I'm a little disappointed by my fellow beetle drivers. I have been driving my beetle for almost a month now, but not one beetle driver has made the secret hand motion at me that I have heard about. I thought I was part of the club now. I can't do the secret hand motion unless you do it first and show me how it's done.
When I was driving my silvery old school bug in Germany in the mid 90's, other bug drivers waved at me and I waved at them. Maybe people don't do that here. Or mabye drivers of the new generation of bugs don't do that, period. Maybe there is no secret hand motion. It's just an urban myth. Maybe I need to start the secret hand motion. Maybe that's what I'll do. I will start making a hand motion at other beetle drivers. That'll slap some sense into them.
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.: posted by Vera 
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Much like Brittney's Butterfly Garden air freshener, my Illegal Lengths mascara isn't kidding either. If I bat my eyes enough, I might just get arrested. These new lashes of mine extend past my glasses, and if I open my eyes really wide, my forehead and cheeks get all tickly.
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.: posted by Vera
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The hooping club
Today we had the first gathering of the SF hooping club (we're still thinking about a better name for it). I, what with my German sense of punctuality or something, was the first one to arrive at the scene. Next was Philo and his friend Wendy. Then Ariel and her friends Owen and Steve. Last but not least Leila and her boyfriend. The day was gorgeous, and for a while there were even some great drums and African dancing going on nearby. Here are some pictures.
Editor's note: Check out Philo's pictures, too.
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.: posted by Vera
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And here are some party pictures. I'm sure there will be tons more floating around the web within the next few days, but these are the ones that were taken with my camera.
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.: posted by Vera
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Tumultuous Taurean Titillation
Last night I went to a huge blogger orgy. It was a birthday party for six Taurean bloggers, one of them being Ariel who had invited me. Most of the attendees were bloggers as well. I did not know ANY of them in person until this week. Everybody wore name tags that said "Hi, my name is http://www.[theirurl].com." No, actually, we didn't but I think that would have been a nice touch.
My head is still buzzing from all the fun people I met. They are, roughly in order of appearance: Willo, who I recognized from flashgoddess.com; Gretchen Pirillo, as in Chris Pirillo, whose white bare chest I saw; Jake, who was visiting from Iowa; Ariel, who is more of a whirlwind than I ever imagined; Tantek, with whom I instantly started a Brittney fan club; DJ Amber, whom Starrie and I had seen spin recently and who had rocked our worlds; Min Jung, who looked like a rockstar; Jish, who memorized the URL to my blog and I think will visit today to see if I posted any of those incriminating pictures; Geno, whose birthday is one day before mine and who turned me on to his boyfriend's delicious Sangria; Devin, who is practically my neighbor and who made the Sangria; Philo, who gets his own paragraph below; Leblanc, who I had been wanting to meet for a while; Jason, who is totally generous and generally awesome (see below); Ernie, who is REALLY fun to watch when he's dancing, better than Cameron Diaz' underwear scene in Charlie's Angels. I talked to some other people not listed here but didn't catch their URL's or if they even have one. I also briefly interfaced with Leila and Ev although we didn't officially meet and shake hands.
The party was at Min Jung's house. She lives in a huge house in the Oakland hills with a patio. I spent a great deal of time on the patio, hooping with Ariel, Leblanc, Jason, Philo and a few rotating others. It was more fun than words can describe. Once you start, you can't stop. Jason had brought in a whole bunch of home-made hoops, and sometimes there were up to five of us hooping at a time. Since these hoops are so big in diameter, they don't fall down as often as the useless neon hula hoops we had as kids. I was really proud when after about an hour and a half I learned how to wiggle my butt in just the right way to keep the hoop from falling when it started winding down towards my thighs.
Philo and I showed a particularly strong level of enthusiasm (what else would you call it when two people will not stop talking about starting a San Francisco hooping club?), so Jason gave us each our own hoop to keep and take home! There now is a big black-with-orange hoop leaning against the couch in my living-room! Once again, thank you so much, Jason. But yeah, so Philo and I are starting a San Francisco hooping club. Maybe this is just a drunken fantasy, but I think it has some real potential. We need to spread the love and energy that is hooping, just like Ariel has been doing for some time. Today at 1pm in Dolores Park is our first convening of the SF hooping club, and Ariel will join us before she drives back down to LA.
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.: posted by Vera
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Spring! Everything is so fresh and so green. Near my house:
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.: posted by Vera
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Tonight I went to see Elite Force at Studio Z. Wooooo! I went all by myself. I love going dancing all by myself. I found an old email that I sent to the boy on March 19, 2000, where I talk about just that:
All right, here I am, [...] sweaty and tired. Science was sooooo good. [...] I'm very glad I went. I don't think it could have been any better, had somebody gone with me. I loved being there by myself, being able to leave whenever I want, not having to talk to anybody, just observing and dancing. I felt alive and beautiful and perfect, not needing anybody, just being content by myself. The best feeling on this earth to me is being in harmony with your self, and that's what I had tonight.
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.: posted by Vera
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Today at work I had to go get a new mouse for my Mac. Apparently I grabbed the wrong one because my coworker shook his head and said "You got the long one." It was great.
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.: posted by Vera
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The Germany pictures are ready for you. If you're looking for a bunch of scenic pictures of the Alps or the Black Forest or something, you've got the wrong address. I'm more of a people picture person.
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.: posted by Vera
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My sister gave me a Supernena shirt! Isn't she the best sister ever?
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.: posted by Vera
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I have made it safely back to San Francisco. A pictorial recap of my trip will follow soon.
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.: posted by Vera
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Last night, my friend Julia, my sister and I went to a club and got drunk. Well, Julia didn't get quite as drunk because she was the designated driver. For the first time since the last time I visited Germany, I saw the world through drunken German eyes. Sometimes I think that the only thing that distinguishes Germans from, say, Americans is that they spend a good portion of their lives completely drunk while being around other people who are also completely drunk. You may point out that Americans, especially college students, like to drink a lot, too, but to that I will say that they don't drink as much and not for as many hours. I don't know how many nights I have spent drinking from about 10pm to 6am straight or longer while living in or visiting Germany. I have NEVER reached that level of drunkenness while treading on American soil.
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.: posted by Vera
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The other day while driving, I saw the words "FUCK BUSH" graffitied onto a wall. In rural Northwest Germany. The people here may not understand all the words coming out of his mouth, but they sure understand that much.
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.: posted by Vera
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My whole family went to see a variety show last night. The show included a glowstick performance. This, on a very superficial level, gave me hope for the future.
My whole family also went to see a fabulous movie on Monday night: Good-bye, Lenin, a tragicomedy about the dawning of the German unification. It's about an 18-year-old boy who grew up in the former DDR (Deutsche Demokratische Republik), the socialist East Germany. His mother in the 1980's is unconditionally devoted to the comradeship values and economically-stuck-in-the-50's lifestyle of her country and strongly believes that everything bad and evil comes from "the West" (West Germany) and its capitalist ways. She goes into a coma right before the Wall begins to crumble. When she comes to eight months later, a lot has happened to her little socialist garden of Eden. Aside from the obvious political regeneration, Western brands of coffee, pickles, and honey have migrated into the grocery aisles; people have started wearing contemporary clothes; billboards are appearing all over the place and contaminating the air; Westerners are moving into East Berlin. In order to save his mother from stress after her illness, the 18-year-old boy, although happy that Capitalism has come to town, now devotes his life to recreating the DDR for his bed-ridden mother. He scavenges flea markets for old uniforms, dives into dumpsters for empty jars of long-forgotten Eastern food brands, hires his filmmaker buddy to create Eastern news, all to keep alive the illusion that the evil West is still safe on the other side of the Wall. Great movie! I especially loved all the references to life in the DDR, the foreign country that used to be right next door to my country, where they spoke the same language but lived very, very different lives.
Today I'm off to Cologne with my sister.
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.: posted by Vera
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After visiting with Mone Friday night, I have a fun little assignment for when I get back to San Francisco. She has this poster in her kitchen of one of the famous, super-steep San Francisco streets. You know the one. I am to go to that same spot in San Francisco, take a picture of the same steep hill and email it to her. How fun! Anybody else wanna hire me?
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.: posted by Vera
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Yesterday was my grandpa's 80th birthday party. Since my grandpa is old, and most of his friends are old, too, this party was held from 11am to 5pm. My mom, dad, sister, brother, brother's girlfriend, favorite aunt, 14-year-old cousin, me and of course my grandma and grandpa were the only hardcore partiers still left at 6pm. The entire event was a blast even though I had a sore throat and a general fluish feeling. But this morning, the corners of my mouth are still stiff from laughter.
My grandma, as always, was incorrigible, and I don't know exactly how many times she looked at my half-empty plates (first the dinner plate and later the dessert plate) and announced to the whole table that in Germany, we always eat everything on our plates, and in America, that's apparently not a custom. She also kept shoving pieces of chicken and beef up my nostrils, saying "This kind of meat you can eat, yes?" The answer, of course, was "No, Oma, I don't eat ANY kind of meat." I think I broke my grandma's heart just a little bit with those words.
Seeing some of the more distant relatives I hadn't seen since my grandpa's 70th birthday was... interesting. My sister and I kept having to set the record straight on which one of us was Bianca and which one was Vera, and which one of us was the one from America and which one was the one from Spain. (For the record, I am the one from America, and my name is Vera.) We also had to keep reassuring everyone that no, we did not have another younger, blonder sister (my brother's girlfriend). And it was especially fun to listen to statements like "San Francisco? Ah, that city is going to be wiped out by an earthquake soon - good luck with that!" or "Latinos are a real plague, aren't they?" Uh-huh, sure, Uncle What's-Your-Name-Again.
Today I think I am just going to try to get better and poke my brother while he's sleeping.
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.: posted by Vera
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Last night I hung out with an old, old friend of mine. It was fantastic. I hadn't seen her in almost seven years. We had a lot to talk about. She still has most of the same friends. She still loves horses and now gives riding lessons in our hometown every Saturday. She has had the same job for ten years and loves it. She wants to have Ethan Hawke's babies and has read both of his books. She doesn't own a computer. She hasn't eaten meat in six years. She owned a Mini for two years but had to get rid of it because it got too expensive to maintain. She is still heart-broken over it and has pictures of it plastered all over her apartment. Oh, yeah, and: She is still very beautiful. Think Gwyneth Paltrow crossed with Brynn.
After we talked for a couple of hours, we met up with a few people at a bar. I knew most of these people from school and/or parties. Even my sister and her friend Jana showed up a little later. I didn't expect to see this many familiar faces and was just psyched. Jana does this thing every time she sees me (this has only been the second time since I left in 1996) that is very flattering: She tells me how great it is to see me and how great I look. Who wouldn't love her after that?
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.: posted by Vera
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I made it safely to Düsseldorf. I hadn't been on a plane in almost two years because flying scares me to death. I knew I couldn't do it again unless I had some strong sedatives. So I got a prescription for Ativan. I have no idea how many pills I was supposed to take, but just to be safe, I took seven. I wasn't completely numb but numb enough to pass out right after take-off. I vaguely remember watching the beginning of some bad movie with Reese Witherspoon, and the next thing I knew I was in Europe.
I was greeted at the airport by mom, my sister and my brother. I grinned at them dementedly as I stumbled off the plane, still in a cottony nebula. As soon as we got home and the whole family, including my dad, had assembled in the living-room, I passed out again for several hours while my family talked about me, or so they told me afterwards. Finally, around midnight I was awake enough to have some champagne and hang out with my brother and sister until 4am. The parents had already gone to bed.
I am with Ariel all the way: Never another trip to Europe without sedatives. There are three very compelling reasons for this:
- No fear
- No boredom
- No jet-lag
I am so sold.
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.: posted by Vera
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Tomorrow evening I leave for Germany for a week and a half. I will be back on April 22nd. This does not mean that there won't be any updates until April 22nd because as soon as I get to my parents' house, I am going to usurp their computer.
Other things I hope to do during this trip:
- hang out with my friend Julia
- see my friend Al and play with her almost-one-year-old son Malte
- hear all about my sister's adventures in Spain
- go to a goa party with my brother or something similar where I can dance
- drink some beer with my dad or, fuck it, how about some hard liquor
- have a talk with my mom about something that's none of your business
- attend my grandpa's 80th birthday party
- get some homeopathic advice from my aunt, the homeopathic
- marvel at all the tiny little cars they drive over there
- be told that even when I speak German, I sound like I have a big wad of gum in my mouth
- spend some Euros for the first time
- spend some Euros on clothes
- wonder how my life would have turned out if I had not gotten on that fateful plane on June 17, 1996
- go on an Easter egg hunt in the backyard with my brother and sister just like we used to
- see how my mom's cooking reacts to my not eating meat anymore
- explore all the new Fa products and other toiletries
- overdose on some of the food I miss and still haven't been able to find in San Francisco
- renew my German passport
- not die in a plane crash
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.: posted by Vera
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Only in San Francisco: I saw a license plate today that said "MSN SUX."
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.: posted by Vera
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Okay, I promise I will shut up about the yellow bug soon, but before I do that...
Do I look like a proud new momma or what?
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.: posted by Vera
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My birthday is coming up one month from today. Hint, hint.
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.: posted by Vera
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So. I always name my cars. They're like pets to me. I have been wanting to blog about my string of cars and their names, and now I finally have a great excuse to.
 I bought my first car on September 5, 1995. Yes, that would be 9-5-95. It was a Mexico-built, silver aka ice blue 1983 Volkswagen bug. Thinking about driving it home the day my dad, my then-boyfriend and I picked it up, still makes me smile. I really miss the clunky steering wheel and the sound of peas shooting out of the exhaust. I don't think I will ever love another car as much as I loved this one. Her name was Pee Wee. I drove her to techno parties; I drove her to school; I drove her the four hours to Frankfurt for an interview at the U.S. Embassy about my greencard; I drove myself, my then-boyfriend and my sister to the airport when it was time for me to immigrate to the U.S.; two years later my parents sold her to my cousin who sold her another year later, and I have no idea where she is today. But whoever is driving her is sure to love her.
 I bought my second car in July 1996. Her name was Stella. She was a yellow 1971 Volkswagen Karmann Ghia. She was cute but sounded more masculine than Pee Wee (instead of peas, it sounded more like apples were shooting out of her exhaust), and she was not quite as comfortable and reliable. I drove her from Victorville to Rancho Cucamonga a few times; I drove her to school; I drove her to work; I drove her to Desert Autohaus, a Volkswagen specialist, every time she needed a fix. After three months, she was totaled in an accident on my way home from work. I ended up making about $500 by selling her parts separately. It was a traumatic financial experience, but I eventually recovered.
 After Stella died, I was forced to buy a new car. It was October 1996. I decided on something more pragmatic and more Japanese because Desert Autohaus had started to get sick of me stopping by every week. So I settled for a very ugly, maroon 1983 Nissan 280ZX. She was so ugly that I don't even remember her name. She did have A/C and power steering and windows, which were luxuries theretofore unknown to me. I drove her to work and school; I drove her to Magic Mountain once; I drove her to Metro, an industrial-goth-thriftstore geek club, a few times; I drove her when I moved myself to Cal Poly. If you look closely, you can see the stickers she had stuck to her butt: Nine Inch Nails, Prodigy, Chemical Brothers and one of a VW bug. If you look even more closely, you can see what the license plate frame said: I'd rather be driving a VW bug.
 I knew that I couldn't remain a traitor to Volkswagen for long. Shortly after moving to Cal Poly, I bought my fourth car who would be my partner in crime for four years: Kajsa. She was a white 1991 Volkswagen Golf. She rocked. Her lights didn't always work, and she had to have her radiator replaced twice, but other than that she was a fun buddy. I drove her to various places of employment; I drove her to various raves; I drove her to various destinations all over the Greater Los Angeles area; I drove her from California to Virginia; I drove her from Charlottesville to DC, once to see the Washington Memorial and Georgetown and many times to go to Buzz. But when it was time for me to move back to California, I had to leave her behind. She had gotten to senile for another cross-country drive. Plus, the boy's grandma had just given him her old car, an uglyish, brownish 1992 Honda Accord.
So for the past year, I have been driving the boy's grandma's Honda. It's a very comfortable and trusty car, but it's not at all cute. I never felt quite at home in it. I was really itching for a beetle now. I owed it to myself to finally get the car that I had wanted since before I even got my first car. So I did! And now I'm the driver of a yellow 1999 Volkswagen Beetle. Her name? Flash. Because she's yellow and flashy and "in your face sassy," to quote my friend Natalie. And because I love Flash.
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.: posted by Vera
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Flash
I GOT A BUG! A yellow one! Yeah, that bug in the picture? It's MINE! It was about time. I had been wanting one of these for eight years. I know what you're thinking: The new beetles didn't come out till May of 1998, and that was not even five years ago. But I got a sneak peek at one in a Volkswagen magazine in Germany in 1995. It was love at first sight. Now I FINALLY have my own. Now I don't have to lust over these anymore. Today is the perfect day to start this new relationship, too, because it's 4/4.
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.: posted by Vera
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So, my three main coworkers are all Asian. One is from China, one from Hong Kong and one from Korea. Most Asian languages don't use articles, such as the girl or a bike. Many Asians like to omit articles even when they speak English. They love to say things like "Did you find installer?" or "Did first example work for you?" or "How do you like new feature?" Thing is that when I am surrounded by article-free language all day long, I pick it up myself. Most of emails I write at work don't use articles anymore. I figure that recipients of most of my emails don't use articles anyway, so why bother with them. I have to be careful that this doesn't happen to spoken language or blogging language as well.
This happened to me once before, in college. Some of my closest friends in college were Chinese and Thai, and they didn't use a whole lot of articles either, and I found myself increasingly omitting them as well in both spoken and written language. I wonder if I am more prone to experience this because I'm from foreign country myself, or if this would happen to anybody who is exposed to Asianized English all day long.
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.: posted by Vera
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"Beware the leader who bangs the drums of war in order to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor, for patriotism is indeed a double-edged sword. It both emboldens the blood, just as it narrows the mind. And when the drums of war have reached a fever pitch and the blood boils with hate and the mind has closed, the leader will have no need in seizing the rights of the citizenry. Rather, the citizenry, infused with fear and blinded by patriotism, will offer up all of their rights unto the leader and gladly so. How do I know? For this is what I have done. And I am Caesar."
-- Julius Caesar
(via http://www.markryden.com)
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.: posted by Vera
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I have a new blog on my main page! It might bore you though because it's all about Flash. Thanks to Starrie for the idea!
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.: posted by Vera
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I just put a down payment on a used car. More later when the transaction has been finalized.
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.: posted by Vera
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