16th October 2001


Went to the SF Oktoberfest on Saturday. Drunken button-down dude was outside on his cell, “No, I’m busy later on. Tonight. This is a one-night offer. Tonight, that’s it.” I don’t know why he had to call for reinforcements; Oktoberfest women were of the willing variety. It was a sea of horrible toga tank tops, and those double-slit skirts that resemble loincloths. My favorite one-sleeved chick was alternately playing with her hair and pulling at her itchy, itchy skirt while talking to a bleary young man. Surrounded by 20 booths with 40-foot signs screeching SPATEN!, HEFEWIZEN!, KARLSBERGER!, she turned to her target demographic and said, “So, where do I go to get beer?”

4:53 p.m.