Author: admin

Abhaya

J: I’ve only ever gotten two tickets.
Me: Tell the speeding one.
J: It was bad.
Me: What were you doing?
J: I was going 92 in a 55.
R: Jesus.
J: And I talked back to the cop.
Me: Why?
J: He was just going on and on about how I could’ve killed someone. You know?
R: What did you say?
J: I said, “Just give me the ticket.”
Me: Whoa.
J: I was in a hurry.
Me: Where were you going?
J: To yoga.

Crocery Shopping

Me: Oh my God. They have individual little snack-size packs of ranch dressing now. Americans are disgusting. Is it too exhausting to pour it out of the bottle so you can dip stuff in it?

Guy 1: No, no. The foil tops make it easier to stick a straw in.

Me: Ha! Why don’t we just mainline it?

Guy 2: (Announcer voice) Are you tired of all those pesky ranch delivery vehicles?

Me: The baby carrots have too much texture. Celery detracts from the pure ranch experience.

Guy 1: Awesome.

LUNCH NEAR THE CONVENTION CENTER

Me: What do their badges say?

Guy 1: Digestive Disease Week.

Me: What the hell? It’s a conference?

Guy 2: Apparently.

Guy 1: Gotta go guys, I’m off to the Unusual Tongue Growths Panel.

Girl 1: Can we have lunch later? I don’t want to miss the Esophageal Extension Roundtable.

Guy 1: I can’t wait for the Ulcerous Cavities Birds of a Feather!

Me: I think they heard you.

The F-Line

The Muni line that runs up Market gets a lot of tourists. The trains are vintage Italian streetcars, they’re electric and run on tracks. Today, there are two trains on the same track. A tourist approaches the one in the rear and asks the driver, “Which train leaves first?” He blinks at her, then at the train in front of him. “This one,” he replies. She climbs aboard.

Transvestite on a Cell Phone

Let’s just pray, baby…
Let’s just pray about it.
Do you want to pray on the phone, or do you want me to come over, sugar?…
No, no. I’m right here, baby. I just got on the bus, I’m headed up Market. I’m right near you, baby…
On the train…
Yes, sugar…
Do you want me to bring you some food or something?
Some coffeee or some OJaaaay?…
OJ? OK. Do you want filtered or pulp, baby?…
Pulp then. I’ll bring you some pulpy OJ, you get it all stuck up in your teeth and we gonna do some prayin’…
Uh huh. See you soon, baby.

THIS MORNING

  • A woman in a white Hazmat suit sprays down the sidewalk in front of the Castro theater.
  • The train smells like pepper.
  • A church sign reads, “Join us, pray for America.” Two men are seated on the steps below the sign. Their heads are bowed, hands in their laps. It takes me a moment to realize they’re sleeping.
  • A huge black garbage can overflows with blossoming branches.
  • A group of old women are talking on the sidewalk. The shortest one holds her cigarette like a joint.


A SMALL, GOOD THING

“We realize some of you may now defect, and while we wish you well, we also spit on your backs.” The Morning News just relaunched. Take a moment.

You know what’s not pleasant? Drinking at the water fountain and feeling the stream of water dip when someone flushes the toilet in the bathroom next door.

It Takes a Village

When a cat misbehaves you squirt a light mist of water in his face so he learns not to do something again. A societal equivalent would be so satisfying. When the girl at the coffee shop orders “a caramel frappucino with semi-dry foam,” you could just tap her on the nose with a rolled up magazine and say, “NO, Tiffany! Bad. NO.”

3:20 p.m.