Old friends, again!

I am the proud owner of my THIRD ipod photo 30GB music listening device. My first one was acquired the spring of 2005. That one died after I knocked it off a railing onto a concrete floor 15 feet in the wrong direction. I got it replaced using a questionable equipment insurance maneuver, which set me back $69. The refurbished ipod lasted up until last week, aged just over three years. The most recent death was in no way my fault. The hard drive just cracked and died with absolutely no notice. It was making terrible noises in there. Just dreadful.

Forlorn at the prospect of having to purchase a similar device when I am more or less unemployed, I gathered the misbehaving equipment and headed to the nearest genius bar: Bay Street, Emeryville. Perhaps these smarypants hipster cranks can help me out. I was not optimistic, but it's worth it at this point. I am unemployed, so I have plenty of time to fight these petty battles afterall.

I expected little more than a referral to their shelf of newest ipods and "touches" (dumb name). But I was surprised. Way surprised. In a good way!


The ipod photo is a far superior model than most would ever admit! I love this thing!

The helpful genius bar worker told me I could get a replacement piece of equipment, but it would require a transfer fee. The cost? A reasonable (and more importantly), doable $59! Bingo. Bingo. Sign me up! Added bonus is that the replacement is the exact same model as I had before. I don't get video, but that's a good thing! Such technology would just create problems for me at this point. I'd end up wanting to watch episodes of Arrested Development or the Office while I am out running. With that distraction possibility, I might as well just throw myself in front of that garbage truck and get it over sooner that later.

Now I will get to the part of this posting that relates to the title of this posting.

Getting a new ipod required me to clean up my itunes, and by doing so, I located many favorite albums that had for some reason or another been erased from my former device. I re-added Pinback's albums (haven't listened to those in 2-3 years!). Listening to Rob as I type and loving it! I also erased a bunch of other worthies: Rilo Kiley, Martha Wainwright, INXS! Good Lord, the riches of having these friends back in my life.

Fridge purge

I certainly know how to spend a Saturday! After clacking away on the computer for 6 hours, I left school with the intention of going on a run when I returned home. I even changed into my running clothes before leaving school to ensure that the deed would be done. However, during the short ride home I got a massive headache which seemed to intensify when I performed even the most menial of physical exertions (like getting out of the car and unloading the trunk).

With my good intentions spoiled, I did the first thing that I thought might relieve my aches and pains: I downed a glass of white sangria. I made a big batch of it last night, so the dregs of the pitcher were especially well-infused with cheap white and a splash of Christina Brothers brandy.

While fishing the pitcher out of our crammed fridge, I noticed that the shelves on the door were well over full occupancy. Quarter-filled jam jars, countless bottles of aging salad dressing, even a bottle of mango chutney that belonged to my ex-roommate Garrett. Apparently he didn't trouble himself to take it with him when he vacated last October. I began to wonder, "Just how old are all these jars and bottles?"

And thus began my long and thankless evening...

The question had popped into my head many times before - usually at periodic intervals when I had free time. Something always seemed to get in the way of me actually acting on the impulse to purge these shelves. And every year, it seems that new small jars of spicy mustard, olive tapenade, mole sauce, and chutneys are added ad nauseum to the rotting spoils.

Tonight I put all that jar procrastination to and end. This evening I purged no fewer than 25 jars, bottles, and other fetid containers of food stuffs. I decided to empty them in the trash as much as I could before rinsing the contents down the sink. Good idea, considering the age and peculiarities of our plumbing system over here on Grove Street. This strategy, while saving the pipes, also created a dirty bomb of a mixture in the trash can. Towards the end I had to pour nearly 30 ounces of 4 year-old Hershey's syrup on all of it - kind of like a dessert topping for a meal of pungent, intermingling condiments that should really never be mixed together. Under no circumstances whatsoever. The smell was nauseating.

Now the fridge door has an occupancy rate of nearly 40%. I am very proud that I didn't wimp out and just throw all the bottles and jars directly into the trash. My recycling conscience is at least proud. I apologize in advance to the waste management personnel that will take charge of this stinky soup on Tuesday morning. I can't even imagine what this stuff will smell like after three more days in the heat. Aye.

Riding his hog

Greetings after a long spring and summer hibernation.

It is well into August. What a summer so far. I've seen quite a bit and witnessed some tragedy along the way.

Today there was some action going on at the Grove Street garage. My landlord Neal pulled out his 1987 Harley from one of the storage lockers out back. He's been working on it the last day or two. This afternoon he took it on a spin to test out some improvements he's made on it.





I took out the garbage and Neal asked me to come look at it. On the front wheel cover, there is a large, steel hog - sort of like a motorcycle hood ornament. I can practically see Neal wearing all the biker regalia that this bike demands of its driver - fringe chaps and suede vests are a minimum.