let's go oakland!

baseball season's in full swing, which means i'll be baking again. this time around, i'll be posting thoughts and experiences regarding my a's fan experience at MLBlogs, and you can check it out here.

do you know the way to santa fe?

last week, while walking through the tenderloin, i got the best psuedo-job proposal in, well, months. there was sun out, and i'm sure at least one plainclothes cop in the area, so i figured i could walk from van ness to leavenworth unharmed. i get about 2 blocks into my 4 block walk, and this plaid/baggy pants man comes out of nowhere and starts walking. with me. at my pace (slow but getting faster. much faster.).

man: hey, girl! whatcha up to? got a job?
becca: um... (honestly, no, but neither does anyone else in this area of town. at least not a legal one that's reported to the irs.)
man: want to come with me on a trip? i've got a band and some instruments and a van, and we're going to new mexico next month for some gigs. we could use a girl like you. whaddaya say?

now what about me screams homeless rock band director/tour masseuse and sexual fantasy coordinator? was it the relaxed fit, bootcut khakis? or perhaps the book in hand that had lots of 4-syllable words and no pictures? note to self:
1) make effort to blend in with the locals. schedule trip to madame s.'s.
2) check out things to do in santa fe.

i'd like a super hero, but hold the onions please

justice league has been mia on an irregular basis, but at least i can get my superhero fix, thanks to robot chicken!

how not to interview someone

over the past 6 years, i've gone on countless interviews. some were calm and boring, while others the complete opposite. here's my top list of things not to do when interviewing a candidate:

1. don't continue to look at my resume when you can't remember my name. yes, sometimes 5 little letters can be tricky. if need be, stencil my name on my forehead beforehand. i won't notice it, but you sure will.
2. don't allow the security guard to interview me first. otherwise, he might just hire me without your consent.
3. don't curse every f^cking fourth word when f^cking interviewing me. for some f^cking odd reason, it just f^cking puts me off.
4. when giving a tour, do not include the secret room where you keep the superman costume and telephone booth. however, do introduce me to clark kent.
5. don't mention you've somehow managed to run through 4 temps in 5 months. your business might be stable, but i may question your mental stability.
6. don't ask me to handwrite my employment information onto your own application. really, you're asking for trouble. this is the girl who never officially graduated from handwriting class in 5th grade and was forced to use pencil for the remainder of the year. but if you really want me to scribble my job history for you, at least leave enough room. a 1/2"x1/2" box isn't big enough to detail my underwear preference, much less my job title, responsibilities, and achievements.
7. if you're a placement agency, and you have no positions that i might be remotely eligible for, yet you encourage me to come in for an exciting interview that could change my future, be prepared to receive a dry cleaning bill within the week. remember, every trip on muni presents a 50/50 chance of me ruining my one and only suit. and i really. like. my. suit.
8. i don't want to sell insurance. or newspapers. or children from peru. or be an enterprise rent-a-car store manager. so stop spamming me.
9. and if you really like me, don't go searching for my blog. and if you find it, keep it on the down low. and if you want to live a long, healthy, organic life, don't tell my references about it.

new daily schedule

6AM: wake up to sounds of cat howling. damn sun. put cat under arm, spoon, sleep, drool. repeat every 5 minutes.
7:12AM: groggily walk to kitchen. throw can opener and can of cat food at cat. fall fast asleep on hallway rug.
7:16AM: wake up to shrimp and lobster-scented face bath. enjoy exfoliation, but recognize that this is. not. normal. rinse skin and hop back in bed.
7:31AM: kqed officially announces it's time to wake up. for todd, that is. steal his pillow and return to dream state.
7:55AM: toes are not a second meal for furballs. roll counterclockwise out of bed. refill cat water (with brita, of course). rinse toes.
8:00AM: normal morning routine: brush teeth, wash face, apply 4-inch fake eyelashes, check-in with personal assistant (i.e. whatever i wrote on back of hand yesterday), breakfast, email, perezhilton.com, fantasy baseball.
9:00AM: Dawson's Creek
10:00AM: some kind of housework (vacuuming, ironing, pillow fluffing, spider smushing)
11:12AM: bodywork: gym, PT, yoga dvd, crunches, stretching, pedicure, scrubbing notes off hand, temporary tattoos
12:28PM: lunch (mac & cheese, potato & green chile burrito, toast, salad, grapes, chocolate chips and wheat thins)
1:30PM: job searching. check all sites (craigslist, opportunityknocks, ynpn, idealist, hotjobs, careerbuilder, chronicle of philanthropy, northern california grantmakers, foundation center, sfgate, monster, oakland a's, poledancersrus, etc.) at least three times.
4:00PM: wow. the cat used a can opener. try to teach cat new tricks, like smushing spiders or fetching cheese. fail at spider task. guess they don't taste good. run out of cheese. cat posts ad on craigslist for new owner, preferably one who works at cowgirl creamery. receives 28 responses in 7 minutes.
4:12PM: phone rings! yes, they want to hire me! no, they want me to give them money. pout and stomp feet.
4:15PM: think about dinner and what i can make with broccoli, strawberries, flour tortillas, quinoa, and hummus.
5:00PM: call Rotee.
5:45PM: todd arrives home. confirm i got lots accomplished. hurridly place paneer tikka masala in front of his nose before he asks more questions.
7:00PM: vow to go to grocery tomorrow. and make go kit. and search and apply for more jobs. and visit laundraumat. and get cheese.

i got panned

i hopped in a cab the other day and the bellman who flagged the cab told the cabbie i was going to the panhandle. after i get all situated- yes, one must wear a seatbelt at all times unless on muni-, i gave the driver my cross-street, and all seemed well. until this (and yes, this is the acutal conversation. and i'm still very, very confused.):



cabbie (in a heavy accent): so what is the panhandle?
becca: you mean what is the area? or why is it called the panhandle?
cabbie: yes.
becca: um... so why it's called the panhandle?
cabbie: yes, what is it?
becca: it's the long strip of green that shoots out eastward from golden gate park. like the handle of a pan.
cabbie: no, what is it?
becca: the green part. it's grass. replanted by parks and rec. every so often. also a nice plushy home for bums and hobos and pit bulls.
cabbie: no, what is it?
becca: ah, the area around the panhandle? it's the neighborhood pretty much north of the haight, bordered by oak, stanyan, grove, and baker. it's sort of a netherworld, so it's been dubbed the panhandle. we're not the haight or the richmond or western addition. someone in the maps and planning dept forgot about us way back when.
cabbie (really frustrated. accent gets stronger. becca looks furiously at phone, just hoping it will ring, buzz, break, etc. perhaps door will accidentally fling open, and she'll be flown free of this experience.): no. what. is. it?
becca: a piece of long green park and also the neighborhood around it. like a saucepan. it's the saucepan's handle. therefore, we can happily deduce that it's the pan's handle, or more casually referred to as the panhandle. get it? huh?
cabbie: got it! thanks for being so patient with me. english isn't my first language (really?). why were you downtown?
becca: job interview.
cabbie: really? what do you want to be?
becca: dunno. i was thinking exotic dancer, but my knees just aren't up to snuff.
cabbie: i've been looking for a job. i want to be a paralegal, but for some reason, nobody will call me back. what do you think the problem is?
becca: umm. well, obviously it's not your inabilty to express youself through prose or words. how's your resume?
cabbie: my what? i don't have that yet. i'm still waiting to graduate. but i keep submitting my interview, and nobody has requested me.

new hobbies for me, pt. 2

now that i have random spurts of free time, i.e. not sitting on my butt waiting for someone to tell me that she brought her sleeping bag to work, spent the entire weekend "looking ahead," and peetered away her sunday completing 6 of MY 10 projects for the week while using the yellow stairs as her own private stairmaster, i'm finding myself slightly bored and unfocused. here are several ways for me to get back on track:

1. move furniture around. suggested layout: fridge to living room, bed to living room, computer to living room, wine rack to living room. record macro for later use.

2. after intro classes at mission cliffs, feel like spider-woman. return home, throw on yellow rubber spider-like gloves, strap on window cleaner and scrubbie, and cling to fire escape in attempt to wash windows from the outside. hope that tobey maguire is nearby, just in case.

3. reorganize fridge contents by type. or color. or weight. somehow, decrease access to the cheese while promoting leafy greans, apples, and ketchup. call in to npr's cartalk, asking where the chocolate belongs (sure, it's not a car question, but those dudes are just too funny!).

4. create trip planner that actually works. and is woman-friendly. factor in hills, 6th/7th streets and Market, puppy sightings, martini bars, and hot straight men. patent and sell to muni for a bundle of money. oh, and name it wo-muni.

there's no crying in baseball

ichiro lovers, unite! the mariners are in town, and like most other mlb teams (minus the yankees, who either stay on nob hill or at some super duper secret swanky hotel- i haven't figured it out yet.), they're at the westin until tomorrow. my favorite westin bellman confirmed this for me, and while i haven't seen him today, he'll also probably agree that you can still find felix hernandez drowning his sorrows in a shirley temple at harry denton's starlight lounge or the cheesecake factory (michael minna's required a reservation, so he had to take his tears off-site).

AP Photo/Marcio Jose Sanchez

snl on mmt

what better way to start your week than with some light political humor and al gore?

apparently the youtube link doesn't work anymore, but you can find the clip here.

just hum with me

this week has been a whirlwind of informative interviews, mad-dash job searching, and ... well, that's it, really. so today I broke out the mixer (i really need a kitchenaid, hint hint) and made martha stewart's hummingbird cupcakes. now, i didn't have a fresh pineapple on hand to make the pineapple flowers (if i could, i'd just reach out my window, tap the tree a few times, and let a ripe pineapple just saunter it's way to the ground, but i can't. we live in san francisco, martha. fresh pineapples are as rare as you wearing synthetic fabrics.), so I used dried pineapple slices from trader joe's. and i don't overpower my cupcakes with dollops of frosting. but these cupcakes turned out pretty well. plus, if you leave off the frosting, they taste pretty muffiny- and who doesn't love a hummingbird muffin (or 5) for breakfast? just note that the recipe says it produces 24 cupcakes, but we ended up somewhere near 36. and what will i do with 36 cupcakes? perhaps i can make a hummingbird sandwich...

sticking it to the man

do you know who stephen colbert is? if you've been hiding under a rock for the past few years, your answer is probably no. you may know him as ace of snl's ambiguously gay duo. or a schticky reporter on the daily show with jon stewart. or now the host of the colbert report. but did you know he was the keynote speaker at the white house correspondents' dinner this past week? sfgate has posted links along with some commentary. it's side-splitting, and i commend cspan for showing it in its entirety. and did i mention it's hilarious? hill. lair. eeeeeee. oooooooooos. makes you wonder who was dumb enough to invite him, what with bush just 5 feet away and staring him down with his evil laser beam eyes.

photo by REUTERS/Hyungwon Kang
embellishment by me