Quiznos Clusterf**k

Alright, I don't have a lot of time to get into it since I am at work, but I have to get this out. Katie and I walked over to the Quizno's located at 339 Baronne Street (store #10805) to get something to eat, and escape the office for an hour or so. Prior to walking over, there was a general discussion around the office about how slow the service is at this particular location. This was the fourth time I've gone to eat there, and this time was no different than the three previous in terms of the unnecessarily long lines, and piss-poor attitudes among the employees. I realize this is the South, and therefore I should expect a certain degree of, how to put this gently, "laid-back, casual" attitude in terms of service, but this place far surpasses the traditional, take-your-time approach.

Everytime I attempt to order a side garden salad with my sandwich, I get blank stares and confusion. Clearly, I'm going to combo that, so of course I want a drink. The flow is just fucked up at Quizno's. Compare McDonald's, the vanguard of all things fast food. Ordering is simplified and predictable. At Quizno's though, the sandwich makers do not seem to know the right prompts to get things moving along, and I am never sure who to tell what. As such, it takes a long time to convey what I want without sounding like a demanding asshole. And it takes an even longer time for them to actual prepare it. (Mind you, I order nothing customized, just standard menu items.) I think the double workstations is one confusing element, pre- and post- oven. But at this particular location, the real hold up is the cashier, who is the same everyday, and who feels it necessary to carry on personal phone calls all the while ringing people up, or at least attempting to.

Oh, by the way...

If you scroll down a ways, you'll see this white box to the right containing some green text. That's a link to stuff I've been looking at on the Web that I think is interesting. Maybe you will too. If not, whatever.

More, more, more...pics

Oh yeah, here is the link to my flickr account, where you can see way more pics from this past Mardi Gras, as well as my recent trip to San Francisco, AND even way older, random pics:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cardoanddecumanus/

All on a Mardi Gras Day!

Five days now I have been partying, taking breaks only to shower, change and (briefly) catch some sleep. As a result: my house smells like shit; there are piles of dirty laundry everywhere; and, I've got nothing to eat save a few limes, and nothing to drink but mixers. My beard has grown grizzly-ish because I have not purchased a new beard trimmer, having destroyed all the guards on my original. And I have not even bothered to shave properly, so I have a full-on throat beard beginning to come in as well. Basically, I am in a state. But I suppose after you've been partying, (I'm having such a wonderful time!), the Piper eventually must be paid.

I just ordered an ITALIAN ALL MEAT pizza from Balcony Bar. I emphasize because none of my friends would ever order an all meat pizza with me. It's a tricky business, arriving at a solid consensus when ordering a pizza. Usually I have to give in, because I tend to favor unhealthy toppings. I also tend to be a "traditionalist" in that the kinds of toppings I prefer would be typically found in NYC pizzerias circa '84 (pre-pineapple chunks, artichoke, white pizza, et al.). So, no, I'll pass on the BBQ Thai chicken pizza this time around, and satisfy my meaty cravings for pepperoni, bacon, sausage, meatball. Basically, I'm eating on my own. I have officially thrown in the towl on MG2007. While the majority of my friends are drinking their faces off on and around Bourbon Street, I sit at home watching back-to-back episodes of CSI: Crime Scene Investigators on SpikeTV.

Alright, it is just about time to run and pick up that pizza. And no I will NOT be mopping up the grease that collects in the pepperoni slices with napkins. That is too fucking high school girl for me. Like my reasoning for getting lots of unhealthy toppings in the first place, it's fucking pizza! If you want to eat healthy, make a salad; don't mess with my pizza! (But oh yeah, tomorrow begins Lent, so I'll be giving up all this bad stuff for the next 40 days. I mean, I'm not religious, or anything like that, I just need the break!)

Mardi Gras 2007

I've been trying to upload pictures from the past two nights of partying, but Blogger is being difficult and I can only do one at a time. So, here's one that I think captures basically what I have been doing since Friday afternoon. I am headed over to Eric's place now to get started for Bacchus.

Sunday at the de Young Museum

A view through the grove on approach to the de Young.

The observation deck at the de Young affords a 360° view of the City. This photo is taken more or less toward the north I think, over Golden Gate Park. The museum was design by Swiss uber-starchitects Herzog & de Meuron, and consists of a "digitized" copper skin that shifts from solid to porous and back as it moves over the structure.

The roof suggests the undulations of landscape. These undulations also occur between each of the three linear forms, producing courtyards/light wells that penetrate and break up the overall mass. The tower itself appears as a vertical twist in one of the horizontal forms, reaching up above the museum to capture the view.

In addition to the sexy building, the museum's collection was pretty decent. The permanent collection's 20th century American was very strong, particularly in sculpture (I am way into 3D works), and I really liked the Ed Ruscha pieces which included collages of landscape images and texts, as well as overlays of SF and LA streets. I am not yet familiar enough with these CA cities to really understand the particular juxtapositions, but that's only a matter of time.

Oh, one aside. As my friends and I were leaving the museum, we passed by three meatheads sitting on a bench. I overheard one of them call us fags, which really surprised me in SF. Of course, I was too shocked to react other than give them a confused, "what the fuck, douchebag?" look, which quieted them down. I really don't understand why people expend their energy on being bigots.

the Castro

View over the Castro

Just got into SF this morning, on a ass-crack of dawn's early flight from New Orleans. I am so happy to be here. This is going to be a great break from the Big Easy! I'm job hunting. Wish me luck!

A new job

Oh yeah, I have a new job now. I'm working for a firm in the CBD (Central Business District), right down the street from the Superdome. Non sequitor: I can't stand a fucking office know-it-all! And we have one here. I am not absolutely certain why some people feel the need to weigh in on subjects over which they have no mastery, but I surmise that it has to do with their secret self-knowledge that they are utterly uninteresting and stupid, thus they are insecure jackasses. I usually have trouble dealing with this personality type because the information they are spouting off is almost always incorrect, and I can't stand misinformation. Not to suggest that I am a know-it-all, but what I DO know (which does tend to be more than most, and you know it) I am confident of. What usually happens is I end up constantly correcting the know-it-all's facts as they are spewed, and it seemingly becomes this absurd competition. This time round, however, I have decided to just not get involved, unless of course an innocent could potentially injure himself/herself because of some misinformation. I think that is the noble thing to do, right? I mean, it's not my problem if you're so ignorant you go around listening to other stupid people and simply accept what they say without checking their facts. Dumbass!

I can't wait to see what other obnoxious personality types will reveal themselves in the coming weeks. This is why I preferred working for a firm with only four employees. God, my SF trip can't come soon enough! 4 more days....

From the kitchen to the...entire house....

I caught the premier of "Top Design" last night, after watching the predictable conclusion to "Top Chef". There was no way they would give it to Marcel, even though I did think his technique was much more interesting than Ilan's. Ilan deserved it though, since he was all-around a more competent chef, and I'm sure his food tasted awesome.

As for "Top Design", a few comments:

I hope they don't use those stupid giant diorama boxes as the site for each of the competitions. How incredibly boring!

I love how these spin-off shows try and maintain a one-to-one correspondence with the originator, from Project Runway, through Top Chef to this new show: celeb host, prominent guest judges, the catchy, topically-related dismissal phrase (You're out! or "Pack your knives and go!). It's this last category that hints at the potential failure of this iteration of the reality creative competition format: the catch phrase fucking sucks! All they say is, "Goodbye!" Is that really the best they could think of???

Oh, and Elle Decor. What a bullshit magazine! I wasn't even aware they had an interior design magazine until the show. I am not surprised that is the best they could get to sponsor, since most real professionals consider these shows a travesty and a joke.

On a more positive note, though, is the potential for conflict between the editor of Elle Decor (Margaret Russell) and the other judges. Rolling her eyes at the winning "conceptual" design suggests she has conservative, mainstream tastes (another indicator that Elle Decor is a bullshit magazine). While on Project Runway, consensus among the judges is fairly consistent, during the Top Design evaluations you could tell from the editing that Russell was not in agreement with the other judges. I'm guessing there will be a lot of eye-rolling, and maybe even some delicious bitchery. Guess we'll see, since even though I am not holding out much hope for this show, I am a loser with nothing better to do to on Wed. night than watch Bravo. Blech!

What a way to start the week!

On Monday, I was returning to work from lunch--now located in the CBD, as I have changed jobs--and I was passing in front of Le Pavillon Hotel on Poydras Street, a few blocks from my building. As I reached the corner, I noticed some scaffolding, and looked up to see the work they were doing. As I did so, a rain of white paint began to fall all around me, ruining everything I was wearing, including my vintage reversible black ADIDAS jacket that I found at Buffalo Exchange right after the storm! Even though I realized this event has seriously fucked up my day, I wasn't really all that upset. I casually walked into the hotel and requested to see a manager. The woman behind the front desk immediately rushed off to find someone in charge. As I was waiting some jackass tourist, just checking in, asked me if I was a painter, or if there had been an accident. THAT pissed me off, as if it wasn't fucking obvious what had occurred. My response was kind of abrasive, and he immediately apologized, as if he had been the one to spill the paint. I kind of felt bad for snapping, but only for a second. I just hate having to point out the obvious. Anyway, the hotel manager appeared around that time, along with the head contractor doing the painting. This guy was clearly nervous, but he took charge and said he would handle it. We went to his truck and he asked me what he could do to make it right. I told him that $200 would sort it out(drycleaning and/or new clothes, lost wages, and just general pain in the ass damages). At first he balked, telling me he only had a $100 bill and mumbling about might having a check. He eventually located one, as I composedly explained to him the shitstorm I could rain down if I were to do what I should do. That is, make a complaint to the City, who would send out an inspector and issue a stop work order, causing him to breach his contract with the hotel, thus generating a few lawsuits, etc. He quickly changed his mind and wrote out the check.

Once I had the check in hand, I walked a block to my bank and deposited the monies into my account (it eventually cleared). Then the hassles really began: explaining what happened to my coworkers (while covered still in paint), lining my car with garbage bags to avoid paint transference, getting home, stripping down and then going to the laundromat to see what could be salvaged.... The jacket was ruined which was the most disappointing thing, but hey, I think I negotiated a pretty good deal given the situation.