See, in California, rain on the freeway means that the 90% of us who know how to make reasonable adjustments in our driving are at the mercy of the idiotic remainder, the ten percent who either

• drive bat-outta-hell style (stuff that would be dangerous even under the best of conditions), or
• drive overly cautiously, almost to the point of pavement paranoia.

The second group is comprised of those folks who see a little bit of water on the freeway and immediately drop to 20 MPH regardless of the traffic around (or behind) them, while the first is home to guys like the dick who was weaving in and out of stop and go traffic on the approach to the Bay Bridge this morning. His antics brought him within inches of my rear bumper — no exaggeration. If I was parallel parking, and had a car as close as his behind me, I would have to get out and go look to make sure I wouldn’t hit it.

Could be worse, though: I could still be in Ohio, dealing with the drivers there.

All you jerks that read a piece of spam and think to yourself, “Why, yes, all-natural enhancement sounds like a great idea!” can go screw yourselves.

No pun intended.

I didn’t mind the rock songs being worked in. Sure, it was a done lot clumsier than in A Knight’s Tale, but ’twas tolerable.

I didn’t mind Kirsten Dunst in the role. Well, not too much. She was… um… pretty in the fantastic period costuming by Milena Canonero.

(I’m starting to think that Bring It On and, to a lesser extent, the Spider-Man entries are the only movies of Dunst’s that I will ever like her in.)

I did, however, mind that the movie was boring. That it was ponderous. Self-indulgent. Interminable.

The ruthless editing of Borat was sorely needed here.

Yes, Sofia, I see the pretty landscape. Oh, and, my, isn’t Marie looking very lonely as she peers out the carriage window! And the constant whispers of the French court; well-noted. Oh, look… another landscape. That’s… nice… More forlorn window-gazing…? Yes, symbolism! How very, very smart of you!

An aside: I hate it when people talk in movie theaters. I mean out-loud, big-boy-voice talking. Whispering? S’fine. Carrying on a conversation? Say hello to my little friend.

So it’s a pretty good indication of just how horrible this movie was that a trio of movie-ruining harpies was merrily gabbing away (at a volume you might use on the subway, or perhaps on a motorboat) just a couple seats to my left and I didn’t care.

But wait, there’s more.

I spent the movie marking time until the end (and resisting the temptation to go fetal) because, I reasoned, at least I knew how the story ended.

Silly me.

The movie ends with the departure from Versailles, before the guillotine.

I work on the fourth floor, mind you.

See the original image by
 SoulCookie

Now that I am, at best, going to miss all of the morning session, he was on the verge of just telling me to stay here in the Bay Area.

One more flight delay and I suspect he’ll step over that boundary.

Perfect. Just perfect.

/frustrated

It seems the travel agency issued me travel credentials for “Sean Barrow,” and not for “Kevin Sean Barrow.” It took me threading the bureaucracy of 6 different agents at 4 different stations (with about eight different theories) to discover that it was not, in fact, a problem, since “the last name is really all they look at.”

That epiphany didn’t come until 15 minutes after my 6am flight had departed. (Thanks, crackmonkeys.)

So, I’m on standby for a flight that leaves SFO at 7:55am.

• I was offered a chance to make it into Club 33 this weekend (thanks, Sara!), but had to decline ’cause it would’ve cost a bundle to jam down to Anaheim.
• That’s okay, as it happens, because I got violently ill late Thursday night. Whatever it was, it kicked my ass six ways to Sunday; I only started to feel somewhat human yesterday.
• Comic-Con starts Thursday. For the first time in seven years, I’m not going.

For those of you going to SDCC, or for those who are merely curious about the impact of the con on downtown San Diego, here’s an article on locals’ reactions to the invasion of “Nerd Prom.”

“It’s huge business for us,” said Dan Flores, marketing manager for the Gaslamp Quarter Association.

He hesitated, then broached the sensitive part: “The attendees are … ”

Different?

“Different. But they don’t all come in costume.”

It’s been down for at least fifteen minutes.

• First time head pooped on by bird:
  Tuesday 28 March 2006 @ 17:47 PST

Why is she posting this information? As she says in another post:

When my friends and I began to discuss the way the wind was blowing regarding Roe — and the fact that there might not be abortion-friendly laws in the United States, especially in red states, soon, several commented that within a few years, there would of course be setups built to handle it — safe illegal clinics, another Jane network, newsgroups developed for the sole purpose of transporting women, et cetera. But even as this idea soothed us a little, it also suggested something horrible: that for a few years, there would be a service gap that would kill many women unlucky enough to get pregnant during those lean years.

I am posting this now so that the information is available for anyone who believes it is needed where they are, as a hedge against these laws. No woman should be caught in a gap, forced to give birth or attempt self-abortion.

Brava, Molly.

[AP] PIERRE, S.D. – Gov. Mike Rounds signed legislation Monday banning nearly all abortions in South Dakota, setting up a court fight aimed at challenging the 1973
U.S. Supreme Court decision that legalized abortion.

The bill would make it a crime for doctors to perform an abortion unless the procedure was necessary to save the woman’s life. It would make no exception for cases of rape or incest.

/stunned and dismayed

[EDITED TO ADD:] Planned Parenthood is asking for help in what’s surely going to be a Supreme Court battle over this anti-Roe v. Wade.

In a reversal of policy, the United States on Monday backed an Iranian initiative to deny United Nations consultative status to organizations working to protect the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) people. In a letter to Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice, a coalition of 40 organizations, led by the Human Rights Campaign, Human Rights Watch, the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission, and the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, called for an explanation of the vote which aligned the United States with governments that have long repressed the rights of sexual minorities.

…

In voting against the applications to the NGO committee, the U.S. was joined by Cameroon, China, Cuba, Iran, Pakistan, the Russian Federation, Senegal, Sudan, and Zimbabwe. Votes in favor of consultative status came from Chile, France, Germany, Peru, and Romania. Colombia, India, and Turkey abstained, while Côte d’Ivoire was absent.

Ah, we’re teaming up with such happy, shiny comrades-in-oppression as Iran and Zimbabwe. From elsewhere on that page:

As the U.S. government acknowledged in its 2004 country report on Iran, Iranian law punishes homosexual conduct between men with the death penalty. Human Rights Watch has documented four cases of arrests, flogging, or execution of gay men in Iran since 2003. In its 2004 country report on Zimbabwe, the U.S. government noted President Robert Mugabe’s public denouncement of homosexuals, blaming them for “Africa’s ills.” In the past, Mugabe has called gays and lesbians “people without rights” and “worse than dogs and pigs.”

[via John Wick]

See, I think it would be a good idea to somehow alert people in the building to the fact that we’re having an evacuation.

It’s a little less inspiring, I’ve discovered, to have somebody else — not even in the building — ask me while we’re on a conference call if there’s an evacuation going on. (He’d heard the news from somebody else via IM.)

When my response, following a look around at our still completely-populated floor, is “I dunno,” something is not working quite right.

It was essentially a 15-minute exercise in congregating in one of our parking lots, then racing everyone else for the slow-ass elevator to take us back to our respective floors.

Well, last night, group 615 — my group — got the call.

So I worked from home this morning and made the trek down to the courthouse.

It’s not located in Cracksville by any means, but I did have more than one homeless guy urban survivalist badger me for spare change.

Once at the courthouse, I got to stand in a security queue (bag searches, metal detectors) that, I swear, rivaled some of the TSA’s finest examples of inefficiency.

Some time later — hours or epochs (or, okay, minutes) I cannot say — I made my way to Room 307, the Jury Assembly Room. Give me your tired, huddled masses and I’ll do you one better by adding bored to the mix.

Some random employee (she said her name, but none of us moved to write it down; it’s not like she’s gonna get on our Christmas card lists) came in and explained what the jury selection process would look like, what our obligations would be if we were picked, et cetera.

And then she played the video.

You know the one: California is the greatest state in the union; it’s our civic duty — nay, privilege! — to bring meaning to the entire justice system as jurors; many people who’ve served on juries have enjoyed the experience so much that they keep in touch with their fellow jurors; yadda yadda yadda.

I should point out that I don’t inherently disagree with the “civic duty” part. Hell, I think a real trial could be interesting to compare to Mock Trial and far too many seasons of the Law & Order family of shows.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna ridicule the process of The Process. And here’s where that ridicule comes in handy:

After summoning us, preaching to us (in their completely secular way, of course), and making us wait (and wait), they announce that both of the courtrooms that might’ve needed our presence are not, in fact, ready for us.

And so: “Jurors dismissed; you don’t have to come back for twelve months.”

I’m proud to have done my civic duty. It gave me a great opportunity to catch up on some homework be a key part of the American legal system.

I should’ve stayed in bed.

Close-up:
http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story
&u=/050914/ids_photos_ts/r2587077477.jpg

[Previously: America's worst... grr...]

After trekking out to the ticketing agents, waiting in a huge-ass line, and dealing with AW personnel whose reactions to my plight ranged from indifference to strongly implying that this series of events was, somehow, my fault — not a single, goddamn person bothered to say “I’m sorry” — I’ve been put on a flight three hours later than I was to have taken.

Which means I’m taking a cab home when I get to SF.

Perfect.

The lesson of the day: Avoid America West like the plague. This was the first — and last — trip for me on this no-customer-service P.O.S. airline.