knowitallgirl

Welcome new blogger Nathan! Ok.

Welcome new blogger Nathan!

Ok. I'm really doing it. I'm running a marathon. On September 22nd I will hopefully complete the Maui Marathon. It's a great course, should only get hot as I round the bend on the Honoapiliani Highway. (Thank Pele it's not in Kihei!)

I'm training with Team in Training to support the Leukemia and Lymphoma society. Here are my honorees, Shelby and Eddy. I met Shelby last night -- what a cutie!

Anyway, you'll all be hearing more about this soon as I come to you, begging for the $3600 I need to raise!

What I love about SF:

What I love about SF:

I walked across half of the city yesterday in 2 hours, visiting 3 parks, taking in fantastic views of the entire bay, and ending up in the Haight where I bought a long camouflage skirt for twelve bucks and ate some spicy Thai noodles.

What I hate about SF:

It was absolutely perfect out last Thursday and Friday, and then when I awoke on Saturday the world was covered in FOG. The entire weekend was foggy with small breaks in the afternoon and cold. Just in time for the long weekend. Wah!

So, lately I've been noticing that I get asked for directions at LEAST once per week. Yesterday this dude in a bright yellow Mustang Mach 3 convertible asked me for directions in Noe Valley. Of course, being a knowitall, I had a map on me and was able to give him perfect directions. But seriously, I'm beginning to think that I have some special psychic gift . . . that if you dropped me in, say, Japan, I would still be asked even by natives. (By the way, I give good directions!) I recall my mother telling me once that even as a kid both she and my father would routinely ask ME for directions to places.

What does this mean? Am I channeling the spirit of some great dead cartographer? Are GPS satellites feeding my head? It's not even just some blonde girl pickup thing either (though I think my generally non-threatening demeanor makes me more approachable) -- when I give directions, I don't get picked up on, and now that I think about it I tend to get asked by more men than women, which defies two stereotypes (men not asking and then men not taking advice from a woman).

Anyway, I'm having fun with this concept . . . the conflict between a woman who can tell everyone else where to go and how to get there but can't figure out where her own life is taking her . . . though I am getting better. Maybe I'll have to start asking myself for directions.

The line ends at El

The line ends at El Rio? Apparently this misguided soul hasn't heard of The Argus. Sad.

I am so guilty of number eight.

I had a thought this

I had a thought this morning as I was reading about the new rules for market analysts imposed by the SEC. Basically, these (mostly) guys are being told they can't manipulate the market any longer to artificially protect the interests of the banks that pay them. This to me is indicative of a general point of view I identify with conservative interests in this society (particularly Republicans) -- which I can summarize as "give us the free market as long as we can manipulate it for our own interests and whine when the government steps in to level the playing field."

Frankly, I think this culture can sustain itself as long as it remains closed, meaning as long as it's kept as a Good Old Boys' club (or at least people who identify with those interests) you can count on everyone else in that circle to maintain that point of view. Now, the pressure is on to call things as they are and say, "hey, this company sucks and it's stock isn't worth shit" no matter whose old frat buddy from Princeton is funding it. Meaning, once you start bringing in more people from the outside to break that veil of perception (like, say, women and ethnic minorities, or hell, just some non-Ivy Leaguers) it becomes far harder to maintain. Frankly, it makes me wonder if the market's been manipulated this drastically now for, well, ever, and just now that enough lay people are being brought into the investing fold that this is being uncovered (Ha-ha, that's what you get for hyping the market and getting too many inexperienced people in the door. Some people actually learn what it means to be a shareholder and figure out they have rights and can affect how a company is run. I bet there was hope we'd just all invest our money and remain ignorant. Thank you, internet.) Anyway, I think it's interesting. So there.

Bay to Breakers photos! These

Bay to Breakers photos! These are all "before" shots -- you definitely don't want to see the afters, as we were cold, wet and drunk. (And admittedly, we saw neither the bay nor the breakers -- we cut into the race late and gave up before the end.) And proof for my mother that I'm not jaundiced (maybe your monitor is nutty?) or otherwise dying of consumption:

It's true that behind every

It's true that behind every good man is a woman, and behind knowitallgirl is c&r, who keeps passing me great links like this. I recall listening to this song many times in my old Ford Tempo on a comp tape that Ravi made for me, giggling my teenage head off. Except I always thought the lyrics were "A blind man's penis is a wreck because he's blind." Another childhood myth shattered.

Aiiiii! Crazyknee informs us that

Aiiiii! Crazyknee informs us that Katie Raygun is not only a HOAX, but the evil dream of some dude. Sigh. I'm bummed she's a hoax, but even more bummed that some dude can make a better 15 year-old girl than a 15 year-old girl can.

Bay To Breakers photos to come tomorrow. Except our little group saw neither the bay nor the breakers. We sucked, but it wasn't all our fault. It was raining and like -20 degrees out. Ugh.

Hahaha. Someone please tell me

Hahaha. Someone please tell me I was this clever at 16. Best quote: "I have to share the hallways with this psycopath, and still, they won't let me bring a gun to school." Ok, that and: "I just mowed the fuck out of the lawn. take that you piece of shit grass."

Just because I can, and

Just because I can, and because I'm bored, here's a pic of Wendy, Jen and Mark on the J-Church:

Quorn is creepy. I mean,

Quorn is creepy. I mean, I've eaten fungus before. But there's something less creepy about eating fungus vs. eating fungus disguised as chicken. Maybe.

Yesterday, 24th Mission BART, 6pm -- girl with a huge blue unicycle. And then a juggler right outside the fare gates. I love this city.

Juan has convinced me to train for the Honolulu Marathon with the National AIDS Marathon Training Program. I'm going to go learn more about it tonight, but I think I'm going to do it, even if I can't raise the $3K you need to be sent to Hawaii (hell, maybe I'll pay for it myself). I mean, I never thought I could run a marathon. Not only are they giving me the chance, they're dangling the Hawaii carrot as well. Hell yeah! If not now, then when? Yes!

mdc gets many gold stars

mdc gets many gold stars for sending me this. I think it's the best thing I've read in weeks. When do New Yorkers have enough time to read the New Yorker, the NYT AND the Observer?

Anyway, now I've GOT to watch Blue's Clues. I want to hear the mail song! I want to imagine dancing with soap bars!

Ok, a little more about

Ok, a little more about CHEEMAH because I just can't resist:

"Cheemah, Mother of the Spirit-Fire is an eighteen-foot tall bronze monument dedicated to celebrating cultural diversity, world unity and care for the earth."

Maybe it's just me, but I don't quite understand how a statue of a white female on an eagle (and by the way, the eagle is pointing westward, perhaps towards our next target of Manifest Destiny, Asia?) promotes cultural diversity. But perhaps I'm just daft?

Two wondrous things already today:

Two wondrous things already today:

1. A 70's conversion van with black glitter paint and SCORPIO painted on the side (with an airbrushed scorpion, of course)

2. Walked in on the installation of a new statue here at Jack London Square that is HIDEOUS. In fact, I had to go to the security office here at JLS to get a new security badge and overheard the employees talking about the statue (which appears to be some sort of amazingly ugly eagle . . . it's still wrapped up so I can't give you all the details yet), saying things such as "lawsuit waiting to happen." Oh, wait. More proof that Google rocks. I just found a link to it: Cheemah, Mother of Spirit Fire! Ok, I've just got to include it here. Imagine this at about 30 feet tall, standing in front of your office . . .

Thanks to my Mom who

Thanks to my Mom who suggested I run my page through "The Dialectizer" -- hadn't done this in a long time. Tee-hee. Who knew how well I could jive talk? And you all thought that I was, like, all from Southern California and stuff. Whatever.

A nameless Attorney of Satan

A nameless Attorney of Satan passed this valuable page on to me today. Yes! A CAR BOMB sticker for my car, perhaps? Something yellow, black and rectangular?

Today on this installment of

Today on this installment of knowitallgirl, please welcome guest columnist Leslie Padgett as she describes what she did last night. I was going to paraphrase for you all but realized her description was far better. This is soooooo trippy.

[Les:] So, last night I decided to accept an invite from my work cohorts to go to Remote Lounge in the East Village. Actually, I was going to go to the gym, but chocolate pudding got in the way and I decided to get out of the house before it attacked me again.

Walking into Remote Lounge, I realize that this is no ordinary bar. I look around the fluorescent-lit space and see little vestibules that have:

1. a t.v. screen

2. a phone

3. comfy chairs

I'm immediately interested. This place is a haven for voyeurism. There are little video cameras all over the place and you use a joystick to maneuver them. From each station you can look at 40 cameras. All at different tables and parts of the bar. If you find someone on the camera that suits your fancy, you send a little message and you can pick up the phone and talk. You couldn't pull me away. While everyone was hobnobbing, I spent the first hour spying on people. Then I went back for more.

One of my cameras panned to this woman who looked very sad. I gazed at her for a few minutes wondering why she was downtrodden. Then I thought, "I can fix this! I'll send her a message!" And that I did. When she realized she got a message she smiled a huge smile and waved at me in the camera. It was very nice moment.

You can look here for pictures of yours-truly and the rest of the crowd ... too bad there are no pictures of the dred-locked fellow whose house I visited briefly later in the evening. ;)