I spent more than 30 minutes looking for parking in the Haight today, then gave up and came back home. Luckily there’s an Amoeba in Berkeley, or heads would have to roll. On a somewhat related note, why is people don’t know how to signal anymore? Were they never told to do it, did they forget, or are they just assholes?

The last entry reminded me of a more local story — some strip clubs had a charity event where the dancers wanted to raise money for a charity. Then ended up with a check for $4,300, but unsurprisingly, nobody wanted to take it. Having known at least one person who’s worked as a stripper, I wonder if the social stigma (and thus poor regulation) contributes to the poor working conditions for many strippers. It’s certainly a major viewpoint in the debate on prostitution. Only in San Francisco, however, would there be activists trying to legalize prostitution.

Contrary to popular belief, the word “hooker” did not originate with General Hooker, the infamous Civil War figure whose soldiers frequented every brothel on the long march home. Another one of my cherished jewels of knowledge destroyed by the harsh reality of accurate history. Next thing you know, they’ll be telling me Columbus didn’t discover America.

At the entrance to the Dumbarton Bridge, on the east side of the bay, there is a Safeway. Next to the Safeway is a drugstore named, of all things, Drug Emporium. I might be alone on this, but that name is not one that inspires confidence in the quality or legality of their wares.

We have a place to live. Thank goodness. But now I have to learn how to garden properly so we can grow tasty herbs, fruits and vegetables.

I went to Pettingell Book Bindery in Berkeley today and bought some blank books. It would be cool to make paper. Something fun to learn for a month, and maybe I can make something nifty in the process.

I imagine that somewhere Norbert Wiener is laughing at me, surrounded by his cohorts of evil elves in pointy hats. Laugh it up, Norbert. We shall have a reckoning at the proper time.

decimation – early 15c., from L.L. decimationem, from L. decimare “the removal or destruction of one-tenth,” from decem “ten.” Killing one in ten, chosen by lots, from a rebellious city or a mutinous army was a common punishment in classical times.

Signal processing is full of decimation. But it’s usually by 2. I guess it should be “bimation” or something. I should learn Latin. But first, I should learn signal processing, no?

Christy and I hiked a short trail in Marin yesterday, and then I managed to fail to drive to wine country. After coming back, we watched Swingers at the Pyramid Brewery. It resonates with me much more now that I’ve moved from the East Coast to California. Now I just have to learn how to swing dance. And get a booking agent.

Something odd about Berkeley: there are no carwashes, it seems. I mean, no drive-through carwashes, like the kind I loved to go through as a child. Instead, you pay $10-$30 and have a horde of people descend on your car and wash it by hand while you sit inside.

I went to Radio Bar (in Oakland) with Dave and Dan tonight. Props to Dave for choosing the bar. The first mojito I had was pretty good, the second kind of weak. But the Manhattan I had before that was pretty good, and they gave me the extra that didn’t fit in the glass, which was pretty cool. On the way to BART we met Erin (who lives above Dan and Dave), and met up with her friend Anthony, and his friend Suzanna, and then Kofi, Walter, and Cheveda showed up, so it was a real party. Totally awesome. This is what life should be like when I go to a bar.

Apartment hunt starts tomorrow. Huzzah.

I went to the Takara Sake factory (in Berkeley!) yesterday, and looked at their museum (actually a single room) of 19th century sake-making equipment, and did the free tasting of their different brews. Much like in wine tasting, being able to try sips of 8 different sakes one after the other highlights the differences between them so that now I might be able to order intelligently the next time I go for sushi. They also had some plum wines, two mixed with chardonnay, and one with sake, and all pretty tasty, albeit sickeningly sweet. Definitely a dessert kind of drink.

Then I went to play ultimate, where I learned the meaning of pain from lack of endurance.

I saw a post earlier this week on MetaFilter about Bob Dylan having lifted some of his lyrics from a Japanese gangster novel, and then the same story appears in the NY times today, although the latter is more of an apologia for Dylan. Interestingly enough, Harvard rescinded its acceptance offer to Blair Hornstein, the girl who sued her school to be the only valedictorian, over her plagiarism in a journalism contest. Perhaps “plagiarize” should be the word of the week.

I went to see Finding Nemo with Ann at the 1000 Van Ness yesterday, and as we walked back to Muni (and indeed, the rest of the evening) we saw people all dressed up for the Symphony’s gala fundraising event, the Black and White Ball. As I returned to the East Bay, I saw several people in the younger set going to the Ball, for which tickets were several hundred dollars. I see the appeal of dressing up and going to something fancy, but I think this event was a little beyond my ken. I seriously doubt those people felt they were being philanthropic, especially the way they were talking. Maybe this is the logical extension of going to a party with a pretty steep cover charge. All I have to say is that the hors d’ouvres had better have been pretty good, because my dinner was pretty damn tasty. Check it out in edibles.