven and neatly trimmed eyebrows. I just wanna party with these guys.

I got signed up for an account to Wegmans, which is a supermarket chain. I don't see any of these dudes signing up for supermarket online offers, so it must be some other person who thinks they got my Gmail account.

Now I'm on this e-mail list for moms of Brownies. I get regular e-mails telling me when to be at Investiture and Rededication, Ice Cream parties and such. Apparently I'm supposed to bring an ice cream scoop and a can of whipped cream to the next meeting. And there is a super secret trip to the Jelly Belly factory on the 27 of January. I so badly want to show up dressed as a Brownie so I can go along. Doesn't this place look like a blast?



I can't wait to see where our little Brownie group will go next. Speaking of which, we have a meeting next Wednesday which requires "holiday cookie cutters." No bigger than 3-4 inches please. Kisses!

What's my name?

A tribute to Andy Rooney:

You ever wonder why some bands are called "The" something-or-other? Why bands aren't called "The" something-or-other? Why is that?

With rock bands in the 60's, it was pretty easy. Bands were more likely to put "The" in their names. You knew it was THE Beatles, THE Who. Not Beatles, or Who. Then in the 70's it got a little tougher because the preference wasn't to use "The". Yeah, we know it's not THE Foreigner. Not THE AC/DC. Just Rush. Styx. Queen. But is it THE Sex Pistols? or Sex Pistols? Right about now, you thinking "Well their album is called Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's THE Sex Pistols." Right, but the title of the band on the cover of Flogging a Dead Horse just says "Sex Pistols". Damn punk rockers. So angry they wanted to confuse us all.

In the 80s, there was no preference for "The" in your name or not. Great. It's THE B-52s, but is it THE Stray Cats? (It's not, it's just Stray Cats. But try saying it that way the next time they come up in conversation - which will be like, never.) You think it's THE Go-Gos, but it clearly says just "Go-Go's" on Vacation. It gets easier with hard rock bands, because they don't want to think about whether it's THE or not, they just want big hair and beer. Motley Crue. Guns n' Roses. Not THE Poison. And not THE Twisted Sister.

And when grunge killed glam in the early 90s, it also axed THE from its vocabulary. Easy to remember: Soundgarden, Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam. (Some Seattlite is going to write me and tell me that those bands are from the late 80s, I just know it.) Hip-hop made it easy too by bustin' a cap in THE's ass: Gangstarr, NWA, Mobb Deep, Wu-Tang.

Then around the new millenium, THE came back in vogue. So many THE's it was The THE empire strikes back! The Strokes, The White Stripes, The Vines, The Hives! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

I heard The The was touring again, but it's probably just as interesting to see whether the THE is popping up in band names again. -LL THE MB

Car Jamming

I recently bought a certified pre-owned vehicle. The last time I bought a car was in 1995. Before that, 1988. My first car was a BMW 2002 - you know, those little ones that make a Mini look big. It wasn't certified pre-owned. Private owner, a guy who worked at some fashion store in the Tacoma Mall that makes Gap look like haute couture. He was a slick dude. And the 2002 was a fine looking vehicle on the outside, but under the hood it was the biggest piece of shit I've ever heard of. I bet the guy who sold it to me is a used car salesman now.

What is it with car salesmen (and women) that makes them so slimy? Do they go to some car sales school where they're taught the slimy tricks of the trade? Slimyness 101? Seems like they could just point out the features of the car and go along for the test ride and talk a few special deals up and their job would be done. I don't need the "I really want to make this work for you" treatment. They don't give a shit what works for me, as long as it means a sale for them.

Well this salesman, we'll call him Sammy, gave me the requisite treatment. Coffee, more coffee, more coffee. I love coffee, but what else ya got? He talked about his cousin who lives near me, but couldn't remember his name. He told me to go in and say hi to his cousin. Uh huh. He attempted to recount the details of our phone conversation and got every one of them slightly wrong. Wife's not coming, don't live in San Hose, don't have a trade-in.

The slimy stuff was generally harmless until we were finalizing the details of the purchase. I told him I noticed that the fog lights weren't working, the light that turns on when you open the drivers side vanity mirror didn't, and the windshield wipers made a horrible rubbing and skipping noise when turned on. Not major stuff, but stuff that shouldn't be happening on a certified pre-owned vehicle. Sammy said they were taking the car to the back to get it ready to go.

I sign the next 3 years of my life away with some other guy who does nothing but complain about "the man" and ask me if I would edit a video of his 2 year old son. I go back out to the waiting area where Sammy asks me if I want more coffee. Then he tells me that the shop is closed on weekends and they're not gonna be able to fix that stuff today. To sweeten that deal, Sammy says that I have to take it back to Sunnyvale VW to get that stuff fixed. Wow, that was a fast one! I thought I'd covered my bases.

My head turned into a big flat lollipop like the ones you see in Bugs Bunny cartoons that said "SUCKER". Actually all that stuff wasn't a major deal, but it made me wonder what else didn't meet the certified pre-owned criteria. Well, a few days later I drove the car down to Sunnyvale to get the stuff fixed, they gave me a Hyundai loaner that drove like a souped up golf cart, and I drove back down again to pick it up the same night. You gotta love that 101 rush-hour traffic. I drove into the lot to find Sammy combing his greasy hair back in the reflection of my certified pre-owned car window. He greeted me with a big open hand waiting for a shake. "Well I guess the next time I see you is when you're bringing me another customer!" Yeah.

How to Stop Breathing

Let's talk about the restroom for a minute. When you work in a workplace and share the restroom with a bunch of people, there are random smells in there that you just don't want to be inhaling. I.E. Someone's Ass Air. Yep, microscopic particles from somebody's behind going into your nose and producing a not-so-pleasant fragrance. Stopping breathing while you're in the restroom can prevent unwanted Ass Air from getting into your nasal passageways.

Here's how:

1. Take a deep breath of air, filling the lungs BEFORE entering the restroom.

2. As you are urinating, release the air from your lungs as slowly as possible. If you try to hold the air in with full lungs for as long as possible, it will trigger a panic sensation that will quicken the heart rate and cause you to begin breathing again. (Please do not attempt stopping breathing while creating your own Ass Air. Going #2 takes longer than #1 and therefore will nix this procedure.)

3. Upon reaching the last of your air supply (I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you), hold your breath. It is much easier to hold your breath with empty lungs than full lungs.

4. Wash up.

5. Exit the restroom and breathe freely again.

Now that wasn't so bad, was it? Best of all, you avoided inhaling that nasty unwanted Ass Air for a pleasant, non-stinky trip to the potty.
Be like our last great president, Bill Clinton, who said many times: "I didn't inhale."

These statements not approved by the AMA. Any passing out in the restroom is not the responsibility of LLMB, LLC. Please consult a doctor before attempting to stop breathing. The views and opinions expressed by LLMB have not been reviewed or approved by TNSC and its affiliates.

Looky over here!

Every week I try to come up with something interesting to read. There are a bunch of folks who appear to try to do the same on a daily basis. There are also a whole bunch of narcissists who want you to believe their lives are so important that you MUST read their daily spew and somehow feel enriched by it.

Codebymatt.com wants you to: "Subscribe to my RSS feed to keep up to date with my life. " Apparently the coding he's doing will validate your existence, so best to keep him in your feedbag so you can read about... uh, code.
Later in his blog he says, "I'm SO tired of the amount of crap on the Internet these days." Well do us all a favor and save your typing for the code, crapmaker.

A Fallen Angel. This has to be some sophomore in high school with nothing but a Playstation and a PC. His entry on Monday Nov. 7th is titled: "boring dayz....."
Oh boy! Here's the boring entry:
"woke up at 1 pm 2day. i already knew that 2day wud be 1 of those days where u did something realy fun yesterday.i whent on9 2 chat wiff ppl.but then my internet was giving problems.i cud not go on9 4 de whole day.my sis and cousin and friends went 2 see chicken little while my dad and mom went 2 see anak mami.i stayed at home and watched tv de whole day.at 11.45 pm the internet went on.so i just post this and went 2 sleep.(a very slow day)"
Wow. Thanks for sharing. I can't wait for A Fallen Angel's podcast, so I can subscribe and actually hear the excitement emanate from his voice.

Kim's Blog is chock full of unique and interesting muses, none of which have ever been seen in print. Here's an example:
"I was in the car and listening to the radio and heard that a certain station is a mix of the 80's and 90's. I started pondering what we'd call this decade when it's over with. The "zeros"? LOL! Anybody got better ideas?"
I've got a better idea, how's about pondering what the next decade will be called, since this one is half over with. People have been wondering since the 90s what this decade will be called. LOL!

There's this other moron who just writes about random stuff. There's no theme, and no telling what's next. Like that's going to keep 'em coming back for more. His latest entry was about other people's blogs. Oh, that's mine.

Tune in next week for another exciting episode of LEE LEE THE MUSICAL BEE!

Don't quit your day job

Have you read the book Kitchen Confidential? It's written by Anthony Bourdain. He's the executive chef of Les Halles in New York City. He uses a lot of italics in his writing, and I find myself reading a sentence over and over again to get the gist of how he intended it to be read.

For example, he writes:
"I love the restaurant business..."
"I'd still like to be a chef, too..."
"Food had power. It could inspire, astonish, shock, excite, delight and impress."

Did you catch yourself reading that last sentence a couple times? I have no idea how to read that last word without it sounding in my head like I'm forcing it to sound italicized. Seems to me like the italics should have been on "and" and not "impress". Who the hell am I to judge? I'm not even an executive chef, much less a writer.

When I read that many italics in print, the intended effect starts to lose its power. Like when I write italics, they don't have the same effect as when I bold them. Or when I bold them. Or when I bold them. Or when I bold them.

You can lose the emphasis of bolding when you bold an entire sentence.


BUT THEN IF YOU CAPITALIZE IT, IT GETS MORE EMPHASIS BACK.

Back to the point about italics. Don't use your italics too generously. Or you might find yourself the subject of a blog that any moron with a keyboard and an internet connection could produce.

Don't mess with Texas

I am not a fan of the Chicago White Sox. I'm hardly a fan of baseball. But my favorite TV show the past few days has been the one where Houston is forced to eat its ten-gallon cowboy hat. My favorite part was when they showed former President George H.W. Bush and wife Barbara decked out in Astros gear and mouths agape when the White Sox took the lead in game four.






(I couldn't find a pic online of George senior and Barbara when their mouths were agape, but you get the idea. That's Neil Bush next to the silver fox. Neil is potentailly your future president if we don't get our shit together and stop the insanity.)

One of the many sayings in Texas is that they do everything bigger there. Well, they certainly managed to lose the World Series as hugely as possible. Swept. Not one win. That's huge, right?

Days of Thunder

I was channel surfing the other day (taking a break from surfing the web), and "The Color of Money" was on TV. Tom Cruise and Paul Newman in a movie about shooting pool. And I wondered: When exactly did Tom Cruise fall out of favor? There was a time in his career where he could do no wrong. But now he's seen as a crazed egomaniac.

Was it after starring in a few bad movies? Top Gun? Cocktail? Days of Thunder?
Or was it later, like: Magnolia? Mission Impossible II? The Last Samurai?

Was it his breakup with Nicole Kidman? You can't hate the guy for that. But you can wonder about his sexual preferences for that. I mean, IT'S NICOLE KIDMAN FOR CHRISSAKES.

Or was it when he became a supremely vocal Scientologist? I gotta think that his rant against Brooke Shields must have lost more than a few of his fans. Beck is apparently a Scientologist, but you don't hear anybody saying "remember when Beck used to be good?" He's still good! But Beck isn't as vocal about his love for Scientology as Tom Cruise is.

Maybe if Tom Cruise picks up a guitar and starts playing the lo-fi slacker part, he'll be welcomed with open arms again. Or if he shuts the fuck up.

Witness the evolution of the revolution

At the rate new iPods are coming out these days, why would you buy the video one Jobs announced yesterday? By this time next month, there'll be one with internet connect-ability (duh). And by January, one with a built-in iSight for iChatting! I'm gonna hang onto my $299 until the one that makes perfect poached eggs and hash comes out next spring.

Hello. How may I help you?

We're on the verge of buying a bed, which is long long overdue. I've researched mattresses so much in the past week that I feel like some sort of authority on the subject. Like "a little knowledge is dangerous" kind of authority.

After lying in the beds for 30 minutes at Room & Board near the old Western Images intersection of 7th & Townsend, we were about to pull the trigger on buying a memory foam mattress. Then Lily's friends Kevin and Randy ran into us and convinced us to shop around online for something that would surely be half-price.

We found an online mattress seller which had memory foam mattresses for half the price of Room & Board. Not a lot of info there, and I wanted to ask some questions, so I clicked on the "chat with a customer service representative now" button. I was looking forward to chatting with somebody as helpful as the woman on the picture of the button.

Keep in mind that an average of 5 minutes passed between each response.

Chat Information Please wait for a site operator to respond.
Chat Information All operators are currently assisting others. Thanks for your patience. An operator will be with you shortly.
Chat Information All operators are currently assisting others. Thanks for your patience. An operator will be with you shortly.
Chat Information All operators are currently assisting others. Thanks for your patience. An operator will be with you shortly.
Chat Information You are now chatting with 'ed'
ed: How may I help you today?
lee: hi.
lee: I'm wondering what the ILD rating of your memory foam mattresses is.
ed: our memory foam has a 5.3lb density

[Sidebar from LLMB: ILD does not measure the density of foam. It is a measure of how hard or soft the material is. It's generally measured in the number of pounds needed to compress the material 25% (on average). According to ed's answer it would take 5.3 pounds to compress the material 25%. At that rate, any full grown human would be lying on the ground.]

lee: is the foam made in the U.S.?
ed: our beds are made in the US
lee: is the foam bought elsewhere and the beds assemebled in the U.S.?

[20 minutes passes]

lee: still there Ed?
ed: I'm sorry for the delay
ed: our Memory foam is made in China
ed: and beds are assmbled in our plant
lee: does the foam contain fire-retardants such as PBDE or formaldehyde?
ed: they are fire retardent
lee: does the foam contain PBDE?
ed: no
lee: what fire-retardant chemicals are used in the mattresses?
ed: i dont know
lee: can you find out?
ed: not today
lee: sorry ed, but your lack of answer is not allowing me to make a decision on buying your product.
ed: i'm sorry
lee: does the foam contain formaldehyde?
ed: Call me at 1 800 xxx-xxxx ext xxx
ed: on Monday, I'll find out from my plant
lee: I'm not clear on how you would have the answer to the PBDE question and not the formaldehyde question. Do you have a list of some of the chemicals and not others?
ed: I said I'll get the info on Monday, call me then, OK?

Command + Q

Oh, ok. I'm just some pesky customer that might spend more than a few bucks at your store. Good thing I kept asking questions about where the components of your mattresses are made or you might think China is a state in the US.

I wasn't about to pick up the phone to speak with Ed considering his track record with answers. I went back to Room & Board to ask some questions and got basically zero help there as well. Luckily we ran into a very nice young man named Andrew at a mattress store in Menlo Park. He gave us loads of info and was ready to do anything in his power to lower the price and get us the mattress we wanted. No salesy BS at all. Nighty-night.

My butto is go e

My butto is go e

My butto is go e. I have a theory about how it happe ed. Whe you wa t a ew fi der wi dow i OSX, you press Comma d + . I do that all the time, i stead of goi g to the Fi der File me u a d choosi g " ew fi der wi dow". So I guess all that pressi g Comma d + wiped it away.

But perhaps someo e stole it. The fact that I ever oticed the butto slowly disappeari g is evide ce of this. Maybe someo e who pressed Comma d + eve more tha I do, a d who eve presses Comma d + Shift + more ofte tha I do! That would make the butto disappear faster.

It's ot like the e tire butto is go e. It's just a bla k key betwee B & M, u der H & J, that sits there a d could be a ythi g. I e visio the comi g back o e day as a rei car ated . O e with miraculous powers that would make a fi der wi dow that ope ed EXACTLY i the directory I was thi ki g of.

Rece tly some self-proclaimed geek mass-produced keyboards with othi g pri ted o the keys. Evide tly it makes o e a more efficie t typist because with othi g pri ted o the keys, it's impossible to hu t-a d-peck a ymore, thereby rei forci g o e's memory of where each key is. Screw that. I just wa t my back.

Stray Cat Strut

There are 4 stray cats that live in the yards surrounding our carriage house. We're convinced that three of them are related and the fourth is not, but one of our neighbors has a theory that the fourth is the father of 2 of them through the other cat.
They are:

Mama cat



Fraidy (daughter of Mama)





Lil' Grey (daughter of Mama)








Slow-mo




Our naming conventions are pretty straightforward. Mama is the mama of the two grey cats. Fraidy is afraid of everything, so if you come through a door, she runs away. Lil' Grey is the smaller of the grey cats. And Slow-mo moves in slow motion. It is impossible for him to run away quickly, even if you make a move toward him.

None of the cats are very comfortable with the idea of being petted. Once or twice Lily and I have been able to pet Lil' Grey, but not the others. I'd never want to pet Slow-mo because he is disgusting. He sneezes a lot and pieces of his fur are everywhere. He also has only one eye, and we had the pleasure of watching the process of him losing it.

The cats have been pretty busy lately. First they were bringing half eaten birds back to the patio. Then mice. Now it's rats. I had no idea there were rats around, but apparently there are fewer of them now. I think the cats are decimating a nest somewhere, because the rats used to be big dead ones. Now they're small dead ones.

My neighbor Michael usually cleans up the rat corpses because they feed the cats and hence, it's kind of by their doing that the cats hang around our yard so much. But sometimes the dead rats lie in areas that are hard to see unless you're in our house, so I pick up and dispose of them. Usually by grabbing no less than three plastic grocery bags and finding a stick to roll the carcass into the bag. Cats - 5, Rats - 0.

The week in cycling

It was an interesting week on the bike. On Monday I nearly got run over twice by the same truck in a span of 10 seconds. Makes me wish I had a third hand just so I could flip the bird and stay on course. And so I could choose the tunes a little better as I ride. Anyway. Monday night I guess I ran over a nail because on Tuesday morning I discovered a flat and I had to walk to work.

Tuesday evening I walked to 3 shops looking for flat-fixing related gear, and let me tell you, the employees at that new Sportmart on Folsom and Division are VERY eager to help you find what you need. Not that they know what to recommend, but enthusiasm counts for something, right? I bought a pump, a patch kit, and a tire insert called Slime that is supposed to prevent more flat tires.

Wednesday morning I rode the bike to work with fully pumped tired for the first time in... well, a long time. Much faster. And with no fear of riding over the glass on 14th street that probably amounts to a case of beer's worth. Mmm... beer. Okay. I was flying down the bike lane on 14th so fast because of the tire fullness that I passed 3 slowpoke cyclists (feeling like Lance Armstrong here, but without Cheryl Crow waiting at the finish line) and past one scooter rider occupying the bike lane who I yelled "it's a BIKE lane" at. I arrived at work in record time. 2 songs.

At the end of the work day I left a little late (5:04 pm), put "Suck my Kiss" on the 1st Gen iPod and pedaled down Harrison. The beginning of rush hour. Crazy people frantically careening home in their cars to get in front of the tube to watch Friends reruns. Upon approaching the bike lane on Harrison near the Best Buy I noticed a homeless dude in the middle of the bike lane bent over rummaging through an old suitcase. I looked to my left and there was a car driving right along side me. No room to maneuver, but the fully-pumped tires were sending me right into him. I swerved between him and the narrow space left by the car and gave him a spank on the rear as I passed by. I laughed so hard that I almost didn't make my turn. I could barely hear him yelling "HEY, MUTHAFUCKA" over the Chili Peppers. Try that in a car at 3 bucks a gallon.

With gas prices the way they are, you might just consider hopping on your bike and taking a ride too.

I Love LA

What the hell is up with that song? What is there to love about LA? I mean, I like LA, and I may one day live there, but would I love it? Probably not. I can imagine hating it after living there for a bit.

What is there to love? The weather? Probably. Hot days and warm nights are pretty lovable. The beaches? Okay, having a warm night on a beach is pretty rad, brah. The radio? Love it. I ditch the CDs and mp3s when I'm in LA. KCRW is the best station in the nation, and you can just leave it tuned in forever.

Sorry, but that's about all there is to love about the City of Angels.

What is there to hate? Well, the list goes on and on.
Smog.
Idiotic drivers in idiotic traffic.
Bad service at mediocre restaurants.
Strip malls.
Starfuckers and wannabees.
LAX.
Downtown.
Ugh.

It's really lame when the landmark for a city is a bunch of letters on a hill (sorry AC). But a city as huge as LA ought to do better than that. What do you think of when you think of New York? Maybe the Empire State Building or the Brooklyn Bridge. What do you think of when you think of San Francisco? Possibly the Golden Gate Bridge, or the painted ladies, or the Transamerica Building. What do you think of when you think of Los Angeles? A bunch of non-descript buildings downtown surrounded by traffic and smog, and the Hollywood sign. Lame.

Even their song is lame. Maybe I'm forgetting some beautiful song crooning about the beauty of Los Angeles, but I believe that the Randy Newman song is about all there is. We've got "I left my heart in San Francisco." LA has "I love LA", where Newman sings about driving and the weather and a bum on his knees. I love San Francisco, despite this fog that is supposed to have burned off by now. LA? Well, that smog ain't never burning off. We love it!

The Problem

Due to the fact that I'm on a mini-vacation, and to commemorate his band's recent visit to SF - Steve Albini will be the guest writer on this week's edition of Lee Lee the Musical Bee.

Enjoy!

The Final Cut - part 2

Continued from last week...

"Holy shit Bob, I thought you were dead!"
"I'd like to be dead after the crap they've been feeding me."
"What have they been feeding you?"
"Golden Boy pizza"
"Sweet! When do we eat?" I asked.
"I always loved those slices. But after you've been eating it for as long as I have, it starts to taste like a cardboard square with tomato paste on it." Bob gagged.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the stage as two silhouettes approached. It was blinding to try to see them past the lights aimed in our direction, but it appeared to be Lisa and a tall thin man. The man clapped his hands in mock appreciation. "Congratulations Mister Garner. You are the second editor to survive the dreaded Nested keyframe zoom chroma key sawtooth wipe of death."
I tried to make out the voice, but no luck. He was still just a silhouette. "Thanks. And it's GarDner, mister...?"
The man let out an evil laugh. "My apologies Mister Gardner. And I assumed that you would surely recognize my voice by all my lectures you've attended and by my award-winning DVD collection 'In the Blink of an Eye.'"
The man walked out from the shadows, but it was already apparent to me who he was.
"My name is Murch, Walter Murch."
Bob puked right next to where we were sitting. It smelled like rotten pepperoni.
"Well, I guess I'm never eating at Golden Boy again. Damn!" I gagged.
Murch explained the reason for our capture: "You see Mister Garner, the Nested keyframe zoom chroma key sawtooth wipe of death has always been unattainable by even the likes of me. I lost many a colleague by its hands. I believe the only thing that protected me was my award-winning Standing While Editing™ technique, which I will receive the patent for later this year."
I gagged again. "You can't patent standing, you megalomaniac."
Murch laughed again and walked closer. "Oh you silly computerized-editing boy, you lack the true knowledge of this business, don't you? I will not only receive the patent, but I will produce the Murch Console™ which will only permit standing while editing. Legions of editors, especially that of your era which have never even cut a strip of film, will buy the method and console in hopes that it will make them stronger editors. But you can't buy the skill of editing, you must learn the craft."
"That's funny, coming from somebody that had to abduct two editors who did the work for you in solving the dreaded Nested keyframe zoom chroma key sawtooth wipe of death." I turned my head towards Bob's and whispered "Back me up here, dude."
Bob lifted his head and said "Yeah" and then he vomited again.
"Oh Jeez Bob, the pizza's not THAT bad"
Bob finished puking and said "It's not the pizza, it's his pompousness."
"Right."
Murch continued on. "That was the one thing I could never understand about the Nested keyframe zoom chroma key sawtooth wipe of death until Mister Malloy figured it out. The missing link is not a link at all, but a pen. And not a pen, but a stylus. You see Mister Garner, there really aren't many editors using a tablet as their input device, and even fewer who will attempt the Nested keyframe zoom chroma key sawtooth wipe of death. But with my newly forged alliance with Apple Computer and Final Cut Pro, we are in negotiations to purchase Wacom technology. Wacom will cease to exist and their tablets will be renamed iTablet, in coordinance with the Apple naming system. In 2006, I will be introduced as the face of Final Cut Pro 6 and with iTablet in hand, Steve Jobs and I will travel across the world hosting seminars unveiling the mystery of the dreaded Nested keyframe zoom chroma key sawtooth wipe of death. The effect will be sold as a plugin ONLY AVAILABLE through Final Cut Pro 6."
Bob finally perked up and said, "The Nested keyframe zoom chroma key sawtooth wipe of death was completed on an Avid, Murch."
Walter Murch began to turn red. He turned to Lisa and screamed "Avid? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Kind of like the newly minted Darth Vader in Episode III, but without the cool James Earl Jones voice. Lisa plugged her ears and doubled over as Murch's head began to shake violently. Lisa screamed "OH MY GOD!!! HE'S GONNA BLOW!!!!!!" Murch's head exploded with such a force that it blew Lisa's head off too. Bob puked again, and the smell of rotten pepperoni was a blessing compared to the smell of Murch head on my shirt.
I remembered that I had put my Wacom stylus in my pocket, so we used it to pierce and rip the tape binding our hands to get free.
After we found our way out of the stage, Bob and I walked to Columbus Cafe for 2 for 1 drinks at happy hour. We laughed as we picked off pieces of Murch from various places on our clothing.
Bob pondered the state of editors and the standoff between Avid and Final Cut Pro. "I went to a lecture once where Murch was talking about cutting Cold Mountain on Final Cut Pro and he constantly slammed Avid like he would never use it again. We have to keep our options open and use the best tool for the job."
"Yeah" I replied, "Some people refuse to learn the new tools and they become dinosaurs. Murch became one by refusing to keep his options open."
We decided to go our separate ways. Bob told me he was moving to New Zealand. I told him I was going to Golden Boy to get a slice of pepperoni. Bob puked in the alley. Never seen anybody puke in North Beach before.