-Are you gonna have some time kicking around New York between meetings?
-Some time on Tuesday, why?
-There are some elevators I think you might want to check out.
-Oooo!
Category: My Life
Boggle Wars
Mr. President
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.
Halloween in the Castro
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.
Guess Before My Song is Done
Bryan is helping organize a Bill Clinton event tomorrow, and he went for a walk-through with Secret Service this morning. When he returned to the car, Bryan gestured at the crowd outside. Everyone was wearing bright T-shirts and jeans, but one guy was in a severe dark suit and shiny dress shoes.
Bryan: Can you guess which of those guys is Secret Service?
Me: (Singing) Which of these kids is doing his own thing?
B: Which of these kids is heav-i-ly armed?
Prepared
It’s our first day of birthing class, and all the women show up in sweatpants and T-shirts. I’m looking around thinking, really? We’ve all given up already?
Then the teacher says, “I know the handout mentioned that everyone should come in stretchy clothing, but we won’t be doing floor exercises until next week.”
Oh. The handout. Right.
MacNeil and Lehrer
Me: You know the weirdest thing about these boobs?
Bryan: What?
M: Every night when I change into pajamas, I realize crumbs of food have been collecting in my cleavage all day long. It’s not hot.
B: I love how you say “these boobs” instead of “my boobs.” Like they’re an inconvenient college roommate who’s been assigned to you.
M: I can’t relate to them.
Not Fun, Part II
This is a follow-up to yesterday’s entry, so please read that first.
Though one of my strongest beliefs is that any individual can make a profound difference in society, movies seem to be less entertaining all the time. I pulled the quote below because it had me shaking my head, but then nodding a little. I get what he means. There’s a right place for fun, and if the entertainment industry isn’t the right place, then what the hell is?
At one extreme, you have Hotel Rwanda, and at the other you have Nacho Libre. What do you watch when you’re too exhausted to delve into the social implications of genocide, but you’d still like to keep your brain switch set to “on?”
That’s been a real frustration for me. Not enough movies in the last few years have made me feel both happier and smarter. In fact, only Amelie and Junebug come to mind–and Junebug isn’t everyone’s idea of a feel-good flick.
So I guess I’m wondering if this is a real trend, or just my personal experience. What movies have left you feeling smarter and sunnier afterward?
21 Weeks and Counting
My innie is finally a full-fledged outie, which kinda grosses me out. It’s killer sensitive and the skin is soft. People, the insides of your belly buttons are soft as the downy feathers of a baby chick! Of course, try to touch a newly hatched outie and you get an electric zing of discomfort. It’s similar to chewing tinfoil. But still. Soft!
In other pregnancy news, I’m starting to have No One Hurts This Baby dreams. In these dreams I have superhero baby-protection powers. I dreamt that terrorists tried to take me and Bryan hostage with hundreds of other people, and I knew I had to get out before they realized I was pregnant. I kee-yahed, and throat-punched, and clawed my way free. Then I sent Bryan a text message that said, “We’re safe. Get out.” And I waited for him at a coffee shop.
