soft serve

Last night as we approached the Mr. Softee truck, there was a cop waiting in front of the adjacent street-level subway elevator but it looked like he was blocking our ice cream access on purpose. Until he explained what he was doing standing there. There were several ambulances parked around Columbus circle and the man in a wheelchair with his head resting to one side and his eyes closed tongue out was wheeled to one of them as I tried not to watch too carefully.

We had just been to Damrosch park near Lincoln Center to see Laurie Anderson perform. She made reference to a white weather balloon rising with the word "Delirium" printed on the side. She said she knew a woman who lived on Mott street on the 3rd floor. Every year during the San Genarro festival they set up a ferris wheel 2 feet from the woman's window so she could see the head of a stranger bobbing by every few minutes.

At the end of the show Lou Reed came on with a sleeveless denim jacket and played one noise rock song with no words.

Then I got a half vanilla/half chocolate soft serve cone and Tim got a cherry slushie and we went home to Brooklyn.

Life’s a gas

fuel damp disengage the moon
brake clutch desert stone
crumble into the rumbling horizon
these skips of irreligious anticlimax
beat a reverence that survives as tears
a mistaken heart made game
in the lilt of positive swoon
the repetition of cards turning
cyclic gestures
as when a record skips
and no one is strong enough
to lift the needle.

lose touch.
hold on loosely sings 38 special
crave a blockade
to dam(n) the unswerving sieve,
the silken sewer suffused with
suffering succotash.
overcooked, unmediated memory.
drawing/shooting blanks
designate/assassinate forms.

hit return changed to enter
fast on feet, a mind that trips over cracks.
pick up your brain to save the tread
frozen radials
the helplessness, the late hour
a lost dog cuts across the square
and vanishes down the stairs.
I yawn again.
Even the pigeons are different here.

chateaubriand in cheyenne, wyoming

escalated fever cracks
drips a river
drops over a cliff
recovers a dinner of chateaubriand
in cheyenne, wyoming.
we will always remember
the windswept gristle between our teeth
as we bit into the point where the high plains
turn mountainous.
whatever teeth we lose along the way,
we can still smile at the thought of a steak dinner.

porcupine personal symbology stinks.
stick it to this and stick with that,
become unglued.

electronic mechanism causes bark
to fold back from the trees,
exposes flesh made pulp by rains.
shake the remote control away from the new-
fangled forest warden.
let the skin remain in place.

in my hands, the company letterhead
would turn into an inky stain.
smear it all illegible. I swear
I am ineligible.

scurry alone through painted alley
and blend with night's clean.
untreated windows gleam welcome,
the safe gates snuff and snub fear.
but there's no gate on my door.

break the barrier a hairsbreadth bristle,
watch the temperature drop thirty degrees.
awake sweat-swept and drop into the day,
a waterfall.

This rainy morning in San Francisco

I usually ride my bicycle to the Caltrain station at 4th and King streets whenever I take the train to Palo Alto for my job. Today it was raining and I needed to transport the company laptop - didn't feel like getting it or myself wet. So I walked the two blocks to the corner of 24th and Guerrero streets to await the 48 Quintarra. I planned to take the herky jerky ride up and around Potrero Hill to the 22nd and Pennsylvania street Caltrain station. I've done this ride before and it sucks. Slow crawl along 24th street on a bus packed with elementary school kids at around 8:30 in the morning is not for me. Well, this time, I got on the bus at 24th and Guerrero. But I got right off one block later at 24th and Valencia.

What follows is the paragraph I wrote, in total anonymity, on the SF MUNI transit complaint site:

At first driver waved me and another person away indicating the bus was too full. Then after a minute, he honked the horn telling us to get on, but to move back. I paid my fare in change and took the transfer from the driver and then set about trying to make my way behind the yellow line. The driver said something like: why did you grab the transfer out of my hand after I let you on the bus? you don't grab the transfer that way, "sugar" I said: don't I get a transfer? He said: yes, but don't grab it out of my hand like that. Exasperated, I explained that I didn't mean to do it and I was sorry and he said: "Yes you are sorry, uh huh" at which point I noted his employee number and told him I was getting off the bus. He basically made an issue where there was no issue. I was just trying to get to work and I got disrespected for no reason. I swear I didn't "grab" the transfer. It doesn't matter - even if I did he had no call to speak to me that way and act like he did me a favor by letting me on "his" bus. I don't think I'll ride muni anymore. I don't get insulted walking or riding my bike.

So, after I disembarked I threw the transfer into the air and huffed off. I was so mad. So mad! I decided that instead of using the next 2 hours to make it to train station and then to Palo Alto, I'd just go to a coffee shop, Luv-a-java in Noe Valley, and just start working. This worked out well for me today. Around lunch time I came home and put on my slippers. And here I sit at my desk. Not EVEN givin' a fuck.

Settle that shit

Last night I learned how to play a new game, a board game called The Settlers of Catan. Apparently this is a German game but I am not EVEN givin' a fuck about that - it was fun. So the game involves receiving, trading, and building and there are sheep, wood, rock, clay (for bricks) to trade and receive and build with.

I liked it. I liked trading sheep.

OH shit, I forgot, there is also wheat to trade, receive and build with. Wheat is pretty cool.

Spring into fall

Sunday night and Monday of this Labor day weekend, I went to a secluded spot in Colusa county called Wilbur Hot Springs. It's a geothermal deal that naturally puts forth waters containing many helpful, soothing minerals at a temperature of 145 degrees Fahrenheit and then cooled with spring water to 100, 105, and 110 degrees.

I've only done this hot springs thing once before at the Esalen Institute in Big Sur. That place is like a spiritual retreat or something with all these classes about how to realize all your things you know spiritually and shit. They don't even let people who aren't staying there use the hot springs except for 20 people from 1am to 3am on weekends. So we went and it was amazingly awesome. The hot springs make you feel good. And at Esalen the pools where the springs are are set into a cliff overlooking the ocean. It was a cold night in December and so many stars were visible. It was sort of stupefying in its splendor.

Wilbur Hot springs in September was hot and sunny and down a long gravel road from the highway. Set between some high hills, there was no cell phone service at all. No tv, no phone, no radio. The place is running partially on solar panels, so they don't want you to plug anything in. It seemed really old west/new age to me - if that's a way that things can seem, and, in this case, it seems to be. Beautiful surroundings, beautiful buildings and baths. Sure, not perched above the ocean, but still really really nice and set along a river. The contrast from cold to hot was achieved by diving into a regular swimming pool from the baths. My only complaints were the excessive action of flies all around, especially by the pool, and the fact that no matter how fat a room you reserve, none of them have private bathrooms. I realize that this results from the age of the place: it was established in 1865. But still. Communal bathrooms or "commodiums" as they were called do not appeal to me.

So one thing with these hot springs is that most people soak in them without any clothes on. Without even a bathing suit on. It feels a little weird at first to be naked among strangers who are also naked, but then, after a while, it just seems like anything else. You try to be polite and not look, then you look, then you grow tired of looking, then you close your eyes and just relax in the sulphurous wonder of this relaxing soak that makes you feel like you are floating in space. If space were a lot hotter. and had more gravity.

Rescheduling...or randomization

I was unable to keep my appointment with a sandwich last Friday. I was compelled to come into the office to demonstrate what it is that I do for the President of the company. There had been another time earlier in the week scheduled for me to do this, but that shit was rescheduled and, so, my sandwich also had to be rescheduled.

Yesterday I had a ham and cheese from this place in Palo Alto called Simply Sandwiches. Today I am leaning away from the sandwich and toward a salad. It is that kind of day.

I was late to work and then annoyed by the flaunting that some people do. People, I am haunted by your flaunting. I flout you.

Yesterday in my department meeting I compared one part of my work process with splitting the atom. No one laughed. Which is fine because I'm not sure that I meant it as a joke.

Yesterday evening I watched 3 movies in a row - the title roll reads as nothing to be proud of, yet, here I declaim: 1. Blame it on Rio - a sex romp from the early 80s starring Michael Caine as a man who has an affair with his best friend's 18-year-old daughter while they are all on vacation together. Demi Moore plays Caine's daughter. Hijinks ensue. They play the title theme "Blame it On Rio" like 8 times. I don't Blame Rio; I blame the people who made this movie. 2. Prelude to a Kiss - I can't believe I watched this. I've seen it before. I can't believe I just admitted that. Alec Baldwin is good in it. Seeing him so young made me want to watch Beetlejuice. 3. Continental Divide - This movie rules. John Belushi and Blair Brown. so rad. so many eagles and cigarettes. The city of Chicago plays a great supporting role. love it. If I could get the 5 1/2 hours back I spent watching these, I'd take it.

I'm so glad to be going to the Redwoods on Friday. I'm gonna hug a tree. then I will lean against one and eat a sandwich.

Sandwich Appointments

This Friday, I will venture to the M&L Market, coincidentally located at Church & Market streets, for a sandwich. I guess the coincidence is only ostensibly in the word "Market" being contained in the establishment's name, yet the other part of this coincidence is that my "Church" is a sandwich. The fame of the place is soaked all over the internet. The place is venerable and appears to have anecdotal character. It is time for me to sample their sandwiches.

This past Sunday, I went again to Ike's Place and this time had a sandwich called the Menage a Trois. It contained 3 cheeses, bbq chicken, actual honey and six hallelujahs. It took about 45 minutes to be ready and the place was a total mob scene. While I was eating the sandwich, my hand began to stick to my root beer bottle from the honey. I glanced around at the groups of people waiting for their sandwiches and got a real school yard feel from it. It was a hot day. A group of girls in "stunner shades" had unfurled a rug around the corner in front of the glass blowing store and were picnicking on the sandwiches from Ike's.

I liked it. It was like the summer of love. I mean, what I mean to say is, it was like the sandwich of love.

I will note the results of the M&L Market sandwich sampling after it happens. I can't wait.

Birthday Sex

All the way down 17th St. from Church to Harrison this morning there was a black sedan with all of its windows open riding along side me on my bike in traffic. The stereo was cranked and the chorus of the song that played was simply the words "Birthday Sex" being sung in a smoove and sexxy voice. I heard other words being sung in between the frequent explosions into the chorus, but have no idea what they were. It is something that I will enjoy pondering and perhaps, one day, finding out.

4th of fucking july

Had friday the 3rd off so took a walk up to Russian Hill and ate at West Coast east deli. Then went to that spot that I like on the steps overlooking the condemned Russian Hill Resevoir.
We sat there a while. I was looking at the sail boats and there was also an enormous cruise ship docked along the way. We resumed walking and came down through Ghirardelli Square. Saw one of those dudes adorned in a sparkly silver suit having his picture taken with those in line for an ice cream sundae. For "tips" of course.

Walked around through Russian Hill to North Beach and stopped for a drink at Kennedy's. Played a few air hockey games. I won. Sat outside near some French punks - one of them with multi-pierced face, the other with stand-up Mohawk. Half-listened to some girl at the other end of the patio talk about how she once paid five dollars for a cigarette...went to a Barnes & Noble and thumbed through Michael Jackson's life in pictures.

Took some pictures of Tim. Had fun with him.

All in all the 3rd of July and the 5th of July were the fun times of this 4th of July Weekend. on the 5th we went to the Marin County fair. That was actually really an adventure. and fun. and there were pig races and sheep shearing and I ate a corndog and went on the tilt-a-whirl and ate a gyro and went on the ferris wheel. I also stared for a long time at a llama.

What's the next holiday? Labor day? holy sheeeze...

on the DL

My old buddy D.L. was in town for a few days to do his opera thing: Lieder Alive

We went to a party on Friday night and it was really fun. I wanted to hang out more but he was busy doing opera fund raising types of things. I found out he missed his flight home on Sunday morning and so hopped on my bike and rode it (and walked it partways) to the Marina where he was staying. This in itself was an adventure. The weather was amazing and I saw parts and aspects of San Francisco that maybe I never have before...sure the Marina area is full of frat and sorority throw-backs, but that doesn't change how lovely it is.

We took a walk and smoked a joint. We went around the SF Yacht club parking lot to the wave organ

I guess it was low tide though because we couldn't hear much through the pipes. Still I liked the walk and I think D. thought it was pretty cool. It's a nice spot. I went there last year and then afterwards we all got sandwiches and ate them near this putting green and an old dude harassed us and started saying how he missed his daughter and we felt bad for him sort of but still wanted him to just leave.

Afterwards we went to some bars and started acting like we were back to 18 and 19 saying things like, "dude I am really fucked up."

Later, I rode my bike on the sidewalk of Van Ness Ave. for most of the way home. When I passed the Matterhorn I longed once again for the day that I may eat the fondue that they offer.

When I got home I watched an episode of The Real Housewives of New Jersey and went to sleep.

It's awesome that D.L. and I are still friends after all of these years. He even pointed out how we're probably family by now. And I think that we probably are.

Have I told you lately...

that I am not EVEN givin a fuck? Well, that's the case. I went to the movies this past Sunday and saw Star Trek (my dad used to call it "Star Drek"). I thought it was pretty ok, but the smugness of Kirk put me off again. As it always has. I guess it isn't entirely William Shatner's fault - it's the character. This after I saw the actor who plays Kirk this time in a magazine photo spread where he had donned a white summer suit and I think maybe even some seersucker (both majorly awesome). After Star Trek, my movie-going hunger was not satiated, so I suggested we see Drag Me to Hell knowing full well that my squeamish self cannot handle that shit. Suffice to say - I was terrified by that movie; it's really good. I will not be viewing another horror movie until the 20's. This was only my 2nd one of the aughts (the first was The Ring which I saw with Anna Luckey at the multiplex in Long Island City and which kept me up all night and caused me to move the VCR to another part of the living room farthest from my bedroom door). All I can say is that the shadows and the goat in DMTH tore me up.

In other news, I have moved to a new apartment in the Castro district. I am very pleased to have moved away from my former roommates - those self-serving sanctimonious bitchez - and to be more centrally located. There are many uncharted sandwiches to sample. I will bravely and proudly explore.

Dan Fogelberg

Such hits! Run for the Roses, Leader of the Band - these are seminal favorites...but Dan Fogelberg inspires a certain amount of ambivalence in me. I remember his jams piping through my parents' car speakers on epic drives we'd take when I was a kid. The radio was always tuned to an easy listening station. I long railed against this "easy listening" tag as many of the "songs" they play on such stations are actually quite difficult to listen to.

this started out to be a post about my ambivalence toward Dan Fogelberg, but it isn't that anymore. Now it's about how I have 900 things to do at work and lack the focus to accomplish even 90 of them. about how I feel estranged from friends. and about how beautiful the weather is here in San Francisco right now. about how even with a linksys update my computer keeps dislodging itself from the internet.

about how I went to karaoke on Monday night and shared a moment with my friend S. about the Eagles' song "I Can't Tell You Why" and how it's amazing and totally the best Eagles song by far. or the heat wave and the park and how everyone went. even me. I sat down and ate a burrito with a group of strangers (friends you've just not met yet - actually friends of a friend) while they shot the shit. about the cops and how they said the park was "closed down" and we should move on.

about my sanctimonious housemate about the stars I saw right before the end of 2008 about time I had a place to lay my head without worry and without trouble and about time I changed my shoes.

big lunch

I was fantasizing earlier about eating spaghetti and layer cake and having movie marathon. This may have led to my having eaten a real big lunch. I had some cauliflower dahl soup, two chicken tenders, some brown rice and one deviled egg.

I am about to bust and I feel dizzy.

Predelictions for predictions

I always thought the weather forecast was the best part of the late newscast when I was growing up. Five day forecast. and weather.com has a ten day forecast. And then I check my horoscope fairly frequently, particularly when I am feeling sort of out of sorts for no specific reason. Like tonight. so I just checked that shit and the shit is freaky. I mean it is bringing up things like I have to not waste my energies now because I will need the strength in a few years and how I need to work diligently now to convince my employers and everyone that I am "worthwile" now, so that later when I am "challenged" things will go smoother for me. I mean I just want a regular horoscope. Just tell me something like: AM clouds, PM sun. Or 67% humidity or triple H's (hazy, hot, humid) or tell me about the wind chill, the bitter cold, the scorcher, the downpour, the t-storms, even the motherfucking wintry mix.

Thinking too far into the future has never gotten me very far, neither has concentrating on the minutia of the moment. Where is my present tense? It's in this headache and this vague feeling of wrongness and the 60 people who were bombed in Islamabad and I don't know what else.

I think I need to work out some interdimensional travel soon. Hopefully those hallucinogens will come through in time for my trip to the forest, or whatever's left of the forest. I will have to see the charred remains for the trees I suppose.

I am I said

is what I'm listening to right now while I am typing this. Earlier I watched the fantastic Paul Mazurksy movie, An Unmarried Woman starring Jill Clayburgh and Alan Bates. That movie is so 70s, so laughably emotional, so emotionally engaging, and, in the end, for me, joyous. So good. I've only seen it once or twice before. It came in great handy today after a terrible telephone debacle with my father in the early afternoon. I won't go into details because it was pretty horrible, but at one point he said, "Now don't get emotional..."

But, basically, I am not even givin' a fuck about that. Not now, not while I'm killing this bottle of rum from Puerto Rico. I am prepping myself to go to my friend's karaoke birthday party. It's being held at an establishment in Japantown. The last time I went there it was six months ago. This time I will wear a hat.

I cannot change from the Neil Diamond pocket my mp3 player has landed in. I am prepared to walk to Japantown from here in the Noe Valley/Outer Mission hinterland. I am preparing myself mentally everyday of my life to go to Benihana Japanese steakhouse one of these days. Benihana is like Greece or Spain to me at this point. I can imagine going, I can taste it, but I will have to step through some real? imagined? perceptional or dimensional skein to actually make myself physically and mentally there. You know? Shilo is playing now. "Young child with dreams, dream every dream on your own. When children play, seems like you end up alone..."

a weekend

It's been such nice weather in San Francisco - the summer, the indian summer, two months of pure delightfulness and then the cold backlash of damp rain that never pours just envelops. But later for that shit. I took a walk around Noe Valley on Saturday just to get out of the house. I considered heading to Ocean Beach, but didn't feel up to the bike ride that would've entailed and I didn't really want to take a streetcar all that way either. So I walked up Church St. to 24th and turned left and walked to Castro St. where I took another left and started climbing up into the hills. Around a corner after the first steep crest I saw these flowers. I've never seen anything like them. I continued on, getting winded from the hot still-winded day. It seemed to me that I was in one of those snow globes, except if the atmosphere shook, there'd be no kind of precipitation results, just the same blue bright stillness. I made it to a couple scenic vistas that were very satisfying. I called my grandmother from one of them and fielded her "so, when are you getting married?" questions for at least the twenty-thousandth time of my life. I let her know that I like my job now. She seemed satisfied with that and then started paying me a bunch of compliments, saying, "you come from a good background..." and so paying herself a compliment or two in the process. I love my grandmother. She's what they call formidable.

Eventually I made it to an art opening and then to Dolores Park for a bit before calling it a night.

Today I woke up late, made breakfast and had a coffee, rode my bike to the store to buy flour and nutritional yeast, went to Atlas Cafe and read some of Point Counter Point, the Aldous Huxley novel I'm reading, until these two ladies at the table next to mine on the sidewalk started raising their voices during the emotional squabble they were apparently having. Eventually, it became too much to endure, but not before I heard snippets of a quarrel about somebody's step-father and choosing not to continue friendships with people who one never got along with in the first place. To keep things short, it was a mess of third rate dross laid out by some typical-looking early-middle-aged ladies of the very tan, very much skin showing in mid-afternoon variety. I left to come back to the apartment and make Basil Pot gravy. I then feasted on 1 1/2 bowls of gravy, gomasio, red onion, tomato and shredded white cheddar cheese.

Full, satisfied, and fresh from reading an article about the mystery of who blew up the Los Angeles Times builing in 1910, I retired to my bedroom to make a mix tape for Mixing People is Meeting People - a monthly mix tape swap and dj nite that I think is an excellent idea. I'll head over there in about an hour I suppose. and that will be the end of the weekend. good night.

astro reflux

I'm pretty into my job these days. my supervisor just got back from vacation today so for some reason I decided to ask her about discussing some research I'd done while she was away. I figured since she's so busy, it might take a while for her to get time to talk to me. But tomorrow morning is when she said we can talk. Tomorrow motherfucking morning. She is really nice and won't judge me if I am disorganized, but I probably asked for time to talk before I was really ready to talk so I'm a bit nervous about it I guess. and then...

I checked my astro.com, which I like because they ask you shit about like where and when you were born so they can get your star-cast sharper. But tomorrow I'm supposed to be under a negative influence. check this shit out:

Keep it simple ***
Valid during several days: This influence signifies a time of great uncertainty and possible confusion. Your objectives are unclear, and you may feel incapable of coping with even the ordinary details of your everyday life. One of the best ways to cope with this influence is to make your everyday life as simple as possible, because you are so easily overwhelmed at this time.

This is not a time of robust confidence. You are questioning almost every aspect of your life, particularly your goals and ambitions, your ability to attain them and even whether you are worthy of attaining them.

At the same time you may feel that your universe is constructed in such a way that you cannot ever live up to your ideals. Disappointment, discouragement and pessimism are all likely effects of this influence. The danger is that this kind of negative thinking may actually undermine your effectiveness in your work or other important activities. Feeling insecure often creates circumstances in which you really are insecure. Do not take things so seriously! Your negative state of mind is probably not justified by the facts of your life. This is just one of those times when your spirits seem to sag.

You should try to hang on without making any permanent decisions or commitments on the basis of your current pessimistic views. In a short time, you will understand that right now your view of reality is changing in a way that ultimately should be very constructive, although it does not seem so now. About two years from now, you will be able to make constructive changes in your life based upon your new understanding. This is probably not the best time to make changes.

Now ain't that a kick in the ass?!

well, at least I know about this influence, so my conscious mind, or whatever the fuck, the 2 shots of espresso I'll be high on during the meeting, can counteract the influences of the stars. Now, I know that sounds like a lot to take on, but stars, come on! try to get me down, just try me, try to sparkle me into insecurity, I will fuck up your negative energies like I am not EVEN givin' a fuck.

**UPDATE**

today really has been weird and it's not totally over but I didn't screw up w/ my boss anyhow and even though I've been thinking weird thoughts all day, it is ok.

parallel bars

Tonight I finally tried the dark wood-laden paradise known as O'Greenberg's bar that sits less than half a block from my apartment. I've walked past it about 40 to 50 times. Despite it's abundance of tv screens, I loved it. It has darts and a pool table - neither of which are important to me, but both of which I feel are important for a bar to have, a bar like this, an old-fashioned neighborhood corner bar that is able to stay in business because it has 6 flat screen tv's all booming out NFL or the Olympics or Giants games maybe. But not booming sound. Nope, they had the volume muted on those obstructions of peaceful bar patronage tonight.

There is also a very compelling picture of the Golden Gate Bridge on the wall toward the pool table antechamber. I suggest going there and having your picture taken in front of it. It feels almost as good, if not as good, if not better, than having your picture taken in front of the real thing.

Also, the jukebox is amazing. Many oldies are to be enjoyed via its jukeboxitude. While there this evening, "Joanna" by Kool and the Gang played and I was moved. So many la la la la's...

I started thinking while I was there that lots of the landmarks or lifemarks of my time have been bars. I have spent large portions of my life behind bars. If I went to AA maybe this would be an appreciated metaphor - the prison of alcoholism. But I'm not sure I mean it that way. Maybe it's more like, we all make our own prisons, so why not make them full of good cheer! But really, "behind bars" implies or even indicates that I've tended bar when really I've only been a juice bartender and that only for 8 months. So, I guess it's fortunate that I don't go to AA or I could've tried to tell that joke there and no one would've laughed and they're probably all so cranky there because they could use a drink, they may have gotten violent, at least verbally violent, and that would've been totally unfortunate because then I would've had to retaliate and, you know, go OFF.

Here is a lil' list of bars that I have frequented, it doesn't matter where they are, they are in my heart, or at least in my liver.

Group Therapy, Art Bar, The Elbow Room, The Hop Leaf, the International Bar, Lakeside Lounge, The Blue and Gold, Holiday Cocktail Lounge, Cherry Bar, The Green Mill, El Sombrero Viejo, Frank's Hot Dogs, Annie's on Rosewood, Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden, Phone Booth, Glen Park Station, Cassanova, Catalyst Cocktails, The Makeout Room, The Levee, Teddy's, Mug's Ale House, Frank's (Bang the Party), The Whig, The Tempest, House of Shields

soup

Maybe it's the smoke hanging over the entire Bay Area, even burning trees and crackling into Big Sur, or not being able to fully rest in a room of my own, or residual stress leftover from my recent housing hunt (shit, it only ended yesterday), but I am in a cranky mood and when I went to the grocery store to get some lunch and decided on a whim in favor of soup, chili actually, and some old dowager-lookin lady wearing dark sunglasses started to ask me questions, like, "which is your favorite soup?" and, "is this soup or chili?" I responded, "I don't know, I haven't tried them all." and "chili" and she goes, "is it spicy? it looks spicy.." and I just move away to the register thinking, "do I look like I work here bitch? do you see the words 'soup expert' or 'soup authority' anywhere on my person???" and now I am typing about it.hmm. It wasn't very spicy.