Ordinary: Redefined

Just when we thought our commute was getting routine, San Francisco reminds us that there is NEVER a dull moment.

We take the Yahoo! Shuttle to and from work (doing our part to help the environment, of course). It picks us up about 8 or so blocks from our apartment, so we usually catch the bus there and back. You would think taking the same buses at nearly the same time every day would get boring, but that is definitely not the case.

Take yesterday for example:

The morning was pretty mellow, nothing too out of the ordinary, but then again, our standards for ordinary have been severely skewed since we got here. The afternoon, however, left us wondering if we were the only normal people left in the city.

We arrived at the bus stop and were greeted by not one, but TWO buses! Very rare. Unfortunately, one bus was a different line. The other, conveniently, was not in service. Quite the tease, considering the bus was running with the driver in his seat, headphones in his ears, enjoying the sounds of the All Star game. He remained there, Not In Service, for at least the 20 minutes we spent at the stop.

I’ve never really been bothered by pigeons. Then again, I was never really forced to deal with pigeons that act like living kamikazes. These things walk up to you, then decide to take flight a mere 2 feet from you while aiming straight for your head. And no, I’m not exaggerating. These pigeons are all over the place. There’s just something about transportation hubs that really appeals to them, I guess. Normally the pigeons look a bit flustered, but yesterday, the day that made your neighborhood schizophrenic look as normal as June Cleaver, we encountered none other than a pirate pigeon. Yes, that’s right. A pirate pigeon. If they made miniature parrots for pigeons to carry around on their shoulders, this guy would have had one. He was that strange.

Meanwhile, as we’re staring at the pirate pigeon in partial shock and partial hysteria, there were two men on the corner diagonal from us preaching the bible. Not too strange, right? Until they disappeared and a third, much louder man began shouting what we think were verses from the bible at the top of his lungs. It took us a while to determine that he was, in fact, speaking English. He went on for about 10 of the 20 minutes.

As we received our spiritual educations in jibberish, we were interrupted by a rather stumbly, awkward man who decided to walk through the about 1 foot of space between Alex and I, nearly falling on top of me. He proceeded to apologize and try to start up a conversation. Alex and I then began talking about starbursts and orange cones. Anything to avoid talking to stumbly man.

Our bus finally arrived and we boarded. Just as we were about to sit down, we heard a loud thump. Turns out that stumbly man managed to find the one spot out of about 10 that didn’t have a seat in it. He fell right between the two. In Alex’s words after we got off of the bus: “It’s like me tripping right now and managing to miss the sidewalk when I fell.” I know we shouldn’t be laughing at others misfortunes, but by this point in our afternoon, it just got to be too much to keep a straight face.

So we got home safe and sound, save for a few brain cells lost in the lack of oxygen during our hysterical laughter. Alex has been waiting for a package from UPS for a while, and it turned out she had to go to the UPS center to pick it up. I decided to join her and we ventured out to retreive her package. Not to be outdone by stumbly man, we then met Mr. Sniffer. Mr. Sniffer was a man in about his 40’s, wearing a business suit. He looked as if he was commuting home from work. He was no ordinary commuter, though. Mr. Sniffer rested his head on the seat in front of him, which happened to be occupied by a rather attractive woman. He practically had his nose in her head. Creepy. She got off at the next stop. Smart girl.

After retreiving Alex’s package, which, incidentally, contained a pinked stuffed monkey. We tried to find a place to eat dinner. It turns out that the UPS center is pretty much in the middle of nowhere. We finally found a cute little taqueria to satisfy our hunger. In order to get back home, the nearest bus stop just HAPPENED to be under the highway. You know, like the spots they take people to “waste them” in mafia movies? Yeah. Lovely.

We got on the bus and tried to figure out which stop we had to get off. Overall Man was fascinated by our conversation and thought it appropriate to chime in. Think of this man as a combination of Super Mario and a typical “pull my finger” kind of uncle. OK? Now mix in a bit of homeless guy, and you have our newest character. Evidently, I was right about where we should get off, and Alex shouldn’t even bother debating with me because I’m always right. Oh, and the bus turns. Overall man proceeded to involve himself in everyone elses conversations too. Apparently, he’s also an expert in rock climbing equipment. In his assessment, the woman’s waist belt must have fibers in it. Thanks, Overall Man.

We only had 1 train left before we finally made it back to our peaceful apartment for the night. Given the course of the rest of the day, it wouldn’t have been right if we didn’t encounter another one of San Francisco’s hidden treasures. In the front corner of the train was a man, in his 20s or early 30s sitting on his bag on the floor. This man, however, appeared to be pants-less. He had a button up shirt on, but that was it. Did I mention he was also wearing blue makeup that resembled the face of someone who had just broken their nose? He did.

The train arrived at our stop and we got off. As we walked back to our apartment, we passed by a man, in a black pickup truck, screaming into his phone. “Who’s the one who takes her shopping?! YOU! That’s right! -insert more arguments-” It wouldn’t have been too bad if we weren’t on a very small, darkish street and he weren’t the only one on it beside us! It was fine though, we just picked up the pace a bit.

Once we turned the corner to our street, we saw a rickety old pickup truck that had been repurposed as a garbage picking mobile. Yesterday was recycling day. These people were going through everyone’s recycling bins collecting their cans and bottles to turn into the recycling center. Although it was a bit creepy, I can’t complain. At least they were doing a service…sort of.

Alex was so engrossed in the sight that she managed to walk right past our apartment. We were finally home.

There were a few other random characters that we passed along the way too, like the crack addict on the side of the building by the UPS center or the whistling, honking men in trucks, but this could have gone on forever. Oh, and in case you were wondering, No Pants Man DID have pants on. They were running shorts that didn’t come very far below his shirt. Why bother?!

A Day In The Life (a.k.a. Blackened Chicken Italiano)

Sooo, we’re settling here on Noe Street. Things are starting to get a little less hectic, emphasis on a little. Let’s go for a typical (week) day in our lives:

6:10AM: Jenn wakes up, etc
6:30AM: Alex’s alarm goes off
6:35AM: Alex’s alarm goes off again
6:40AM: Alex’s cell phone alarm goes off
6:45AM: Alex’s cell phone alarm goes off again
6:45:15AM: Alex wakes up, etc
7:30AM: We head to the bus stop
8:00AM: After waiting around the 24th St. BART Station and “people watching” the locals, the shuttle to work arrives. We board. Jenn opens her laptop and Alex puts in her iPod. Jenn doesn’t believe in iPods.
9:05AM: Barring any insane traffic we arrive at work. What goes on there is more than enough material for another entire blog. We’ll save that for another day
7:00PM: We arrive back at the 24th St. BART Station and literally RUN off of the bus in hopes of catching our connecting bus home. We either just miss it or…well… just miss it. We wait. And wait. And, in today’s case, we give up and walk. The bus never showed up.
7:30PM: Start cooking dinner. THIS is where the fun begins…

So, we go into our kitchen, chock full of appliances from what seems to be the late 70’s, or in the case of our silverware, probably even the 1950s. We decide what we want for dinner (and if the past dictates the present, it’s bound to be either rice and chicken, pasta and chicken, rice, pasta, or sandwiches) and commence cooking. Since we’re are microwave free here in our time-warp of an apartment, we’re stuck using the stove, which, if you’re not careful will seer off one of your eyebrows because evidently “lite” means “make a flame reminiscent of the atom bomb“.

As you’ve probably deduced, we have 3 specialties: Rice, Pasta, and a lovely dish we like to call “Blackened Chicken Italiano (a la Alex if we’re fancy)”. Here’s the basic recipe:

  1. Place Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack in CD player and press play
  2. Remove chicken from package. Leave styrofoam behind
  3. Place chicken in gladware. Douse with Italian dressing
  4. Shake. But make sure the lid is tight first.
  5. Light stove, taking previously mentioned precautions
  6. Place 300 year old, non-nonstick pan on stove and place chicken in pan.
  7. Cook until pan turns completely black
  8. Remove from pan, serve, and enjoy

8 simple steps to a delectable meal. And we’re serious about step 1. It’s an important part of the process. And we’re serious about the delectable part too. I’m going to start ordering my chicken like that in even the fanciest of restaurants!

8:30PM: clean up, stick on the TV, and veg in front of our laptops
10:00PMish: sleep

Rinse and repeat. Now, this may not seem all that out of the ordinary, but if I gave away all of the idiosyncrasies of this place in one blog, you’d have nothing to look forward to, now would you?!

In true soap opera fashion, a few teasers:
Knives. Showers. Robots and Taquitos. Pride Weekend. Heat. Locals. Public Transportation. And who knows what else!

Until next time…

minor couch hiccup but…WE’RE HERE!!!

holy mother of god it’s good to finally be settled in…it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park either…

 Let me share with you a little story about two girls, a large sofa bed and a small doorway.

 So Jenn and I arrived at the apartment last night to drop off a bunch of our things. We weren’t going to start putting away stuff because we weren’t going to be sleeping there yet. We were going to move some furniture eventually though and knew we wanted to move one of the pull out couches from one bedroom into another because, well, one of them is snarsty. So, feeling super pro-active and willing to do some heavy lifting at the time, we proceed to move the snarsty huge pull out couch out of one of the bedrooms and bring it down the hallway.

Me, StuckGetting it out of the room was a challenge to begin with because we needed to put it vertically on its side to get it out of the door. Also, once we had the couch in this position, gravity kept pulling the bed out making it even more impossible to move. So after nearly crushing Jenn with the bed we get it out of the doorway and start making our way down the hallway taking out chunks of paint on the way, chipping the molding, etc. Not good.

 We get the mammouth piece of furniture three quarters of the way down the hallway when we realize, in agony, that we will not be able to squeeze this god forsaken couch past the radiator. There may have been some cursing at this point. Mostly from me because I find it necessary to scream at inanimate objects.

 This is when we decided to head back the way we came from; taking out more chunks of molding, scraping the walls, leaving wheel marks…super nice.  We get the darn thing in the doorway it came from and GET THE FREAKIN THING STUCK. And I don’t mean lightly nudged stuck I mean go get the crow bar or we’re gonna have to take off the door frame stuck.

At this point in the evening it’s about 12:30am, we’re exhausted, I’m cranky and we have to wake up for work in six hours. So we abandon the couch. We figure we can still get into the room from another doorway and can move around the couch so no problem. It can be dealt with at another time.

Well, we make our way into the kitchen and find a note on the fridge from the landlord letting all of the tenants know she will be showing all of the apartments during the week because it’s up for sale. We check the date when she’s coming to our apt and SURPRISE she’s coming the day after next. We freak out and realize that not only do we have a couch lodged in a doorway, we destroyed the walls and molding in the hallway.

After a tiny bit of panic, we realize we’ll have to get help the next day. Thank GOD my aunt is fantastic at getting out of crappy situations because I filled her in with our little problem and when she dropped us off at the apartment tonight we had the couch back where it came from in less than a half hour. We did have to take off the door, two wheels and a wooden peg but we got the stupid thing in there. UGH. Talk about a pain in the ass.

I guess this can go in the ”stupidest decisions ever made” file, eh?

Now all we have to do is unpack our lives and um, get to the bus tomorrow? Lol.

Frozen Chicken and Burnt Rice

Instead of going back into the archives of the many slip-ups A and I have amassed over this past week, I’m going to start fresh and save that stuff for when we get into a rut. Although this isn’t a true “Adventure on Noe Street”, since, as Alex said, we’re stll in her aunt’s guest house, it’s an adventure in preparation for our imminent move.

On Saturday we decided we should probably cook the chicken that was in the freezer before it went bad. Plus, we were hungry. So we pulled the chicken out of the freezer, decided that we should probably stick it in the microwave to thaw it a bit (called Alex’s mother to confirm that we shouldn’t keep it on its styrofoam tray) and then proceeded to extract it from that tray. One tiny problem – the chicken was stuck to the paper that is supposed to keep it from sticking to the styrofoam tray. Oh the irony. Success!We tried to peel it off, but no such luck. After about 30 minutes of letting it run under warm water and poking and prodding at it, we decided to give up, stuck it in the fridge, and headed out to Robert’s (a deli sort of food / convenience store) to buy sandwiches.

Last night we went for Attempt #2 since it the chicken wouldn’t last much longer in the fridge. We finally got it off of the tray and stuck it in a GladWare with some Italian Dressing to marinate (anything to avoid putting oil in the pan… interns have bad luck with that sort of thing). Later in the evening we mustered up enough energy (and guts) to attempt to cook it. Alex took over chicken duty. I was in charge of the rice.

Everything was going smoothly. We didn’t have butter or margerine for the rice, so we improvised with Italian dressing (something tells me we’re going to go through a lot of Italian dressing this summer). Things were cooking! Imagine that!

Saving the Burnt Pan17-22 minutes for the rice. OK. Cool. I sat down on the other side of the kitchen island to wait it out. A few minutes later the kitchen started to smell verrry familiar: burnt rice. I ran over and checked on it… Yep… the entire bottom layer of rice had adhered itself to the bottom of the pan. Not just stuck, GLUED. Blackened and all. I managed to salvage the top layers of rice which ended up being just enough for the two of us. Phew!

I doused the pan in dishsoap and water and let it soak while we ate. After a good 30 minutes of chipping away at the pan, I managed to salvage it. It looks as good as new, if I do say so myself.

After a lot of work to finish it, dinner turner out to be a success. The chicken was cooked through, though a little tough and the rice that wasn’t burnt was good. All in all, it was satisfactory. An A effort.

We’re willing to cook for large parties and corporate events. Do contact us if you’re interested! ;)

First blog everrr wooo!

Hello people! So my internet savvy roommate has convinced me to try this blogging thing and here it goes…she’s also making me write the first post for our new fab site…yikes.

 We’re not in the apartment quite yet so this isn’t officically an “adventure on Noe Street” more like general adventures in the bay area from my aunt’s guest house. We’re here until the 20th when the real adventures will surely begin.

 A little preview to wet your taste buds.

Some possible topics for the upcoming blogs.

Termite damage.

The neighbors.

A cat.

The beds.

and

Near death experiences.

 Speaking of that last one there, hopefully the number of times I’ve accidentally killed my roommate will go down once I get rid of my aunt’s car. My track record isn’t spectacular. I think I’ve unintentionally run 2 or 3 red lights, almost hit a bus which resulted in an angry cop, definately cut a few people off without meaning to, almost drove into a cement wall whilst chatting on the cell phone and who can forget yesterday when I almost went down a one way street the wrong way (it was TomTom’s fault). I’m sure J can remember more of these instances for your reading entertainment being that she was right there with me…the poor thing. :)

kk that’s all for me! I’ll let the pro-blogger put her two cents in! peace out.