Two words. Ham Soda.

After two years of sampling their spite-inducing seasonal variety packs, it looks like the folks at Jones Soda finally got an AP story written up about them. Go, Jones Soda, Go!

Let’s hope it drives more people to gather ‘round with friends and family to sip unusual and foul-tasting sodas into Dixie cups while airing their grievances. Perhaps I could shoot for Jones Soda to be the official sponsor of Spitesgiving?

Whaddya say, Jones Soda, are you down for it?

What's next, cell phones and email accounts?

In more “Beth Jumps on A Popular Tech Bandwagon WAAAAAY Too Late” news, I’ve created a Facebook page. Yeah, I realize the rest of you hipster young people were doing this years and years ago when you were in college, but I’m a little slower and older than y’all so cut me some slack. In all honesty, I can’t guarantee how often I’ll be updating my page….but I’m hope it will be more productive and current than my ill-fated MySpace page which I look at and udpate about once every….oh right, never.

Props to those of you who’ve poked me, thrown yams at me and written on my wall – nice to see old friends and familiar faces! Any tips on cool apps I need to check out and incorporate into my page?

Beth Gets Moxi-fied

In what has proven to be my most rewarding and smug moment to date in the Bay Area, I have found a new, brilliant hairstylist that was both achingly hip but still refreshingly approachable and down to earth. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Rebecca from Moxi. She is my new hair stylin’ BFF. No judgmental head-to-toe once overs and sneers about the condition of my hair color (you hear that, Cheyenne?). Instead, Rebecca made terrific recommendations for my cut (bangs, people, bangs!), made further edgy recommendations for my color the next time I visit (Beth’s going chestnut!), plus her assistant gave me a scalp massage that practically put me to sleep purring right in the styling chair.

I heart her.

Plus the fact that she actually used to train other Aveda stylists across the West Coast, including my old stylist Ruthie at Habitude, in Seattle, gives her all the more street cred in my mind.

By far, however, my most favorite-est part of my Moxi-infused morning was when the adorable receptionist asked me if she could (first) bring me some chocolate to go with my coffee (Hello? Is a foot rub by Colin Firth next?) and (second) if she could change the track on the music playing overhead because it made her want to “kick babies.” Something about that seemed hilarious to me. Apologies to those of you who actually HAVE babies, I don’t actually advocate that behavior, but it sure is ridiculously funny when someone says it out loud.

The Library Fetish Continues....

In a very typical Beth move, I can now say I am in proud possession of a San Francisco library card. This in itself isn’t all that amazing, but I don’t even have a California driver’s license or rental insurance yet so it’s a clear indication of where my priorities evidently are. Must! Access! Free! Dogeared! Books!

I’ll confess, San Fran’s libraries don’t seem to be able to compare to Seattle’s classy glassy hipster haven, but they seem to have their own old school charm. I even made my first visit to my neighborhood library branch in North Beach last week and can report that our little library is smack out of Mayberry – that is, if Mayberry had an impressive collection of Manga comics and Beatnik literature. Where else can one walk away with an old Garbage CD and an anthology of stories about being an only child?

And the people gathered. And there was a kitten. And they were all Very, Very Spiteful. Spitesgiving 2007!

It was with great bitterness and angst that the Friends of Beth kicked off this year’s third annual Spitesgiving gathering last weekend at the SSB casa in West Seattle. Good food, good friends, good wine and, um, did I mention there was a bebeh kitten there named Owen who was freakin’ ridiculous? And that SSB’s new house could substitute as a panda sanctuary with all of the bamboo growing around it?

Despite being delayed for five hours at the airport while the plane waited to fly in an auto pilot (see picture when he finally arrived), I made it back to Seattle for a whirlwind 40-hour Spitesfest. Seriously, the timing for Spitesgiving could not have come at a better time. I have been looking forward to this event for the past month – I needed Spitesgiving this year – and truly, it did not disappoint.

There were awesome souvenir coffee mugs. With turkeys on them. Really disgruntled, pissed-off turkeys.

There was a DVD of the first season of Beverly Hills 90210 airing almost constantly, which was fan-freakin-tastic.

There was Miss Spitesgiving 2007, i.e., Ginners, who made her first in-person appearance rather than phoning it in during the dinner hour.

There was the Ceremonial Tasting of Something Awful – which consisted this year of a Seattle Seahawks-themed collection of Jones Soda – including such spite-inducing flavors such as perspiration, turf, dirt, sports cream and finally sweet victory. The perspiration smelled and tasted sickeningly just like what you’d think it would, but strangely enough, the ointment flavored soda really wasn’t that bad (rather minty).

We then went into my absolute favorite part of Spitesgivng, which is the Airing of the Grievances. I kicked off with a two page list of things I am bitter about, including how noisy the street outside my apartment is, classic quotes from parental units, and the fact that the pigeons in San Francisco don’t move or fly away when you get close to them. They just stand there. Defiantly.

There was an amazing feast too, including turkey, Stove Top dressing, mashed sweet potato yumminess, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie.

And then it was over – just as soon as it began, it seemed. But we shall carry the spirit of Spitesgiving in our hearts all year.**

** Except for Eric, who gets a spiteful shout out because he was a wuss and didn’t make it this year. What. EVER.

Cheese! School! Cheese School!

Engh! Engh! Readers! Hey! (envision Arnold Horschack-esque sqirming and arm raising...)

Alert! There. Is. A. Cheese. SCHOOL. Two. Blocks. From. My. House. Where they teach you? About cheese? And how to eat cheese? And what to serve with cheese? And where you get to, again, eat really good cheese??? Head spinning. Palms sweating. Homer Simpson-like drooling beginning.

North Beach, you just earned another significant notch in your belt as being a cool place to live.

Chillin' smugly in my 'hood, yo

So get ME. My North Beach 'hood was recently recognized as one of the "10 Great Neighborhoods in America," in addition, notably, to the Pike Place Market area of Seattle. Can I pick 'em, or what?

As I'm spending more time wandering around North Beach, I'm finding my attitude about my neighborhood greatly improving - award or no award. When I first moved here I was all crinkly-faced and crabby because, after all, I do live one block away from this cheese-laden tourist fest and that's maybe not, well, the greatest thing. But as I'm starting to check out more of the surrounding areas, I'm realizing that North Beach is packed to the gills with charm and color and cuteness. I mean, where else can you have a church that resides at 666 Filbert Street that's just a few blocks from Kerouac Alley?

Next to-do is to explore some of the restaurants and bakeries in the area.

Open Letter to the movie"The Notebook"

Dear the movie "The Notebook,"

One might think that because you were only $10 at Target this weekend, that it would be okay for you to come home with me. The fact that I've become deeply crushy on Ryan Gosling lately made you all the more appealing - I mean seriously, look at him. Who wouldn't spend ten bucks on that?

And yet. Not since I went on that weird emotional Hallmark/Lifetime Movie Of The Week Tivo marathon last Christmas have I experienced such mindless, saccharin pablum. You, the movie "The Notebook," were awful. As in, You-had-me-at-hello/Bridges of Madison County cheese-coated awful.

Where to even begin here? Was it the utter lack of subtlety inherent in any Nicolas Sparks movie, or the total lack of sophistication and coherence that disappointed me most? You're telling me the best that a dark, brooding soul like Ryan Gosling can do on a first date is take his girl to Small Town Main Street and tell her how he used to lay down smack in the middle of the street at night and watch the traffic lights switch from red to green? He is supposed to be borderline retarded?

Remind me to write an open letter to James Gartner about his work in this movie and then roll it up and whap him upside the head with it. Ryan Gosling, we have to talk about this. Do you hear me, young man? Joan Allen and Sam Shepherd, don't think you're getting off easy, either.

Feeling like I could have just spend the $10 on more Method cleaning products and been a lot happier,

Beth

Well? Don't 'Cha?

God Bless You, Internet.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Don't ask me how or why I found this link, but are you aware that Richard Simmons sells dolls on his website? Dolls. On his Website. Seriously. Not only that, but the dolls are terrifying? This one here is Webby Debby. She looks like she's forgotten to take some of her pills that keep the devils away. What's up with the blue fingernail polish?

On the other hand, he also sells keychains, which somehow manage to have an ironic (and much less terrifying) charm to them. Who wouldn't laugh or smile when they pulled out their keys with Richard Simmons on them? Only the truly dead inside, that's who.

As for how I found his Website in the first place, let's just chock this up to looking for some fitness resources online and that no Web surfing experience around fitness would be complete without Richard Simmons. Isn't that right, Webby Debby? You love the Internet, don't you! What's that, Webby Debby? NO! No the devils DON'T want you to kill me. Put the knife down, Debby! Stop!

Open letter to my new dentist in San Francisco

Dear New San Francisco Dentist,

Look, you seem like a nice guy. You came highly recommended from not just one, but several of my co-workers. Your office has some fantastic city views. Also, may I mention that you look an awful lot like Stanley Tucci (pictured here) and that endeared me to you almost instantly.

And yet.

I feel like we have to talk about the absolutely ridiculous sales job you did on me during my "consultation" visit where you tried to convince me to spend $4,000 on veneers and "power whitening." If I may, sir, are you on CRACK? Four GRAND? ARE YOU HIGH?

Look, I get that you probably have French Impressionist paintings to pay off and kids to put through private school and all of that, I do. But to recommend a "treatment plan" that incorporated tooth bleaching before you've so much as looked at my chompers was a pretty giant red flag. Also, the fact that your financial assistant tried to pass FOUR GRAND off as being "very affordable" was hilarious at best and a little offensive at worst.

Piece of advice, if I may, sir? Wait until after my first cleaning and after you've taken a gander at my gums and teeth before going straight into the cosmetic dentistry sales job. Prove yourself as a dentist before you enter the world of Extreme Makeovers and FOR GOD'S SAKE don't go asking people for FOUR GRAND on the first date. That's just bad manners.

Ideally I'd like to go back to you for many years to come - provided I can get the bad taste out of my mouth from our initial consultation.

Cavity Free,

Beth

Three Days To Go....

Seriously, World at Large, I feel like a giant weight is starting to come off of my shoulders. I am decompressing. I am relaxing. I am taking naps every afternoon. I. Freakin'. Love. Vacation!

I still have three days left during my time off and now I'm starting to make a list of the things I haven't seen yet. Still, it's been a busy week so far:

Drove around town with my dad and stepmom. Reverted to being the same awkward, sulky 13-year-old girl I've always been when I'm around them.

• Saw the very impressive murals at Coit Tower
  
• Saw the California Palace of the Legion of Honor and ate a very fancy flank steak salad.

Ate dim sum in Chinatown

Had a drink at the Top of the Mark

Had a drink at the Bubble Lounge

Starting reading "Tales of the City"

Posed for ridiculous pictures at the Fairmont with my very fancy friends Jenny and Mark

Developed a full-on addiction with Grey's Anatomy. Seriously, where has this been my entire life?

Napped daily in addition to sleeping in

Watched documentaries on Frieda Kahlo and Diego Rivera and starting getting a little obsessed

Spent way too much on a new skin care line, bought from a woman with no eyebrows and neon green eyeshadow

Vacation: Or, how I learned to stop worrying and love San Francisco

I'll tell you why I'm learning to love this city:

Because in this random-ass store in North Beach you can (apparently) buy USED SKULLS. Used. Skulls. Cheaper/better than new skulls? How used are they, exactly? Human skulls, or more like cat/moose/monkey skulls? Can you buy them in bulk? How do I know these are quality skulls and not some cheap knock off?

Used. Skulls. 'Nuff said.

Vacation Lessons Learned the Hard Way

Lessons learned after spending two-and-a-half days with my dad and stepmom in San Francisco:

1.) If you're uncomfortable spending a mere 3 hours with your family during the holidays, you might want to reconsider spending TWO AND HALF STRAIGHT DAYS with them. Just sayin'.

2.) If you get talked into driving along the 49-mile Scenic Drive with your family while they visit you in San Francisco, you might want reconsider your plans. Strike that. You might want to run screaming into the Bay and drown yourself immediately. Reference Lesson Learned Number One and realize that being with family in small, enclosed places like rental cars is NOT SMART.

3.) Index cards of Topics to Avoid are helpful to bring along during long car trips with parents, including: "Why I'm Not Married Yet"; "How I Got To Be Such A Liberal, Feminist Democrat"; "The Gays;" "The Denver Broncos"; "What Exactly 'Public Relations' Is"; and "Where All of My Money Goes."

4.) Whatever you do, resist the urge to open the rental car door and tumble out onto the highway while the car is moving in a frantic attempt to escape the never-ending bickering over city traffic, narrow streets, the cost/scarcity of decent parking in San Francisco, and the lackluster map directions for the 49-mile Scenic Drive. Instead, channel your inner 13-year-old teenage girl and stare vacantly out the window for the remainder of the trip.

5.) Recognize that you're not a 13-year-old girl and HELL YES you will have a second glass of wine at dinner because, after all, your parents are paying for that dinner.

6.) Remember that Family Is Forever.

Reflections on Work and Change

Le sigh. More than a month has gone by since my last posting – how does that happen? I’ll tell you how, World at Large, I’ve been hella busy, that’s how. You look good – have you lost a little weight? Is that a new shirt? What’s shakin’?

So where to begin. Oh yes, there’s this workaholism THING. I’ve been working at an absolutely dizzying pace for the past two months. A migraine and carpal tunnel-inducing pace to be precise. The pace, the demands, the responsibility, the constant pressure to prove myself, and the unceasing fear that I’m going to f*ck something up have kept me up every night since I got here. I can safely say that I’ve never felt so overwhelmed, frustrated, disorganized, terrified, out of my element, and put to the test as I have these past two months.

Unfortunately work has been almost all I’ve done since I’ve arrived. I feel like I’m on the world’s longest business trip, where I go to work and then come back to my sterile hotel room to do some more work and eat room service and then go back into the office the next day in my little rental car for more work.

But, lest this turn into a virtual pity party for the local yuppie, let me acknowledge publicly that I do see a silver lining among all of these workaholic-fueled clouds. I haven’t lived in a new city for almost a dozen years. The last time I packed up and moved I was a baby bunny rabbit of 22. It’s been waaaay too long since I made any sort of life-altering decision and those sort of events don’t come easy, or often.

So, yes, it sucks right now. It’s hard and scary and gritty and all uphill. But I need to hold on to the part of me that knows that it won’t always be that way.

Back to – ahem – work for now. Did I mention I’m on vacation for 11 days starting next week? Did I mention that that thought makes me grin ear to ear?

Muppet Adventures in Denver

It's not too often I'm able to report on Muppet-related adventures, but when a good friend of the World of Beth alerted to me to the fact that she hosted Kermit the Freakin' Frog around the top spots in Denver.....Well, hell, folks. That's worth posting on the blog!

Amuse yourselves with pictures of Kermit meeting top Colorado government officials, scaling the rocks at Red Rocks and attending a Rockie's game. I think my favorite is the one of him looking up at the big blue bear at the convention center. Might have to make that my computer background for when I have tough days at work.

Snaps to you, old friend, for showing our little green felt buddy around town. That's AWESOME!

Revisiting the Corey Cold War

For those younger readers of the World of Beth, allow me to share a history lesson from the days of 1987. America was in the midst of a Cold War. The country was divided into a bitter rivalry. The world had Corey-mania. Families and neighborhoods and entire communities were shattered by the division between those pre-teen girls who had deep gooey crushes on goofball Corey Haim, and those (like me) who were more enamored with the darker, sulky soul of Corey Feldman. Seriously.

And now, because history repeats itself every 20 years, we’re revisiting the Corey Cold War in the form of A&E’s “The Two Coreys,” which might be the most pathetic and entertaining show airing today. It’s set up basically like an Odd Couple Meets The Now 35-Year Old Lost Boys, where Corey Haim (fresh from rehab, natch) moves in with Corey Feldman and his very hot wife, who is like 21 or something.

First off, it's alarming to note that these boys actually look exactly like they did 20 years ago. Okay, for the most part. Okay, so Corey Haim is a LOT rougher around the edges than he was in Lucas. But still. Corey Haim is all hapless and goofy and actually pretty sad because he’s a little, um, washed up and Corey Feldman is all goth and smoker-voiced and vegan and actually pretty sad because he’s, um, the more successful of the Two Coreys apparently. By Corey Standards, that is. Don't even get me started on the episode where Corey Haim loses it and starts crying when he finds out he won't be cast in the Lost Boys 2.

Don't judge me too harshly, World at Large, but I can’t get enough of this show. It's like a train wreck that's sponsored by Tiger Beat magazine, and who among us mortals can resist that?

Beth’s fake nails: Fuhgettaboutit!

And so, just as The Soprano’s ended its triumphant run on HBO, my experience with having acrylic nails has come to as close as well. RIP, Carmela-inspired talons!

Let’s face it….they weren’t really ME to begin with. I’m all for the idea of taking better care of my appearance and spending more time pampering myself…but I’m not sure if having to deal with “fills” and “sets” is worth the trouble. The removal process itself was a little alarming, in that you soak your fingertips in a clear toxic liquid that basically melts the plastic off of your nails. That. Can’t. Be. Healthy.

Also, noting that on the manicurist’s table where I was undergoing the removal/melting process, I noticed the little jar of acrylic powder which was (hopefully?) mis-labeled as “ACRYLIC POWER.” Have I just had some of my power taken away by a $10 process at my "Fancy Fingers" salon? Let’s hope I stay strong after the process….

Beth's First Wild Parrot Sighting

It started off as a pretty ordinary day...went to work as always...decided upon driving home to expand my knowledge of area Target stores (including one that was recommended to me in Colma, no less, where 73 percent of the residents are, ahem, dead...)...bought some cat litter and then returned my Flexcar to its parking lot to head home.

All was normal and ordinary.

And then I heard the screeching. And then I saw people (okay, tourists mostly) looking up curiously. And then I saw them. A flock of brillilant green parrots swooping overhead - the very same parrots from that great documentary a few years ago, "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill." I forgot what a cool film that was - check out the trailer online and I challenge you not to get a little teared-up. Wild parrots clearly rock the house...and apparently they live right in my neighborhood.

Very, very cool.

Once again my hipster street cred is shot all to hell....

....as I sit on my sofa this afternoon finishing the latest - and final - installment of the Harry Potter empire and have tears streaming down my face.

Oh Harry. I'll miss you.