Home is where the plane lands

Last weekend I attended a wedding in Philadelphia. Home of Liberty. Cradle of the United States. I was actually in the wedding as a part of my continued JBA studies. For those that are unaware of that acronym, it stands for Jew by Association. This was my second stint.

It was a Jewish / Chinese wedding which gave it a certain flair. Two friends from ad school, Mike and Susan, who make the unlikeliest pair. Until you hear them both laugh. At which point you know they are perfect for each other.

Being in the wedding, and flying from the left coast, I didn't have much time to explore. Friday morning, I did manage a quick breakfast with my man Bill. Dutch country French toast floating in a kiddie sized pool of butter. Bill moved to Philly to be Head Art Director Honcho and Master of All Things Virginia Tech at an agency called Stick and Move. A great little shop started by the illustrious Steve O'Connell. Himself a fine man and known for his ability to collect great sums of metal from award shows the general public knows nothing about.

On Friday night, it was great to catch up with several old ad school friends. And to buy them beers. Which were astoundingly cheap. That is to say normal priced. It was also fantastic of my friend Elizabeth to drive all the way from Syracuse just to be my date. That is to say make me look good on the dance floor, meet people awkwardly and be best friends with them in a matter of minutes, stand around a lot as I was off making sure Mike didn't sweat through his tux, generally be wonderful to me and make sure that I didn't get cranky. I can do that at an outside wedding where it's 90+ and I'm wearing a black tux while my precious Tar Heels lose to ECU in the second football game of the season. She handled everything with plenty of grace and charm so I didn't have to. I heard, "She is so lovely," again and again.

Once the happy couple was hitched, dances were danced and cake was eaten, we all went back to the hotel bar for story time and high philosophy. We solved the world's problems, told many tall tales and waited anxiously for Mike and Susan to make an appearance in normal clothes. They did. And left appropriately quickly thereafter. There was a breakfast on Sunday but I missed it as my flight out was set for 8 a.m. and I had to return the rental pig that I had been driving around. Which was bright orange. With Jersey plates. If my driving didn't say I'm an a-hole, the car was screaming it for me. But el pig did have XM radio so I got to hear the last second field goal that sunk my team. Crap car.

Once the car was returned and I made my way to the airport with the other bleary eyed and harried passengers, it was time to check in. At which point the counter person asked where I was headed. "Home, to...San Francisco," was my reply. Hitch and all. I actually had to think to not say North Carolina. And a bit of me was sad. And another bit of me was not. There's a couple things that will never change. Mike will always be loud. Susan will always be razor sharp funny. Elizabeth will always be lovely and NC will always be home.

Just not right now.

One small yo-yo trick for mankind.

So the not very interesting part of my night last night was peeing next to Al Unser Sr.

Here's how I got there:

For the last race of the season, Infineon raceway hosts a dinner fundraiser for a charity they work with. As Infineon's agency, we had several tickets to the event. I snagged two. Any trip to Sonoma is gasoline well burned. I invited my friend Stephanie and picked up fellow copywriter Philip and his lovely lady Violet. As we made our way to Sonoma in Juju the MINI, we were quite excited because Chuck Yeager was listed as the Grand Marshal for the IRL race the next day and we hoped he would make an appearance.

We arrived at the Jacuzzi, yes the perma-bubble bath inventers, winery fashionably late and found Jessie, account person, and Matt, her man. After meeting and thanking the President of Infineon we wandered about what could only be called an Italian estate replica complete with church and piazza. Quite picturesque. Eventually we were given our table assignment. There were at least 20, if not more. And as my delicious dinner of filet o' steak quickly disappeared, entertainment was appearing on stage. Before I go further, I should mention that Stephanie who is normally a vegetarian finished her steak before I did. Obviously, quite good.

So I was floored when Rick Mears and Al Unser were introduced and brought up on stage. There in front of me were two men who had won a combined 8 Indy 500s. They spoke about their approach to racing and what they loved about it. It was incredible to watch legendary history reflect on itself.

And then it got nuts.

The President of Infineon got back on stage and said they had a special guest they wanted to bring up. Someone who was a race fan and had called him to see if he could get tickets to the race that weekend. Under the table, my fingers were crossed for Chuck Yeager.

Nope. Neil Armstrong. The first man on the moon Neil Armstrong. The Neil Armstrong. Walks up on stage.

So Steve, the Infineon President begins to ask Neil some questions. Neil tells us that the astronauts used to have a little nip off the bottle before they would strap into the rockets. And to be quite honest, who could blame them? But he also said they would be straightened out by the time they got to the moon. Comforting. And hysterical.

Steve then asks Neil why he didn't do a stunt like Alan Shepard and hit a golf ball? Neil responds that he did do a trick but Buzz left the lens cap on the camera. He says he yo-yo'd on the moon. Seriously. He then proceeds to show us a full repertoire of yo-yo tricks. All the tricks from my Duncan yo-yo trick book that I could never ever master. Rock the cradle, Moon launch, shoot the moon, everything. And he's doing them well. So here I am in the audience watching Neil Armstrong doing yo-yo tricks from my childhood. To music. With a little shuffling dance in between tricks that made him appear like the cartoon dog Mutley. Obviously Neil was chosen for more than just his flying abilities. The man is a natural born show man.

Once this was over, the crowd clapped heartily and started to file out. I made my way over to Neil. Surprisingly, not many people did. After introducing myself, I shook his hand. He's a bit short. And obviously an incredibly funny and mischievous man. He is full of personality.

After the shock wore off, I headed for the exit and decided to duck into the bathroom. At which point, Al Unser walks in after me. There's a bit of a line and eventually Al Unser is using the stall right next to me. In my head I pondered the glance to see if his cajones are indeed made of brass, but I decided just to believe that they are. How else could he have driven that fast for that long?

Once I was back outside Stephanie decided she also wanted to meet Neil. So she and Violet went off to find him while I stood in the courtyard still in shock. Apparently he said to her, "No, no, I don't give handshakes to ladies," and offered her a hug. Which, according to Steph, went on a little longer than the standard hug and apparently included some belly rubbing. Sheer genius.

So on the way home finally, we were all in awe of the entire evening. It was beyond words. We just kept asking each other if it actually happened. Well, if it didn't then we all had the exact same very vivid dream.

My first Carolina fan.

I'm getting more and more excited as football season approaches. Carolina's last coach was a good man but it seems not a great coach. That changed when we hired Butch Davis who has brought plenty of excitement to the program.

Several of my fraternity brothers are moving to the area this fall for various grad school programs so I'll definitely have someone to watch games with. Now if I can just figure out where.

I also met my first real life Carolina fan the other night. Ironically enough, she was my cab driver. She had attended Carolina a few years prior to my arrival on campus and had been a Biology major. From the stories she gave it a good go but in the end she was made for other pursuits. But she couldn't have been happier as we talked. And she certainly had not lost her love for the Heels.

To keep me feeling at home, I'm co-hosting a pig-pickin' here at the agency with an Art Director who also calls NC home. SunDrop. Cheerwine. Pig. Slaw. Buns. All the goodness one could want. We'll sit on the roof in the shadow of the Transamerica building and show CA just how it's done.

So, now that I know there are fans here, and a bit of pig, that's just a little more of home.

SF Profile #3: The Level 7 Towel Fu Master

Viciously he assaults the firebox without mercy. Strike after strike with what appear to be common dish towels. (A firebox is literally a red box on a pole with a phone in it in case there's a fire nearby. After the "big quake" where half the city burned, they're a bit twitchy about fire around here.)

Back to our hero. As I walked up Van Ness Street, he continued to slay the box with three towels and skills obviously learned from years spent studying Drunken Master technique. The sway. The off kilter, ravishing attacks. The incoherent smack-talk. Eventually one of the three towels fell from his grasp but our hero pressed on. Behind the back. Swirl technique. The fall down fake.

I could not stay to see if he ever found mercy and finished the firebox. I was walking toward a theater up the street to meet a friend for the Simpsons movie. Somehow I think the firebox survived. Being iron and what not.

A gym with a view

In the workout area of my Y, are several windows that face out over the bay. You can see the ferries going in and out, sailboats depending on the wind, and on occasion great big behemoths delivering more and more trade deficit from China. It's just ridiculous that something as simple as the Y, has this incredible view over the docks of the Embarcadero. Sure my membership is more than twice what I was paying in Winston but I guess that's the cost of wonderment.

Work is good. We're working on a bit of new biz. Tequila client which could be fun. It is after all one of my two favorite liquors and the one that seems to conjure up the best stories among friends. We've been so busy with other clients that not much attention has been given to the "war room." I hope that changes soon. If we are successful, we will have a chance to create this brand from scratch. Having attempted that once before, I hope we are more thoughtful about the process at my new agency.

I have found a favorite client. The San Francisco Food Bank. Right now I'm piggy backing on work that was created before I got there but I feel the radio I've written is pretty good. It's not all world and some of it might even be a bit trite but I think it will be effective for them. Also, it's great to work on something that at one point in my early past, could have even helped my family.

I've also realized just how lucky I am in the roommate scenario. Trav is a good guy and we get on well. We're both similar and different enough that we have good stories and interesting thoughts to tell each other at the end of the day.

I've also found that I now live in a city where there can be too much to do. Sometimes you just want to take it easier than the city will let you. You find yourself craving a movie in the afternoon. A book on the couch. But, it's certainly better than being forced to be that calm because there is nothing else.

I do miss my family and great friends. Although I also find many of them are all too willing to come and visit. And now that there is a futon in our extra bedroom, all of you are more than welcome.

About the only thing I've got to figure out now, is where I'm going to watch Carolina Football games at 9 in the morning.

"I'm covered in Rubber"

Molten rubber to be precise. The post title is a quote from this past Sunday when I attended my first ever NHRA Drag Racing event at Infineon raceway. The dragsters and their rabid fans were surreal against the rolling hills of Sonoma.

The event was easily one of the loudest experiences of my life. The top fuel dragsters run nitrous through 8,000 horsepower engines. To give you an idea, one piston produces more HP than a NASCAR. They would start with a burnout which would send nitrous fumes and rubber filled smoke toward our seats. The effect of which made me look like I had black chicken pox. And if you tried to wipe the rubber off your face, it would just smear. After the burnout, the cars would line up and the start lights (Xmas tree) would light up. This was the moment where you cover your ears. Even if you have ear plugs. Because in short order, all hell breaks loose.

4.5 - 5 Seconds and 12 gallons of fuel later, the "car" is a half mile away doing 327 miles an hour. And it feels like a thunderclap has just happened right in front of you.

At one point an alcohol dragster, only 4,000 HP, overpowered it's wheelie bar and went over backward. Luckily the car went airborne and landed back on the wheels. The driver was fine. She actually returned to the track and cheered on her teammate. Yes, she.

Another event of the day was Cops versus Kids. Where cop cars would drag race against High Schoolers in their supped up rides. Only 2 cops won. Out of 10. And all the cops got a head start. The crowd was definitely cheering for kids, not the pigs.

Friday was also quite eventful. I attended the Daft Punk show at the Greek theatre on Cal's campus. Took a party bus over. Heard The Rapture open. Pretty good. Then large black curtains covered the stage. Once DP came on, it became one of the most incredible light shows I've ever seen. I'll let the photos and video that my man Alan captured speak for themselves.

Photos: http://public.fotki.com/ace33/070727/
Video: http://www.youtube.com/user/EYZA01

It was also one of the loudest shows I've ever heard. My ears took a beating this weekend. Thanks very much to the angel who gave me ear plugs at the show.

I live in a bowl of Jell-O

At least that's what 4:42:22 AM felt like. My first earthquake. And a 4.2 one at that. You can find all the details here.

What's amazing to me, is all this information was up and available within hours of the actual event.

So, it really did feel like I was in a Jell-O mold that some kid was having entirely too much fun jiggling. No one was hurt. I think one thing fell off my roommate's mantle. It didn't last long and was fairly quiet. I'm just glad I wasn't standing up at the time.

But I do find it ironic that first earthquake experience was actually in Winston-Salem.

SF Profile #2: The hander-outer.

They are the holders of dreams. Of fantasy. Of quick fix and faster cash.

They lie in wait. At the top of the mass transit escalator. Sometimes around corners. So sneaky. Some brazen and right in the middle of the sidewalk. Ready to spring their pamphlet on you. Or this morning a simple innocuous card. So innocent. Just take it. Please your curiosity. They stand there hands out in full confidence that what they hold will change your life for the better. Make you stronger. Make you faster. Make you more than you ever hoped more could be.

The secret they carry is just for you. And the thousand other fine people who, while completely different from you, will benefit just the same.

It's the next big thing. Like Soothsayers they proclaim, "My little magic card will be all over the news next week but you can get in now."

But the hander-outer has a nemesis. The straight ahead, I couldn't possibly care less stare. A stare it has taken me a month to perfect. The look that says, "I'm no sap." A stare worth learning. Because the hander-outer will soon make an appearance near you. They might not be as polished. Or as persistent, but they will be there. Those keepers of ambition. Those purveyors of sure things.

Ho Hum

Just another boring weekend. Friday night found me at a lovely little French Restaurant enjoying a steak with a rather sublime blue cheese sauce. The perfect medicine for the days that preceded it.

SaturDAY was spent working on radio spots but SaturNIGHT and a bit of Sunday morning was full-on dance partaay. A friend of my roomie's birthday party. Julia, she turned 33. Trav (roomie) DJed while in full Band Leader uniform complete with Capo. It was a costume party. I went as a human.

It's a different experience walking into a club with the opening DJ. I was given a grand tour by the guy who designed the sound and light system. And was looked after by the bar staff as if I was a local. Perhaps I kinda, sorta, just maybe, am.

Sunday was another Giants game. This time against the Dodgers. Great rivalry. Not so great performance by the Giants. Barry popped up 5 times. Perhaps you shouldn't always swing for the fences with the bases loaded and down by two runs.

Then it was home for a Sunday dinner with Trav and his girlfriend. A thick pork chop, grape chutney, salad and cottage cheese pasta. All good.

So, just another boring weekend in about the perfect-est city ever.

2,753 Miles

2,753 miles from home (SF) to home (NC). And I'm feeling every single one of them today. One of our dogs had to be put down. She was 20 and it was time. But it hurts not to be able to be there for my mom. I know it's hard on her. Foxy is now in a better place where you get cookies just for being. You don't even have to pretend to go outside.

There's some other news going on with another family member as well. And it's fairly serious. I knew there would be days where being across the country would be tough. I just didn't realize it would all hit at once. And this hard.

At the same time, all this reflection reminds me that I am the luckiest man on the planet. The job I have. The friends and family I have, even if most are far away. The stories I'm collecting. Every day is a blessing. Staying focused on that will get me through.

Erik Estrada likes house music.

Or at least his long lost twin does. It's an odd thing. There are a lot of people in San Francisco that look exactly like other people. Today I went to this house music event and there was Erik Estrada. Sort of. And a girl who was throwing down on the dance floor was the spitting image of my friend Anne DeMartini.

Perhaps it's me projecting my wish for my friends to be here with me, but I swear almost everyday I see the near perfect replica of someone I know.

It will be interesting to see if on my visits back to the East coast, I begin to see twins of the friends I make out here.

Or maybe I'm just nuts. That's certainly plausible.

La fete premiere

A title en francais to honor the French who helped us with the Revolutionary War. I'm sure they showed us many excellent methods for retreating. Glad we didn't use them.

July 4th marked the first party in the new pad. 3 DJs. Lots o' people. A strawberry rhubarb pie. Just enough beverages. A love hammock. Hot fire & John burgers. Several iPhones. One demonstrated by an actual Apple employee. Carrot Cake. Couple dogs. All around a good time.

I met many of my roommate's friends and they are best described as good people. And hot people. And hysterical people. Lots of fun conversations.

At one point, Cannonball Run was playing on the projection screen TV as several of the guys laughed that Jackie Chan's character in the movie was aptly named ... Jackie Chan.

Guest entry from Eric Sykora (Eamon's Cousin)

I left the East coast early Friday morning and arrived on the West coast Friday afternoon. When I arrived at the Oakland airport I had to find a way into San Francisco. I asked for directions on how to get to the BART station. I took the directions to the bus to take me there where I discovered I needed 3 dollars in exact change causing me to ask the nice ladies behind me for an extra dollar.

When I finally arrived in San Francisco I walked about three quarters of a mile to Eamon's office. When I was walking down Pacific I almost passed the small doors of the old fire station. When I got inside Eamon came down stairs to show me around and introduce me to his co-workers. And about 30 minutes after meeting the co-workers I had taken money from each and everyone of them. Thanks to the 2nd ever game of Wall-Ball.

With my $12 in winnings I was off to the San Francisco Giants game with Eamon. We decided to check out the iPhone madness at the Apple Store on the way. We stopped to admire the 1000+ eager customers ready to get their hands on the greatest thing since sliced bread. Then we met up with Eamon's friends Lee and Bart before heading down to the game. The Giants stadium was nothing short of incredible with it being located right on the bay. We also got to see Bonds 750th home run.

When we woke up on Saturday we headed around the corner to a good bagel shop. Then we headed off to Coit Tower where we got a good look at all of San Francisco. After, we took a walk around the city and walked through some cool shops and galleries. One shop looked like it was stocked full with movie props including a sweet oversize flash light used as a lamp. Then we wandered over to a Mexican place Eamon knew about where we got a Burrito that weighed almost as much as we did. After packing up the unfinished giant Burritos we were off to more exploration. For dinner we headed to a cool sushi place called Tokyo Go Go. They had a huge selection of fish which tasted incredible.

On Sunday we moved about six boxes and two suitcases to the new house. Half the boxes were dvds, which took us about 15 minutes to just sort them out by genre. For lunch we stopped by a cool pizza joint where we picked up a couple slices of pizza with a San Pelligrino Limonata to drink, the killer meal. We also got to take Juju out of her concrete cell in the basement. It was quite fun cruising around town with the crazy pissed off drivers flying by. After a day of moving we stopped by a cheesesteak place around the corner from the new house to grab some dinner. We took dinner up to a park on top of Alamo Square where we could watch the sun go down on the city.

This was my second visit to San Francisco, last summer I got to do a lot of the tourist stuff. This summer I got a chance to just hang out and hit up some of local places that I wouldn't have known about as a tourist. I'd have to say that it is a pretty sweet city and I'm a little jealous of Eamon's new home. I leave tomorrow for North Carolina, its going to be sad leaving such a cool city, but I'll definately be back for more than just a weekend.

Humina, humina, humina

I want an iPhone.

As a part of yesterday's adventures, my cousin Eric and I stopped by the Apple store to see the legend that is iPhone. It's hard to believe that 6 months after its announcement it has arrived. We jostled for position at the iPhone altar and I was eventually able to hold one in my very hands.

It's the real deal.

Everything works exactly as it's supposed to. The web was quick (no doubt due to the store wi-fi). The screen is gorgeous even after being pawed by masses of people. Movies look incredible. Typing on the keyboard is fairly quick and intuitive.

If you are only considering the iPhone, don't dare touch one. The case must be made of some addictive substance that will have you throwing $600 at the nearest Apple clad individual. The precious was the only thing Eric and I talked about whenever there was a quiet moment the rest of the day. I even had a hard time going to sleep last night because I started thinking of it.

My guess is Apple, and unfortunately AT&T, are going to make a great deal of money as people finish out their contracts over the next year or so.

Apple is now repeating a famous Eddie Murphy joke: "I got this Mot#!@$%&#(#^ now."

750, 25, 3, 2, 1

750th Home Run
#25 - Barry Bonds
3 good friends
2 hot dogs
1st time at a Major League Baseball game for Lee O'Brien

Last night I saw Barry Bonds hit home run 750 against the Arizona Diamondbacks. It was my first time in AT&T park, and it's quite an amazing place. Big slide for the kids in a giant Coke bottle, miniaturized version of the park for whiffle ball, water jets that spout off when a home run sails the wall, more food than you can imagine, and some pretty ridiculous views of the bay.

My cousin Eric is in town and it was my friends Lee and Bart's last night in town. I was able to grab the agency tickets and off we went. We got there a bit early and saw a bit of batting practice. Lee was amazed by the whole scene. The grass, the size of the place etc. I was amazed by the overpowering smell of the garlic fries.

Many of us got official hats. Another indicator that I'm old reared it's ugly head. I started working the bill of mine into a perfect curve. My 18yo cousin was working to keep his perfectly straight.

I have to admit, I'm a little torn. I'm a lifelong Red Sox fan. But the Giants are my local team. I think I can follow both though. One's American league, one's National. The Sox lead all of baseball. The Giants are way out of the wildcard race before the All-Star break.

Yep, pretty soon this will be my city.

SF Profile #1 - Ghetto Blaster Guy

This morning I was making my usual walk to work. A walk that takes me right by Washington Square Park. In the park are a lot of morning regulars. There's the group of old Asian men who solve the world's problems quite fiercely. There's the group that does what appears to be a sword based Tai Chi. There's also a larger group that does regular, as in non weapon aided, Tai Chi. Then there are several folks who are practicing on their own. There was also a woman doing Yoga who I had not seen there before. She was also getting her picture taken rather professionally so I think it was for show.

As I got about halfway up the side of the park, I noticed a guy across the intersection with a pretty good size ghetto blaster. And as I got to the corner, I could hear the bass enhanced thump of his speakers while we waited for the traffic to stop. It eventually did and right after we passed each other, he did a very interesting thing. He turned off his beats.

I looked back and it seemed as if he was turning them off for his walk by the park. He was looking over and taking in the scene as he went by. It was fascinating. Here was a guy about the size of Radio Raheem, albeit with a smaller ghetto blaster, who knew his beats were the wrong energy for the park.

It's amazing how considerate of others the mentality here can be. Now this does not apply to personal space as you will brush shoulders with just about everyone on the sidewalk. But hey, I was impressed.

Of course, his 8 D batteries might have just given out at that very moment, but I'm going to choose to believe I heard the click of a stop button.

Guest entry from J-Bizzy

Visitor #1 here. The past fews days have been a blast... great food, company, scenery, and exercise... yes, exercise. Uphill both ways is no exaggeration. Eamon's apartment happens to sit just above God's throne... and I have a slight gimp in my leg after hiking to and from his scenic space atop Russian Hill.

For those of you who haven't been here, it's a really cool place. And pretty laid-back for such an urban area. Last night we had the "best burger in San Francisco" at Mo's, which seems like it's pretty accurate and might extend throughout the west coast. Quite tasty. Although I don't know if I needed to finish the 98 oz chocolate shake that we all had to have after seeing Eamon's delivered.

All-in-all... very good times. But I must confess, my biggest internal joy is watching Eamon have to take the Mini (or Juju) out amongst the city and see the look on his face as he parks so close to other cars. I don't know if others have shared the experience of walking 4 miles across a North Carolina parking lot with E because "my baby needs her space".... but those of you that have might chuckle picturing my man having to squeeze here into a tiny urban parking spot beside would be door-dingers.... or better yet, parallel park her ON THE STREET.

Priceless.

Everything old is new again.

This is a sort of the mantra in the advertising world. Everything has been done. You've just got to make it new all over again. Sometimes I believe it. Sometimes I put a stake through its trite little heart.

But, this little bit of language was very true this past weekend. Visitor #1 to SF is none other than the great Joel Bowers. It's been fun to share with him the things that made me go, "oh, wow," and then watch his reaction.

Lee and Tiffany O'Brien are also out here. Lee for a conference. Tiffany for shopping. At one point, they suggested we meet up at a Tiki Bar on the corner of Broadway and Stockton. Turns out, that's Chinatown. Joel and I had a great laugh standing smack in the middle of Chinatown trying to find a Tiki Bar. We couldn't be sure it wasn't there as I have no idea what the Chinese characters for "Bamboo Hut" look like. Turns out it was several blocks down next to the all nude strip clubs. The Hut was shady. We went elsewhere.

Joel also introduced me to Eric and Christine Strohl. As it turns out, I worked with Eric back in the Long Haymes Carr days in Winston. Crazy I know. Eric was kind enough to tell me where to find Cheerwine in SF. I was floored. He seemed amused. Now I'm just giddy that my favorite city also has my favorite beverage. Another sign that I just might make it here.

Also, some of the typically endemic agency conundrums seem to be popping up at my new agency. But the new bit is this place actually seems capable of breaking out the holy water and exorcising the little demon bastards. At least they will if I have anything to say about it.

How the heck did I get back in college?

At least that's where all indicators say I am. My furniture is IKEA and made out of particle board. I spend money like it's my job. I walk everywhere. I'm learning a ton about life and nothing about academics. Most of my friends are back home. I'm thinking of buying a mountain bike to get around and it will likely get stolen.

IKEA was a blast this weekend. I got more than one warning just to take a weekday day off rather than brave the weekend but I decided to go on Sunday and as Dads typically hate shopping, Father's day IKEA was quite bearable. Found a bed, dresser and bookshelf that should fill out the room perfectly. The actual shopping was quite interesting because there's a path on the floor that you have to follow to make it through the store. And you basically walk through every possible section. It's like a theme park ride that costs lots of money. Including the lines of people waiting to ride. Forgive me if you already knew this, I was an IKEA virgin.

All of the boxes were delivered yesterday to the new apartment. I was able to get off work early to meet the movers and they were magically there exactly when they said they would be. Once the boxes were in the room, I got ambitious and decided to put some stuff together. The dresser was an absolute pain. Too many moving pieces. The bed was dead easy in comparison. The shelves I put off for next time. They are quite large and will probably need a man at arms to get it done. Besides, after the four hours of bent over construction, my lower back decided to remind me I'm no longer in my 20s.

So, I now have furniture. That's cheap, stylish and disposable. And as one of my co-workers mentioned, it's perfect because if I ever do find a soul mate, it's all going in the trash anyway.

My MINI is GINORMOUS!

Juju arrived yesterday. I had to hike down past Pac Bell park to pick her up and I must admit, that is one gorgeous baseball stadium. The truck that delivered my MINI was not small. 53' was just the trailer. The cab had enough square footage to make most San Franciscans jealous.

Once the car was off the second floor of the trailer, it was time to drive her home. And that's when I realized how gigantic my car truly is. There was a delivery van that couldn't have been more than 4 inches from my left side mirror at one stop light. And there were many more close calls usually involving completely out of control cabs.

Juju and I scaled the steepest hill in SF to get to my building to find that the parking space the corporate housing office bragged about endlessly was basically a shoe box. She said it would be perfect as I'd have two walls all to myself. And as we parted company she casually mentioned I might want to back in. This took me 15 minutes. There's a reason it's perfect for a MINI. Two motorcycles would be too wide.

So, this weekend I realized I really actually do, no it's serious this time, live here. For real. Somehow my subconscious still believed this was all a really sweet vacation. And on Sunday, it kicked in that here is now spelled home. Was a bit of a shock to be truthful.

I have found a place to live. Starting July 1, I'll be residing at 438 Scott Street near Alamo Park. Victorian. Has a garage. Rent will be $1125. One roommate. Projection TV, backyard with a hammock, good sized kitchen. Central to just about all the restaurant and nightlife neighborhoods except North Beach.

This also means this weekend will be the IKEA trip. If a post doesn't come out of that, I'll be sorely disappointed.

The oldest man alive is rollerblading around SF.

Something really weird happens when you find out a San Franciscan's age: they turn out to be much older than you thought. Apartment hunting, I met this 50 year old woman who I swore up and down was 35. She liked going out, had a boyfriend, loved salsa dancing. I can think of several friends who would have hit on her mercilessly.

The potential roommate I’m grabbing a beer with tonight is supposed to be 29. He probably has a hard time getting into the clubs he’s DJ’ing. Last night I met a 37 yo dentist. I definitely have more smile lines than she did.

Now during my apartment search, I haven’t seen even one that’s got a hyperbaric chamber in the bedroom. There are no Juan Ponce’s Fountain of Youth Cafés. Many of the people I’ve met seem to be very into Yoga. The aforementioned dentist recently made a Yoga specific pilgrimage to India.

Or they are lying about their age in some Twilight Zone reverse kinda way. I can’t wait for everyone will take off their masks and reveal their piggy faces. (Speaking of, spotted a Piggly Wiggly shirt in North Beach Friday.)

I’ve been trying to figure out the formula to calculate my age in SF years but so far it’s just made my head hurt. Here it seems you don’t lie about your age, you brag about it.

A pic:

The view from my corporate housing living room.

More pictures coming but the Fountain of Youth I'm enjoying is closing up shop for the evening.

Uphill both ways but without the snow.

Today was the first day at the new job. Dig the agency and there are notable differences from my previous office. For one, no one is panicked. There is no one sitting over creatives' shoulders making sure their very important door hanger is done. It's a bit weird to be honest.

So to the point of the title. My walk to work is uphill both ways. Seriously. When I have grand children I can actually tell them that I had to walk uphill both ways. I might even add snow to the stories. Heck, by then global warming and polluting corporate a-holes may have turned SF into the great frozen tundra.

And who knows, with all this asphalt hiking I might even grow a butt. If I could shift the mini-gut that's started to make an appearance into a gluteus magnificus, all the better. Although, given my proclivity for women and most SF men's penchant for other mens, perhaps developing my posterior is not in my best interests.

But this vertical complaint is truly all in jest. My walk today included the legendary Lombard street twisties. Can't wait for the Mini to get here so I can slalom my way down. If you don't know the legend of Lombard, peep this. Once I got to the bottom, I also had an incredibly scenic view of Coit tower. I know, my life is hard.

My last meal turned out to be Cheerwine. How perfect.

It's official. I now live in California.

I was welcomed by my corporate apartment. Which oddly does not include interweb. In SF. A city that prides itself on being among the most wired. So here I sit in a cafe enjoying a bagel and Odwalla Superfood. Tasty green stuff that I'm convinced only I drink. Mostly because every time I have one, whoever I'm eating with makes a face like a scrunchie and says, "What are you drinking?" Then they taste it. Then they like it. Then they never buy it.

I needed the Superfood to make up for my last meal in NC. Mom made me a wonderful breakfast of eggs, thick cut bacon, love and toast. The vittles fortified my strength when they dropped me off at the airport with my 5 bags of luggage. On my way to the gate, I overpaid for a Cheerwine. I figured it would be the last one I'll see for a few months so I might as well enjoy it while I can.

Little did I know a cherry soda and peanuts would be half my dinner. My plane was a bit late to NY so my layover was short enough to wonder if my bags would make it. They did. I'm grateful for my clean socks and underwear. The rest is clean too, not to worry. But the point: Racing through the airport, I didn't stop for food. My lunch and dinner was a bag of crackers, a bag of cookies, some flat cheerwine and a ginger ale.

We were also late to SF because we had to circle quite a bit. All the while I had to pee quite a bit. And those airline stewards can be bathroom nazis when the plane is on approach. Or more factually, circling endlessly while telling everyone we are on approach.

Arrived at the apartment. No idea where I am. Asked the night guard where to go eat and somehow managed to show up at 4 restaurants as the kitchens were closing.

To make a long story short(er), I wound up with tap water and some granola bars. Made this morning's bagel with cream cheese, basil, tomato and bacon quite delicious. And this morning's Superfood quite necessary. But here I sit. At the corner of Columbus and Newell. I'm now off to see what the rest of the route to work looks like. I can tell you the first part looks like the scary down hill bit of a roller coaster. In Hades. Actually the part below Hades cause this particular "hill" is that damn steep and that damn long.

Twas the night before take-off

It's been a day. My 30th birthday. My friend Heather gets married. And there was much packing to be done. Again.

Woke up bright and not so early. Several friends came to visit last night for a celebration over John burgers (more on these in a later post), Cheerwine and home-made ice cream. We sat on the porch attempting to rock away the pounds we had just earned and enjoyed each others company until the wee hours. It was an odd collection of old school, new school and newest school and it worked perfectly. I truly appreciated the effort of those who drove down just to spend some time.

Back to today. After packing, hanging out with Aunt and cousin, packing some more, hanging out, packing and hanging out, it was time to make my way into the who knows where part of Charlotte for Heath's wedding. She married a wonderful man named Ashley and I laughed more than I should have when the Presbyterian Minister said, "We are gathered here today for the wedding of Heather and Ashley." Being an only child, I'm easily entertained.

As I walked up to the church, I recognized an old college friend named Ivy. She re-introduced me to her husband Brian and told me of her recent bundle of joy. She now has two. We all proceeded inside for the ceremony which of course was lovely. Heather's father, Mr. Massengale, was as proud as ever. Ms. Massengale looked great. As usual.

After the ceremony, it was off to the reception. Ivy saved my skin by talking with me the entire time. I thoroughly enjoyed catching up with her and was struck by the difference in our lives. Her with a new kid. Moving to a bigger house. Married. Me, none of the above. She envied me and my move. A bit of me envied her.

At the reception were four different women that at one point or another, I thought about attempting to date. Of course, I actually dated none. All of them are married. All of me is turning 30 and moving across the country.

When Ashley and Heather appeared, I quickly said my congratulations and goodbyes. I was yearning to be home with the fam. Once I got home, we did what we so often do. Had John burgers for dinner. Sat and watched a movie. I packed. Mom helped even though she didn't want to. John was funny. Mom was supportive. I don't know what the heck I was.

So, this is my last night at the homestead for a while. I plan on being back for the holidays. I should probably book that soon, so I'm not spending truckloads of money.

This post is meandering, but then, that's exactly how I'm feeling right now. As if I'm sort of wandering along meeting up with the guide posts I stuck in the ground many months ago. 6 months ago I said I'd like to be in SF. Soon I will be. And yet somehow I'm still a bit surprised.

In the beginning, there was packing.

Can you imagine the days before the launch of the Death Star? Those Imperial Troopers must have been going nucking futs trying to get everything packed. I mean good lord, it's a 5,000 bedroom, 2.5 bath, planet. I've got a one bedroom, I'm leaving behind most of my furniture, and it's still too much junk. Buddhist monks aren't deep thinking minimalists. They're practical.

Ok, so this is the blog where I tell you all about my move out West, new experiences, new people, new pictures and new entries in my notes. And new smackdowns from deep thinking monks who read the first graf.

I created this because there were a lot of people who've been very kind and offered to take me out for various meals before I go. Even breakfast. This means one of two things. Either, I have a lot of great friends who would like to keep up with me. Or, I have a whole lot of not-so-friends who are all too glad to see me out the door. I'm going with the first. Not sure my inner child could take the second. If nothing else, maybe my mom will read this.