New look

My blog had that clean-with-room-for-big-pictures going for it, but it was butt ugly.

Figured it's about time I selected a normal template and used my utterly non-existent CSS skillz to shape it to my own tase. So far I managed to add the LibraryThing widget, and even got the separators to look good on it. Quite proud of it.

Down side is I'll have to start publishing tiny images like everyone else.

Jane Fucking Goodall!

“You like Jane Goodall, right?”

Kind of a weird first thing to hear when I open my eyes in the morning, but that’s how it is when she wakes up two hours before me.

“Because it says here that she’ll be speaking today in some conservation event at De Anza College.” God bless the San Jose Mercury News and it’s advertisement-disguised-as-news stories.

Whee! Get dressed, grab a quick bite, and it’s off to the Wildlife Conservation Expo I go. Jane Goodall!

The event was organized by the Wildlife Conservation Network. All sorts of groups had stands there, with real honest-to-God conservationists who telling stories and giving details about the animal they were dedicated to saving, and in the main hall there were lectures by more or less the same folks. Very interesting stuff, really interesting people. Already worth the visit and the small donation I gave.

If nothing else, ComicCon teaches you to plan ahead for the main event. So I stayed inside almost all the time, and every time we had 10 minutes between speakers and some people left the hall, I moved to a slightly better seat. By the time JG was on, I was in the first row, right in front of the podium. Smooth.

There were some introductions by WCN, people, including the woman who sat three seats from me and turned out to not just look like Isabella Rosellini, but actually be Isabella Rosselini. The one who Rachel said Ross could sleep with, back when Friends was somewhat funny. And then the main attraction came up to the stage. Jane Goodall is inspiring. Her speech was so moving that I nearly got off my ass and decided to do something with my life. She is seventy-something years old and still tours 300 days a year. She has this little stuffed ape toy that she takes everywhere. And she’s so tiny, I could hardly see her behind the podium. Probably would have had a better view from third row, or if I weren’t right in front of the podium. Bummer.

Then I got in line for the book signing outside and listened in on what other people were talking about. The lady behind me was telling another lady how she recently received several wolf cubs, and the other lady was giving her the email address of a group in Minnesota that has experience with wolfs and can help her rise them. Only in fucking America.

Then a completely different lady told yet a fourth lady how a friend of her cousin’s neighbor’s ex-lesbian-lover’s aunt’s proctologist sat next to Ms. Goodall on a plane with her 3-year-old, and JG was all “get that fucking brat off me, you person of questionable hygiene!” If she’s such a cunt, why are you in line to get her to autograph? Everywhere, I’m afraid.

As if to prove she’s down with the rug rats, Goodall saw how long the line was and sent her people to collect all the parents waiting in line with their kids, and to bring them to the front of the line, so she could actually talk with the kids and tell the some stories before she get exhausted (which she certainly was by the time it was my turn).

This is me. With Jane Goodall.

Me. With Jane F. Goodall.
Suh-weet.

Then I went to say hello at a few of the stands, bought Okapi (he of my previous post fame), let a 4-foot snake climb all over me for about 10 minutes (W-O-W, what an amazing creature), and went home a very happy customer.

Neil Gaiman

Is there anyone who doesn’t know Neil Gaiman is my favorite author? He’d be yours too, if you weren’t such a bonehead. You know who you are, Nadav. Anyway, on September he went on a signing tour to promote his (then) new book Anansi Boys and his (then) new movie Mirrormask he wrote, and around the 30^th he was scheduled to make 3 appearances in Bay Area bookstores. One of them got canceled because the store closed (more on that store later), and another one was no good for some other reason, which left me with Book Passage in Corte Madera.

The event was scheduled for 5:30 and I planned to be there at noon. Geek attractions always mean a huge line. Good thing I got lost and only arrived at the store around 1:00, because

1. I got to see the area and it was a beautiful day (you haven’t truly lived until you cross the Golden Gate bridge on a one of those perfect California sunny days, which are so rare in he City, in a 1968 convertible Mustang, but doing it in a Camry is pretty cool too), and
2. Apparently all the geeks went to the Berkeley event two days earlier, because I was all alone there until 4:00, when I was joined by two Philippino girls with a severe case of the cutes. We chatted while we waited in the scorching sun, and I tried not to stare too obviously. Let’s, er, just say that time passed quickly once they got there.

Then they let us in, and Award Winning Author Michael Chabon (seems like a nice guy, but I haven’t read any of his stuff yet) interviewed Neil for about an hour, and then I was almost first in line to have Neil sign my books, and he was so nice, and I got to tell him what I wanted to tell him, and he liked me so much that he shook my hand and drew me a mouse that says “Hi, Ido” in my Coraline book, and then one of the cute girls took a picture of me with him in the background, and told me she also took a picture of both of us talking in her camera, and she’ll email it to me (I’m still waiting!). And then I drove home with tears in my eyes.

He’ll be in Israel in October, and will probably do a signing. But I don’t know if he’ll shake your hand or draw you a mouse, because, you know, you’re not special.

Medical Update

Medical update

Sore, swollen, still on some mild pain killers, can’t walk very far, beginning to realize there will be no ski this year. And I know everyone’s dying to know, so, no, it hasn’t grown back yet.

On bitching

When they ask me about living here, I usually start by saying it’s all great and wonderful and easy and quiet. Then I go on for an hour about how everything is too complicated, and how the natives are unfriendly and have no soul. I’m assuming that if anyone ever reads this, it’s because they know me well enough to have been subjected to this at some point. I’m bitchy. Sue me.

Sure, tomatoes cost a buck a piece, and I miss real cheese, but who cares? My second car is a Taurus. And I’m writing this on my laptop, in the café in the Borders book store. There are 18 other people here, all doing their stuff, and it’s less noise than staying at home with the TV on. It’s no all bad.

I never get talk about the fun stuff, because I’m always complaining about something stupid and minor. Also because most of you assholes never fucking call. Take a hint.

Ooh, before I forget. Das Boot is still one of the most Goddamn movies ever. Even though there’s only one woman appearing for 3 minutes and she’s dressed the whole time.