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."

Just another night...

Last night was fraught with vivid dreams: first I dreamed that a friend of mine was having a thing with a large black transvestite 'woman' who kept giving me hard pinches in an attempt to scare me off so they could be alone, while my friend just shrugged apologetically in the background. That was bizarre. And reminded me of a few bus rides I've taken through San Francisco.

After waking in a cold sweat from THAT particular abuse (and sending an unfortunate incoherent midnight text message to the friend, expressing my concern), I was then transported to Kiev, where I spent the remainder of my night unraveling decades of political scandal. That dream was mostly fraught with incredibly fast, tiny cars on curvy city streets and museum vaults with cryptic bloodstains spidering across the floor. After solving THAT particular drama, * brushing fingernails across lapel * I found myself in Hoxton Square in London enjoying a beer with Tori and my Kiev team. You know. Cuz that's how I roll.

It was a tough night, but someone's got to do it...

Don't let me forget...

Tommy's Mexican Restaurant! I must do Tommy's Mexican Restaurant!

Okay, that's all I had to say about that. I'm just trying not to forget anything...and this seems as good a place as any to store my list...I beg for forgiveness in advance.

Photos from Auntie Sharon

Yesterday my phone started buzzing incessantly first thing in the morning. At first I thought I was just wildly popular, and of COURSE my adoring fans were demanding my presence as soon as the day began. And then I finally checked the messages, and lo-and-behold, my aunt has figured out how to use the pix-messaging feature on her new phone. This also explained the early hour, as the folks over in Okla-town rarely seem to remember the time difference, and often text me at five in the morning to ask me how my day is going.

Here are the photos my aunt took yesterday for me...

PeyPey's preciousness:


Hope and Hunter's acrobats:

Please note: I have NEVER been this flexible. I'm not even sure if I'm related to these little people. So far all we have in common is an unholy love for macaroni and cheese and the ability to play with dolls for hours.

Ode to Schnitzelhaus, or The Email of the Day

"Oh Lawdy, how I love Schnitzelhaus. Like love love love. After many long beer-soaked Friday lunches, many beer-soaked dinners, and much deliberation, I have determined Schnitzelhaus ist der Scrumdiddlyditious Haus Auf Der Mo Und Walter. Ja, da Schnitzelhaus ist der mostest funnest vey to get ze aussum foodz und ze beers und a little berating from der Mo, from time to time. And you have to love any restaurant that has the fish of the day under "Vegetarian" on the menu.

Jagerschnitzel? Brown mushroomy heaven. Zigeunerschnitzel? Spicy sauce of love (pronounced Zee-GOY-ner-shnitzel). Potato soup? Warm comforting white happiness. Butter with chives? Sinfully nomlicious. Salad? You have the wrong restaurant.

Food from the gods. Go to Schnitzelhaus. Bring friends. Drink beer, eat food, be happy."