The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art has free admission on the first Tuesday of every month. This is your chance to see a lot of little kids in an overtly adult environment and overhear great stuff like, “MOM? That’s enough of my museum.” Right now, they’re having a photography exhibit by Diane Arbus. These are a few of my favorite photos:

Untitled (6): The best thing about this picture is the way the little girl on the right is cracking up.

Girl in a Shiny Dress: This woman has a lovely collarbone.

Masked Woman in a Wheelchair: This reminds me of my friend, Alli.

Boy with a Straw Hat Waiting to March in a Pro-War Parade: If you look closely at the smaller button on his lapel, it reads, “Bomb Hanoi.”

Last year, I pulled a list out of San Francisco Magazine, “125 Very Best Things to Eat in the Bay Area.” I recently came across it again and decided it was about time we started working our way through. In that spirit, we grabbed a couple of friends and headed an hour and a half south to Pescadero for Olallieberry pie at Duarte’s Tavern. Pie, we learned, is a superior theme for Saturday night. We also learned that if you’re looking for some post-meal protein to accentuate your pie and ice cream dinner, don’t go with the oysters.

Tej: How many calories does water have?

Laura: Zero.

Me: Yeah, zero, right?

Bryan: I thought it had something.

T: Me too.

M: From what?

B: The minerals.

L: And all that butter.

At the back of the bar there’s a group of five men in their thirties, most of them are wearing plaid. They are crowded around a video-game console pounding at the air and yelling things like, “BITE! Bitebitebitebitebite.” “AIRMAIL, Budddiiiie! ” I walk past them on my way to the bathroom and glance at the screen. Video Golf is just about the whitest thing the world’s got going.

This man is standing barefoot in the gutter of a busy street wearing his white terrycloth bathrobe. He has not come out to retrieve the paper, or turn off the sprinklers, or check his mail. He’s come out to enjoy this fine Thanksgiving Day and watch the cars go by. He spits, takes a drag of his cigarette, and sighs contentedly.