Happy Halloween!

I learned recently that, after Christmas, Halloween is the occasion that drives the most retail sales in the US. And I'm not surprised after receiving several photos from Mama Panda!!!! who is apparently decking out my childhood home in anticipation of a grand Halloween party to which I was not invited. She seems especially proud of the place settings she created - for a 10-person dinner tonight.

I've seen a few co-workers and passers-by in costume, but I haven't felt all that Halloweeney. Maybe it's because I've been out of town for the past week or maybe it's because I can't believe we're so close to the end of 2008!

In any case, I'm sure I'll find my ghoulish spirit in time for tonight's festivities. Prec and GarGar are hosting a party and there are rumors that Castro will be closed down for revelers to fill the streets. The weather, however, doesn't seem to cooperative, but I'm sure my Speed Racer-sans-helmet costume, made up mainly of Banana Republic purchases, will fare just fine.

Hamster land

Ostensibly because it gets so cold here, the hotel where I'm staying is connected to the convention center where the conference I'm attending is held. From the convention center there appear to be a series of elevated, covered walkways that connect to other nearby hotels as well, creating a network of hotels and tubes, with the convention center at the heart.

It's been 35 hours since I was last outside and it will be about seven more before I emerge.

I'll just spectate, thank you very much

I'm in lovely Rosemont, IL for a conference that's been much more fluff than stuff. The panels and speakers have been pretty dull and I don't think I've learned much. I guess it's just your typical conference.

When the conference organizer introduced one panel and said that the moderator had assembled the panelists within the previous 45 minutes, a conference-goer at my table turned to me and said, "That doesn't bode well for this session" and I let him know that the moderator had contacted me to participate on the panel yesterday. As in 24 hours ago.

After reviewing the questions he intended to ask, I decided that I'd rather not put myself up on stage to pontificate about the upcoming Administration change and its impact on my company's business and instead I'd watch from the audience. And I'm totally glad I wasn't put on the spot because some of those panelists were clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning. And I got to sit back and watch while eating a cookie.

I'm a dime and you're so on the money

Just the other day, I was wondering when Hilary Duff would come out with new music (Seriously, "Come Clean" came on my ipod while traveling to CT.) and now I know the answer!

I sort of love this song and video since the tune is a rip-off of a Depeche Mode song I've always dug and the video reminds me of Sophia Coppolla's Marie Antoinette, but better because it's much shorter.

Some, like Shotgun, admonish her attempts to be "sexy," and others, like Franny, are ashamed to be listening in the first place, but I'm totally turning up my computer speakers.

eXcess Music radio

When I picked up my rental car this afternoon, the lady at the counter exclaimed, "You're lucky! This car comes with XM radio!"

Foolishly, I fell for her excitement and felt that I, too, should be excited for my afternoon drive with XM radio. So, I drove off the rental lot, scrolling through the stations to find a fun channel to drive to. I dialed through new age, country, jazz, extreme urban, classical, BBC America (!), the Sean Hannity channel (vomit), some evangelical channels, easy listening, classic rock and a million athletic channels that were all silent because no games were happening.

And through all my scrolling, I couldn't find any channel to listen to! I briefly paused on the Radio Disney channel, but I kind of find Miley Cyrus's voice to be super-grating. So, I switched over to FM and listened to Chicagoland's most poppy radio station and sang along to Womanizerand Disturbia.

Under construction

I just looked in the mirror and realized my hair is an absolute mess! It makes complete sense, though, because I just returned from visiting the site where one of our new distribution centers is being built.

Basically, I toured the construction site and my guide shared with me all the environmental considerations that are going into the building. While the environmental attributes are interesting, I found the scale of the distribution center itself to be more fascinating. The entire building is amazingly huge and has so many different parts, including a ginormous refrigerator in which people will work to pack temperature-sensitive narcotics.

But spending this week in the Chicago 'burbs has already become pretty boring. I wish that Rosemont, IL were more interesting or that I had friends with me to act up!

Celeb sighting: If I Had Eyes

Even though I returned to SF from Connecticut just yesterday, I turned around and flew to Chicago this afternoon for work. While waiting to board my plane, I noticed a handsome, tan fellow with close-cropped hair and blue eyes. He was wearing baggy jeans, a green t-shirt and flip flops, sat on the ground by his khaki bag and chatted with a friend.

He sure looked like Jack Johnson, but I wasn't completely sure. I texted a few friends to let them know that I possibly sighted Jack Johnson; Roommate J's response was "What is a Jack Johnson?" So I replied, "Like Jewel but a boy."

Just to confuse me more, he was seated two rows behind me, in economy class, so I thought he couldn't be a celebrity. But later, I overheard (okay, I maneuvered close to eavesdrop) someone ask if he was Jack Johnson ... and he confirmed that he was!

Hand exam

I spent the day flying across the country to Middletown, CT for a presentation I'm giving tomorrow. On my flight from DC to Hartford, I had the terrible misfortune of sitting next to a girl who clearly was a crackhead.

She couldn't have been more than 20 years old, and when she boarded the plane, she looked lost and didn't understand how she would get her suitcase into the overhead bin. After looking forlornly at her bag, then the bins, then the bag, and at the bins again, someone was kind enough to help her out.

In addition to her suitcase, she had a very large duffel bag that she kept at her feet. When the flight attendant asked her to stow the bag under the seat in front of her, she took several minutes to rummage through the bag and procured four pieces of hard candy. She turned to me, offering the candies, but I politely declined. So did the person in the aisle seat. She returned the candy to the bag pocket and kept the bag at her feet, clearly not under the seat in front of her.

Then, as we took off, she handed me her camera and asked me to take pictures out the window. I conceeded, took a photo for her, and returned the camera. She then proceeded to reach across me to continue taking photos.

But the strangest behaivor she exhibited was that she would get distracted by her hands. Once we were airborne, she took out a book, opened it up, then started to examine her hands. Intensely. She kept scratching at her hands and squeezing little folds of skin. She ended up very carefully examining her hands for the entire flight!

Passive aggressive panda

With a minimum of grumbling, I made a special effort to get into the office before an 8am conference call this morning. I'm not that great in the morning, so this was a particularly notable accomplishment for me. But I have to admit that 8am was much more manageable than the original suggested time of 6am (The call organizer neglected to note that I'm on the West Coast.).

I got settled, logged into my computer, dialed into the bridge, and listened to the muzak as I waited for the other participants. As I went through my e-mails, I noticed a message coming in asking to reschedule the call, so I hung up and responded that I would be happy to reschedule.

Minorly annoyed, I went about my business until a few minutes later, I received another e-mail from one of the other participants stating that they were all on the line, waiting for the call organizer and for me. But at this time I was so annoyed with the call organizer (whom I had to remind last night to send out the dial-in number) that I ignored her message asking if I was still available to join and I leisurely went out to get a bagel breakfast sandwich.

Toward the end of the hour, I sent a message to all participants explaining that I had called in promptly at 8am, received the message about rescheduling and turned to do some other work. I conveniently left out any mention of my full-fat breakfast.

Datingting

My co-worker is on the phone with her family, speaking in Tagalog. It's such an amusing-sounding language to me, full of staccato trills and hard consonants. I imagine it's a very difficult language to learn and understand and it reminded me of a book I saw a few weeks ago.

While at Gerbil's house in Chicago, I noticed he had a book entitled Ba Ba Ba, Ba? Ba. I asked him what it meant and he said that it's a Filipino joke. Something along the lines of: "Are you going down in the elevator?" "Yes, I am going down in the elevator."

He couldn't explain to me why it was so hilarious and insisted that I had to understand his uncle's humor, but I just didn't get it.

The new Seinfeld

With less than two weeks until Election Day, it appears that watercooler conversation has shifted from "Must See TV" topics to increasingly heated political races. As an example, Mattress and Beetle hosted a delicious little dinner gathering last night where most of the conversation centered around Obama, McCain, Prop 8, Measure K and other newsworthy subjects. Where normally the conversation would not stray from topics like trannies, our friends' antics, upcoming parties, reality television, wigs, food and makeup, our conversation last night took a more earnest tone, given these uncertain times.

And the same seems to be true in every other corner of my life. Polite conversation once limited discussion of politics and religion, but exploring both seem to be quite en vogue, whether I'm at home, at work, at the gym or casually walking down the street. And while I'm enjoying the healthy debate, in many ways I'm looking forward to a few weeks from now when the most pressing issues my friends will discuss are the ones we witness on Gossip Girl and The Hills.

Jeans day?

Did someone neglect to inform me that it's jeans day today? Generally, we aren't allowed to wear jeans to work, but my boss is wearing jeans. And an intern on our floor is wearing jeans.

Since leaving my last company, where the dress code was "casual," and workers were sometimes spotted in questionable (in my opinion) attire, I've missed wearing jeans nearly every day to work. I think I push the limits of our "business casual" dress code by wearing wrinkled khakis on days that I don't have important meetings, but I still yearn for the days when I could wear a pair of jeans to work.

What is it about corporate America that frowns upon comfort and expressing individual style? Why must everyone conform to boring clothes that strip you of any or all personality? What is so offensive about denim, anyway?

$10 all you can drink

The Sunday afternoon all you can drink for $10 offer at the Bar started off with a bang and has slowly dwindled in popularity, as evidenced by the poor showing yesterday afternoon. After watching too many episodes of VH1's Trading Spouses marathon, Puppy, Periwinkle and I met Roommates A&J, Kitten and Beetle at the bar to ease ourselves into the work week.

None of my friends have ever tried the all you can drink offer, mostly because we don't like well alcohol, but it was clear that a group of girls were enjoying the deal to its fullest. At one point, we watched a girl in a purple sweater dress, leopard print ballet slippers and black leggings gyrate on a bench, dancing seductively at passers-by on the street. Suddenly, in a move reminiscent of Selives's years of dance floor training, she dropped her drink, screeched and fell to the ground. Undeterred, she got back up onto the bench and continued her dance.

A few minutes later, she approached us and introduced herself to us as Alison. Alison was in town from Seattle to see Mos Def and called me an asshole for pointing out the fact that her sweater dress looked like it was from the discount bin at an outlet mall - a fact that she proudly exclaimed only moments before. As I made my way to another corner of the bar, she suddenly screamed because she accidentally dropped her drink again - this time all over Puppy. Adding to the Alison mystique was that her boyfriend broke up with her two weeks ago, allegedly because she had gastric bypass surgery and now found herself with loose skin all over her body. A fact that I certainly didn't need for her to prove with evidence.

Thai-day night

VALedictorian came over last night for some Thai take-out, relationship discussion and bad reality television. We spent the evening catching up on relationships, jobs, family and common friends from our past over some pad thai and yellow curry.

It was a nice, mellow night and we somehow got sucked into watching an episode of Super Nanny where the British nanny savior helped a family learn how to deal with their ADHD monster of a kid. Good times.

You don't have to pass an I.Q. test to be in the Senate

Last night Puppy and I went to see Religulous, the "documentary" that promises to cast doubt on religion while making viewers laugh, Bill Maher-style.

I, myself, was raised without religion (unless you count Saturday school at the Jewish temple, summer camp at the Presbyterian church, elementary school at the Mormon enclave and the occasional Catholic midnight mass) so the quest for understanding doesn't really resonate with me. My family didn't force me to believe stories about men spending time in whales or other men whose wives turned to salt.

I wasn't sure what to expect from the movie, but I think I was hoping for something that would be more thought-provoking and prod the audience to wonder a bit more. Instead, it presented a very one-sided view that religion is absurd and those who believe fully in religious tenets will lead our planet toward self-destruction.

Of course there is good evidence to support Maher's hypotheses, but I would have preferred a more even-handed approach. As it is, I feel like his movie speaks only to those who already side with him and won't provoke a meaningful discussion, as he's expressed is his hope in numerous interviews recently. Nonetheless, it was an entertaining movie with many funny moments. Fortunately, I already share Maher's views so I got the jokes.


*By the way, the quote from today's title comes from U.S. Senator Mark Pryor (Arkansas) who's interviewed in the film.

Bossy

A sign in front of the florist at my muni stop read, "Don't forget its bosses day!!!" today - something I not only forgot, but never knew existed in the first place! I wonder how many sycophants acutally scurried over to their local flower shop and presented their superiors with a token of appreciation this morning. Certainly not this panda.

I'm not saying that I dislike my boss. She's fine, but definitely has room to become a better manager and leader. I've always had bosses that I've generally worked well with, but none have ever been inspiring or particularly helpful in developing my skills or my career. In some cases, I've felt like I've been in competition with them and in others, I've felt like their inability to work with their superiors has resulted in a less desirable work environment for me.

But in any case, I've never felt compelled to celebrate my boss and I actually find the notion of "bosses day" to be kind of insulting.

And there goes my lifestyle

Internets, in a few weeks you should expect fewer postings about dining out, boozing with the friends or anything else involving spending cash money. You see, I just made an offer on a little piece of real estate and I won't be able to afford much more than ramen and netflix.

I actually made the offer last week, but we've been negotiating the finer points. The seller wants more money, I refuse to pay more. The seller wants more time to close the sale, I yield. Things of that nature.

Finally, after three counter offers, I received a verbal acceptance of my offer terms last night and received some very legalish paperwork today. I signed and initialed where instructed and I faxed it all away. Apparently, at some point today, a messenger will come for my "earnest money deposit" check, insurance that I mean business.

Because I'm the sort of panda that fears things can go wrong until they're properly settled and finished, I don't really feel like this is happening. I can't get all excited until the process is dunzo and I have the keys in my hand, so I'm still going to continue looking for a place to live and I'll refrain from decorating in my head until later. But for now, I will worry about how I'll maintain my active social life that includes early '80s revivals, premium cable channels and the occasional night out.

Alfredo attack

I've just experienced the sensation of having piping hot fettucine alfredo dumped on my uncovered arm. There I was, minding my own business in seat 8C of USAirways flight 605 from Chicago to Las vegas, when the flight attendant came barreling down the aisle, balancing a tin of pasta above his head. The flight attendant, a big, muscular dead-ringer for Mr. Clean, wasn't doing a great job of balancing because the entire dish overturned onto my right arm. As soon as it hit me, I brushed it off into the aisle, reflexively getting the hot stuff off my skin.

So I had to spend the next few hours of the flight with the smell of a first-class passenger's failed pasta dinner on the floor next to me, despite the flight attendant's attempts to clean it up. And this was on a flight where a man across the aisle started to drink his cookies from a plastic cellophane sleeve. He maneuvered each cookie deftly into his mouth, refusing to touch any of the edibles with his hands, but carefully twisting and turning each crumb with a tilt of the head or a gentle pat with his finger. I can't wait to get home.

Defying gravity

Even though I do like musicals, I'm not a fan of showtunes ... or when bars play showtunes. Despite my aversion, I agreed to accompany Puppy, Periwinkle and their friends to a Chicago bar that plays showtunes on Sunday nights.

After Puppy and Periwinkle rested from the marathon, we met up for Mexican food and margaritas before hitting the town for the night. The enormous bar was packed with all sorts of men singing along with the music at the top of their lungs. And when they played "Defying Gravity" from Wicked, some homo got on top of the bar to belt out the tune.

Gerbil met us for a bit, but ultimately it was an early night. We're about to leave Chicago to return home, and I think I'm ready. But I'll kind of be sad when I'm not surrounded by broken, limping marathoners. It's kind of funny to see all these people who are struggling to walk - and it's very funny to see those who insist on wearing their medals the day after completing the event.

Keeps going and going and going...

I woke up (relatively) early this morning and met TexyLady near Gerbil's condo to watch Puppy and Periwinkle in the Chicago Marthon. We met up at the 7-mile mark and were so busy catching up that we nearly missed Puppy and Periwinkle run by. Fortunately, they spotted me and shouted out my name. Caught off guard, we waved hello as they ran by. It was like they, the runners, were cheering for me, the spectating panda!

We hustled to the next mile stop and were able to properly spot the two runners as they made their way by the 8-mile spot. Then TexyLady and I watched some of the festivities and walked along the course, taking in all the revelry and cheering crowds.

After a tasty brunch, we took the train to the chaotic finish line and tried to find them as they finished the grueling race. We waited by our designated meeting place for about an hour before TexyLady had to return home, but I stayed until I found Periwinkle, who let me know that Puppy had started vomiting along the course and they separated. Shortly after, Puppy arrived, battered and bruised, but having completed the marathon!

Puppy let us know that he was forced off the course and instructed to rest in the medical tent. They refused to let him continue, but once the medics' attention was diverted, he dashed back onto the course and left the medics far behind.

I'd never cheered for a marathon before and it was surprisingly fun. It was great to see so many supportive friends, family members and onlookers, clapping wildly and screaming encouragement at the runners. In a clever twist of marketing, Energizer was handing out pink foam bunny ears to encourage the runners to "keep going." On top of it all, it was a gorgeous, warm day (too hot for the runners) so people seemed to be in good spirits. I'm so proud and impressed that Puppy and Periwinkle finished and it almost makes me want to train to run a marathon. But not quite.

Chi-town shenanigans

When Beetle called me earlier to let me know that he, Mattress and PorkChop saw Marjorie, the awkward French contestant from this season - ahem, cycle - of America's Next Top Model, I was sort of jealous that I didn't get the chance to run up to her during her dinner in the Haight and ask if she really did relate to Quazimoto, with her hunched back and French accent.

But fortunately, I let Beetle know that I was at a bar in Chicago with Gerbil and he instructed me to visit the lady bartender, whom he knew. Once I did some not-so-casual name dropping with the lady bartender, we had a lovely discussion about how wonderful Mattress and Beetle are, how they're coming to Chicago in a few weeks and how I deserved a free drink! It was wonderful.

But then we continued our night and Gerbil's friend ditched an old man who was telling everyone they were on a date. And when said old man came up to us, clearly upset and clearly angry, Gerbil's friend left with him to appease him. Way to play the sacrificial lamb...

Vegas, baby

I'm en route to Chicago for the weekend and stopped at the Las Vegas airport, where I haven't been in ages. It's not even 9:00am and there are big, fat people hypnotically playing the slot machines over and over again. Yes, there are slot machines at the airport!

But I'm really appreciative of the free wi-fi I've discovered at several airports recently! I was able to input today's foods into my online diet log...

There are two things clowns make around here: balloon animals and enemies

I'm glad Pushing Daisies is back for Season 2! It's such a fun, clever, entertaining show and I'm totally into how quirky it is. The only thing I could do without is the "murder of the week" procedural format, but I guess if it helps to get new viewers, I'll live with it.

Damaged

The other night, Making the Band 4 left us with quite a cliffhanger! It seems that our lovely ladies of Danity Kane can't stand each other! They show up to do their job, but otherwise would rather have nothing to do with one another.

It's a complete turn from when they first were about to form the band and Aundrea and Aubrey declared their never-ending sisterhood and love for each other. They were the only two contestants to survive the first season, and they actually made it into the group. It was so touching and I thought their friendship would last forever.

Well, I guess Aundrea (my favorite) has had enough and she considered abandoning the group! And at the end of the most recent episode, it looked like Diddy kicked Aubrey to the curb and she's out of the group! I don't know whether to believe this or not, but I wouldn't really care if she were gone. She was fantastic and lovable when she was auditioning, but she's become such a bratty, annoying diva that the other girls might be better off without her.

Unfit

This panda is officially out of shape. Yesterday, as part of my new gym membership, I took advantage of a training session where the trainer performed all these tests to determine my fitness level. He used the fat callipers to measure my body fat, performed a cardio test with a heart monitor, took my blood pressure and asked me to perform various stretches and exercises.

I last underwent similar testing a few years ago, and my how things have changed. My body fat percentage has increased about 5 percent, I'm the heaviest I've ever been and my blood pressure has shot up. The only bright spot is that I'm in relatively good aerobic fitness, but I'm sure I'm at a lower level than I was when I used to actually perform aerobic exercise.

During the diagnostic, the trainer asked me a series of questions and I could tell he was horrified when I estimated the number of alcoholic drinks I consume in a week. And I even low-balled my answer! It's diet time...

On probation

In every meeting where I'm presenting or meeting someone for the first time, my boss introduces me as, "This is Panda!!!!. He's our new Director of Corporate Citizenship and he is absolutely the right man for this job..."

It strikes me as odd that she has to defend the fact that I occupy my current position, but I have a feeling that she's also defending her decision to hire me. I, of course, am a reflection on her, but it's weird to be reminded so many times that there may have been opposition to my employment. It also makes me feel that, at any moment, someone might decide that I'm not right for the job and I'll have to join my brothers and sisters in the gutters of the Tenderloin.

More doctors smoke Camels than any other cigarette

There's a fascinating exhibit of tobacco ads from the 1920s through the 1950s that recently opened at the New York Public Library and I'm completely flabbergasted by some of the imagery used. Doctors? Babies and kids? Athletes? Santa Claus?!

Wow.

Boy don't try to front I, I know just, just what you are are are

Britney's new song "Womanizer" is a terrible piece of trash that easily gets stuck in my poor little panda head. I keep trying to tune it out, but the stupid "are are are" refrain just lodges itself into my brain.

I am, however, to see what the video has in store for us! Hopefully this comeback is for realz.

Old habits

Yesterday was the Castro Street Fair, marking the end of the summer fun festivities. Most of my friends were in Napa for a wedding, but I had the chance to enjoy the fair with Puppy, Periwinkle and some of their friends.

It's sort of the same thing every year. You make your way up and down the street, get progressively drunker, pause to eat chicken on a stick and patronize a few bars. For me, I tend to stay right in front of the Bar on Castro and greet my fans as they pass by. This year, however, we spent a lot of time inside the bar, which is weird only because it was such a nice day and a great opportunity to be out and about. Nonetheless, we hung out in the dark cave that is the bar and downed some shots and drinks, courtesy of Beetle. Puppy was especially pleased with his cosmo served in a gigantic plastic pink flamingo yard glass!

Jungle Red

Since Selives is in town for a wedding, he suggested that we go see the play Jungle Red, a "musical parody" of the movie The Women. So GarGar, Roommates A&J and I met up for a little Cuban dinner and headed to the theatre.

Essentially, the play was 40 minutes too long and as Selives put it, "We spent two and a half hours watching grown men in dresses with smudged lipstick prance around on stage." It totally exceeded my expectations.

Friday night frights

It's been a long time since I've spent a Friday night going crazy in the Castro, so it's no surprise that I woke up this morning with a banging headache. It all started out innocently enough with a nice dinner to celebrate Chocolate Thunder's birthday. But then we made our way to the bar, where Roommates A&J, Blanca, Lezzies N&P and GarGar were getting their drink on. So, of course one drink turned into many and one bar turned into several. Some of my fuzzy memories include:

* Yelling "Sarah Palin!" at the straight, hot, Republican barback, in the hopes of getting him excited.
* Roommate J taking my straw and poking it into a stripper's bum, only to have the bartender roll his eyes and give me a new one.
* Using Lezzie P's crutches to flag down a cab.
* Visiting Beetle at least three times during the night.
* Making obvious song requests from the DJ.
* Waking up on the couch at 4am with an empty Lean Cuisine tin by my head and the television on.

Are are are are you, are you patient, understanding?

I don't really understand why Roommate J and Blanca were surprised when I convinced the DJ at the bar to play "Damaged" since it's such a great song and since I'm so convincing and charming!

Breeding

My life has become overrun by babies! I received news that both Jillian and Wang gave birth to their little sons this past week and I'm thrilled for them both.

But recently, babies have become the focal point of all my discussions! From the little Swerve-lings at Franny's wedding celebration to Reebs pressuring me to produce offspring for her daughter to play with to an interesting discussion with Puppy the other night about infertile friends and siblings, it seems like the whole world is obsessed with baby-making!

Celeb sighting: Blind

Last night at Booty Call Wednesdays, after Juanita MORE warmed up the crowd, Kim Ann Foxman of Hercules and Love Affair took the reins and spun some fun dancey tunes. Coincidentally, I downloaded their most recent album just last week and have been listening to the song "Blind" over and over again.

I read that Hercules and Love Affair are performing at some sort of benefit event this weekend, so that explains why the band's members are in town. It was a pretty early night for this panda though. I can't hang on the weeknights like I used to!

Liar liar

Today I was in the elevator with a complete stranger, a petite black lady all dressed in athletic gear (we were at the gym). Without warning, she spun toward me and asked, "Do I look fat?!" and laughed crazily.

"Of course not!" I replied, laughing nervously.

And as the door opened, she responded, "Well, maybe chubby, but I'm not fat! Someone told me I was fat so I had to ask someone who doesn't know me."

The truth is, I sort of did think she was fat. In fact, when we were waiting for the elevator to arrive, I wondered if she might be pregnant. I'm not sure why I felt the need to lie to her, but I did. I simply couldn't bring myself to let her know that, in truth, I did think she was a teensy bit on the plump side.