I hate when that happens...

Oh, I had such a great idea for a blog entry. It was going to be so clever, so witty, SO amusing (as you have come to expect from me. COUGH).

I wish I could remember what it was.

Instead, I'll continue with more random-osity.

Last night, I saw Berkeley Repertory Theatre's production of "Our Town."
I know. I was thinking the same thing. Didn't we all suffer enough with that play in high school? If you didn't have to read it, your drama department undoubtedly staged a stultifyingly dull production of it. Mine did.
I had no idea there was so much humor in that play. Or that I would be moved to tears... instead of being bored to tears. Really, it was so much better than I expected. Go see it. No, really.

If you live in the Bay Area, you're probably aware that a strike is underway at a major hospital that has three campuses in San Francisco, two of which are on my bus route to and from work. I notice that the hospital has hired private security guards, ostensibly to keep those threatening LVNs and other scary health care workers from wreaking havoc. Okay, whatever. But why are they all dressed like Secret Service Agents? They're all in dark suits, wearing dark glasses, and they're all equipped with in-ear communications gear. It's hilarious. Wonder how much the hospital is spending on that...

Yay, the new season of "Survivor" debuts tonight! Yes, I do love me some good cheesy television.