And we've done it!

And by 'we,' I mean, 'me and all of the voices.' My new London blog has been officially launched and can be found here. And here. And here. (Please note all these hyperlinks go to the same place.)

CHEERS! See you on the other side!

English grocery shopping do's and don't's.

Do: convert all recipes into grams and ml in advance of shopping.
Don't: bother with recipes at all, as you won't be able to find the ingredients, anyway.

Do: handle all plastic containers of soup with care.
Don't: drop your soup container in the aisle, where it then busts, spraying butternut squash all over the floor.
Do: run for it.

Do: bag your own groceries.
Don't: stand there, staring expectantly at your cashier for ten awkward minutes before noticing that the patrons in the other lines are all taking care of their own, leading you to scramble and pack your groceries in a frantic rush, guaranteeing you will arrive home to find that you shoved your bread between your jars of tomato sauce and your eggs are missing entirely.

Do: leave via the main entrance.
Don't: leave via the fire exit.

Do: get home as quickly as possible with your load and vow never to return again, as you can survive by sucking the splatters of butternut squash soup off the hem of your jeans for at least a few weeks.
Don't: realize you forgot the kitty food as soon as you see the mewing cat.

Do: take advantage of your return trip to buy a bottle of red wine.
Don't: wait until dinner to open it.

My London Blog Name

Seriously, people. I canNOT come up with a good name for my London blog. I sent out a mass text my last weekend in San Francisco soliciting help, and of course all the great ideas that came back were TAKEN. Oh, yes. And by people who have done this. Or this. Then the lightbulb came on: The Daily Drizzle! Brilliant name for a blog, isn't it?? Except someone else has already done it and killed it and it has been removed from blogger forever. Then of course you have variations on The View theme: we have this hilarity (which I secretly wish had been carried on) and also this. Please note that all of these blogs died within a post or two, and all several years ago (this is also the only reason I feel free to poke a little fun. These bloggers have obviously not grown attached to their works). BUT THESE ARE THE PEOPLE PREVENTING ME FROM GENIUS. I'm convinced of it. I was going to produce something heartbreaking, and staggering, and now...I'm choked off, like a rose surrounded by weeds. Weeds with really great names.

Any ideas would of course not only be appreciated, but humped beyond oblivion. And totally worthy of a care package from London consisting of pub coasters and a British tabloid. Please. Help me jump the gap. (And yes, that's been taken, too.)

What I'm looking forward to most...

People keep asking me what I'm looking forward to the most about my upcoming trip to London, and consistently my mind goes straight to "my flight on Virgin Airlines." I've only done Virgin once, on the way to Las Vegas, and it was great. I can't imagine the wonders of flying abroad and spending ten straight hours on this plane. I don't know what I'm expecting, exactly...maybe a cirque du soleil act complete with live trapeze artists flying over my seat, or a laser light show and a cocktail bar and stewardesses in white plastic mini skirts and bubbled vests and blue hair to serve my every whim and desire, down to live goldfish in my martini glass and fuzzy pink socks for my wiggling, over-stimulated toes.

I hope I don't peak out early.

Candy-coated hair

Last night Jeremy and Katy and I found ourselves wearing ponchos indoors, soon to be sprayed with red corn-syrup blood, doused with water guns, and squirted with fake semen. What sort of event was this? It was not an animal sacrifice (though that may have been more relaxing, given the cap gun held to my head throughout the evening), nor was it some sort of complex mating ritual (at least as far as I could tell, though the full bar may have lent itself to such).

No. It was Point Break Live.

Oh, yes. Point Break Live. Where they squirt you with water when they're 'surfing,' where the dead presidents rampage throughout the audience demanding fake money they gave you at the door, and the homo-erotic undertones of the original film were more than exaggerated on stage, as the surfers groped each other with excitement after each 'rad tube.' The director of the movie was there to play Tyler's part as well as to direct the staging ('Stunt double! Go fight for Keanu!' Then the double enters the fracas, a girl swinging punches on his behalf). Keanu's part, Johnny Utah, was picked from the audience, and the guy read from cue cards to 'authenticate the rawness of a Keanu performance.' It was impeccably done. Keanu himself would've been jealous of this guy's ability to capture him, one delayed sentence after another. 'Right, braaaaaa?'

As we crowded out of the theater after, arms and faces and hair sticky with fake blood, you could see alarm on passing pedestrians. The guy at the crepe trailer was unnaturally fast at serving us, and a passing police car slowed to a crawl as we crossed the street. Fellow theater-goer's are hollering on the street, "Duuuuude! You want me so bad it's like ACID in your MOUTH."

Last night was the show's last night in San Francisco, otherwise I would I recommend this to EVERYbody. And if it's coming to your city, you really must go see it. VAYA CON DIOS!

Going SHOPPING!

So you can only imagine what I'm unearthing as I begin the slow and painful process of sorting 'what to pack,' 'what to try and sell,' and 'what to toss entirely.' Somethings are obvious: shoes, coming. Shoe rack, selling. Torn pajama pants, tossing. And as I'm emptying out purses I haven't used in months (why all the unused napkins, Rona?? Are you worried about a shortage??), I've found unused gift card after unused gift card. And of COURSE they're only good in the U.S. So it looks like I'm going to Pottery Barn, Cost Plus World Market, and Borders this weekend! I can't wait...just one more thing to pack...or several, if I play these cards right.

The best cheesesteaks EVER.

And lest I forget...a cell phone pic of the best cheesesteak EVER, begotten on Sunday afternoon:

The bread was soft, the beef was rich, the peppers sweet...I wanted to roll my FACE in it, it was so good. And of course root beer to drink, as is only proper.

Piqueo's and the new local bar

Guess who's at the neighbor's using his internet because he's the GREATEST NEIGHBOR EVER?? Me. That's who.

Now for some photos from last week...

A full moon in Bernal Heights...with the fog floating across the hill, it was wonderfully spooky.

Saturday night at Piqueo's, San Francisco's best new peruvian restaurant. And it WAS. Go there. Order the empanadas and the plaintains. And then bliss out for hours.

Katy and I at the hot new local bar! The neighborhood's first full bar, where for the first time since living in the ghetto, I can drink a cocktail that doesn't include sake, soju, or champagne. Yes, dear cosmo...let us reacquaint. It has been too long since you have touched my lips.

Soy yo.

Es Katy.

Es 'el back room.' I wanted to take advantage of Katy back there, but some 'birthday party' got in the way. Like we couldn't have been the hired entertainment.

Last post for two weeks??

This may be it until I arrive in London! What with last Friday being my last day at work, and not having internet at home...I'm pretty much up a creek. There will be no last-minute checking of evites, no googling restaurants, no email checking, and alas! No blog posting. A neighbor of mine has graciously offered the use of his internet, but as I would hate to inconvenience him TOO often, my activity won't be what it was when I had hours of work time to blow. I mean, lunch breaks.

Hugs, and until we meet again,
S.

Wish Bar

These are a few of the long overdue photos burning a hole on my computer at home...Wish Bar at 11th and Folsom, where the location is sketchy but the service and the drinks are soooooooo worth it.

I had their Brazilian gimlet, made with Oronoco rum, a Brazilian rum made from mountain sugar cane with essence of vanilla. And the gimlet is nothing but the rum with fresh-squeezed lime. You'll never leave your stool again once you've tasted this magic.

This is Patrick the bartender. Also an ex-editor from SOMA magazine. I shall soon be inundating him with writing samples and forcing him to publish my 'work.' Assuming, of course, that SOMA magazine is looking for someone who can write pieces that are never more than two paragraphs in length.

I can't tell if it's a gift or a curse.

So a couple of weeks ago, somebody got ahold of my debit card number. Just my number, mind you, not the card itself, which is still sitting in my purse. And they already knew my address, which is comforting.

Then they proceeded to sign me up for all sorts of subscription memberships. I got a movie subscription, a lotion subscription, a coffee subscription. And items started arriving for me in the mail: soaps, lotions, coffee machines and tumblers, along with invoices notifying me that I would get charged again for the next shipment in 30 days, 60 days, etc.

I of course have since called all of the services, cancelling the memberships and receiving full refunds for what they had already charged me. All of the customer service agents were kind and understanding, always apologizing profusely and telling me to keep the 'gifts' that were already sent. And as I look around at all of my new, unsolicited items, I can't help but think, 'why couldn't this asshole get me a WINE membership?'

Chicken...pasta...cheese...

So this TOTALLY yum cook I know just made this and I'm salivating all over myself...gratin, please make the move to London with me...warm me, pad my hips, and let us be one.

I'm sorry. I liked it.

As much as I hate to admit it...I enjoyed Baby Mama. I did. Was it because the surrogate mother reminded me of the trailer parks of Oklahoma, where my sister and I were forbidden to go because otherwise we would hang out with the 'bad influences' of Cathy and Amy, who provoked us into making prank phone calls and toilet papering neighbors, then, years later, became gothic wiccan meth-labbers while my sister and I moved on to greater things, like her high school hobby of making out with her boyfriend at the amusement park and smoking cigarettes behind my parents' backs while I joined the robotics team and played Spades for the pulse-pounding thrill of nailing a ten-for-two? Or did I enjoy the movie because I'm a sucker for Tina Fey? Or maybe it was because I will never tire of happy endings in predictable chick flicks? Please, someone. Tell me why I'm so weak.

Me: What's the simplest way to move across the world?

Gina: In a thong and a trench coat, lovey.

Friends like this make me feel lucky to be alive.

From: Lazy Architect
To: Swamped Housewife Jamie, Perhaps2Suburban, Rona
Subject: (none)

i left my computer
i went away
when i came back
i had hoped it'd pay
to let you write
and compose and send
a ton of emails
to fill my screen
but bummer me
crap alas
i must have been
a heartless ass
cause not one message
was here to greet
my eager eyes
and tapping feet
i guess those ubiquitous spams
from viagra purveyors
and nigerian scams
will have to be my treat


--------------
From: 2Suburban
To: Lazy Architect, Swamped Housewife Jamie, Rona

Yo Jamie
don't fight it
make a bad rhyme
and ignite it

1. 2. 3.
Counting baby-toe
feeling sunshine and
watching tomatoes grow

where are the verses
that used to please
are they in your carpet
with the dried up peas

da feet ism
was never your game
til your fertile mind cured
and baby brain became

and it's like that but
hoped you like my poem
uh, excuse me
tired n gotta go home


--------------
From: Lazy Architect
To: Swamped Housewife Jamie, 2Suburban, Rona

yo yo yo
way to go
throwing down da rhymes
like das no to-mor-row!!!



--------------
From: Swamped Housewife Jamie
To: Lazy Architect, 2Suburban, Available Admin

my mind has been stuck on a permanent pause

igniting these bad rhymes, i have no cause

the only audience i now have, still poops in his pants

although i guess i would do the same, if given the chance

i can certainly relate to waiting for an email to arrive

has everyone forgotten, that i am still alive

the fun that is had, amongst the three of you

to suggest i don't feel abandoned wouldn't be true

i guess it's ok, i have plenty of things to do

between my tomatoes and dried peas....crap that's only two

well i'm current on oprah, and my bon bon's don't have time to melt

i guess i shouldn't complain about this hand that i've been dealt

so please come frolic in my garden, and rest your toes on my green lawn,

if you want me to provide dinner, my wedding ring i must go pawn

have no fear, i have plenty of tomatoes to go around

chewing them slowly fills you up quicker, is what i have found

three hours in the making, for a poem what would have normally taken one

i give up at this point, my career is clearly done.............

On taking the next step

P: i should hope they're having some sort of gala sendoff for you

me: we're having a company-wide happy hour next thursday!

P: got them wrapped around your finger.

me: it's taken years of manipulation, but i've done it.

P: now you can move on to the next challenge

... CONQUERING ALL OF BRITAIN.

Mini Bar and Cheesesteaks, here I cooooooome!

Tonight's the night Katy and I are trying out our new local bar, Mini! We're going to check out the 'modern art,' the 'tiny scene,' and all the cocktails getting raved about on yelp. Then we will stumble down the road to the Cheesesteak Shop, land of the best cheesesteaks SF has to offer! Or so the word goes...

photos will be taken, and all reported here! stay tuned...more in store tomorrow!

And last but not least...Pt. Bonita Lighthouse

More photos discovered, from a moonlight hike at Pt. Bonita...and since we wanted to go on the night of a full moon, we had to reserve our guide a month in advance. One more experience I'm so glad I had before leaving San Francisco...

That's the Golden Gate Bridge in the background, and the lights of San Francisco.

What Happens When You Clean Off Your Computer: More Spain Photos!

So as my time here at work draws to a close, I am starting to clean off my desktop--and just now I found these! It's like Christmas and Easter, all rolled into one.

I don't know how kids navigated these scooters on stone...

Fishing basket

A tiny bay with a tiny coastal community in Galicia.

This was actually taken in Lisbon. The bridge in the background is the spitting image of our Golden Gate.

Santiago de Compostela

Kid playing ball at the University of Vigo.

Skater at the University of Vigo

The call sign of a famous graffiti artist in Santiago.

How the SwampMonster Came to Be Conceived in North Beach: the Email of the Day

"The mother was the hopelessly-lonely-too-young-shouldn’t-already-be-a-cat-lady turned dribbley scuzzball dancing with one shoe by herself, and the father was the balding 38 year old washed up dot-com-er, complete with favorite ketchup and sorrow stained suit, from down the block. A match so made in heaven, I hear it didn’t even take a rufie-colada."