I have a cold, my foot is broken and I’m on a bowel rest diet to hopefully avoid having to take prednisone for my colitis. I’m a mess. I used to think FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) was just a stupid excuse my ex would use for never missing the newest iteration of the same party we’d gone to roughly 3 times a week for almost 2 years.
I was wrong, FOMO is how I feel right now as I pack some mashed potatoes (easy to digest) into my craw. I’m missing Books and Beer Club at Hella Vegan Eats tonight. Most of my friends are going to drink beer outside next to a graffiti mural and some multicultural families. It will be a perfect Oakland night. Later, I’m going to pack some white rice into my craw.
I hate that my happy fierce critter brain has been kicked to the curb by the overbearing beast of my body. The next round is coming and who doesn’t love an underdog? Just ask all my mother who is still feeling the Bern.
P.S. I just heard from my friend T, organizer of tonight’s club meeting.
T: And this is why I don’t plan anything
T: There’s gonna be 3 of us
T: Cuz no one else is coming 😦
Come to think of it FOMO is pretty dumb.
Kristin Parke knows not to play with handcuffs unless she has a key within easy reach. Kristin, a security consultant and alumna of Hackbright Academy (a software-engineering school for women), was one of 60 women to attend a lockpicking workshop in San Francisco put on by Women in Security and Privacy (WISP). In addition to Kristin, a white-hat hacker and penetration tester by day, I met law students, professionals and techies while learning about delay mechanisms and lock design at the one-day workshop that SFGate dubbed one of the weirdest classes in the Bay Area.
Read the rest of the story in The Bold Italic.
Today was our summer intern’s last day. We shared him with another office in Oakland’s Uptown, so we all trucked over there and ate Oaxacan food at Agave. The door is indigenous peoples meets Ikea. I though the food was just OK.
I learned a couple things from dining there, however. I thought the carnitas in my so called Oaxacan Empanada was dry. I didn’t know that there are two schools of thought when it comes to carnitas. The meat can be moist or crispy according to a fellow diner. The carnitas at Agave is “crispy” not dry.
The reason I ordered the Oaxacan Empanda was for the Oaxacan cheese and there wasn’t enough. When I asked my server if the appetizer portion was enough food he said that it was basically a quesadilla but the dough was different. He said it was masa (corn). I thought Argentinian empanadas were made with wheat?
I just didn’t order any mole because of that one time in Mexico City with the projectile vomiting. I can’t be sure what’s lurking under that thick black sludge.
Here’s a common online dating scenario: I’ll see a blurry group photo of the back of a bunch of rock climbers’ heads or a playa-party pic showing mask-clad Burners and think, “Which one is he? Is that his sister or his polyamorous companion?” Then I’ll scratch my head and sweft. I understand that people who post these pics think that group photos and activity shots show that they have interests and friends. Everyone has interests and friends. But I like to see a clear shot of a guy’s face — his clothed body — and not much else.
In a recent scientific paper made available last month, How Smart Does Your Profile Image Look? Intelligence Estimation from Social Network Profile Images, researchers at the University of Cambridge’s Psychometrics Centre concluded that “intelligent people have fewer faces in their images.” If you’re really an ass hat, you’ll post a photo with your sisters who look like you but are hotter.
Read the rest on The Bold Italic.
I have a huge professional crush on Mary Roach. Since her first book Stiff she’s been making me LMFAO and teaching me science. Last night she spoke about her new book Grunt and military science at an Oakland Public Library and I learned the following:
Maggots dive face first into food, which necessitates ass breathing.
Scientists add a pleasant top note to military grade malodorants (stink bombs) so that people will inhale deeply.
Astronauts use the term fecal popcorning to describe the sound that their poop makes as it bounces off the walls of the space-toilet.
Mary Roach is not that comfortable with being labeled a science writer, she prefers nonfiction writer.
Her first science-related writing job was marketing for Gorilla World at the San Francisco Zoo.
As a writer you shouldn’t try to be the next…you should create the work that others want to emulate.
There’s a bunch of idiots out there that want to tell Mary Roach what she should have called her book Packing for Mars in order to stick with one word titles, which her other books have. Those people appear at book signings and won’t stop shouting out ideas until she makes them.
It turns out that I’ve been walking around on a broken foot for 3 months. I wish I would have gone with my gut and asked to see a foot and ankle specialist earlier. Apparently the bone I broke in 3 places often doesn’t heal and I might need surgery. For now I’m rocking a boot and an electric blue pedicure. I’m happy that my foot will finally have a chance to heal.
My doctor said the bruising on the bottom of my foot after rolling my ankle was an indication that there was a bad break. Everybody including my doctor just kept saying sprains take forever to heal. In my case the pain increased over time. I hate to go to a doctor and have them tell me it’s all in my head. I waited. I waited too long. Don’t be like me.
I’m full of the hulking slab of prime rib I ate yesterday. I’ve always wanted to go to San Francisco’s House of Prime Rib and I finally got to go. Other notable meat eating experiences in my life include attending a graduation dinner at Lawry’s in Beverly Hills with the granddaughter of Richard Frank (brains behind the Beef Bowl) and the time my friend A and I went to a churrascaria and begged for vegetables.
My date ordered fish because he is (said with some degree of fondness) a pussy. I ordered the biggest portion of meat available the King Henry VIII Cut. Did he have a huge meat stick or something? Internet says yes, his codpiece was quite substantial. They carve the meat tableside off an unpleasant looking (even for me) giant slab of cooked cow hanging out in a zeppelin.
We also enjoyed sour dough bread, salad dressed tableside, baked and mashed potatoes, creamed corn and spinach and Yorkshire Pudding (not actually pudding.) I couldn’t handle meat “seconds” offered by the waiter. I was satisfied by Henry.
My friend T told me recently that Casa Orinda in Orinda has better prime rib than House of Prime Rib. I like the idea of an “old west” theme at Casa Orinda even though Yelp says it’s an Italian restaurant. My only beef about HPR was that it wasn’t dark enough. I like my steakhouse dim like Taylor’s in Koreatown in Los Angeles.