Rumplestiltskin Works Here

No, I'm not the beautiful blond-haired miller's daughter.

I'm the nasty, pissed off elf who's going to stomp a hole in the ground really, really soon.

I hate Microsoft, I hate PowerPoint and I hate last minute super-duper important presentations!!!

***

So don't mind me... I'll try to be back to normal by Free Friday.

In the meantime, if you haven't discovered Sur la Lune, it's where all the coolest info about fairytales lives on the net.

I'm off to try to weave some straw into a big fricking pile of gold now.

grrrr.

Monday.

If someone is roaming around downtown SF with a tranquilizer dart gun, let me know.

Normally I'd want the dart for someone else, but today it's for me.

Images from here and here.

20% More Life

I don't know about you guys, but a lot of people I know are not really feeling the holiday spirit right now. I took this photo in Chinatown last week. The shop owners there are sometimes standing outside, asking people to come into their stores to look around. There are not many tourists or wanderers like me on the street to ask.

Normally by this time of year, I could expect random pummeling on the train coming home because we'd be picking up loads of holiday shoppers at Powell Station, where Union Square and the big mall are. Last year I can't tell you how many times we were smashed into strange configurations trying to accommodate lots of bags stuffed with stuff and excited shoppers bragging about their purchases.

So far this year, I haven't been smashed by an overloaded shopping bag once. Our office is adjacent to luxury shops such as Prada, Chanel, de Beers, and Hermes, to name a few, which are almost empty. And the other stores, like H&M, The Gap and MNG, have big red signs in the windows: 20-60% off! Buy One Get One Free! These signs feel desperate to me. And still the shoppers are scant. Some stores keep their doors open and you can feel the heat wafting out into the cold air. I guess enticing people into a store with a blast of warm air isn't nearly enough now.

***

Not going into too much detail, but starting next year me and some of my peeps will be having more free time on our hands during the week. I will be having about 20% more time, to be exact.

I'm going to look at it that way instead of having 20% less of something else.

One thing that could mean is that I'll be able to take 20% more photographs than normal. I really want to go back to Chinatown and explore more. Ever since I finished my book on The Mission, I feel like I didn't give Chinatown enough of my attention.

For instance, this photo was taken inside the Ma-Tsu Temple on Beckett Street. I had only taken photos from the outside previously. This little temple is full of shrines, gods and hundreds of incense sticks burning in urns filled with sand.

And this photo is the doorway of a divey bar all the way at the end of Grant Street. I had never walked to the end of Grant before, or else just had not noticed this space.

And these little men... just waiting to live under a bonsai tree as a souvenir of someone's San Francisco adventure. More chances to play with my macro lens.

And then the food in Chinatown is good and cheap. Dim sum-- you can get two chao siu bau for $1.00. Or har gow, 3 for $1.50.

And this is called a Chinese pancake: sticky, sweet glutinous rice filled with red bean paste. It's delicious and only costs $.60. Budget dessert.

Taking pictures is free but the enjoyment of capturing a perfect image is priceless. I have my beat up walking boots that were purchased for the Acqua alta in Venice, and now have trod many streets of San Francisco in them. And batteries are cheap.

***

What do you wish you had 20% more of?

Besides the extra time, I think I would like to have:

20% more compassion
20% more brain power and memory
20% more good eating habits and exercise
20% more surprises

We'll see how it goes.

Holiday Tizzy

"I misremember who first was cruel enough to nurture the cocktail party into life. But perhaps it would be not too much too say, in fact it would be not enough to say, that it was not worth the trouble." ~ Dorothy Parker

***

I don't blog about work much. I'd really like to because I think you'd find the stories entertaining and we would be one of your better soap operas/fabulous reality shows, but right now I am just super-duper happy to have a job at all and I don't want to screw that up.

I know I have mentioned the whining, though. People here are expert at this. I cannot even begin to tell you about the rigaramole that has cropped up about our Holiday Party, but let me say that if someone complains about it at this point, the results could be dire (for them) because I had the unique distinction of jumping through all of the hoops by myself this year and am the sole Creative Party Planner and Go-To Festivity Organizer Person this time around.

Since I can't go into details, I will placate you by sharing the menu because if I tell more, I'll never stop tattling and then that would be bad for my economy.

***

Hosted Premium Bar and Reception Station

Antipasto: Select Artisan Cured Meats, Marinated Summer Vegetables, Marinated Olives, House Cured Wild King Salmon House Made Sea Salt Crackers & Grissini

Winter Buffet Dinner

Organic Young Carrot Bisque
Young Forni Brown Lettuces, Garden Herbs and Champagne Vinaigrette
Chef's Choice Vegetarian Pasta Dish
Bloomsdale Spinach Salad, Caramelized Onions, Applewood Smoked Bacon
Organic Heirloom Chicory Salad with Dry Cured Olives and Fresh Mozzarella
House Cured Wild Salmon, Young Lettuces, Fresh Shelling Bean Salad
Garlic Chive Crepes, Local Wild & Cultivated Mushrooms
Stuffed Baby Heirloom Squashes & Eggplants
Wood Roasted Young Chicken with Endive, Frisee and Goat Cheese
Roasted Sonoma Coast Lamb Leg, Garden Herb Crust
Devils Food Cupcakes with White Chocolate Ganache
Organic Apple Confit, Gingersnap Crumble and Vanilla Chantilly Cream
Pear and Huckleberry Tarts

***

Christina, did I do good? It sounds fancy shmancy. I just hope they have enough drinks beforehand to be happy campers. I threw darts at the wine list.

Vintage coolness and the photo I swiped come from Vintage Martini.

I hate it when this happens

They are making me work! Just look at this Emperor Tamarin until I get back.

Resting on Laurels I Don't Have

An idea not coupled with action will never get any bigger than the brain cell it occupied. ~Arnold Glasow

***

"So, why are you still working here?"

That is what one of my coworkers asked me today. She was very direct. She even had her hands on her hips, in an insistent stance. She meant the question in a nice way, though.

As much as I might complain and whine about my job sometimes, I do work with some very talented, bright and very funny, cool people (except for one, and that's all I'll say about that). For almost two years, I have played jokes on some, shared snarky emails and daydreams of where the nearest Sugar Daddy store is in town, and gone out for drinks, movies, lunches and dinners with even more. When I would walk in a little late in the morning, looking frowsy from a late night of tango dancing, some one would always ask with a smile, "Oh, tango again last night?" Or when I had my flamenco skirt and shoes in my bag and was on the way out the door, people would want to know, "How's that flamenco coming along?"

It's nice to be noticed.

Now, when they see me with my camera around my neck, maybe having just come in from lunch, they say, "Take any good pictures today?" And they mean it. I get little congregations at my desk to see one of my latest achievements. It's very sweet of them.

I've already sold seven books at work.

So someone who hadn't seen my book yet came over with a copy in her hand. Three of them had been pow-wowing at another's desk, and she had been flipping through it. She marched back to my desk and said, "So why exactly are you still working here? I can't believe you took these pictures! You should be in a gallery. You should be selling these books all over town!"

I babbled. "Wha..wah...wh--"

And another one piped up on the other side of my desk: "You need to get a grant. Seriously. Apply to the Getty Foundation and get out of here."

They already have all of these ideas. Go to this store. This museum. This hotel. Oh, the tourists here. And here. My head was spinning and my insides were saying, oh please, can't you do this part for me?

So now I have to give myself a little bit of a kick in the pants. I made my book, and I adore it. I figured out how to make prints I like and I can sell them, too. I show my book around and people love it. I have copies sitting on my desk (the stack is dwindling rapidly), all with the idea that I will take them into shops and hotels and show them and see if I can drum up some orders, and instead I've done nothing so far.

I'm resting on laurels I don't have. I need to cut this crap and get out there and show my stuff. But then I think about me trying to apply for a grant with the Getty Foundation and my mean little Dorothy Parker self just laughs (Just learned to use a camera at Easter, this year, for god's sake! Still uses the Auto function on her camera because she doesn't even know all of the settings yet. Who does she think she is, anyway?!).

This post is not a pity party for me and I know what I have to do. But I still want to have the world come to me, to be like Lana Turner at the soda fountain at Schwab's and get discovered and instantly become a star (even though that story isn't true, isn't it what we all want?). Isn't that what reality tv is all about? Someday I'll be discovered? That diamond in the rough, the one that only needs a little facet here and a little polish there and voila! Now I can show them all I'm not a total phony?

Wake up, tangobaby. You've got to hit the pavement and get to work.

Please help kick me in the pants. I need more feet.

***

Just so you know, up top are what the MOO cards look like, what I was telling you about here. They are insanely cute and I think all of you should get MOO cards. (See, I'm so good at promoting other people's stuff.)

On the other side, they say:

julie michelle
photographer

Okay, MOO cards. I know.

It's Not All Boring

Today one of my work-related tasks is to find a Bedazzler. You'd be surprised to know this, but here in San Francisco they are not as common as one might think.

Actually, the task is not officially work-related but it does involve a co-worker so at least I can say I've done something productive today.

Do any of you guys know how to use a Bedazzler? I got a D in sewing.

One of My Better Work-Related Emails

Mom strikes again (and NO, it's not my job. Supposedly we have someone employed here called an office manager).

***

8/22, 2:22 PM

Hi guys,

The refrigerator has undergone a massively overdue cleaning and restocking.

I am guessing that most questionable/possible Bio-Hazard items have been destroyed, including the hairy carrots (you know who you are).

The ancient yogurts (dated April), emaciated blueberries, Ming Dynasty-era Chinese food and very odd-looking shriveled Camembert (that was what the label said it was) have gone to the giant landfill in the sky.

Let’s start things anew and keep our little refrigerator pretty.

Thanks!

ps. If I did throw out your lunch accidentally, I apologize.

***

pps. I accidentally did throw out someone's lunch, but he did agree that it was stinky and gross.

Friday Morning Commutes Are Not Supposed to Be Like This

Today, the Friday morning before the Memorial Day weekend, I envisioned a commute with almost empty trains, arriving almost every two or three minutes.

Boy, was I wrong.

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***

There is a stable of mythical beasts in San Francisco. I have never seen one of these creatures myself, but I have heard tales of their existence.

They are called shuttles.

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***

When Muni breaks down, you hear a garbled, usually cryptic, message telling you to get off the train and that a shuttle will be coming for you shortly.

Like I said, I have never seen one of these things. Even this morning, when we all got kicked off the train (which was crowded) and were told to wait for the shuttle.

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I am starting to feel like Muni is playing with the good people of San Francisco. Next time they mention the word "shuttle" over the almost unintelligible PA system, in my mind I am going to substitute "Santa's Sleigh and Flying Reindeer" or "Beautiful Mystical Unicorn."

Because those things are as likely to pick me up and take me to work as one of their shuttles. Feh, Muni. Get your shit together already!

***

I have also decided to come up with some alternative methods of getting to work in case the city can't find any unicorns.

Here are the choices I am leaning towards:

A sedan chair, carried by buff guys.

The Jaguar hearse from Harold and Maude.

A pumpkin coach.

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A float covered in flowers and princesses (including me).

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A rickshaw (I especially like this one).

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A tickertape parade.

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But most of all, I would love to go to work in this. Although if I had one of these, I wouldn't need to work, would I?

When You Need More Than a Belt to Keep Your Pants Up

I'm just asking: Is there something wrong about this picture? (Besides that it is blurry. Sorry about that.)

I was not raised as a Christian, but I'm can't help wondering if the best place for Jesus is on a belt buckle. It just doesn't seem very polite to me.

***

Now that I've addressed an important issue, I will confess to you that I played hooky today (again) because they were annoying the hell out of me yesterday (again). I might be a great Girl Friday but it doesn't mean they don't drive me up a fashionably decorated, aesthetically appealing wall sometimes.

I am not sure when exactly my Muse Certification is coming from Mount Olympus, but I hope it's soon.

***

I want you to know I used my hooky time wisely.

I finished a really awesome book, which was so riveting that I had to keep telling The Boy to be quiet and leave me alone so I could finish it. I know he thinks I am mean/antisocial. I normally don't read scary books, but I could not put this book down. And it's the author's first novel. He really hit this one out of the ballpark.

Then we took our hooky on the road.


I want to feel very special so please tell me that premium gas where you live is less than $4.19/gallon. I want to be proud of San Francisco for having the most expensive gasoline in the country.

We first went to Rosamunde's in the Lower Haight for sausages, which is where I saw the Jesus Belt Buckle in a nearby shop. And this one, too.


I feel like I might need to go back and buy the Jesus Belt Buckle (or the Jesus/Mary one) for my boss. Maybe it will stop his drama queen behavior and make him calm and considerate of others. If it works, I will probably need to buy several belt buckles for some of the others.

These photos below were taken in Memphis Minnie's across the street from Rosamunde's. I'm not an expert on barbeque, but I have to be very honest with you and tell you that the best things they do are the banana pudding and the sweet tea. And scent the air with pork.


But the place is nothing if not humorous.

And I took a little Victorian house porn. Ha ha, made you look!


The picture below is a portion of the Palace of Fine Arts, taken from the Letterman Digital Arts Center (George Lucas's new little hideaway).


I think my best shot of the day was this little pink chickadee, practicing her walking on a wooden bench on a hilltop in the Presidio overlooking the bay. Thank goodness for my zoom lens--I can take pictures of adorable children without their parents thinking I am a stalker.


My photgraphic breakthrough came today when I finally learned how to use the super macro function on my camera. So I did what anyone would do--take a picture of his/her eye. (Hey, it's my day off.)


I have a feeling that this new knowledge might make me go a little macro crazy and I'll need to get myself an electron microscope next because I can't see amoebas or atoms with this thing.

My Next Job

I have decided that I need a promotion.

For many years, I have been employed in various incarnations of His Girl Friday. When people ask me what I do in my current position, I tell them that I am The Power Behind The Throne. And it's true, to some degree.

It's nice to be needed: to be the one your boss turns to when he needs an aspirin, a shot of vodka, a last-minute reservation or a little white lie for the client holding on Line #1. I give sage and considered advice when asked. I keep secrets. Not everyone is cut out to do that sort of thing.

I am an especially good Girl Friday because I often know when my boss needs these sorts of things before he even tells me. I even make him toast.

There's no dishonor in being a Girl Friday. But it can be mentally taxing to always be at the ready, anticipating every need before it is asked.

I was thinking that for my next job, instead of being needed, I would rather be adored.

I think I want to get a job as a muse.

***
Muses work all day long and then at night get together and dance. ~ Edgar Degas

Often the Muse will not respond to direct and logical requests. She must be lured in with the playful and gentle. ~ Jill Badonsky

I'll have to tweak my resume a little, but I don't think it will be too much of a leap from what I'm doing now. I just want more perks.

I think lounging around in diaphanous gowns, while being encouraging and wise--yet sometimes petulant and tempermental--would be a nice change of pace. And hopefully I'll get better vacation and medical.

***

No, in all seriousness, I've been thinking about some of the famous muses that I'm aware of who have inspired great artists to create masterpieces. What is it about some women that inspire such creativity and devotion in those that surround them? Is it love? It must be more than that.

I wish I knew. It must be wonderful.

***

Some images I've found to admire before going to sleep...

Hesiod and the Muse by one of my favorite painters, Gustave Moreau. If you go to Paris, you should visit his museum. It is one of my favorites.

The Muse at Sunrise by Alphonse Osbert.


Hesiod Listening to the Inspiration of the Muse by Edmond Aman-Jean.

Muni Lust

Despite the fact that I am all jacked up on Excedrin this morning, I got a brief respite from my morning tiredness/commute/
yucky headache by standing almost face to face with someone who looked like a young Harrison Ford. Holy cow. (Normally, my time spent on public transporation is more like this and this.)

He looked like Harrison Ford circa first Raiders of the Lost Ark and maybe Witness. Floppy hair over the forehead, just perfectly scruffy and unshaven enough but not in a planned, affected way but also not too messy either, square jaw, green/hazel eyes.

Of course I averted my eyes. But my 13-year-old heart went pitter-pat and I forgot about my headache for about five whole minutes.

Yay.

PS. I was going to write a different post but this one got in the way. I'm sure you understand.

Who Made Me Mom?

This is how I feel today. Cleaning up messes.

Some people (who will never see this post) need to get their shit together.

I am NOT your mom!

If you persist with your alternatively frantic/whining behavior and general lack of appreciation, then I will have no other resort than to send you to your room.

And that may adversely affect my yearly review and possible raise.

Flunked

Today I failed the Flower Test at work. It's the first time I've done that since I started working here.

When I started this job, I did not realize that the owner of our company is famous. But I am not an interior designer--it's not my world.

It would be like if you got a job working for Pablo Veron (you can insert another famous name here if you want) and you didn't know anything about tango, and then you discovered that the mention of your boss's name made other random people raise an eyebrow or speak reverently, in hushed tones.

I just think it's funny though how some of the people who work here (I can't speak for the whole world of interior design) get really intense (read: bitchy) about certain things that don't matter a whole heck of a lot in the big scheme. A few people can get very Norma Desmond-y in this office. Or a little Devil Wears Prada-y. You just have to laugh. But not in front of them, of course.

When I started working here, I was warned about having to buy flowers when VIP clients come into the office. They can't just be flowers, they must be flowers. They must speak to us somehow.

I'm not a complete dummy. I don't buy mums or carnations, or even roses. (They don't like roses.) I buy interesting flowers, nothing too bright or fragrant or flowery. I find flowers with texture.

Today's flowers did not make the cut (the normal people here liked them). In fact, they were banished from the front table when I wasn't looking. But now the flowers are sitting by my computer. They are fluffy and white and they smell really fantastic. It smells like springtime at my desk. And they totally block my vision of the drama queeny person who sneered at them in the first place.

Computers and Armageddon

This has not been a good week for me and the computers, software and printers that I use for legitimate work purposes (i.e., not blogging). I could never be an IT person. I would have killed myself by now.

Of course these technological conflicts always happen at the worst possible time, usually centered around deadlines of some sort.

Which reminds me that it's time to watch one of my favorite Eddie Izzard clips again:



If you are an Eddie Izzard virgin, then I am very happy to have introduced you to him. If you like smart men who wear makeup, your life is now complete.

Eddie is the sexiest man in makeup on the planet. I cannot believe I have not blogged about him already. That's like me not writing about movies or chocolate.

The Dramedy That Is the Office Holiday Party

I have had the dubious honor of helping to plan and organize our office's Holiday Party. We are on high-drama alert this week. The party is on Saturday night.
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Our office--a very very upscale boutique interior design firm in San Francisco--try to use your imagination that the levels of this drama can get to. Hands down, the men here definitely outdrama the women. Even the women with PMS.
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Our office is such a great candidate for a reality television program. You would love us. We would get fabulous ratings. And we would look extremely stylish while doing it.
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I've never had a drink during the day, but I am considering it. I just took some Excedrin. Can you drink and take Excedrin at the same time?
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I cannot wait until this is o-v-e-r.