A woman boards the N Judah in the financial district, sporting the following:

• A beautiful wool coat that fits perfectly, either because she has the figure of a model or because it was custom tailored
• Flawlessly applied makeup that strikes the perfect balance between Fresh-Faced Youth and Socialite With an Agenda
• Hair so expertly highlighted it could almost, but not quite, be attributed to genetics instead of a pricey stylist
• Two identically designed shoes, each of which match her outfit, despite the fact that they are different colors

Admirers of the iPhone prototype at MacWorld:

Quote of the day:

Wow, it’s, like, the Mona Lisa or something!

A vastly more interesting book would be The Five People You Meet in Hell.

There’s nothing like moving to convince you to give away your possessions.  However, I can’t seem to part with my shoes:

Suggestion: when moving out of an apartment, cut off your internet service. This will prevent the following:

• Being billed for service you did not, in fact, use, and which no one else can use because it is password protected.

• The person living in the apartment after you having to appear in person at the ISP’s “local office” with a copy of her “rental agreement” to prove she actually lives in the apartment. It will also prevent her from spending 30 minutes at said office while the “service representative” explains that the online offer she took is in no way related to the services offered at the “local office,” and that there is no record of the order she already placed. This will, in turn, prevent her from repeatedly hitting herself over the head with a tightly rolled copy of said “rental agreement” while the “service representative” confers with another “service representative” on how to replicate the low-cost online offer at the “local office,” which offers only absurdly expensive internet service.

Inconvenience aside, I am happy to report that I wrote this post at home, which is a welcome relief from squatting at wireless-equipped cafés to get my net fix. I also got very cheap internet service - even cheaper than the online offer. The “service representative” at Unnamed ISP called me after I left the “local office” to tell me that she had hooked me up with a price over 1/3 lower. Yay!

This must be my week for getting expensive stuff for cheap, because I got Cellular Barbie for about 35% of the retail price by sleeping with the manager being persistent, knowing that the price was insanely overinflated and that they would eventually break just to get me out of the store. It worked like a charm. I now have one of the most expensive cell phones on the market for a price much lower than the shoddy second-to-cheapest phone they showed me when I walked in.

I have almost ceased hyperventilating after the night I spent with no internet access and no cell phone in a brand-new neighborhood in which I know no one. I have regained my 21st century gear, and thus my sanity.

Witness the aesthetic abomination that is ALL CAPS CURLY FONT, triple exclamation points!!!, a sign encased in a sheet protector, and leggings.

Window shopping on Valencia:

I have calling cards, and they’re way cool. So cool that mine inspired Brooke to start using her Flickr account so she could get some too. I will leave you mostly in the dark about what they look like, so that you’ll click on the link for moo.com, the company that makes the cards. Moo are so rad that they will not only make you 100 full-color cards for $20, they also quite charmingly refer to themselves in the plural. Their FAQ page features such delightful gems as this:

Can I contact MOO by telephone?
The phone sometimes rings but MOO are always too busy to answer it. Your best bet is to use the online contact form. We’ll reply to your query as soon as we can. Phew!

Your mission: take some (digital) photos, open a Flickr account if you don’t have one, add me as a contact, upload your pics, and order some Moo cards. Drop by my apartment between 2 and 4 on Tuesdays and leave a card with the butler. I’ll return the gesture sometime the following week.

Wasn’t life weird before IM’ing existed?