A Funny thing Happened

Yesterday, after our weekly staff meeting I was relieved to discover I had received no emails for about two hours. A little weird, but sweet considering I've been bombarded as of late. A collegue suddenly pops his head above the cubicle wall and says that a bunch of his emails to me were getting returned as "undeliverable". Shocked as hell, I take a look in the GAL and find that my name is missing. I call a friend who has access to view Active Directory objects and he confirms my fears.

My email address has been deleted off the corporate mail servers.

WTF??? So I'm sitting at my desk absolutely horrified. I'm busted. I'm about to get fired. But for what? Pr0n, warez, talking dirty to chicks online? Maybe they caught my hand in the cookie jar viewing classified data. I'm screwed. I start deleting "evidence" on my PC, 0-day exploits, NSFW pics of Jessica Alba, chatlogs, etc. I walk around and try to see through the expressions of my teammates. Nothing. I call the help desk and demand an explanation and insist they re-enable my account. Nogo, they can't do anything until the next business day. Fuck.

Then I think back to the meeting and that Panda Garden chinese food I ate in there. It came with a fortune cookie. The cookie said something to the effect of something strange will happen. Don't be paranoid about it.

What are the chances? I don't believe in the fortunes and whutnot but this has got to be a sign from up above. Without delay, I'm relieved.

Besides, I don't have any pr0n on my office system. The company can care less about warez, in fact they've provided many warez to us. 0-day exploits and hax0r tools are supposed to be on my PC. I'm a security engineer for chrissakes. And as far as trying to fuck hoes online, uhmm... no comment.

And just as I thought. It was nothing. Most likely some lackey windows monkey accidental fat fingering some buttons resulting in deletion of my account. :-)

The Joys of Shopping (part 2)

Today I hit Macy's in search a new dress shirt and tie for a wedding we're attending this weekend. I like to dress nice but I don't wear ties or dress shirts too often so the semi-formal shit in my closet looks pimp albeit circa '98 pimp. I had planned on copping a new Zegna or Armani suit for the wedding but ran of time to shop around. So it looks like I'll be wearing my generic '98 cut suit. To compensate, I figured I'd treat myself to a slick Zegna or Armani shirt and tie instead.

I roamed around aimlessly on that annoying 1st floor of Macy's. I was getting hit up by every salesman around the Club Room and Alfani sections while getting blantantly ignored by every salesman in the vicinity of anything that said Hugo Boss and Versace. How distracting. I'm offended that these lamers who probably make less than 16-yr olds who work at In-and-Out burger would actually try to judge me. I pull out the ipod and throw my headphones on, figuring that would that would tell everyone to fuck the hell off. That new Geto Boys blared into my eardrums.

Anyways, I settle on this player $135 Zegna tie (figured I'd wear an old dress shirt in my closet). It screams powerful ex-cassanova, a witty sense of style, and a maxed out credit card. The low-rent Elton John scans it and peers into his screen with a look of skepticism. He sizes me up for a second then repeats the process. Finally, he asks me "Where did you find this?". I point in some arbitrary direction and hint to the butt-pirate that I'm in a hurry. I got bidness to take care of, ya know? He goes off about how beautiful the tie is blah blah blah and says there must be some mistake. He excuses himself and walks around trying to find an identical one.

I'm thinking, fuck... some scammer probably switched the price tag or something. These assmunches will probably try to accuse me of the act. I suddenly feel uncomfortable.

The dood returns with a manager, a low-rent Ellen Degeneres, and shows her how much the tie is ringing up for. They both stare in disbelief. Finally, Ellen helplessly nods and walks away shaking her head. I'm thinking kewl.. i saved 25% or some shit. Thats significant for a baller on a budget.

Elton finally states that I just lucked out and the register displays the damage: $10.85.

BWHAHAHA. You gotta be kidding me right? I asked the dood if I can't get several more in different styles and he shakes his head apparently pissed off that he didn't find this tie for himself. I realize I better bounce before someone catches the price tagging error so I hand the him 11 bux, grab my change, and get out to Stockton street as quickly as possible.

The Joys of Shopping (part 1)

Thursday afternoon I crept out of the office immediately after our weekly conference calls and met up with G for few drinks and wings at 4th Street Bar and Grill. Same shit. Order whiskey and beer pairs. Repeat several times. Discuss sports, bitches, and meaningful current events.

I have a dinner planned with some peeps in town for the wedding so I stop at around four or five rounds. G and I part ways and I'm killing time trying to walk off my buzz on Market Street while waiting for K to call me with the name and location of the restaurant.

I notice a Gymboree and immediately think of my daughter. Man, I love my little girl. She's turning three months this weekend and she's outgrown alot of her newborn sleep-n-play suits. In a drunken haze I decide I must get more...

As I walk in Gymboree I notice the thin yet shapely young fly Pinay folding and hanging clothes. She notices me too. I'm strikingly handsome and exude an aura of confidence. Plus, I'm happily drunk. Girl's got no shame. I swear she's undressing me with her eyes as she coyly and flirtatiously utters "hi". She catches me a bit off guard but I shoot an understanding smile back at her.

Back to the mission at hand. I browse the store in search of sleep-n-plays. I find them at the back. Aww How cute. My lil' munchkin will love this stuff. One's pink with ornate lions and the other is green displaying giraffes. All the while I notice this chick's gaze has not wavered. I grab my angel's size in each and stagger to the register.

Her body language suggests she's still into me. Her gaze into my eyes. Her flipping of her hair. She's sexy. She knows I'm attracted but can't figure out why I'm not trying to number close her real quick. I guess she doesn't notice the ring. She asks me a few questions about if I'll be needing a gift box, etc and I say no. Ahhh. I notice the disapointment in her face. Sorry babydoll. I fight off the knee-jerk reaction of trying to let her know I'm still down despite the circumstances. But naw.. remind myself of my whereabouts. I'm in friggin Gymboree and this little hottie has no idea. Morality gets the best of me.

Luckily she still gives me a 25% discount.

Heartbreak in Houston

The Rockets lay down and lose by 40 to our I-45 counterparts. Both Yao and TMac finish up with strong games statistically but we get absolutely no help from anyone else.

The loss goes down as one of the most disappointing losses in Houston professional sports history as we took an early and commanding 2-0 in Dallas to start off the series. After game two we were considered by many analysts as the team to beat.

We all got ahead of ourselves.

Even my dumbass was screaming idiotic shit like "Bring out the brooms" and "Bring on Detroit".

Lemme tell you it stings really bad.

I do want to give it up to Jason Terry and Josh Howard of the Mavs. These guys played ballz out. Did you hear Terry's interview at halftime? The dude is a fuckin' soldier. Props.

It's time to go fishing for the Rox. I can stop agonizing over each game and bet other games with a clear head.

This offseason the Rockets have the burden of working through JVG's referee debacle and bringing in some new personnel. How about bringing in more youth to the power forward and point guard positions. Can I suggest a Sean May and a Deron Williams?

Yeah, I'm dreaming... besides JVG hates rookies.

Cinco De Mayo

Thursday night, my Sucka Free homies G, M, and E met up for a much needed mini-reunion to let loose and act like college-aged keg mongers. I needed it to clear my head. I had been caring for the lil' one by myself for the past week.

Unfortunately I don't remember much since things got way out of hand.

Here are scenes I do remember:

- Rockets baby, Rockets winning by 18 or so.

- Talking hella shit to a group of older black dudes (Mav's fans) every time the Rockets scored.

- Smokin' latina at Jillians that was looked as if her ass and thighs were poured into tight jeans.

- 2 Jamesons, 4 Patron shots, 4 Coronas, and 1 Pale Ale in my body by halftime.

- Eluding the $40 cover and getting in free at Mitchell Bros

- Grabbing a handful of the first chick's ass I saw in there and trying to talk her into hooking me up for free.

- Immediately walking out after I realized I was out of cash and refused to get funny money from the ATM machine.

- Cutting in front of some fat bitch to place some pool at O.S.B.

- Then getting run out on by some Tenderloin pool shark, probably the fat bitch's boyfriend.

- Bumpin' Sam Quinn and Nickatina at full blast in E's Audi while doing 80 on the 280.

- Killing M at Madden with the Cleveland Browns (two hail mary's, two touchdowns) before he turned off the game.

- Waking up with a nasty hangover and a Cinco De Mayo necklace on.

- Picking up my cell phone that I left at M's this morning.

- Laughing because M was still wearing clothes from last night and still had the Cinco De Mayo necklace on.

Rox Wax Dat Azz

I'm not going to say much for fear of jinxing Houston in Game 7 but this pic should tell the story.

Rockets: Blueprint For Winning Game 6

This is it. Win or go home.

Down 3-2, the Rox on the edge of life after shocking the world with a 2-0 start in the series. Can we put the officiating snafus on the backburner until a NBA Championship trophy is in our clutches? Let your nutz hang or it's back to the drawing board for another year. Can my Rockets come through and emerge victorious tonight?

Yes.

And here's how:

1) Double the dosage of TMac. The man has flat-out done it all this series, scoring, dishing, picking pockets. We wouldn't be here without him. But we need more. We need a Jordanesque performance. We know TMac can hit the jumper as well as the best of them but we cannot rely on it any more. He must take it to the rim. They can't stop him when he does and drives will result in uncontested layups or trips to the line. See how Josh Howard is taking it to the rim every other play? TMac needs to do the same.

2) Pick and Roll them.. to death. It's our bread and butter play. And it is nearly impossible to defend. No duo since Stockton and Malone can do it better than TMac and Yao.

3) Back off Josh Howard. The dood will not shoot unless its a short range turnaround or point blank layup. Quit falling for those pump fakes.

4) Quit flashing that damn "3" signal after you knock one down. This goes for Barry, Sura and sometimes TMac. I was enraged when I saw this. For chrissakes, we were down 6 and they were throwing it up. It's just not something seasoned veterans do. Stay humble, stay hungry, keep attacking.

Benny Salvatore, Watch Your Back

Rockets did not lose Game 5. They did not get outplayed. They lost because Stern and NBA refs wanted us to lose. They lost because Salvatore is on Cuban's payroll (and probably Vegas' payroll too). You fuckin' little turd; you'll get yours.

It saddens me the most that if the zebras didn't target Yao and refereed an honest game we would've closed this series out yesterday. Now we have to sweat a do or die game Thursday.

Art Of Getting A Baby To Sleep

I think I've figured out how to get my daughter to sleep without much fuss. I'm sure this post will be augumented as I learn further techniques.

First of all you have to prepare properly.

Feed her well and immediately burp her afterwards.

Turn off all the lights except the night light. Play soothing music at a very low volume. No classical, metal, or gangsta rap. It's important not to over stimulate her. I use catchy stuff like Norah Jones, Stevie Wonder, or Dido.

Give her a bath or at least a light sponge bath. This signals her that its bed time and it relaxes her. Afterwards change her diaper and put her in sleeping gear.

Lay her down in the middle of the bed underneath her blanket and lay down next to her. Have a pacifier ready. At first she will fight it as she wants to stay up and play some more.

She'll cry then cry some more. Use the pacifier if necessary. Lay next to her, close your eyes and try to get some sleep yourself. Eventually she will emulate you and doze off...

Hayes Valley Cool

Amidst the typical pandemonium of my daily life, wifey, the defiant one, mj, and I squeezed in a short foray into the city. It was my wife's brilliant idea, as she was fiending for one of those tasty panini sandwiches at Arlequin. Destination: Hayes Valley... I'm always down for that.

As most of locals know, SF is really made up of many distinct neighborhoods, each characterized by their unique quirks. It's what gives the city that small town feel. And, it's why it's hard to get sick of SF since there are really so many SF's. You've got the Mission, where working class hispanics mesh with young bohemian types. You've got the Marina, home of young priviledged Bush-worshipping whites. You've got the Tenderloin, the coolest melting pot of crackheads and dirty whores in the country.

I enjoy all the hoods of SF. They each serve their purpose. It's what keeps me so dexterously well-rounded. I get to pick and choose highly specific adventures and forms of entertainment. Today, I got to go to one of my favorite SF neighborhoods, Hayes Valley.

Hayes Valley is the epitome of cool. You have chill restaurants like Absinthe and Arlequin and my all-time favorite SF bar: Place Pigalle. I've only hung out in there a couple times and I could still say that. Both times I drank well-poured pints, played challenging games of pool with some really oddball characters. Chicks are friendly, highly-intelligent and sexy in their own SF-kind-of-way (and they are confident enough to approach you). It sure beats kicking it a Jillians with the same old boring corporate drones and spitting game at fob japanese chicks here for some dental assistant convention.

You have rad shops like the Sake store (forgot the name), where they have the largest sake inventory in the country and HUF, where peeps in the know get the hottest kicks on the city. The clothing stores rock too, albeit they're on the pricey side, but that's only because local designers sell their shit in there. And that's all that comes to mind right now.

Coolest part about it though is the locals. They're a cut above the rest in every way. It's peculiarly stylish: You can't tell if peeps are wearing the latest fashions or hand me downs from their pimp uncles and aunts. Nonetheless, I don't think they consciously care.

They exude high levels of confidence but almost seem excessively friendly in a non-intrusive manner in conversation. Class and racial segregations truly appear nonexistant. You don't have the stuck up Pac Heights trust fund assholes nor do you have the Leftist tree hugger type homos of the Castro. They appear aloof to all that. You see free thinkers who don't feel the need to tout themselves as free thinkers.

I think a lot of trends start here accidentally.

It's difficult to express to someone if you haven't been there and haven't lived in SF for three or more years. But, walk around and hang out here for a few hours on a sunny afternoon. You will understand. This hood is cool.