Insomnia and On Why 3am is a Totally Obvious Time to Turn on the Fire Hydrant Below My Window to Clean the Street

It's 3am and my third to last night in my Nob Hill apartment and I woke up in a panic. At first I thought it was raining and then I thought LM was taking a late night shower and then I realized it was neither and jumped out of bed to confirm that the fire hydrant below my window had burst and call the fire department and save the world with my knowledge - you know a couple of psychologists' did a study in New York about a woman who was killed while 37 people witnessed it but know one called because everyone thought someone else would have already called - I was not going to assume anyone had called. Except actually the fire hydrant had not burst rather a SF City employee had turned it on intentionally I imagine to clean the street or something. So from 3:00 - 3:10 am I got to pretend I lived next to a soothing waterfall which is when I decided the Chinese food in my fridge had probably, with age, gotten better (because it wasn't very good the first night at all).

And late night eating is best done in the dark because then it doesn't count.

I am already feeling a little nostalgic for this place because while these disturbances are irritating once in a while I am going to miss hearing the fog horn and cable car outside my bedroom window. The sound of excited tourists being taken for a ride by the cable car drivers who favor single young women - getting on the cable car in SF is like getting into a club in Vegas if you're cute, and without men they let you on for free even when it is packed - and ring their bell at 11pm all the way up Washington St for no reason at all. Even if I could drown these sounds out by shutting real double pained windows instead of the single paned ones we actually have (that even when shut you can feel a strong gust of wind through) I wouldn't. Silence is glorious but there is something comforting about knowing that the world is going on out there with or without me. If this sounds sentimental that's because A. I am hormonal - which according to Wikipedia, among other things, is responsible for mood swings and food cravings... and B. It is 4am.

It's foggy out there; I know because I can hear the horns blowing. The chinese food wasn't better tonight than it was last night but the waffle I am going to get at Nook tomorrow morning will be delicious.

Good night and good morning all!

I Only Complain in an Effort Make the World a Better Place

So today, against my better judgement, I went to the Safeway Deli and ordered a sandwich. Without fail I always end up wishing I had just gotten their sushi which is very good and reasonably priced. But no I went ahead and risked it with the unfailingly mindless deli workers that must cheat on their job interviews to get said position. Hiring deli workers SHOULD be an art. A sandwich artisan should be passionate about making sandwiches. They should make each and every sandwich with love because you can totally tell when they don't. This does not go for deli salads or meat slicing.

So I ordered a turkey sandwich on a sour roll, mayo, lettuce and provolone cheese, this is my heaven, I could live on them. Deli Boy brings me 3 different rolls to choose from. Okay I said sour roll and now you are confusing me. I choose one. Oh by the way I ordered a half sandwich which apparently you should never do. The roll I chose isn't big enough to make a whole sandwich but a 1/2" too big for a half sandwich...apparently. Because he cuts of a 1/2" from the end of the roll and chucks it in the trash can. Let me be clear in full scale he cut off

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that much. Like really. No really. Seriously. People are starving (like me who wants to get as much half sandwich for my money as I can) and he cuts off .002 cents worth of bread and throws it away. So I gave him a death stare and rolled my eyes, so then he felt stupid which is exactly what I wanted - not so HE feels bad about himself but so he never does that to anyone else again, see I am making the world a better place. Which I will probably go to hell for but so be it -

Anyway I wanted mayo, turkey, lettuce and provolone. Maybe if I had sang it he would have remembered it the first three times. The mayo spatula had avocado on it left over from the last guys sandwich which I suspect he thought was a favor since they charge what like $2.00 these days for one spread of it. Really though?

And earlier this week, after taking an awesome photography class in beautiful Palo Alto I went and had a similar sandwich where in the middle of my second bite my waiter brought me my check. Ummmmm, he is lucky I was busy chewing I am sure that was all part of his strategy though. I had planned on enjoying the warm afternoon with coffee and dessert but apparently that isn't allowed at this restaurant. Is this God telling me to layoff the Turkey?

So instead I walked across the street to a self serve frozen yogurt place. Apparently I self served myself into lethargy because as soon as I got home I took a nap... at 4:45 which was helpful because I wanted to stay up pretty much all night watching infomercials in an attempt to fall asleep. This is the waiter's fault.

PS I tried to find a hot deli worker pic to post with this so you had something to oogle while reading my rants. "Hot Deli Worker" when googled turned up images of Lindsay Lohan which is baffling.

Batter Blaster and The Bartender. You Heard it Here First

Team,

I know you were all wondering how it works - Batter Blaster that is. And since KM purchased some for me and left it daintily on my pillow I have decided since no one else would want to admit trying it to try it myself. I had to purchase a new bottle as Batter Blaster needs to be refrigerated at all times (don't be afraid to take notes as what I am about to tell you may shock you) Batter Blaster is better than sliced bread. I was a little embarrassed to go through the checkout line with it but the cashier likely confused it with whipped cream and didn't even look twice at it.

At this moment my brother is cooking me a breakfast feast and we had already forgotten about the Batter Blaster we bought yesterday when perusing the refrigerator he saw it and exclaimed "Oh let's have Pancakes" and two minutes later there he is simply shaking, and squirting and Voila a perfectly burned pancake. 4 squirts later we have the perfect pancake with no effort. I can't believe I am about to say this but Batter Blaster may be the way of the future instead of the end of the world.

I can see Martha on TV now "Just shake, point, blast and shoot"

Kurt's Verdict - If you want pancakes and you are really lazy this will do the job.

Organic Batter Blaster's patent is pending, do you think that is for any and all squirtable foodstuffs? I will be putting my patent in for cocktail blasters, instant Mojitos and margaritas here we come. We will call it "The Bartender" and put it in a chic black container. Each cocktail will come, as salsa does with Mild, Medium and Hot. They will be, "Underage", "Lightweight" and "In it to Win It".

Let me know how your first Batter Blaster experience goes.

*I claim any and all profits that come from the ideas presented above.

On My Bed – And Why I’m Going to Miss You

Not you. My bed. I am going to miss my bed.

For the last two years it has been just you and me bed, oh how I tried to fill the void in our relationship - the right side that is – never with very much success though and now I must forsake you altogether. My Australian visa will not let me take you with me. The fact that I called in sick today just to spend an extra 2 hours with you should be testament enough to how much our relationship means to me. I will be devastated if you are not waiting for me when I return home. You better be though I paid good money for you at Dirt Cheap Mattresses, took you out of the ghetto and that suspect warehouse, clothed you in only the best linens and then spent entire Sundays with you literally never leaving your fluffy but firm pillow top for more than the mere moment to get leftovers or cheese from the fridge to eat. Please don’t forget this while I am gone.

And this is how my minor panic attack began. I was lying in bed feeling like I was sleeping on clouds when I realized there are no cloud filled beds in Australia. And also I realized at the same time that I can’t carry all of my beloved clothes in even (3) suitcases (I could never take 3…could I?) Which means…I am going to have to choose. And then there was the dilemma, 2 suitcases or one. How big, how much can I carry on my own? One small, one large or two small. Are my friends going to judge me my new favorite Le Sportsac backpack that I bought completely without cause or need and have been hiding from my roommates. And which purse, I can’t take more than one and what about jeans, jeans are heavy but I want, wait need, all of them. And here I am panicking now and really what about shoes?

On another note I realized I never even commented on Mystic Pizza in my last post even though I referenced it in my title. So here it is, of course it was on TV 14 times between last weekend and I watched it probably twice through intermittently and the entire time I just wanted one slice. Seriously what is so fucking mystic about it? I don’t know maybe I am just hungry but it doesn’t seem right.