5 Signs You Are Embarrasingly Drunk

I certainly wouldn't know this from experience. And it definitely didn't happen on what could be the last sunny and warm Sunday afternoon of the year.

1. You realize how poorly your attempts at walking are going. You accept that you are just stumbling at this point. And you know the stumbling isn't going too well either.
   
2. Hot guys hit on you, but all you want to do is nap on their shoulder.
   
3. Multiple friends stop you to make sure you are "ok" as you "walk/stumble" past.
   
4. The cab driver accelerates and brakes evenly while getting you home.
   
5. You are behind the wheel of the ceramic school bus by 7pm.
   

Good times. Or so I hear.

You won't see this on tonight's news segment about the gay protests..

The sprinklers came on during the gay rights protest at San Francisco's City Hall. A male percussionist was holding down the sprinkler head while people scurried off the grass. A female band member says to me, "He really should get out of the way so one of us girls can come over and put their thumb in the dyke."

It's Time For My Period

Apparently, I'm entering into another slutty period. Last night was the first time I slept in my own bed since Monday. And I was this close to not sleeping in it alone.

After all the elections, demonstrations and birthday celebrations this week, I decided to lay low tonight. I'm about to take a sleep aid and turn in early.

Hippy Michael

In yet another classy episode, I met a man named Michael last night. He said he was hot, so I took off his shirt. It went about as you would expect from there.

I wouldn't mind seeing more of him.

Vigil

There was a good sized crowd for the candle light vigil yesterday. I stayed for about an hour and a half.

My shoes are covered in candle wax. I had a clumsy spaz after about half an hour. I'm such a dork. Thank god there are men who find my nerdiness desirable.

Lazeh

So I didn't bring the champagne last night. For three reasons:

* I know the last thing the Robs want to see is more alcohol.
* Even though I knew Barack Obama would win, and that is amazing, but I was afraid Prop 8 would pass.
* And I wanted to stop in to the Castro to meet some friends for a drink before heading to the party.

Anyway, while we were excited about Barack winning, the mood was definitely tempered by the passage of Prop 8.

Luckily, there are credible legal challenges available for us. The gist of it is that because this is a pretty major change to the tone of the California Constitution, it is not eligible to be passed by a simple voting majority.

The people against the amendment did bring this to the state courts prior to the election. The courts deferred taking on the case until after the election. I'm guessing they knew they would have to disallow it, but hoped the measure would fail so they wouldn't have to take (another) stand on the issue.

There is still hope! I'll be at the candle light vigil tonight. Or drinking with Jon for his birthday. Either one.

Cheers!

Back in June, I briefly dated a cute guy from Chicago who was the spitting image of Barack Obama (but younger). The last time I saw David, he brought over a bottle of champagne. It was late in the evening, so we never drank it.

The bottle has been sitting in my fridge ever since. I intended to hand it off to a hobo on my last trip from the old Soma apartment. I forgot about it. Then I remembered the election was coming up. What better occasion could their be than to toast the election of Barack Obama?

So yeah, I'm totally pawning off a cheap bottle of champagne as being much more interesting just because it came from someone who looked a lot like our future president.

Republican Costume

When I told my friends about my Halloween costume, their reactions ranged from:

* Bitch, you are never going to get laid in a mullet
* Dude, you are going to get beat up in a McCain T-shirt

My costume came off really well. People's reactions ranged from a slow smile spreading as they "got it" to coming up to me and hugging me. There were two people in the Castro who didn't get it at all. I blame their alcohol intake.

In case you are wondering, I made the shirt from vinyl letters I bought at a craft store. People were suprised I had Martha Stewart'd it. Come on, where are you going to find a McCain T-shirt anywhere in California, yet alone in San Francisco. And frankly, how many Republicans wear a size small?

Food

Cheeseburgers are starting to become the cornerstone of my diet. In the interest of my overall well being and not becoming a lard ass, I've been making inroads into cooking again.

The inroads are poorly marked two tracks in the middle of the woods, but it's a start. This week, I mastered boiling tortellini. Laugh all you want, but it's hard to judge when the little fuckers are done. And finding the right premade sauce on Cook's Illustrated makes a huge difference (while justifying my lifelong love for Prego).

Photo shamelessly stolen from Evil Mad Scientist

Baby Gravy

I have a friend named Ethel. Ethel is a pretty little Irish born lesbian who I met at work about 10 years ago. She has her dyke-y stereotypical traits.

Short hair: Check
Makeup: Little to none, Check
Recovering Alcoholic: Check
Truck: Check (although I think she has switched to a Prius now: Check)
Large Dogs: Two weimaraners, Check
Getting Married: Engaged, Check

All without the boring things like being overly politically correct, a pot head, vegan or femi-nazi. The lady is a doll. These days we live on seperate sides of the country. I haven't seen her in over 5 years. We still talk occasionally when we see each other online.

A long time ago, we had a discussion about kids. She wants one, preferably with my sperm. Yesterday, she brought the topic up again. Her and her fiance are thinking about starting a family. They wanted to know if I'd still be willing to donate to the cause.

I'm very flattered by the idea that someone wants half of my genes in their kid. The concept of having a child, that I can know, but not have to be a parent to appeals to me. They are talking about coming to visit next week so the fiance can meet me. It should be interesting.

Shaving

For the last year, I've been sporting a short beard. This means I hardly have to shave. Every once in a while I get a "wild hair" (forgive me) up my ass to see what I look like without facial hair. Today was one of those days.

Tomorrow will not be one of those days. I think I look better with the short beard. Plus shaving blows.

And before you say it, yes, I realize I need a haircut.

Ugly Betty

I was in the mood to get out of my house last night, so I went to the Midnight Sun to watch Ugly Betty.

A handsome guy named Jay started talking to me. Jay was 6'2", black and hawt. He was kind of a douche nozzle, but not obnoxious. But definitely not someone I'd want to date. He offered to drive me home (he only had one drink that I saw and seemed perfectly sober). I don't think he meant "Let's fuck" when he said "Do you want me to drive you home?". Still, I declined.

I also saw _____. I can't remember _____'s name. I want to say it's one of those girl's names that can be a guy's name. I gave him my phone number at one time for platonic reasons. He is a sweet guy, very dorky, but not very attractive. He has proposed going out on a date, which I deftly sidestepped a couple of times. He got the point.

Anyway, I said "Hi" to him at the Scum, and again we were on the same Muni train home. At which point, he said, "Thanks for the downstrokes". I asked him what that meant. Apparently it means he's jacked off to me. A lot.

METH PLZ THX

I met Tony Saturday night at 440. He's 31, attractive, smart and fun to talk to. He even has a respectable career as a biochemist at Stanford. Sounds perfect right? It turns out he lives in one of the buildings behind my apartment building, so we stopped by his place on the way to mine (he has a roommate).

The apartment was odd. It was a one bedroom smaller than my studio. There was boxes and piles of stuff everywhere. It was like they both slept there, but never unpackeed. Tony's "room" was the living room. But like I said, it was a futon with piles of clothes everywhere - cluttered but not dirty. Very odd.

Everything else seemed normal though. And I was drunk, so it didn't exactly stick in my head. We spent the night at my place (just cuddled). In the morning, we went to Brenda's for breakfast. Back at my place we took a nap (after doing a little more than cuddling).

We were supposed to go out again on Tuesday. But he sent me a text that day that he had to work late. We rescheduled for Thursday. And I never heard from him. Rawr.

One of my friends said his apartment sounds like a meth den. Which explains the flakiness. And the fact that he seemed to get bored halfway through when we were messing around. And his odd sleeplessness. But he didn't seem high. Not that I really know what that looks like.

So yeah, I'm going to assume it's meth.

Cheap Personal Loan

As previously mentioned, I'm moving in a few days. Moving is expensive. I had set aside a few grand to cover moving costs. But as the market has been plummeting, I couldn't pass up a chance to buy in at rock bottom prices. So rather than floating a credit card balance for a month to keep extra cash on hand, I took out a small personal loan.

*Gasp*

Really, it isn't that bad. And I'm someone who REALLY hates debt. In fact, this "personal loan" is probably the best financial instrument I've ever seen.

I've had an ING Direct checking account for about a year now. They pay great interest on checking and savings, which most people are already aware of. What people aren't aware of, is the checking account comes with an overdraft line of credit. They charge you a low rate (currently 8.5%) on the amount you are overdrawn. Interest compounds daily and ends whenever your balance becomes positive.

So to come up with the huge ass deposit San Francisco rents require, I am going to be around $2000 overdrawn for about 20 days over the course of the next month. Total interest charge: $9.30. If I had just skipped paying off my credit card for a month, I would have ended up paying over $37 in interest. And of course, I'm buying securities at very low prices which will be awesome when I'm ready to retire.

T-Minus 5 Days

Three beefy Irishmen will be coming over to my place on Monday. I can't wait to work these boys into a sweat! Okay, so they'll just be moving my stuff into my new apartment. But I'm paying them so I can make all the gay prostitute orgy innuendos I want.

The new apartment is much larger and cheaper than my current loft. It's a little farther from work, but will take me less time to get to the office. And it's a great excuse to take a day trip to Ikea.

I miss Bobby

No, not in the crazy "I wish hadn't dumped him" way. He sent me an email Friday night asking for some space. We have been hanging out a lot even since we broke up. Apparently that is making it hard for him to stop thinking about us getting back together.

Don't get me wrong, I totally understand his feelings. I feel terrible that he's hurting inside. And with me moving within a block of his house in the next couple weeks, it's pretty much his last chance at getting over it before seeing me - a lot. But I really miss having him around.

Sarah Palin, Boat Anchor

I've been pretty disturbed that Obama did not have a commanding lead over John McCain. It was as if the campaigns had been going on for so long that people forgot what the candidates platforms were all about.

Sarah Palin changed all that! She has been a spectacular attention grabber for the McCain campaign. Now everyone remembers that McCain is a hot-headed, crotchety, out of touch, rich old white guy with no interest in the needs of the majority of Americans. And now we can see the caliber of people he would appoint as well. YOU BETCHA!

Adorably Unavailable

Jeff is a cute nerd from Columbus Ohio that the boys thew at me last night. He was smart, successful, engaging and unfortunately, a tourist. Well, like my friend Daniel always says, "These tourists arent going to fuck themselves"*, so I went back to the hotel with Jeff. I didn't pork him, but while we were making out, we had one of those moments. You know, the moment where you are kissing someone's neck and they pull away to make sure you aren't giving them a hickie and you say "Don't worry. I'm not going to give you a hickie".

"My friends would probably be proud of me for getting a hickie".

He got a hickie.

*Daniel doesn't really say that. He says "This town isn't going to fuck itself". Daniel has never, and will never limit his exquisite sluttiness to just tourists.

Folsom Street Fair 2008

Folsom is my anniversary of moving to San Francisco, so it always has a special place in my heart. Since I'm not much of a fetish queen, I had a T-shirt made with a haiku about what a whore I am.

I just come to these
things to gawk at hot guys and
make out with strangers

The only picture I took at this years fair was of one of the guys who always comes naked to these types of things. I give him credit for being in good shape for his age, but he really needs to lay off the "Just For Men" and bronzer. Bobby pointed out (which is strange because Bobby is a crotch looker and I'm an ass looker) that the naked guy missed a spot shaving his ass crack. It looked like a Hitler mustache on his bum.

How Berkeley Can You Be?

The band marched in this year's "How Berkeley Can You Be" parade. We were behind a group of girls roller skating and hula hooping wearing only some dental floss (for modesty) and body paint. Behind us we had the Klingon contingent, who we initially thought was part of a "Polyamorous Society" group. Turns out, they were just standing near the Polyamorous Group's banner.

BOBBY!

I broke up with Bobby yesterday. I couldn't see a future where we were happy husbands, but I could see one where we were great friends.

Afterward, I joined some friends for the Sunday beer bust at the Eagle. And got super smashed. Bobby was there, also smashed. I went about half a beer over my alcohol tolerance. Walking home I was convinced I was about to be "that guy". You know, the guy who's throwing up in the street in the Tenderloin.

Luckily, I can fall asleep in no time flat. I kept the queasiness at bay long enough to stumble home and climb in bed.

Honk

I actually saw a lady carry a live goose onto the Muni yesterday. She was dirty and crazy looking (other than just the obvious live water fowl).

I was on the way to the Castro with Bobby (part of my ongoing serious of drunken Sunday afternoons). When we got to the Mix, there was this funny older gentleman draped in turquoise jewelry. I couldn't help but wonder, "Does he run home every afternoon at 4pm to watch the TURQUOISE POWER HOUR on QVC"?

Asian Wedding

Bobby and I went to a wedding in San Jose yesterday. The newlyweds are Asian, so there was an interesting mix of traditions. There were older Asians who erupted into clapping when the parents were escorted to their seats (in these days of people marrying older and older, I think they were happy to get them to tie the knot). The music playing before the ceremony was all Kenny G and karaoke tracks of light rock hits.

The bridesmaid dresses really did "take the cake" (slap me). Seriously, the bridesmaids were all svelt, gorgeous, mostly Asian girls. Size 0 skinny (except the maid of honor who had serious honkers, but still a slim girl, let's call her a size 6). And somehow, the dresses made them look like the had cellulite and love handles EVERYWHERE. Whoever designed these dresses are a master of horror.

I even managed to stay awake the whole drive there and back. Considering we had spent the earlier part of the day at Baker Beach, I call that an amazing feat.

SHOPPING!

It's no secret. I like getting drunk on Sunday afternoons. You start drinking around 3pm. You're done by 6pm or so. And semi sober by bedtime at 9pm. I fall asleep quickly without a thought to the upcoming workweek.

So yesterday the boys and I were having a few drinks at The Lookout. There was a homeless guy digging through the trash for hours. He kept pulling out sale circulars. And studying them intensely. He even kept a few for reference. I'm assuming it was homeless boredom and not an intent to wheel his shopping cart to the Walmart in Oakland for super deals.

30

Woo! I'm 30!

Seriously, woo! Life gets better every year (if you work to make it better). I loved my twenties. I'm sure I will love my thirties.

I have been sick the last few days, so I'm going to have to postpone any revelry until tomorrow at the earliest. Bobby has been taking great care of me. Lord knows I'm a whiny bitch when I have the sniffles. The man deserves a purple heart. He's passed out on the couch right now :)

You know you're ready to turn 30 when...

... All the cereal in your cupboard has "Bran" in the title
... You have a grownup job
... You have a net worth that is defined by more than that spare change jar next to the bed
... Drugs really are bad (excepts sometimes hehe)
... You have actually discussed your active prescriptions with your peers

19 Polk

The 19 Polk is a bus line that goes from Hunters Point (the ghetto), past the county jail and though the Tenderloin. It's always smelly, weird and generally entertaining. We've informed my new coworker about it. He's a recent immigrant to SF from Nashville.

Yesterday, my new co-worker Matt mentioned it was his birthday, so I took him out to lunch at Brenda's French Soul Food. It's a bit far to walk there from the office, so we jumped on the 19.

Luckily, the bus did not disappoint. A cracked out homeless looking guy got on the bus. He started talking to us in a friendly way. He didn't seem high. Then he pulled out his medical marijuana card to show us. And a huge bottle of morphine pills.

I think that was where we were supposed to be impressed and offer to buy some off him.

Bringing in the Sheaves

Tonight I'm bringing a guy I met at Dore Alley this weekend to join the band. He's the one with the biggest PA on the right.

Dore Alley Pictures

This was my first "Up Your Alley" street fair. It wasn't that much more scandalous than an average night out with the boys, but people were in more costumes than a usual night out in the bars.

HOT GUY IN "HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL" BACKPACK



SUPER HUGE PRINCE ALBERT



SEXY FIREMAN AND FOOTBALL PLAYER COUPLE



SOMEWHAT NAKED TWISTER

Bobby

This post is back dated. I've been avoiding talking about this whole Bobby thing because it makes me sound like a douche.

I'm not generally into dating multiple people at once. But the Yaz concert with Bobby was very much like a date. And all the subsequent times we've hung out since then. God, and multiple times before then. We were both avoiding labeling what was going on (a lot of us hanging out, cuddling and making out). Well, it's now been labeled with the "B" word.

Speaking of words that start with "B", I've grown tired of Barak. We knew we wouldn't see each other for two weeks because of our schedule. I didn't hear much from him. Barak didn't hear much from me either. He did try and get a hold of me a few times this week. I'm ignoring him because of the above paragraph.