tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63655364074712791672011-07-08T03:33:08.000-07:00Poettenoreply@blogger.comBlogger1481100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-65500804146443068222010-08-20T21:27:00.000-07:002010-08-20T21:36:09.805-07:00

So you enjoyed my writing, did you? Well, I've decided to take my business elsewhere (where else?). Feel free to drop me a line, and I will respond with the new blog address. Alternatively, you could probably find it in two minutes if you try to google me/my blog. See ya on the other side!Peace out, Blogger! (and Spammers!)

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-64170246990902521732009-09-16T16:43:00.000-07:002009-09-16T16:45:13.783-07:00

There are some people who are cool, and some people who pretend to be. And not to say the “Real McCoys” are really as cool as they believe they are, but it’s much more loser-ly to pretend you’re cool, than to think you’re cool and not really be. I pity the latter more. Of course, I… am the epitome of coolness.I breathe, therefore, I am.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-54604357861129039592009-08-31T11:30:00.000-07:002009-08-31T11:33:26.083-07:00

Lele:Umm… Babe… Let’s switch off at the next exit.Me:Why? Are you starting to get scared of my driving now?Lele:No. I started to a while ago.Me:What? Why? See? I’m so calm. I’m even laughing, still.Lele:(Gripping his seat, tightly) I wish I could say the same.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-9011030559078332262009-08-24T17:39:00.000-07:002009-08-24T17:40:21.024-07:00

Why isn't my diet working?

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-45307955713856062662009-08-24T17:38:00.001-07:002009-08-24T17:38:27.373-07:00

Tired of it. So so so so so so so sooooooooooo tired of it.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-46351912402471534002009-08-21T11:17:00.000-07:002009-08-24T17:40:35.155-07:00

So, randomly, oh so randomly, I decided to google myself today. I do this every so often, but OH MY GOD. Boy am I glad I did, today. Last Halloween, Lele and I ended up on the front page of the SF Weekly blog and smart ol’ me, I wrote a comment on that page recently, requesting a copy of the photograph. And guess what? I signed it with my real name!!! So when I googled myself, the Halloween

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-23330644646613784542009-08-20T17:06:00.002-07:002009-08-20T17:09:18.130-07:00

This morning, we got our round-trip tickets to Casablanca. (Wow. It sounds cool just to say that!) I’m taking a month off work. This will be the first time in years that I’ll have had that much time off at once. At the same time, we’ll be so busy traveling that it will probably go by so fast!Tentative itinerary: Head straight out of Casablanca to Rabat. Head to Tangier. Go wine tasting in Meknes.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-52511081024168798912009-08-20T17:06:00.001-07:002009-08-20T17:06:21.010-07:00

Soon!

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-33997031146521326852009-08-14T16:24:00.000-07:002009-08-14T16:26:25.968-07:00

Today is Pakistan’s Independence Day. It should be a happy day, but I’m in kind of a somber mood, because of everything that’s been going on with Pakistan lately; thinking about how things evolve, where we come from, where we think we’re going, the plans we make for our futures, and how those futures play out. I’ve been focusing on a lot of things today, including one really strange one: As the

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-63065522711277664922009-08-04T17:14:00.000-07:002009-08-04T17:28:46.467-07:00

That's number of days before you must call to make a reservations at the French Laundry (I couldn't get one!) It’s also the number of days before my wedding. Wow.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-70246745215041541432009-08-04T17:10:00.000-07:002009-08-04T17:14:48.257-07:00

I recently came to a funny realization. I have now owned 5 cameras in my life, and only one of them I bought myself. Camera 1: My dad bought me my very first camera (in Saudi Arabia), a point-and-shoot (Canon?) back in 6th or 7th grade after he and I got into an argument over something. I was misbehaving, I think, talking back to my mother or something. Camera 2: My dad also bought me my second

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-44756085643603824422008-10-11T18:14:00.000-07:002008-10-11T19:57:25.353-07:00

So very sorry.There are no words for this. And no words I use, will ever come out right. And no matter how many different ways I think of to say it, and no matter how many times I practice, nothing will sound right. But I have to call, cause it's you. I want to call cause it's you. And I have to say it, to you.I'll listen to you and we'll share stories and we'll cry a little...And that's all that

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-55445058122933990882008-09-04T17:57:00.000-07:002008-09-04T17:59:35.758-07:00

Even if you don't know who's doing the missing.I keep thinking my blog is one of those trees in the woods; when it falls no one hears. I didn't know it was still being read. So... thanks. And uh... I'll be back.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-29217077607064905282008-06-23T11:58:00.000-07:002008-06-23T11:59:09.941-07:00

It was a really nice, warm (HOT!) weekend. Friday, Chris and I spent the evening hanging out at Dolores Park with a bottle of wine and some beer. Saturday, I didn’t know what to do with myself because of the heat. Went shopping for some summer clothes, knowing full well that they would probably be worn three days max. But I was dying! That night, my friend Omer was visiting from Phoenix and

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-75355027414374227412008-06-23T11:33:00.000-07:002008-06-23T12:02:43.392-07:00

Hey there copycat! I just hope that poetry isn’t meant to be for me. I can’t think of one ex-boyfriend who would do that.P.S.- Oh yeah, let me know if you need some pointers on your poetry.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-62081922067826024502008-06-19T15:23:00.000-07:002008-06-19T15:26:23.620-07:00

So I have a copycat blogger:fleeting-muses.blogspot.comAnd I know the guy...

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-84049021878701620002008-06-19T15:04:00.000-07:002008-06-19T15:06:10.667-07:00

The Mothers are gone. The Surgery is over. Chris is back. I want a drink. Two.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-71297876643294907862008-06-15T21:02:00.000-07:002008-06-15T21:15:12.478-07:00

Did I mention my surgery is tomorrow? Bye bye, Favorite Birth Mark.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-55078940212288733832008-06-15T20:16:00.000-07:002008-06-15T21:22:07.763-07:00

Last Monday, my roommate Sabba's mother arrived from Ohio, for Sabba's cataract surgery. Friday, my mother arrived from Boston, for my surgery on Monday. There has been good food, chai galore, and lots of Urdu spoken around the house. We've hidden the booze, our miniskirts and "gypsy dresses", banished our boyfriends from our beds, tucked away their undershirts and boxers and socks. Out came the

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-63063100705578963402008-06-05T15:35:00.000-07:002008-06-05T16:09:44.243-07:00

I have these bouts where I actually have girlfriends. Most of the times, though, it’s guys, the same old guys, the loyal, crazy, funny, lovely, horrible, my favorite- the boys. Somehow, ever since high school, I’ve just had guy friends. But anyway, that’s a whole different story (and district, perhaps) and a whole other pain for my poor boyfriend. He’s awesome though. And so patient about all my

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-69293961975426072522008-06-05T15:28:00.000-07:002008-06-05T15:34:46.433-07:00

You know how I have managed to built a troop of old married admirers at work? You remember how I took one of them to HR and how my manager took the other one for me? The guy who was always trying to find me a red dress to wear at parties was the one my managers empathized with me on. Anyway, now that I’m no longer working at that office, I ran into him (the admirer, not the manager) at Absinthe.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-9927714410599557492008-05-14T09:01:00.000-07:002008-06-05T15:35:22.752-07:00

It's been a while... sorry. I'm bad at staying in touch- apparently even with myself.Well, not really, I take drugs for that. Kidding.There's been a lot going on, so I'll fill you in:I started a new job. More money, more problems. Kidding, again. No problems yet, just waiting to get used to how things work around here. Just quite different from Stantec... I miss the people there. Hopefully, I'll

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-86545820067633355822008-03-14T17:29:00.000-07:002008-03-14T17:30:49.044-07:00

Yesterday, at the dermatologist’s to get the birthmark mutation evaluated, I ended up waiting for an hour and fifteen minutes before the doctor showed his face. He looked at the birthmark and said, “We should do a biopsy of that, just to make sure,” (which I already knew) and turned around to leave (the whole interaction lasting a total of- no exaggeration- 3 minutes). I was pissed.Me: That’s it

Poettenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-80653699796926859832008-03-12T12:49:00.000-07:002008-03-12T12:55:32.205-07:00

I have a birthmark on my left shoulder. People have thought it’s a tattoo, told me it looks like a little heart, and my mom forgot I even had it. But best of all, when I was younger and played with Barbies and other dolls, I used to think it was my "Made in Taiwan" sign. (I hadn’t yet discovered I could twist my neck around to look at it). Recently, I’ve discovered it’s growing.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-86364117213977830972008-03-11T15:04:00.000-07:002008-03-11T15:09:13.800-07:00

My whole family, as if they don’t haunt every other aspect of my life, have now descended on Facebook. My 20 or so cousins have been on there for a long time (and I had them on my limited profile, of course) but now my uncle and my mom have invaded my space. That’s like having them move to San Francisco! I love them, but from afar. Can’t they keep away from the few spots I am my truest self?Since

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-188113397495515242008-02-21T17:39:00.000-08:002008-02-21T17:43:11.427-08:00

Sorry guys, I’ve been a bit bored of blogging lately. There’s been a lot going on, and nothing going on. I just don’t feel compelled to describe any of it…But I promise to return, soon!

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-64152442061308763162008-01-31T12:27:00.000-08:002008-01-31T12:33:21.792-08:00

I’ve always been the girl who insists that just because I have a boyfriend, doesn’t mean I don’t have time for my friends. When D moved out to San Francisco, back in 2004, I remember having a conversation with Sascha the night before he arrived. We went on a long walk and I promised that just because my boyfriend was no longer going to be just a long-distance-boyfriend, I wasn’t suddenly going to

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-45978786492843427992008-01-29T12:59:00.000-08:002008-01-29T13:03:05.185-08:00

Aah… the joys of a wonderful nightmare. Or two.Sunday night/Monday morning, I woke up horrified from the memory of two nightmares I had. I think they were two separate ones, but they could have been rolled into one, especially since I can’t seem to remember any details regarding one of them. I woke up rotating the words, New York Metropolitan Opera in various different orders. All I recall of

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-11028197647094216612008-01-28T14:30:00.001-08:002008-01-28T14:30:37.876-08:00

...Doug came over to me at the office on Friday to tell me that he just gave his two-week notice. We talked for a few minutes, hugged, promised to make an effort to be friends, and made some tentative plans to talk over drinks, soon. But considering he used to think I was an alcoholic (because I got sick one time and he had to take care of me) (very conveniently forgetting how I had to take care

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-2069027157116252832008-01-28T13:32:00.000-08:002008-01-28T14:31:00.726-08:00

Chris came back from Thailand/Burma on Tuesday and I think he’s slept more than he’s been awake :O) but during his waking hours we’ve played Scrabble, talked, walked, cooked, went to Santana Row, played with his sister’s dogs, did crossword puzzles, etc. We saw There Will Be Blood on Friday which was CRAZY and awesome, but the best thing about it? We finally managed to watch a movie at the

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-90920466853528359322008-01-20T21:50:00.000-08:002008-01-20T23:16:44.380-08:00

Long conversation with D, my good friend (and ex-boyfriend) in Boston. Some background: D and I lived together for about 1 1/2 years. He moved out here to San Francisco for me, but a year later, decided he wanted to move back to Boston because he missed his family and friends. I moved out to Boston for a summer, then we tried the long distance thing, but it didn't work out.Anyways. We spoke for a

Poettenoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-21408028796480485092008-01-20T17:57:00.000-08:002008-01-20T23:21:24.492-08:00

Yesterday, Dr. Joey and I met up for brunch at Boogaloo and a game of Scrabble. It was a gorgeous day so we opted to sit outside, and so got a table right away while the usual crowd of 30 or so people waited on.I'm not really a mimosa kinda gal, but let me tell you, a cypress (grapefruit and champagne) is pretty darn good. I had two. We talked about a bunch of different things and eventually I

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-74939379787006796052008-01-18T23:47:00.000-08:002008-01-20T22:48:01.253-08:00

I was just complaining during lunch today that it's been a long, long time since I saw a really, really good movie at the theatre. Rohna and I had planned on watching The Kite Runner and I'd heard mixed reviews so I was hoping it would at least be better than Atonement. By the time both Rohna and I actually left work, we had missed the show we'd planned on catching and the next one wasn't until 9

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-25657833891269250892008-01-18T15:01:00.000-08:002008-01-20T23:39:37.248-08:00

I always say that when I’m 65 (and if I make it there) I want to be able to go through a box of all the letters, cards, photographs I have ever gotten. Of course, over the years, somehow, many of these letters and cards have seemingly vanished into thin air, but many I still keep. Along with movie ticket stubs, concert and play and ballet and opera ticket stubs. Librettos and programs. And little

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-22238004288971301022008-01-16T22:35:00.000-08:002008-01-19T01:18:55.523-08:00

Thank you. Drunk as you may have been; riding a ferry in the middle of the night. But that's when we have our best conversations. Though our scheduled, every-other-day, 6 Pacific/9 Eastern phone dates are fun, too. I love you! (And your girlfriend, too). (Though not so much your wife...)

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-18886249841013456782008-01-15T21:47:00.000-08:002008-01-15T22:20:38.720-08:00

They're there when I really need 'em. I've never had girlfriends I could count on before. I've had a ton of guy friends but this... this girlfriends thing? It rocks!Today, after a pressing dilemma kept me unfocused from work all day, Rohna asked if I wanted to meet for some tea at Samovar and talk (since I'm not drinking for a while). Sara came, too. I talked, they listened. They talked, I

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-56319451591171229362008-01-15T16:31:00.000-08:002008-01-15T16:35:08.512-08:00

from HamletDecisions, Decisions…

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-66833688163450436892008-01-15T00:04:00.000-08:002008-01-15T00:20:28.653-08:00

Well, gee. Alright already. My wrists were starting to hurt from all the throttling. Them smurfs, man, I tell ya... They are invincible little things. Especially Smurfette.Work was crazy, today. All the smurf strangling didn't help. I had to put on my cute little wrist braces- the ones that everyone seems to think are just an accessory. "They're very YOU." "They make you look all tough." "Those

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-62645724927783018232008-01-13T19:56:00.000-08:002008-01-13T20:56:57.429-08:00

(This is a spoiler, so if you plan on watching the movie, don't read on!)Yesterday, my friend David and I went to see Atonement. We had planned on catching the early afternoon show but turns out it was cancelled and we had to wait 3 hours until the next show. We walked around, did some shopping, had a really nice lunch sitting outside at Samovar, and then walked back to the theatre. Got settled

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-35787600692191647322008-01-10T18:04:00.000-08:002008-01-10T18:05:51.488-08:00

Or not.Last night, my friend Dr. Joey and I went to see Guillermo del Toro’s new film, The Orphanage. Erik had seen it recently and said that though there were lots of loose ends, he would definitely recommend I see it because it was very, very creepy. So I got all excited. I’m a jumpy one, during scary movies. I squeal and curse and scream. So of course, during the first 45 minutes or so of the

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-30500988313162660852008-01-08T16:18:00.000-08:002008-01-08T21:54:33.080-08:00

My last attempt was unsuccessful so I’m trying harder this time. Erik started yesterday but I started today. I didn’t make enough lemonade for the whole day so I'm sitting here at my desk, staring into my empty cup. I have a headache and can’t stop thinking about food.Here’s the list I was making on a post-it (before I caught myself) of all the healthy, protein rich foods I’m going to consume

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-5961174261338858652008-01-07T17:58:00.000-08:002008-01-07T20:43:28.457-08:00

Funny, today I feel like I’ve not been at work, but rather been playing hooky like a child, constantly sneaking out to see my boyfriend. We left together this morning; he went off to take a test, while I headed to work. We met up again for lunch, where we squeezed in every possible opportunity to kiss and hug and hold hands, but alas… the streets just don’t allow for enough privacy. I sent him

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-28048242341644535722008-01-02T23:47:00.000-08:002008-01-03T01:45:02.708-08:00

Yesterday, New Year’s Day, Chris and I woke up early, played a game of Scrabble- which I sucked at, considering I was still hungover from the night before- and then we stepped out to grab some grub at Pakwan. As usual, the meal was yum and the chai even yummier. Afterwards, we decided to just walk all the way downtown to the theatres and see if we could finally catch a movie together. (Almost 4

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-87331993911500805952007-12-22T18:25:00.000-08:002008-01-03T01:40:04.108-08:00

Things that get better after drinking:1. Karaoke2. Pool3. Conversations with Strangers4. Ability to Blow Smoke Rings5. Role Playing6. WritingThings that get worse after drinking:1. Karaoke2. Sex3. Conversations with Friends4. Ability to Play Scrabble5. Walking in Stilettos6. Ability to Stick to One Kind of AlcoholThings we think get better but actually get worse:1. Dancing2. Sense of Humor3.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-20169406755772174292007-12-13T16:38:00.000-08:002007-12-13T16:44:52.459-08:00

I am an Old Married Man Magnet.Last night, before going to the Metreon for a scary movie, Erik and I stopped in for a drink at the sports bar across the street. I was telling him about the latest developments with the pervs at work and he turned around to me and said:Erik:I’m going to be one of those guys. Old, committed, and harassing pretty young things (boys).Me:Why are you in a committed

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-2319663386020144342007-12-12T23:57:00.000-08:002007-12-13T00:21:04.817-08:00

Oh yes, it is. And tomorrow night Lele and I are going to Elixir where they're serving it again after many, many years. The plan is to have some "fun" with the other Absintheans. He he! But depending on how much "fun" we have, I may end up calling out sick Friday......and having some more drinks with Dr. Joey? Hmmm... There's also pool. Not the diving kind, in which I'd probably drown after all

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-58396079724688069382007-12-11T23:52:00.000-08:002007-12-12T00:02:06.808-08:00

When it comes to flattery, at what point does it shift from innocuous and amusing to creepy and uncomfortable?Today, the pictures from our office holiday party were finally posted. There are two pictures (well... three) of me, with a group of friends. An hour or so after the receptionist sends out the announcement that they're now available for viewing, one of my perv-y, old, married admirers

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-36172555231631654232007-12-07T17:11:00.000-08:002007-12-07T17:12:43.222-08:00

Ahhh… The office tequila bottle. Comes in handy sometimes. Especially on the last day of the beloved office manager/friend.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-5199622980985373262007-12-07T16:46:00.000-08:002007-12-07T16:55:05.691-08:00

Met up with Dr. Joey on Wednesday evening for a few drinks at Bar Bambino- a cute little wine bar on 16th Street, close to Mission. It seems they have a little outdoor patio, too, but lost in our conversations, I forgot all about it and didn’t get a chance to check it out. We also forgot the “Cookie Plate”.How is it that some people you meet for the first time and you can have great, absolutely

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-90801383662230217762007-12-04T17:11:00.000-08:002007-12-04T17:13:09.556-08:00

today we tear pages as emotions play silently and broken hearts ache exposed to the truth

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-8220431998310550732007-12-01T18:26:00.000-08:002007-12-07T16:53:47.957-08:00

From: clele75 Date: Mon Nov 26 Re: The fire in my loinsis all but extinguished. I’m a 75 year-old man with a large heart, and an even larger bank account.I find you very attractive and want you to be my mistress. All you really have to do is bite me. Yes, that’s correct. I’m so old (been there done that) the only thing that gets me off (and that I can feel anymore) is when young hotties sink

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-77005679210186725922007-12-01T13:26:00.000-08:002007-12-25T21:44:43.298-08:00

After the obligatory hour of face time at 111 Minna, Sara, Rohna, and I headed off to District, again. I have to say, I really do like the place a lot. But I think I was tired, and distracted by earlier, and just kinda not really in the mood to schmooze with strangers. And another thing, and this may be a bit un-PC, but hey, I gotta say it: I get tired of Sara getting all worked up about the

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-46047224369111963342007-12-01T00:35:00.000-08:002007-12-01T13:51:35.980-08:00

It was the proper etiquette. I knew him and had always really gotten along with him, so it would have been rude not to say hello. So I stood in the main room at 111 Minna talking to Steve, Doug’s friend, who looked lost in a sea of people from my office; people he didn’t know. Doug had stepped away to get them drinks. A couple of minutes later, when a hand reached past me and placed a glass of

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-74215047406035160112007-11-30T12:11:00.001-08:002007-11-30T12:11:41.953-08:00

“…It makes a ferocious beast of man, a martyr of woman, and a degenerate of the infant, it disorganizes and ruins the family and menaces the future of the country.”- 19th Century French CriticFunnily (yes, “funnily”), absinthe is now legal in the US, and is being served at only one place on the West Coast, which is a restaurant/bar called Absinthe. They’ve been around for years, but I bet they’re

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-74654947859099714862007-11-30T12:09:00.000-08:002007-11-30T12:12:23.876-08:00

The roommate from hell is moving out Decmber 1st!Maybe I’ll have a party for New Year’s, after all!Maybe.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-3045020236653892242007-11-29T14:10:00.000-08:002007-12-04T17:14:26.946-08:00

exposed through time how will the story go sweet funny light or sour mouth cliché

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-74626921914235858872007-11-28T16:00:00.000-08:002007-11-28T15:59:54.266-08:00

Work in Progress. To be posted by the end of the week.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-48057886768806533152007-11-28T15:58:00.001-08:002007-11-28T16:00:49.498-08:00

"One with artistic or literary interests who adopts manners markedly different from those of the majority of society."-Webster’s II Dictionary, Third Edition

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-81609890941815528162007-11-28T15:55:00.000-08:002008-01-15T22:23:10.212-08:00

Last night, I was shopping with my friend Rohna, and we were having a conversation about our weekends, just catching up. My weekend, a major part of it, was spent with Lele, and Rohna thought it was really weird that we can spend hours playing game after game of Scrabble. So I was telling her about all the “shit talking” we do when we’re playing and I jokingly said that Lele is narcissistic (

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-46408111444768300752007-11-28T11:04:00.000-08:002007-11-28T11:05:55.559-08:00

Today I got a, "Hey, Uzma" and a wave. While wearing the sweater I gave him for Christmas. A wave of Nostalgia washed over me. But then Memory kicked in. Hard.I waved back.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-78038339052476884892007-11-27T18:13:00.000-08:002008-01-07T21:47:42.885-08:00

My manager, Lynn, came up to me with a sheepish look on her face, kinda nervous, and said she had to ask me something.Me: Sure. What’s up?Lynn: But I’m not sure if I should ask you and you can totally say no, because I feel lame asking you.Me: (Build the suspense, why don’t you) Lynn, it’s ok. Just ask.Lynn: I have to burn a CD.Me: Oh. (Uh oh)Lynn: And I realized maybe I shouldn’t ask you to come

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-68952621514214194802007-11-27T18:11:00.000-08:002007-11-27T18:13:15.093-08:00

Slowly. Surely? Not quite. But yesterday, for the first time since we broke up, we wrote a couple of personal e-mails back and forth. Non work-related. Well, it started with me asking him something work related, and then turned into him asking me something personal. Nothing exciting, but it’s something.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-90719668194461650952007-11-24T17:54:00.000-08:002007-11-24T17:55:04.681-08:00

Ugh.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-21967276271866673422007-11-20T16:39:00.000-08:002007-11-20T16:40:03.469-08:00

It’s a word, if I say it’s a word.End of story.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-81925975330755197752007-11-20T16:38:00.000-08:002007-12-01T16:25:42.066-08:00

Friday night my friends Rohna, Sara, and I went to District- a really cool NY-style wine bar that my intern/assistant Blake (yes, the one I was talking about at the end of The Blake Paradox) had been raving about for months. I hadn’t expected what I found. I was thinking chichi, mellow, wine bar with expensive drinks and rich men buying rounds at their tables kinda deal. No. This was entirely

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-78036356325305291432007-11-19T17:26:00.001-08:002007-11-19T17:27:55.646-08:00

It’s that time of the year again. Already.Last year, I was worrying about what to buy certain people for Christmas. At least I don’t have to worry about that, this year, so I’m concentrating on finding a dress for the holiday party, instead. Even though I’m already not looking forward to it cause I think it will be really pathetic. No dance floor, not enough space for people to do anything but

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-34311180386177418992007-11-19T17:25:00.001-08:002007-11-19T17:26:02.267-08:00

people ask in whispers so I confess silently my truths this is me obedienter than you

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-73134421575044325092007-11-18T15:31:00.000-08:002007-11-18T16:31:32.087-08:00

A few years ago, to get out of work for a couple of days, I told a lie. Sure, that’s how it’s done. You say you’re not feeling well, your basement flooded, your car broke down, there’s been a family emergency. Some even say there’s been a death in the family. I went one step further. I called my manager one morning, sobbed into the phone and said, “My best friend, Blake, got into an accident last

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-29521700679675275232007-11-16T14:02:00.000-08:002007-11-18T16:14:33.628-08:00

Why is it that old married men seem to think it’s ok to tell younger female co-workers that they are insanely attracted to them? What is it about me, that I attract such nuts? Do they really think, that I will smile and say, “Yes, I think you’re hot, too. Let’s forget about your wife?”An older co-worker, who is definitely a bit socially challenged, a creeper (not just a creep), has been asking me

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-62029658862395922662007-11-15T14:13:00.000-08:002007-11-15T14:14:49.690-08:00

strange that every old man must feel compeled to confess his desire for the girl without understanding it is better he ferment silently and she never know

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-8737812022998434722007-11-05T15:18:00.000-08:002007-11-05T15:20:30.251-08:00

A young woman, in response to my ad on Craigslist, e-mailed me a link to her Facebook profile instead of writing to me about herself. So I, a little surprised and definitely amused, attempted to check out her profile. I couldn’t see it because, of course, I’m not friends with her on Facebook. I e-mailed her back and asked her to tell me more about herself and how old she was etc., because I

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-69827021825580958262007-11-04T20:39:00.000-08:002007-11-04T20:47:55.697-08:00

Well, after 2 months of not cleaning and refusing to unpack her 20+ boxes, we've finally had to ask Renu to move. I'm tired of looking for new roommates, though. I'm starting to wonder if I really have it in me to really read people well. I can think of too many examples where I've failed...On the contrary, I am looking forward to finding another person who Sabba and I mesh well with. As much as

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-56338373977730169602007-10-25T17:50:00.000-07:002007-10-25T17:51:35.046-07:00

...Another addiction:www.urbis.com

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-59664984970023008212007-10-23T11:28:00.001-07:002007-10-23T11:28:59.559-07:00

climb into the vacuum of sleepconfess to the conscious nightyour dreamsandgive furniture a memory of grace

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-78092240135402894842007-10-21T23:47:00.000-07:002007-10-21T23:59:31.268-07:00

So I was on the internet the other day (as I am now...) on one of those internet networking/community/social circle things (not as I am, now) and I was checking out this guy's profile. Half way down, in his "About Me" section, was a mensa question that had me stumped:Bill and Ben have a combined age of 91 years. Bill is now twice as old as Ben was when Bill was as old as Ben is now. How old are

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-50194882633536439452007-10-21T21:18:00.000-07:002007-12-01T17:30:25.236-08:00

Last Wednesday, Sara, Rohna, and I went to Americano for a drink after work. I had just gotten back from the east coast really late the night before and I was exhausted. I should have just gone straight home after work but, alas, I was dragged to the bar, instead. So, needless to say, I wasn't feeling up to socializing with strangers the way I usually would. After some appetizers and a glass of

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-79828198318270291622007-10-14T18:44:00.000-07:002007-10-14T18:49:09.088-07:00

...I will have gained at least 5 pounds (probably all on my face), by the time I make it back home?Yeah. At least.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-18351993018009729572007-10-14T17:46:00.000-07:002007-10-14T18:00:04.029-07:00

Boston is also cold, as ever. And it's not even winter, yet. Last night, in fact, over the last few nights, I have been shivering in my bed. And I had a heater on! I dread the idea of stepping out of the house in the evening. Especially, if I have to take the train. If I drive, it's not so bad (though it's pretty awful for everyone else on the road), but then again, if I'm going to have a drink,

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-25881765292924385182007-10-13T20:58:00.000-07:002007-10-13T21:01:02.377-07:00

... no different than before. Suddenly, I'm not so sure I'm ready to move back right away.Am I done with San Francisco? Have I had enough craziness?Hmmm....

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-84182790804335018692007-10-08T13:07:00.001-07:002007-10-08T13:07:31.631-07:00

boy is randomly funnymakes girl full of play-matching geniusthat muse

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-46579460460265657702007-10-04T13:06:00.000-07:002007-10-08T13:07:05.611-07:00

read by shadowthe lines sleepfire burnsbeneath the silent page

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-29658545585335562572007-10-03T22:43:00.000-07:002007-10-04T00:52:24.271-07:00

Let it all unfold without your control. Adventure winks at you. What happens after that is juicy enough to retell in the future. You could even write a book. Hey, why don't you?

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-14672770257003156182007-10-01T16:24:00.000-07:002008-12-09T20:17:28.961-08:00

Why are opera singers, specifically female opera singers, always so fat? Now if Samson and Delilah were live at the ballpark, I'd understand. After all, who can resist garlic fries? But alas! This was just a live simulcast from the Opera House. I don't know what they feed 'em over there. I almost didn’t go because it was cold and it had been raining for a bit earlier in the afternoon, ok,

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-66886657506473846462007-09-28T16:08:00.001-07:002007-09-28T16:20:27.392-07:00

But I still want it to be over. Well, not the Friday, just the work part of Friday. Friday, starting 6 pm and onwards, is actually my favorite day of the week. Saturdays are nice, too, but Fridays give me the glass-full outlook. And, oh hell!! If there’s ever such a thing as glass-empty, it’s Sunday. I hate Sundays.Though this Sunday might be more exciting than others. Leather, whips, chains,

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-75528433491053936392007-09-28T13:11:00.000-07:002007-10-08T13:12:29.388-07:00

my precious pickled geniusyou ferment me

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-18588702423508223992007-09-26T10:53:00.000-07:002007-11-02T19:04:04.023-07:00

So apparently Doug is coming to the lunch for the Marketing Manager this afternoon. It also happens to be at Samovar, a place we both went to together for the first time and loved. Hmm… I swear I’m over him. Even if it may not always sound like it.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-77149281693452464152007-09-25T17:35:00.000-07:002007-09-25T17:36:22.888-07:00

Jacob/Guillermo’s name is actually Alejandro. Or Alex.On the other hand, I may have actually convinced Lele to let me take him to the Folsom Street Fair on a leash. You know, to make up for the other night.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-38603515908167904262007-09-25T14:30:00.000-07:002007-09-25T14:32:39.076-07:00

understand my translucent mindmanacle conscious gracebreak experienceconfess memoryand prostitute new thoughts

Poettenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-75825625571652037472007-09-24T17:47:00.000-07:002007-09-24T17:48:32.928-07:00

she desires silent grammara strange play of wordsa certain full-page voicethe dictionary heartthe manuscript brainhe is almost a poetbut finiteclichéd

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-90853284145679718932007-09-23T23:05:00.000-07:002007-09-24T00:31:59.141-07:00

So last night, my roommate Renu convinced me to go out to Medjool with her, our other roommate Sabba, and some friends. I was kind of in the mood to stay at home and read my book (Love in the Time of Cholera) or watch rest of Season 4 of The L Word. I was just not really in the mood to go out, but then I got all dolled up, put on my brightest red lipstick, and walked the 1 1/2 blocks from my

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-71385081997196976762007-09-22T13:29:00.000-07:002007-09-22T13:31:24.806-07:00

When other people don't understand me, you do. When other people don't understand you, I do. But when I don't understand you? I know you're just being a girl....

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-7034551579214978152007-09-22T12:08:00.000-07:002007-09-22T13:35:26.426-07:00

So, I recently had two new roommates move in. Two chicks. It's been a long time since I've lived with girls. It's not as bad as a I thought it could be. Just that I realized that sometimes guys, who are notorious for not being clean and tidy (sorry, guys), can be cleaner and tidier than women. The girls have now been here for two months, but neither seem to be a big fan of unpacking their boxes

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-72401518411199579682007-09-22T03:22:00.000-07:002007-09-22T03:25:45.953-07:00

As if they could fucking get any louder now. Yes. I'm up at 3 in the morning cause my neighbors are screaming their heads off singing along to that song.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-33481399205115009472007-09-21T21:54:00.000-07:002007-09-22T13:42:12.091-07:00

Yes. Tracking device.So, Stantec, the daddy firm, even though it's 6000-people stronger, for some reason has a higher premium for the same insurance we had as Chong. Not that anything about this acquisition has been "convenient", but here's what they did: They increased my salary by the $450 more I will be paying for health insurance being a Stantec employee, so that there would be no difference

Poettenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-32292799689367678852007-09-19T21:58:00.000-07:002007-09-19T22:00:52.508-07:00

she will take over your wordsand whistle away disgraceagain and again

Poettenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-32498381449225746322007-09-18T17:34:00.000-07:002007-09-21T21:54:09.724-07:00

...and ask him how he feels about both of us going to the farewell lunch for the Marketing Manager. I could offer to skip lunch if he’ll skip the happy hour. I could be nice and care about whether it makes him uncomfortable... But I won’t. Apparently I’ve been too nice to him, lately.

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-60796894447581815092007-09-17T12:41:00.000-07:002007-09-17T12:42:52.761-07:00

release steamburn friend down

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-74100178858783782652007-09-17T12:40:00.000-07:002007-09-17T12:41:38.235-07:00

my obedient elaborate geniusbetter manipulate the dictionaryplant a wordwrench grammarimagine how strange the poets manuscript

Poettenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-33121504112246617222007-09-16T22:40:00.000-07:002007-09-17T09:49:15.758-07:00

I saw a movie tonight with a new friend, Urmila, who my roommate introduced me to. The movie was called, "2 Days in Paris," and it was directed/produced by Julie Delpy who was also in the "Before Sunrise" and "Before Sunset" movies. We figured it would be somewhat similar and since we had both liked those two movies, we were excited to see this one. It turned out to be entirely different from the

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6365536407471279167.post-91002400297418139422007-09-15T21:34:00.000-07:002007-09-21T22:26:45.981-07:00

My company, a once-prestigious architecture firm, one of the largest in Northern California, owned by three-time president of AIA, Gordon Chong, is getting bought out by Stantec, a Canadian engineering giant, and will cease to exist as of Monday. We are not happy. Suddenly, we have dress codes (me and my miniskirts were frowned upon this past week when their HR was visiting us), there are rules

Poettenoreply@blogger.com1