my muni and me

late last month, i wrote about my experience interviewing for the sfmta's board of directors. you know, the peeps who supposedly work to keep public transit and parking all in order. but silly me, i forgot to post a link to it!

here's an excerpt of one of my favorite lines:
i found that there was a gaping hole in the market/civic center buses, so i finally grabbed a cab. yes, i had to take a cab to my sfmta interview.

enjoy.

you are invited

the last few weeks have been a whirlwind! the pace at work has picked up, i wrote a few pieces on the sf international film fest, and i visited south florida. oh, and i'm planning a wedding! whoot whoot.

with life charging forward a million miles a minute, i guess i shouldn't be too surprised that muni is also running on a tank half full. or empty. or full of red vines. check out this email that i received last night, may 12th, just before 9PM.

(click on the image for a larger version!)

effectiveness
noun
definition: something muni has added to its amazon wish list, but has yet to receive. maybe santa will be generous this year.

dance flash @ the appeal: trolley dances

this week's dance flash: trolley dances

"Picture this: you and your buds, post-40 minute wait at Tartine for the most delicious éclair ever, meet up at Dolores Park, check in with your "tour guide" at the statue of Miguel Hidalgo, and, along with the rest of your group, make your way, via foot and the J, through the Mission, Noe Valley, and Balboa Park, all while stopping along the way to see a wide variety of local dance companies and performers in site-specific works. The cost to you: $2 (your Muni fare)...

But what kind of dance will you see? SF-based Deborah Slater Dance Theater is a sure crowd pleaser, and you've got to feel giddy when watching the SF Merionettes Synchronized Swim Club whirl about in the pool. Former Urban Bush woman Amara Tabor-Smith's Deep Waters Dance Theater doesn't perform in water, but her movement and incorporated text tend to have a liquid feel to them. Knowing Kathleen Hermesdorf, a popular instructor, performer, and choreographer, expect the unexpected (and how can you not? In this video, she gives an interview sitting atop a stove). Also on the bill are Jorge Rodolfo De Hoyos, performance artist and dancer, and Rosamaria Garcia, and Trolley Dances' director Kim Epifano's Sonic Dance Theater.
.."

read more at the appeal.

photo finish

recently, i spent a few minutes clearing out my camera phone images. just like i can't stand the thought of traditional filing (i'm way too fond of piles, cluttering the floor of my closet, and leaving things out in the open where i'll best remember them), i can't just delete these old, useless, reference-less photos without letting them fulfill their photographic destiny.

like this tourist guy and his wife/girlfriend/best friend with benefits. yes, the weather in SF is temperamental, but no matter what, guys should never ever wear capris. they'll make your legs look short and your ass huge, while drawing attention to your sparkling white sneakers and socks. the matching shirts aren't helping, either...

we have a local farmers' market every sunday just down the street (just about six blocks east!) and it's started hosting unpaid performers. on this particular sunday, we had a three-piece band who played strapped into this banana/monkey painting.

this is the same pub that offered hand maid burgers. i've never seen franch fries, but maybe they're french fries covered in ranch dressing?

along the embarcadero, there are these 2 1/2 foot high, 6 inch wide white boxes. all they say are the text above. um... thanks prop. k for using my tax dollars to create this empty, useless white box. bravo.

walking up 3rd street toward my bus after work one day, this guy was in front of me, walking pretty slowly... for some strange reason, i decided to turn off 3rd and take a more circuitous route.

if you have an interest in working in the visa, copy, and ax business, then we're the employer for you! the ideal shop assistant must be able to work long, dark, and dangerous nights and lift body bags filled with up to 200 lbs. of "shredded copy paper." an interest in international wood chopping is optional.


for three days, this bus shelter's bus prediction readout didn't list which bus was coming when. all transit riders got were estimated arrival times without the bus lines attached.

this is the penis tree. or really, the orange dildo tree. at the end of august, someone's arts and craft collective covered a few trees in the panhandle with life-size orange dildos. i had nothing to do it with. i swear.

last but not least, todd and i witnessed a car break-in on fell last sunday night and shortly after reporting it, we got to ride along with the cop and look for the bad guy. we came up empty, but date night sure was exciting!

light up

dear visitors to san francisco,

i know, i know. your arm is tired. not from bench pressing a small nation or carrying a small child like a football, but from trying to hail a taxi here in our lovely, foggy city. i've seen you waving your arms ferociously as cabs (and pizza delivery men) pass you by, and you stomp and curse and yell, but you're missing something. the big "it," so to speak. see that box atop the roof of the cab? the one that says "taxi"? is it lit all bright and yellow like the star atop a christmas tree? no? aha! san francisco taxis signal their availability by the lighted sign on top of the cab: when the sign is illuminated, the taxi is available. when it's not, that means the cabbie most likely has a fare, is going to pick up a fare, or is off duty. there's a slight chance that the driver may have forgotten to turn off the light, but don't get all down in the dumps if you get passed by. just don't waste your energy; you'll need it when touring the academy of sciences or facing down our mighty sales tax. artfully wave your arm and yell "taxi" only at cabs with the yellow light illuminated. or tip a hotel bellhop and have him whistle you a cab.

very sincerely,
becca

they drive me crazy

to make a long story short, i had a crammed bus ride home yesterday where i listened to "womanizer" on 5 different radio stations over 45 minutes. as britney plays in the background when you're barely holding on to the top bar and there's ass grabbing and bus swervage, strange things pop into your head. or my head. behold, a revamped version of the beginning of "womanizer" in homage to the full-busted woman.

original lyrics can be found here. audio version of song is here. i've also embedded the original for your listening ease.


Minimizer
Superstars
I look down, and you’re going
Out in front
of the lace you ain’t flowing

You can play brand new to
All the bouncy t!ts down here
But I know what you are
What you are, b00bies

Look at you
Moldin' more than just a B-cup
Baby you
Hold all my puppies with their strings up

Fakin' like a Maidenform
But I call 'em like I see 'em
I know what you are
What you are, b00bies

Minimizer, mini-minimizer
You're a minimizer
Oh, minimizer, oh
Need a minimizer, baby

You, you, you are
You, you, you are
Minimizer, minimizer
Minimizer

Bra don't try to front, uh, I
Know just, just, what you are, ah, ah
Bra don't try to front, uh, I
Know just, just, what you are, ah, ah

You stopped me overflowing
You're oh so charming
And I can't change it
You minimizer

Bra don't try to front, uh, I
Know just, just, what you are, ah, ah
Bra don't try to front, uh, I
Know just, just, what you are, ah, ah

Some say I'm a D
I look like a C
You're something oh a
Minimizer

all rights reserved by me

hayes there, sexy

i hopped on a 21-hayes bus this afternoon with a dad and his 3-year-old son in tow. the son had a half-day of daycare, and for some reason, was dressed in an adorable tigger costume. they sat down next to an older woman in her 60s, and this conversation followed.

tigger kid: hey, there! you're wearing your costume, too!
older lady (looks down at her purple and turquoise rainboots, lilac leggings, purple, turquoise, and silver t-shirt, two deep purple cloth bags, purple beanie, giant purple glass ring, and black coat with massive amounts of white fuzz): wh-haaaa-tttt?
tigger kid: dad, is it halloween again?

i've got that lovin' feeling

a few weeks back, i was having one of "those days." first i woke up, tried to make french macarons, and after taking a shower, sat down to pet the cat while my hair started to dry. fast forward to approx. 57 min. later when i found myself waking up to a puddle of drool in the general vicinity of my chin and a sleeping kitty at my feet.

an hour later, i tried to rush to work via muni (somehow, i didn't even think to call a cab. getting one near the park at that time of morning normally takes at least a half hour of waiting on hold, followed by the discussion with the dispatch person of where i want to go --"no, not the airport. really. just to work. no. i don't work at the airport."-- and bartering for some sort of pick-up in this decade). downtown, i leaped onto bus #2 at the same time some very homeless dude got on the back door of the second cab. i sat by the back of the first cab, and you know when you get that feeling of "ah, karma!"? well, i got that feeling. he started yelling "jenny!" and pointing. his fingers. at me. "jenny! why did you leave me, jenny?" came bellowing out of his raspy, recently smoke-filled lungs. i did what any good natured san franciscan would do; i ignored him and continued to read my book. but he sat 4 seats away from me, continuing on. "jenny! i've looked everywhere for you. why don't you like me anymore?" the older woman to my left with pink bags filled with green produce and a styrofoam box of lo mein (i know because she opened it to eat it and thought twice as i stared at her, either with disgust or a plea for assistance and rescue- i'm not sure which it was, but there was a look and soon-to-follow eye aversion) started to snicker. i debated getting up and moving, but at this point i only had 2 more stops. it was sort of like the "grease" song where danny sings "sandy" only this smelly thing of a man kept crooning "jenny" at the top of his lungs as our driver pulled as slowly as he could away from the curb and into traffic. luckily, the guy quieted down, but when i got off the bus, he sort of squawked "jenny!?!? don't leave me again! noooooooooooo!" strangely enough, i felt slightly guilty. but also semi-mortified. and still, late for work. but at least i felt loved.

you spin me round

lately, i've been standing at the bus stop, quietly upset that loads of people rush the back doors, muni threatens (yet thankfully doesn't approve) to raise monthly passes, and some of the bus lines may be cut or rerouted to be more "economical" (the 33-stanyan may cease to be my faithful ride from home to the castro and mission in the near future...) thanks to the ironically named "transit effectiveness project."

also, as of a few weeks ago, there were still "golden compass" posters in some of the bus shelter ad spaces (these are 6 months old). sure, i loved the movie, but it's over, guys. time to move on to iron man. or prince caspian. or indiana jones.

with all of this, there's no surprise that muni is still crying "poor me, poor me!" well, am i glad that clear channel finally went out and got some new fat-wallet ad sponsors! may my neighbors finally hear the call of the wild and go out and get some spinning lessons. finally, our bus system will be saved...

queen of hearts

do you know what today is? yes? good for you! it's my grandma's birthday! happy birthday, nana!

oh. you meant valentine's day, huh? yep, it's that day, too. todd and i don't do much for v-day. we're both on the same page, thinking we shouldn't just express our love (and sometime's utter disgust for how one of us--me-- has lost the basic aptitude for multiplying simple fractions on a tuesday night) on one single day. plus, who wants to pay $100/person to have a sub-par meal and feel compelled to throw in an extra $16.99 for flimsy rose petals and two candlesticks for fear of not seeming "in love enough"? right.

in honor of v-day, i searched high and low for the perfect heart-shaped cookie cutters. williams-sonoma, sur la table, macy's, mervyn's, you name it. but the best ones i found ( 1) b/c of the color and 2) b/c the folded metal piece was on the outside of the cutter) were at crate and barrel. and at $5.95 for a set of 3, they were a steal! go get a set. now.

i used these to make hazelnut cookies (which i think i underfilled with scharffen berger hazelnut ganache; they'd be just as great with raspberry jam, too!) and easy breezy beautify fake fudge (which tastes more like chocolaty marshmallow than fudge, but my pregnant coworker doesn't really seem to care... and i think that's a compliment...). the cookies were ok, but they seemed a little dry. perhaps a little bit more butter... and tons more ganache.

mark morford has a great list up of the worst v-day gifts ever. i'm not quite sure what a "fistful of penguin" is, but the rest of it is pretty insightful.

in other valentine's day news, my 21-hayes bus was surprisingly empty this morning, probably due to some post-coital procrastinating and pancaking... which means i didn't get hit in the head with backpacks or have to hold on for dear life! maybe there are some pluses to v-day, afterall:)

b's knees

men are great. really. especially todd. but what's up with guys sitting in their seats on the bus, yet splaying their legs out to the sides? is there a reason why they need more leg room? maybe because something naturally pushes their legs into a frog position? 'cuz i get on the bus, show my fastpass, sit in a seat (if i'm lucky), and then the guy next to me always flops his legs out as if my space is his space. in my head, i say, "buddy. my fastpass covered me for this seat. me. not me and your knobby knees. or me, your knees, and your two books on how to approach women without drooling all over your argyle pullover. oh look! half of your left shoulder is in my space, too! no wonder my arm is halfway out the window. so move it, mister." but i don't. yet i'm sick of losing my space; you know, that small yet important patch of air in front of and within the confines of my seat. having to put my legs out straight in front of me or crushed into the side of the bus because some dude thinks it's ok to let his knees conveniently drop to the sides while he reads his paper, listens to his ipod, and/or clammers away on his iphone-you-don't-phone-phone is so not ok. maybe i should start carrying a taser... buzzzzzzzzz.

two things two-go

there are few things i truly detest in life. two of them, though, are bus cheaters and sucky root beer.

1. (this comment is totally un-pc, but i'm going to say it anyway.) i notice the bus cheating often. you know, those people who want to evade the driver and not pay, or those who want to sneak on and get the last seat before those who got on the legal and fair way can. i especially notice this when the bus stops at market on its way up kearny and towards chinatown. often, if i'm leaving work/the gym after 6:30pm, i hop on a 9x/30/45 so that i make my connection. otherwise, i'm stuck waiting for a 21 along market, which at this time runs every 20-30 minutes depending on if the driver showed up that day. and when i get to market, everyone outside at the stop crowds around the door at the back of the bus and then tries to get on while we're getting off. families, singles, elderly, children, two-headed. the sad thing is, they're all asian, (i've never seen so many white people do this, so maybe it's a cultural thing?) and they never flash their transfer/fast passed to at least make it seem like they paid. they just press up against the door and mill on en-masse.

the other evening, as i was trying to get off the bus, but couldn't, i said, "if you all actually moved out of the way and got on the front, those of us who needed to get off the bus could!" and you know what this little old woman did? she jabbed her cane into my foot as it was on the bottom step and then proceeded to walk up the steps pushing me back onto the bus. um. no. i want to get off the bus. and while i had the huge urge to slap her silly, that would be even more un-pc of me. so i stepped on her. (just kidding!)

2. two-go replaced my lunch's sprecher rootbeer with smuckers. guys, it's not the same! sucky natural root beer makes my 1:30pm conference call even suckier. gah.

this is the true story, of seven strangers, picked to live in a house...

recently, all the city's buses that are attached to electric cables have been made accessible via the online nextbus service. this is a huge plus: i can check on my phone to see which bus line to take, how late my morning commute will actually be, and if i have time to stop by the mailbox/puppy tied to the newsstand/dry cleaner/neighborhood rave on my way to my stop.

there are a few snags, though. last night, i was waiting downtown for a bus, and the service told me the next sweet ride was coming in 28 minutes. what?!?! how long? i tried to flag a yellow/luxor/checker/big dog/city/national/any cab to no avail, yet low and behold, 5 minutes later, my bus shows up. hmmm. this morning, the 8:15am bus was late, so i looked it up. next bus in 22 minutes. um. no. i called muni (it's on speed dial, mind you), which is now transferred to our "new and improved" city-wide 311 service, yet i received poor and worsened assistance. ah, my tax dollars at work. "the next bus will arrive in 15 minutes, ma'am." i responded, telling her that nextbus said 22 minutes and that this line is supposed to run every 8 minutes during the morning commute. "oh. well. i don't have current bus information, but i am told that no buses are missing from the line." now, the old muni customer service line used to give you up-to-date bus info, and if they didn't have it, they'd practically flag down the bus for you (via radio, no flags included) and find out or use their esp to dig the info out of the bus driver's brain as he's parked his partially full bus outside of el taqueria to run in for some chips, salsa, burrito grande with all the fixins', and chicas, but not anymore. funny enough. 3 minutes later, my bus arrived. so what's the moral of today's lesson? i'm still unsure, but i'm pretty sure it has something to do with going with the flow, everyone's different, you just need to deal with whatever's thrown at you, and what do you expect for $45/month.

nerve gas

i lucked out last week when my main squeeze offered me a ride home after work. yippee, i get to ride in a car! most likely, i slightly resembled lulu, the great dane we had when i was growing up, what with my head stuck out the window, hands clutching the door, and ears, tongue, and hair flapping in the wind and all. but then i had a scooby doo moment (yes, another great dane! they're the best pooches ever.), where he goes "ruah ruow," and his ears perk up a little bit. $3.77 for the low grade of gas? the station across the street was 40 cents cheaper, so i think this is what is commonly referred to as extortion. but as i normally ride the bus to and fro, my extortion exposure is pretty low, unless you count paying $45 a month to hang onto a bar by your pinkie while getting crushed by busloads of people, many of whom whack your head repeatedly with their fashionably oversized yet commutably irresponsible handbags, before tearing yourself away to bolt towards the door and out into world, all the while going a mere 3 miles in 40 minutes, increasing the frizz factor, and perspiring enough to fill a kiddie pool at high noon. at least the clouds were sort of pretty in the background.

a freak at heart

i've been riding the bus to work for the past 9 months (before that, i walked to work, and before that, well, i took the bus). at first, i'd board the bus at my "regular stop," that is, the stop closest to my apartment that is also closer to downtown. after awhile, though, i was fed up. by the time i got on the bus, there would be no place to sit (especially if a bus was missing from the line), and i'd get crushed in the back. getting off downtown was a nightmare, with the bus driver often closing the back doors and moving on to the next stop before all of us scramble through the loads of unaware riders superglued to each other, all sticky, sweaty, and exhausted from being crammed into a too-tight space for all of us working professionals, school-bound children, and miscellaneous riders. after some thought, i decided why not go to the next farthest out stop? it's the same walk from the house, but 1 block west. that first day, i was elated- nobody else waits at that stop. and why? there's no coffee shop or dry cleaner or mailbox or corner store/porn depository at the intersection (and you know how i love porn with my morning coffee). now, instead of fighting with 10 people for those last 6 seats, i'm 1 of maybe 3 or 4 happily placing my round tookas in 1 of 10 seats, and i don't give anyone a concussion with my gym bag or umbrella. someone passed along this link to me today, and i'm glad to know i'm not the only one who's realized this (although i didn't do it in such a scientific way).

smile, you're on candid camera phone!

two interesting sights on the bus recently.

the first one i'll refer to as nose man. now, while i've had a crooked nose for years, i'm finally looking into getting it fixed cuz it'd be nice to be able to breathe well, not snore and wake up the neighborhood, and take sick days for things other than constant congestion and sinus pressure. but if i had a nose that had a flat tip like a hammerhead shark, well, i would have had that thing fixed years ago.


the second image is from our weekend with todd's cousin and friend, both from boston and more accustomed to the new england way of life. we were out giving the traditional nighttime tour of the panhandle/lower haight/castro area of the city. surprisingly, we weren't offered any balloons, shot at, or hit on. instead, we discovered biking attire nouveau (take note, mom, em, and kevin!), and this was truly the best sight of the night (although i feel bad for the possum).

muni and the pussycat dolls

I keep forgetting to charge my mp3 player, and lately, this has forced to me to either listen to my busmates or zone out. Preferably, I trank out in my seat, staring out the window for my 41-minute trip. But when I don’t, I hear some pretty great stuff.

on my way home a few weeks ago, the woman next to me whipped out her cell phone:

woman on bus: yo, why you gotta talk ta me like dat, huh? why can chu talk like no adult, eh? what's wit chu? f*&k dat, man, don chu know i got bible study tonight?

Personally, I wanted to join in the conversation, strap on some thigh high black boots, wrap myself around the silver pole closest to the bus' back door, swing my hair (with long wavy extensions) in circles, and sing "don't chu wish your bible study partner was a saint like me. don chu...." but no, I just ground my nose farther into my book of the day. typical becca.

another evening, a bunch of girls were in the back of the bus, listening to a cd on a portable dvd player (i guess it's the new boombox?). the music was loud and, well, crass. I can’t believe I just used the word “crass.” there were young kids on the bus, and one 5-year-old boy asked his mom what a certain word from the song meant. this particularly quick-thinking parent responded: "honey, that's like a little furry kitty cat." boy, had that been me, i would have stammered, turned red, and said "uh... why don't you ask your father?" so if when i have kids, they're wearing super duper noise-canceling-out earplugs on the bus at all times. in fact, so will i.

muni tails

i started my holiday shopping early this year. i made my list of who's been naughty and nice, calculated the current postal price for shipping coal, and came to the pine-tree sniffing conclusion that i should pick out (most) of my gifts in person. that's right. amazon.com would be relegated to the difficult-to-find items (such as a genealogy computer program for the grandpa), and i would buy everything else on foot. i started a few weeks ago, even purchasing gifts for 3 people prior to thanksgiving. this weekend, i braved the storm downtown and made a mad (which transformed into the crazy) dash throughout the new mall. after 3 hours of incessant lines, indecisive shoppers, and throngs of people haphazardly milling about, i threw my hands up in disgust and hopped a bus home. and that's where i thought the most awful shopping event ever would be over. but this is san francisco, right?

i was sitting next to, well, someone. i had my headphones on, listening to NPR and whatever illustrative commentary they were providing, while also contemplating our dinner options (pasta, pasta, or... frozen potato pancakes by the dozen. little star pizza won out in the end.). we got to civic center, and the person (hey, it's a woman!) next to me says something. really, with my high-quality headphones from cowon, it was all just a jumble. so i take them off and ask her to repeat her question....

fizzy haired, green eye shadow up to her eyebrows, purple flowing house dress lady: i have a cat question.
becca: um... kay.
lady: you just seem to be a cat person. you have this big aura around you, one that just screams that you enjoy cats.
b: me? eh... i have a cat.
l: yes. i can tell. and you've had cats your whole life.
b: well... pretty much. i also had dogs growing up. big dogs, little dogs... is it the fur on my polartec? alphie loves to snuggle up on it.
l: no no no. i mean throughout your past lives, you've always been very close to cats. they've always been your confidantes. and i can see it all, right now (starts waving her hands).
b: on the 21 hayes? you can see all that on the bus? you sure it isn't just my exhaustion from almost getting eaten alive at the mall?
l: so i have this cat problem, and i know you can help me. i've had dogs most of my lives, but for the past 12 years, i've had cats. and i just put in a cat door so they can go inside and out. do you think they can learn to use the door? or should i wait until they're kittens again?
b: kittens? um... again? like... in their next lives?
l: right
b: well... you can always teach a dog new tricks, so why not?
l: oh, look at your aura... it's glowing.
b: yeah... look, a bus stop! and it seems to have an aura to it, one that's calling to me. this isn't my stop, but... i'll take it.

plug and play

yesterday on my way home, i was chatting on the phone with my mom. now, when i ride the bus and talk on the phone at the same time, i try to be quiet and respectful of those around me, and i hope that others do the same. and if i need to mention something private or potentially embarassing or lewd, i cover myself in a hoodie or with my hands or -- now here's an idea-- i just wait until i'm off the bus. whoa.

but yesterday, the guy sitting next to me was also on his phone, talking to some girl (and i knew this because i could hear her side of the conversation, too- buddy, turn down the volume! i don't need to be privy to the intimate details of last night's sexcapades) about how he likes their friends-with-benefits situation because all he really wants is to have someone to keep him warm at night and it doesn't really matter who it is, but he at least knows her name, so that's something special. um... what, so all she is is a space heater to you? and do you just keep several of these heaters around, picking one depending on the weather and cleanliness of your down alternative comforter? couldn't you just buy some flannel pajamas and call it a night?

muni gets tail

muni has been uneventful lately- no crazies (at least not since the beer-suckling woman from last week's 8:20am ride to work) or anything. but this morning, i get on my 21, and what do you know but the seats next to me and across from me are slathered in dollops and smears of clear goo. who do these seats on the 21 hayes think they are, getting all lubed up on the morning commute? what, someone's going to come rub their ass against it and a few months later, out pop little muni seats? cause this surely doesn't ease our transportation crisis or the seat/space shortage. so muni, please keep your intimate actions private and get a room. and a towel.