On Second Thought
while driving…
Her: What do those signs mean “Litter pick-up sponsored by so-and-so?
Me: In California, companies often “adopt” a section of the freeway and pick up the garbage. It’s kind of a publicity/community-service thing…
Her: Oh! So this is a great place to throw our trash out the window, ’cause Cisco’s got it handled
Me: What?! No! Just becau…well waitaminute, hmmmm
Ahoy-hoy
I’m back.
Though everything wasn’t exactly as I remember it, enough was to make me miss it all the more:
– Sure, there’s no decent place to get a burrito in IV anymore, even if Freebirds finally got their act together and stopped making those tiny little enchiladas-posing-as-burritos… no matter, because the chili-cheese fries at The Habit more than make up for it.
– Sure the put a lame clock attachment on Storke Tower that looks like an after-thought…there’s finally water in the reflecting pool!
– Yes, Earthling Bookshop is no more…well, actually that does suck. But no matter, Santa Barbara is still paradise on Earth
and a picture’s worth a thousand words…
I’m off to take a voluntary vacation from my involuntary unemployment-induced one. I’ll miss you, but will do absolutely nothing to alleviate those feelings in the form of blog-posts. You can, however, all expect to receive postcards.
Happy Independence Day, and keep on keepin’ on…
Aaron Brothers 1¢ Frame Sale – A breakdown:
Cost of one theoretical frame: $19.99
Cost of a second frame at equal or lesser value: 1¢
TOTAL: $20.00
Adjusted cost per frame (20.00/2): $10.00
Assuming 60% margin, REAL cost of frame: $3.00
TOTAL SCREWING despite the 1¢ frame sale ($20.00-2x$3.00): $14.00 (ie 466% overcharge)
EDITOR’S NOTE: Assumes 60% profit margin. Does not, in fact, allow for any profit. Numbers used for illustration purposes only
So what’s the point? The point is, that no matter how good the deal sounds, They will always come out on top. It’s not as if frames are fruit and they’ll go bad unless dramatically reduced in price. It’s not as if frames in inventory can’t stay in inventory a little bit longer. It’s not as if Aaron Brother’s needs to get rid of perfectly good frames for what is effectively free. Therefore, one has to wonder: why are they doing this? Because, gentle readers, suckers like me that go in there just to look at something and maybe get a drawing pad, end up walking out with $50 worth of canvases and frames I don’t need right now because I think I’m getting such a great deal.
Until I’m walking to my car.
And remembering I’m unemployed.
New Personal Best
Through sheer force of will, I was able, without the help of performance-enhancing drugs, to consecutively watch 2 minutes, 47 seconds of Jerry Springer.
Well, I’ve been a horrible, horrible flake on this, and I hope you don’t hold it against me. Better late then never, right? So, without further ado, I have made a major update to the plates section. Check it out…
Testosterone falling!
For reasons that are frankly none of your damn business, I went to JoAnn Fabrics this afternoon. My masculinity, my friends, was sorely tested. Of course, if you know me at all, you know that an abundance of masculinity is somehow not one of my main problems despite my obvious overwhelming manliness. A contradiction, I know, and one that I’m still unclear about.
At any rate, while waiting in line behind the woman buying several Martha Stewart inspired accessories and a 12 foot wide inflatable American flag ($60!), I noticed an incontrovertible fact about places like that:
everyone pays by check
urge…to kill…RISING!
Toreador, en garde… Toreador! Toreador!
At the last moment and not great expense, I went to see Carmen at the San Francisco Opera last night. It was three hours and forty-five minutes long very good. Arriving just in the nick of time, we were forced to effectively sprint up 78 flights of stairs to the cheap seats.
At the opera, you will see an interesting phenomenon, by the way. If you ever want to see very well dressed, aristocratic, largely white, refined men and women scatter like cockroaches under a 2 AM kitchen light, dim the lights subtly and ring a series of unobtrusive tones signifying the impending start of Act I. There is something poetically grotesque about seeing a 60-ish woman, in resplendent in high-nosed high-society stoll, run awkwardly on 3-inch heels likes she hasn’t since sprinting for that last cupcake at her 5th birthday party…or at the last opera she got caught in the bathroom in.
