Tag: san francisco


AUTUMN ON THE WEST COAST

I walk past a florist every morning. About a month ago, I realized it was fall because all the buckets were filled with orange chrysanthemums. San Francisco foliage.

4:02 p.m.


NOE VALLEY MOMENT

Sign in a shop window on my walk home: “Interested in cheese classes? Inquire within!!!” And the sad truth? I’m totally interested in cheese classes.

5:12 p.m.


FUN WITH CRAIGSLIST

Creepy missed connections ad on Craigslist:

” Do you live above the AMC theaters on Van Ness? (Across the street) Can you see me looking at you? Just WAVE…”

Enchanting, no? Especially that last bit, with the insistent “WAVE” in all upper caps. Who writes something like that expecting to get a date? “What’s that you say, delightful thing? You’ve been watching me? Well, how quaint. I don’t even know you, and you’ve already seen me naked. Rather amusing when you think about it. It really is so difficult to meet new people in the City, what with all the crazies about. Do come over for coffee.”

In other news, a smashingly titled event from the entertainment section:

11/17-18: womens art faire this weekend 17th & 18th: ‘OVARIA’ (emeryville)

11:45 a.m.


HOT DIGGITY






This year’s Halloween was super rockadelic. I dressed up as a Hotdog on a Stick girl, and Bryan (my ever-trusty sidekick) was an enormous hotdog on a stick. It was fun, if a little overwhelming because of all the Castro men exclaiming over Bryan. “What are you? What are yooou? OOOOHHH. NOOO. You aren’t! You naughty, naughty thing. Largest on record! Soo naughty!” Rusa has more photos. Other highlights:

The drunk guy who was doing a very convincing girl imitation in his living room window above the crowd. He had on some bikini thing and a mesh beaded top, and he was grinding to wild cheers from the crowd below (most of whom were unaware that he wasn’t a she). He ultimately grabbed onto his curtain rod to do a sort of improvised stripper routine. Of course the aluminum rod came crashing down, taking Paula Abdul right along with it.

The girl who passed me saying, “I wanted a guy to say that to me, not a girl.”

A brief exchange with Evan:

Me: Hey! Someone just pinched my ass!

Evan: Me too.


HAPPY HALLOWEEN

This morning on my way in to work I passed a guy riding his bike. His grass skirt was blowing dangerously close to his chain and he was using one hand to support the four-foot-tall wooden tribal mask he was wearing. Yesterday, I passed a guy in jeans, an REI jacket, and a pair of fairy wings. I heart Halloween.

P.S. Thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes, cards, and gifts over the last week. All of them made me smile.

10:15 a.m.


SLEEVES FOR THE NEEDY

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.


SATURDAY-NIGHT CAB RIDE HIGHLIGHTS

Me: Can you take me to 2500 Smith Street please?

Cabby: Sure. Lot of gays live in your neighborhood.

Me: Yeah. I guess they do.

Cabby: But you aren’t a gay, are you?

Me: … No.

Cabby: (Smugly satisfied at correct guess.) Me neither. I like gays, it’s my job to like them. But I’m straight person myself, so occasionally it’s nice to see the straight people. You know, you gotta have equilibrium.

Me: I never thought of it that way.

Cabby: What was going on in there?

Me: A dance.

Cabby: What kind of dance? Everybody looks nice.

Me: Lindy. A bunch of people are in from out of town for an exchange.

Cabby: Yeah, you look nice. All dressed up.

Me: (Shifts uncomfortably in seat.)

Cabby: (Leans out window jovially, calls to young guy walking down the street.) I got another one! (Extends hand.) Gimme five!

Young guy: (Pulls eyebrows together).

Cabby: (Motions with hand.) Gimme five!

Young guy: (Gives reluctant five.)

Cabby: That’s the last guy I dropped off.

Me: He didn’t seem too enthusiastic.

Cabby: Yeah, “I want a cab ride, buddy. Not an experience!” Heh….

(Swipes his hand over face, yanks ear, and rubs eye in a single rapid motion.)

(Minutes pass, Cabby talks incessantly in surprisingly intelligent albeit coked-up fashion. I learn he is 53, I learn he attended the same college I did, I learn he lived in Mexico with his wife and son, I learn he is higher than a kite looking for God in a tornado.)

Me: GASP!

Cabby: Wha? (Almost hits another car at a four-way-stop intersection.) Whoa. He blew that stop didn’t he?

Me: No. (Consider getting out of cab for 27th time since I got in. Decide Cabby will follow me up the street and begin to pray.)

Cabby: So what do you do?

Me: I’m an editor.

Cabby: For what?

Me: A little magazine.

Cabby: What magazine?

Me: A little magazine for Web developers.

Cabby: How much does that pay?

Me: Uh…

Cabby: ‘Cause my night vision is going, and I think editing would good for my eyes. That type of thing is good for your eyes.

Me: Actually, it’s really bad for–

Cabby: I have a son, Mark and he’s in school and I proofread his papers. I feel that’s something I can offer him, you know, to take his papers from… you know, to the next level. Like by editing them.

Me: Yeah. I’m on the right.

Cabby: How much do you make?

Me: Uh, about (Can’t believe I’m telling the cab driver my annual salary.)

Cabby: That’s pretty good. How could I get into that, because I do a lot of editing around, you know?

Me: (Gets out of cab.)

Cabby: (Talks at gunfire pace for an eternal three minutes with no pauses for air.)

Me: (Closes door, walks to gate.)

Cabby: (Rolls down passenger window, continues briefing me on his editing skills).

Me: (Nods, closes front door. Locks front door in every manner available. Leans with back to door like character in horrible Julia Roberts flick about a single girl fighting her way through the urban jungle. Has some ice cream to cement the deal.)

4:39 p.m.


OVERHEARD: EXASPERATION ON THE J-CHURCH

Situation: After arguing with his father for a few minutes, a three-year-old boy is finally allowed to hold onto the pole instead of sitting down next to dad. Then Enthusiastic Drunken Bum takes an interest.

Enthusastic Drunken Bum: (Yells teasingly.) You’d better hold on!

Boy: (Glances in EDB’s general direction, pretends not to hear.)

EDB: I say, you better hold on!

Boy: (Turns back to EDB.)

EDB: You better hold on, there!

Boy: (Ignores him.)

EDB: You better hold on!

Boy: IAMHOLDINGON!!!!!!

11:13 a.m.

Tuesday night at Naps is Karaoke night. The hot dogs on the back table may be gray, but they’re free. There’s also a wholesale-sized tub of relish if that’s your gig. When we got there, about five regulars lined the bar, and a fellow named Brian was singing a drunken-scat version of “If You Think I’m Sexy.”

“If you beh-dee SEXY

ahn you me-dee BODY

Wee-bby beeh-doo body KNOW.”

Meanwhile, frustrated barflies screamed the actual lyrics and made instructive gestures at Brian, who smiled vaguely, raised his arms above his head, and gyrated. Did I mention free hot dogs? Awesome.

11:18 a.m.

Overheard: My neighborhood (Noe Valley) in a nutshell.

Characters: Three thirty-somethings shift indecisively in the street.

Woman 1: That doesn’t make sense, we’ll have to double back.

Man: Well, what do you want to do?

Woman 3: Let’s go get the dog, then go to Starbucks.

3:55 p.m.

p.s. Go see The Others. Great, great movie. Karma gods were paying me back for Original Sin.

3:57 p.m.