Archive for January, 2006

New Link

One of my SF buddies Brian Veen just turned me onto the charms of of the SF Weekly’s Bouncer, a.k.a. Katy St. Clair. The first article talks about buttholes, menstrual blood and public embarrassments. I like her already. I will keep reading.

January 23, 2006 at 9:04 pm 1 comment

I Don’t Care, You’re in My Town Now


Cops shut down Yah Mos Def show in the Dirty Jerz. If you haven’t done so already, read all about it on Maria’s blog:

The kid next to me, who I don’t know, spits out the amazing line “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but we have the responsibility as citizens to record this”. I love that kid.

January 22, 2006 at 4:19 pm 1 comment



One of the rap section’s most avid listeners is a man I’ll call MC Mumbles. He is about five feet tall and his coat is ten feet tall. He is either 20 or 40. He likes to rap loudly while wearing headphones, but his flow is like Frankenstein. It goes sort of like: “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…mmmaaaaaaaaaa…naaaaaaaaaaa.” One week, he was really feeling the Lil Wayne CD, so his rap was, “Firemaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, firemaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, naaaaaaaaaaah naaaaaaaaaaah.” He’s really loud and annoying. Everyone, and I mean, past, current, and future employees and customers of Stupid & Crazy have told this guy to shut the fuck up already, even the regular crazies think he’s out of hand. MC Mumbles will stop, kind of like the band taking a break before their four song encore, walk around the store and come back. Unfortunately the rap section is right near my desk, so the temptation to punch him out is real. And, I think I could take him.

Other strangeness in the rap section. A man walking through with a pager of some kind that sounded like Darth Vader breathing. Why would you want to walk around listening to that all damn day? You Darth, where you at? I’m buyin CD’s, where you at?


January 12, 2006 at 11:33 pm Leave a comment

Livejournal – Pro or Con

I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do with this blog. And although it is a personal blog, I feel that some things are still too personal for the internet. Other things could get me fired. (Notice that I don’t unfavorably talk about my bosses, co-workers, or much in the way of procedures or “company secrets.”) Though I strongly believe that writers write, and often the best stuff comes from the personal, the unflattering, and the ugly, I’m thinking of getting a friends-only live journal. For the most part, the account will serve to read my other friends who are friends only.

The blog will continue to be candid, but I’ve got too many bad, disgusting secrets that I want to write about, just not for public consumption.

To my readers, do you have a live journal? Is it friends only? Why or why not?

January 11, 2006 at 8:06 pm 5 comments

Groundhog Day


Ever since I wrote about Mr Natural, he’s been in the store every day, with the same magnifying glass and the same dirty S&C bags. I’m beginning to feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. I can almost predict when he will show up.

I also want to talk about a certain subset of my fans that I call The Hi Brigade. I have nothing wrong with strange men saying hi to me, even if they are quite strange. I’ll say hi to anyone and then give them a chance to frighten me. That’s probably my first mistake. Hi Brigade Member #1 visits the store every morning. He doesn’t buy anything, he doesn’t stop to listen. He just sort of makes his rounds, and says hi, and asks me how I’m doing.
Hi Brigade #2 visits about once a week, will say hi to me like 100 times, and then ask for something. When I tell him where it is, he will just stop in whatever row he happens to be standing in and ask, “Over here?” After about the second row of this I have to stop what I’m doing and show him the incredibly hard thing to find, like say, Michael Jackson (about half of Rock/Pop “J” is Michael, the other half is Billy Joel and Elton John). One afternoon he started with his barrage of “hi’s” and I asked, what do you need today. And he was totally taken aback, startled, like I’d told him to go fuck himself. And he was like, I just wanted to know how you doin.

Hi Brigade Number 3 stops in about once a month, covered in paint. I don’t know if he is really a painter or only owns one paint colored outfit. I’ve heard conflicting reports from my co-workers. He has a nice smile but tends to smell in the warmer months. Of these three members, he is the most affable of the Hi Brigade. We had some normal conversation before he just came out and said, “You married?” I told him I was spoken for and since then, he is respectful and just makes normal conversation and doesn’t bug me when I’m busy.

I mean, I can empathize. In my single days, which at this point to me are like talking about the day we landed on the moon, I gawked at many cute boys in record stores, but at least I would stare when they were not looking at me and only ask them normal questions.
So gentleman, the moral of this story is, if you see a record store gurl that you like, please say hi and attempt normal conversation (like, about music, preferably since you’re in a freakin record store?) Do not put on the headphones and pretend to listen to music when you are so obviously waiting for me to bend over so you can stare at my butt. I’m totally onto you. And all I can say is, while it’s flattering that my 36-year-old, couch-sitting, cable watching ass gets any attention at all, still, ew.

On a completely unrelated topic, John talks about gay haikus.

January 11, 2006 at 7:56 pm 2 comments

Hello world!

Welcome to This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!

January 10, 2006 at 2:07 am 1 comment

I Can’t Quit Ya


Saw Brokeback Mountain with Andy the Boyfriend on Saturday. I’m glad that Andy was open-minded enough to see it with me. I loved so many things about it. Jake Gyllenhall’s big blue eyes, and the way he looked at Heath Ledger through his rearview mirror while shaving. The way their cowboy hats hang low over their eyes. The tight jeans. The cowboy boot walk. The countryside (why do the Republicans get to have the pretty states?). That thin, thin line between sex and violence, love and hate. The revealing spaces between words. At the end, Andy said that it was devasatating. I agreed. How far we’ve come and how far we have to go. Homophobia and sexism, both sides of the same coin.

January 9, 2006 at 6:05 pm 1 comment

20 Years Ago Today


Picture Lee Paris in Punk Rock Heaven with D. Boon, 3/4 of The Ramones and Patty Donahue. What a party that must be. Even though I feel older than dirt, I also feel like I missed goddamn near everything. And wherever would he fit in today’s radio landscape?

January 9, 2006 at 5:53 pm Leave a comment

Stupid and Crazy Customer Trading Cards

Mr Natural


Also called The Garden Gnome.
He is about four feet tall. He comes into the store every day with a full, very dirty S&C shopping bag filled with CD’s. He pores over every CD, including the same ones that have been sitting on the carts waiting to be filed and the import clearance section with a magnifying glass. He pretty much only buys oldies and will order one of nine million Buddy Holly CD’s that we don’t have and then not leave his phone number. He smells very bad. He announces how much money he’s spent on CD’s but can’t afford shampoo, soap, or detergent. He looks like he’s been riding the rails but some of the clerks say that he owns a rowhome in Northeast Philly. Getting into a conversation with him is the worst, because he will either say something gross or answer a question with “Whut? Whut? Whut?” This happens repeatedly while you are answering him. When I see him I try to hide; it’s like coming home to cockroaches scurrying in your kitchen. Fortunately I don’t have that problem in my current home, but this is how badly Mr Natural creeps me out.

January 7, 2006 at 6:59 pm Leave a comment

I Say A Little Prayer

…Not that I believe in praying, but something like that.

My grandmother, who moved out to the West Coast with my uncle and his family was hospitalized this week for pneumonia, which is not ideal for a 90-year-old woman. She smoked for about 80 of those 90 years and this is the first major hospitalization or real illness that I’m aware of. I called her when I got home from work, but because I was on a cellphone and she has a hearing aid, she didn’t hear me so well. It was kind of like talking to Lil Jon, only 90 year-old Canadian Jewish lady style. And it took me about half the conversation to tell her that I was Sara the Granddaughter and not Sara my cousin’s wife.


Her voice sounded strong and healthy, always on the verge of getting something done or expressing a strong opinion. She’s not my biological grandmother. She adopted my father, aunt and uncle when they were ten and under because it was the 50s and my biological grandparents were getting divorced, and it was all very scandalous for 1950s Allentown. She’s always been sharp as a tack, thin as a rail, the kind of person you would describe as having moxie. And she’s a natural redhead to boot. So I’ve adopted her DNA as my own and it will live on in me when she’s gone. Even though I’m in denial about the strong possibility of her passing, I feel like she’ll outlive us all.

January 7, 2006 at 6:48 pm Leave a comment

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