New York Times sold out

It’s the day after Election Day. I buy a San Francisco Chronicle with a little bit of trouble, not too much. The New York Times though …

IS SOLD OUT. EVERYWHERE. EVERY RACK, EVERY LIQUOR STORE, EVERY BOOK STORE.

I can’t find a copy to save my life.

First, I try my neighborhood, the Richmond District, nada.

Then, I drive up to Laurel Village, to this bookstore there, zip.

Then, I drive over to the Haight and some places there. Nothing either. There are two other guys in the bookstore with me, looking for a New York Times. And then it hits me …

Maybe, they’re buying up these papers to sell on eBay later or for collector purposes since Barack Obama is the first black president in history. Hmmm. Plausible.

BUT I JUST WANT TO READ THE DARN THING.

This older guy says he’ll race to me the liquor store up on Cole and Parnassus to look for the last copy. I tell him I just want to read it. He asks why I don’t just go to the library. I say that I want to read it at home and digest it and i don’t want to sit on a bench at the library or in front of my computer at a Web site. … I remember that I didn’t put money in the meter, and tell him he can go for it.

The lady back up at Laurel Village in the Books, Inc. said she had folks WAITING to buy a copy when she opened the store. She said she usually gets about 10 copies a day, and they were SOLD OUT immediately.

I decide to drive up to the UCSF campus to their bookstore, and found out they don’t even sell newspapers inside. Just a bunch of medical journals and People magazines. I ended up going to their library and making photocopies of their copy of the New York Times before throwing in the towel and going home.

It’s wonderful to see people buying up newspapers like this. I wish they did it every day. … I’ll have to get a subscription to the NYT before his innauguration in January.

Green tea energy boost

I’ve been running around all day like I don’t know what. Bureaucracy, man. That’s why it’s so big and gregarious. If you don’t have the energy and the patience to keep tap, tap, tapping, most of us will just say, “Oh, screw it!” and throw in the towel. It takes a lot of energy, and a boost, a shot, of something. I don’t know what. To get through the nasty stuff.

Here’s an example:

I had this medical condition that happened to me about two and a half years ago. In California, doctors are “mandated reporters” so that if something happens to you — depending on the severity of the circumstances and their judgment, they are obligated to report it to the DMV. Now, my circumstance happend in the middle of the night when I was off the road, but it took me off the road (sorry about that) for three months. No driving. I had a hearing before the DMV to get my driving privilege back … but my rates are still frozen high without the “good driver discount” for the next three years.

OK.

I live in San Francisco. I barely drive right now. I take Muni. I walk. I pretty much drive to go to the Rainbow Grocery across town, or over to my boyfriend’s house 20 blocks away, or over to the gym in the Marina District. My old job was up in Marin, 20 minutes north. The only real driving I do is down to San Jose, an hour’s drive south. And that’s not too often. We’re looking at minimal driving.

I can’t remove this suspension on my “good driving” discount until November 2009.

Argggggghhhhhhh!!!!!

Even though the DMV has cleared me, and I’m considered a good driver to them, the insurance companies are different. They told me that if I fax over a document to them, they’ll “consider” a lower rate. What the hell?? Why do I have to do all their work for them, when I was cleared by the DMV and allowed to drive again 2 1/2 years ago??

Sorry for the rant, but this is the way bureaucracy works, and one person against larger systems in tough economic times is up against a lot. California also just recently “reduced” insurance rates, so perhaps that’s another factor in my frozen rates for the next six months. …

Back from Vegas

I was in Vegas this past weekend, and now I’m back. I am soooo happy to be back home in San Francisco, back in my neighborhood. Back in a place where there are busses, recycling, FOG, good cuisine, good wine, things within walking distance, parks for goodness sake, and bodies of water that are natural and within spitting distance for contemplation and repose. But in Vegas, the cost of gas is $2.89 a gallon, and here it’s $3.35 … which is still great considering where it was a few months ago. In San Francisco, my rent is ugh, uh-hum. In San Francisco, there are all these extra fees and taxes on my cell phone bill, which I still don’t understand. In San Francisco — California as a whole — we have propositions galore on the November ballot. In Nevada, there are judges and representavies up for the picking.

I was frustrated by the recycling. There is none in Vegas. I felt guilty throwing out my water bottle, that I had to buy because the tap water there is HORRIBLE, just plain disgusting. Here in San Francisco, not only is the tap water the best in the land, but we have recycling, composting, and they’re talking about fining you if you don’t. … And then there are the older ladies who pick through your garbage on garbage night looking for those water bottles and beer bottles and wine bottles to take to the redemption center for quick cash. Because in California, we have CRV tacked on to each water bottle, 5 cents. Another added expense. They don’t have that in Vegas. … But you can’t use coins in the slot machines anymore. Damn! Bills only. Or Cards.

Blogger’s making me mad …

The reason I switched over to a new WordPress blog and away from my own Blogger blog (which I’ve had for a few years and several folks read on a regular basis) is that they’re doing something screwy. I need to register with only a Google address to log on. So, if I don’t have a Google address, I need to go out and get one. And I don’t have one. So, all of a sudden, I’m forced to change everything and redo and resign in. And meanwhile, my blog is hanging in limbo. But that’s ok. That’s cool. I can live with it. …

I have this new blog now to play with, although I’m upset about the content of my old and I can’t control it anymore. I can’t log on and get it. That’s the danger of Google, and perhaps the flagility of the future and where the Internet is taking us and our information.