Lori is taking a Sunday adult-ballet class that she adores. Her teacher is a small, French/Japanese women with a soft voice and a thick accent.

Lori: When we put our arms above our heads she says, “Now open your hands, and let all the wishes of the world rain down upon you. Happy! Happy life!”

Me: Oh! I love that! It’s better than church.

Evany raises her arms above her head ballerina style, then furrows her brow and hunches her shoulders as though she’s carrying an immense burden.

Bryan: Man! Most of these wishes aren’t even mine!

Evany: All the world’s wishes are stressful.

Jeff: I don’t even want a pony!

Saw the Borat movie on Friday and I hated it. I realize that I’m well in the minority here, but the movie wasn’t funny, it was mean. (Spoilers ahead.)

He gets a rodeo crowd so riled up that it spooks the horse the flag-bearer is riding. The horse then rears up and falls over backward on top of her.

He pretends to be converted to Christianity and mocks the people speaking in tongues who believe he’s being born again at their revival.

He breaks several hundred dollars worth of antiques at a mom-and-pop store.

He attends an etiquette class followed by dinner in a private home. His hostess is so kind that she gives him a patient lesson in how to use the toilet when he brings a sack of feces to her dinner table, pretending to be unsure of where to dispose of it. Then he invites a prostitute over.

There’s also lots of naked wrestling with an obese man.

Overall, it’s about as amusing as walking in on your parents having sex. Enjoy, America.

Bryan helped organize a Yes on Prop 87 Rally yesterday, so I got shake President Clinton’s hand. Listening to him speak makes me long for a president who seems smarter than the rest of us.

Which isn’t to say that our current president is stupid. He just thinks we are.

We spent Halloween in the Castro, which is one of my favorite things to do ever. We’ve been traveling a lot, so we haven’t been in a few years, and I’m always disappointed to be away on Halloween night. This year, we went with a group of friends, and had a lot of fun, but the vibe was incredibly different.

Usually, it’s just a big block party with hordes of fun gay people in outrageous costumes, and swarms of fun straight people in outrageous costumes. Everyone’s drunk and dancing and flirting with each other, and the police are mostly there to help out if some hostile weirdo starts a bar fight or if someone falls down and cuts themselves. Boy, have things changed.

First, there were police everywhere, and you had to pass through alcohol and weapons checkpoints to even get into the neighborhood. And the cops weren’t getting into the spirit by being friendly and celebratory like usual, they were kind of grim and poised for action. Which made everyone feel, you know, grim and poised for action.

This, combined with the unusual enforcement of open container laws, made for an unexpected tension. Only about thirty percent of people were even in costume, and the crowd wasn’t gay enough, friendly enough, or fun enough to have been predominantly San Franciscans. It felt like someone flew in and air-dropped a different city right on top of Halloween.

We had a great time because we arrived early, and stuck mostly to the edges, hanging out with people who were there to have fun. For the first time, though, I felt wary all night. I attributed it to the combination of complete sobriety and protectiveness over the baby, but I realize now that it was just a different crowd.

We popped into Lucky 13 to get drinks and use the bathrooms, and left about an hour later, right as ten people were injured by gunfire a block away from where we were. Gunfire on Halloween.

I hate to say it, because Halloween in the Castro is one of the things that makes San Francisco more fun than other cities, but I don’t think I’ll go again. It’s not safe, and it’s not about hanging out with the neighbors anymore. Halloween has become the violent Fisherman’s Warf of holidays.

Next year, let’s have a hometown costume parade the Saturday before — one that starts early enough that people with guns don’t feel like getting out of bed for it. I’ll bring the Bloody Marys.