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- 5 March 2005
- No. 2,795 (cartoon)
- Get lost.
I am. 
- 6 March 2005
- One Less Bike
- I was eating a burrito tonight when I watched someone steal my bicycle. He was efficient; it only took him a few seconds to cut the lock. By the time I ran out of the taqueria, he was already on my bike, which, by now, was his bike. A witness reported where the thief took the bike, and I went on an unproductive raid with the San Francisco police.
That’s certainly annoying, but, since no one got hurt, it’s only a matter of metal and money. And even though the bike was rather expensive, I had it for so long that I figure it only cost me less that half a dollar a day for wonderful transportation. And, being relentlessly positive, I’ll soon have an even better bike. With even better locks.
- 7 March 2005
- Another Day at the Races
- Yesterday’s eleventh annual San Francisco Iditarod wasn’t as good as last year’s race. That’s not really a criticism, though. Everyone in San Francisco agrees that nothing is ever as good as it used to be.
- 8 March 2005
- A Fortunate Marination
- I ended yesterday saturated in red wine. That’s happened many times before, of course, but last night’s incident was unique. I opened a bottle of of wine just as I’ve done thousands of times, then whoosh! As soon as I pulled out the cork, I was holding onto a Merlot geyser!
The wine soaked my shirt and pants, and amazingly not a single drop splattered anywhere else. “That’s great!” Skizandra exclaimed. “Great that I got beat up by a bottle of wine, or great that nothing got soaked except me?” I asked. “That’s good luck where I come from,” my learned Italian friend replied. “But you need to put some wine on your forehead.” I followed her direction, as always. I was dubious that being marinated in cheap wine was a fortuitous development, but I didn’t argue. Skizandra radiates good fortune; that’s all I needed to know.
- 9 March 2005
- Southern Tsunami Soy Sauce
- Maia and I enjoyed an epic walk today that ended at the ocean shore. Along the way, we dropped in So Dead Sushi to get a snack to eat in Golden Gate Park.
We found a shady spot in a glen, and spread out a little Japanese buffet. That’s when I saw the label on the soy sauce. I don’t pay close attention to my diet, and that includes ignoring the list of carcinogenic additives to processed food. And so it was that the only thing I noticed about the packets of soy sauce was the brand name: Southern Tsunami. I know the world of commerce is a cold, brutal place, but I still have a hard time understanding how any business could sell a product with the same name of a recent natural disaster that killed some three-hundred thousand people.
- 10 March 2005
- My Fictitious Musiness Plan
- Rod called today to cancel our lunch today because he was behind on his business plan.
“That’s fine,” I lied, “I was ahead of my musiness plan, so I couldn’t have made it anyway.” “What in the hell is a musiness plan?” Rod asked. “It’s exactly like the same as a business plan, only completely different,” I explained.
- 11 March 2005
- A True Publishing Story, Mostly
- Amy sent a manuscript to a publisher.
The publisher sent Amy a rejection letter Amy sent the publisher a rejection of rejection letter, then the publisher printed her book. That’s a nice story. And, unlike most of my stories, it’s even true. Mostly.
- 12 March 2005
- Insular Publications
- I was amazed when I walked into Samantha’s house: most of the walls were covered in books. Apparently, Samantha stacked the volumes by size, with Lake Baikal Tugboats and Real Cheerleader Hustle next to each other in a row of small publications. I spotted Andalusian Chains beside Matisse and Monet’s Mistresses among the oversized tomes.
“You certainly have some eclectic reading tastes,” I remarked. “What do you mean?” Samantha asked. “I never met anyone who read The Dialectic of Technological Determinism as well as Hot Sex Tips for Frigid Women,” I replied. Samantha gave me a blank stare for a few seconds until she understood the misunderstanding. She went on to explain that she’d read almost none of the books; she bought them to provide cheap insulation.
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©2005 David Glenn Rinehart
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