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| by
Andy Evangelista
first appeared 06 January 2000 The Yawning of the New K The monthly paycheck made it to the bank account, the emails were lined up waiting to be answered, coffee dripped from the machine, and the morning edition of Daybreak popped up on the computer screen – so all must have been right in this UCSF world on the first Why2K work day. Like most places, there were no real or near disasters here. For us news hounds – sort of a letdown after the big buildup. "It was probably because of the many months of wonderful and hard work by the people here," said a half-joking Ian Tuller, the campus’ director of Information and Technology Services. Staff were instructed to dial the ITS help line if they encountered a Y2K-related problem, and as of Tuesday, "00" (that’s zero for you non-computer people) calls were received, reported ITS customer support coordinator Joan Milenkiewicz. The campus’ special Y2K office reported that there were perhaps a couple of new viruses floating around and computer users should be wary about opening strange emails. But judging by the number of parking spaces available Monday morning, a different kind of virus may have been bugging some staff. One good thing for us – we don’t have to use that M-word any more. Our copy editor kept reminding us that we couldn’t spell it correctly anyway. He’s Her Puppet
Bass, a publications assistant in Human Resources, is a card-carrying ventriloquist who takes her act and partner – Baby Casey – to local clubs and parties. Casey made his UCSF debut at the Laurel Heights Halloween party where he starred as a 1960s hippie. Casey and his co-star, Bass, just finished the holiday circuit, and he’s taking a rest from putting on the Santa outfit. Bass, a SF native, was a big fan of famed ventriloquists and entertainers Edgar Bergin and Shari Lewis, and she got her first puppet at age 10. Her first successful gig was at a local library, where no one asked her puppet to hush up. As a youngster, she practiced in front of a mirror, and later took courses from the country’s leading school for ventriloquism in Colorado. She’s a ventriloquism history buff, too. "The art dates back to ancient times, when it was used to fool people into thinking that the Gods were speaking," she said. "It was not used as a form of entertainment until the 1800s, and became big during the Vaudeville era." There have been very few women ventriloquists, however. Classes in theater and improv have helped Bass become a skilled performer. And being a skilled seamstress helps, too. Casey has played a space alien, Alexander the Great, a caveman, and a host of other characters, and Bass made all his clothes. After all, he is the star – sometimes so good, real people strike up real conversations with him. Casey speaks his mind, while Bass is the soft-spoken type. "When the time comes, I’ll tell her boss to give Carolyn a big raise," said Casey. An Infectious Idea
May sound yucky, but the ties ($39.95) are quite attractive. The "malaria" line is shown here. The Bookstore started selling the ties just before the holidays and their popularity is infectious. It quickly sold out of its first order of nearly 100 ties, said Mario Carmona, Bookstore marketing manager. If you can't get to the Bookstore, you can order online, he said. The makers of the ties say new designs will emerge this year. They include anthrax, giardia and e coli. Bookstore note: The Bookstore and its sister store, The Source, were generous to two raffle winners before the holidays. UCSF student Candace Chee won $1,000 worth of books, and neurology postdoc Matthew Troyer took home a Palm Pilot. More M-Stuff Every New Year's eve, there's a hospital watch to see who will be the first January 1 baby. Of course, this was a special year, and the race was on to see which hospital would deliver the first Bay Area baby who could tack the double zeroes to her or his birthdate. The UCSF Medical Center's labor and delivery unit had a laid-back New Year's eve. The year's first newborn did not pop out to say hello until 10 a.m., about the time most citizens were rolling out of bed to find out the world did not Y2K end. If we were in the shoes -- or hospital gown -- of New Year's Eve laborers, we'd have literally pushed for a pre-11:59 delivery. Instead of the free diapers and infant formula, we'd rather have the 1999 tax deduction.
Readers: If you have any items or suggestions for this column, send us an email: aevangelista@pubaff.ucsf.edu . |
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