Squid Pro Quo

dughfest 26.0

For my friend Brandon's birthday I was invited to spend the day with him and his mom up in Napa.  It was my first trip up to wine country, and of course, it was as breathtakingly beautiful as you might imagine. 

 

Birthday boy and his mom

I still haven't forgiven that transvestite for this terrible haircut.  Not that there is anything wrong with transvestites it will just make me very reluctant to let a man in a corset cut my hair in the future.  It looks a little better straightened:

 

ugh...vain.

For dinner we went to  Baker Street Bistro.  The food was delicious.  I bravely tried a bite of B's sweetbreads for the first time in my life.  The service was pretty bad, though.  I had a great time, nonetheless.  Brandon's mom was so sweet and generous to put up with me for the whole day.  We spent a lot of time in Napa talking about how great it is to be in California where you can go to something like a wine tasting in jeans.  We're so casual.  I made a hypocrite of myself when I totally got lost in a gigglefest staring up the leg of this man at the restaurant last night:

That's a dangerous game he's playing with those shorts.

stars upon thars

Wow I’m on a roll posting, aren’t I?  I wanted to get in there and comment on the surprising response I’ve gotten for my last post.  I appreciate your emails and input.  Clearly you bitches are angry about all sorts of injustices, and I’m just glad I’m not the only one.   Never be complacent about a world so deeply flawed.  Money is the only thing that motivates Americans.

I woke up today feeling extra sorry for myself.  I’m dog sitting at my ex’s and if you’ve been down Divisadero in the past several weeks you’ve noticed the endless pinko stimulus construction project adding a median to the street.  The jackhammer action started around 7, which means the dog barking also started around 7.  I was convinced no one in the world has a life as tragic as mine.  I’m exhausted and drowning in noise.  I left my glasses AND my cell phone charger at my apartment. My sister keeps threatening to abandon her husband and child to join the roller derby.  I let a Native American transvestite give me the worst haircut I’ve ever had last month and oh yeah…I DON’T HAVE A JOB!

To put the whole miserable noise thing in perspective let me paint you a more visual picture...

Oh here I am spending a lovely warm and sunny afternoon reading the fourth installment of the Armistead Maupin (what a name!) Tales of the City series, Babycakes.  Idyllic, n'est-ce pas?

Now lets take a look at what is actually out that window:

 

Now I had a whole post written about the recent events in Maine voting to take away the right for homosexuals to legally marry and how I can't believe this country is so filled with Star-Belly Sneetches who go on and on about the importance of stars and how they are truly critical to the pursuit of building a family unit and thus the pursuit of happiness because WON'T SOMEONE PLEASE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?  And when the other Sneetches want their chance at stars, and families, and love, and happiness they say, "oh my goodness no.  It's just not natural.  These are just for us.  What if one of my star-bellied children has to hang out with your degenerate Sneetch offspring and thus are taught that there are all sorts of Sneetches with all different kinds of bellies who just want to live their lives"  By the way the "it's not natural" argument is always the most bewildering to me.  It's as if some think homosexuality does not occur in the natural world.  Does this mean gay folks are supernatural?  They all hover in this paranormal plane of existance made up of Williams-Sonomas and glitter?  The animals don't know they are sinning.  WON'T SOMEONE PLEASE THINK OF THE PENGUINS?! 

But that post I wrote was lost in a computer hiccup just now so I have no eloquence left in me.  Here are some more pictures instead. 

Because I am a woman trying to gain employment, I will not post a picture of me IN my Halloween costume but here it is none the less.  I went as everyone's favorite 80's classic song by Dexys Midnight Runners.  It consisted of this shirt and jeans.  Easy.

My sincerest apologies to the good sensible wholesome people who read this blog.

And finally, three fabulous Tennesseeans in a dark lower Haight bar:

talk to you bitches later.

that's politics, bitch

I was talking to my sister and she asked me if I had seen a sketch by Chelsea Handler.  My response was, “No.  I don’t watch her.  She’s an anti-vaccinationist.”  I could hear the eye roll over the phone.  Typical Leslie in action.

There has been a lot of op-ed, blog posts, and talk in general about “separating the art from the artist”.  American celebrities are so outspoken about a myriad of issues, each of which will be extremely personal to someone, somewhere.   Because so many actors, musicians, politicians and otherwise public figures demand to be more than vessels through which their work travels, choosing entertainment has become an exhausting task.  

As a lunatic liberal I am really not trying to take away anyone’s freedoms.  I just think society in general has to have a structure where we don’t have to suffer from extreme socio-economic imbalances, we can choose to opt out (or in) of religion, and to generally not be exploited by assholes.  I just want everyone to be safe, happy, healthy, to not be discriminated against, and free to do whatever he or she wants. 

Living in San Francisco, the city of recreational outrage, it’s easy to stray from that central dogma.  I get so distracted by boycotts, protests, and media frenzies.  My family on the other side of the country is all too familiar with my tendency to reject something based on a disagreement in politics or thought.   Maybe there is such a thing as going so far left that you come back around to the other side full circle.  In other words, if I disagree with so much, eventually I’ll be confined to my house forever having shut everything down by my thought police tendencies. 

Here is a list of people, places, and things I have avoided in the past, present or both:

-Scientologists (Tom Cruise and his movies)

-Anti-vaccinationists (Jenny McCarthy, Jim Carrey, Chelsea Handler)

-PETA members (basically everyone in Hollywood)

-Creationists

-Rape apologists (re: Roman Polanski and the recent amendment proposed by Senator Franken)

-Prop 8 Supporters (there is a database of who supported this financially that I have referenced several times)

-Misogynists (American Apparel)

-Racists

-Restaurants that serve foie gras

-Disrespectful Pro-Lifers (pro-life people don’t bother me.  People who think its okay to kill abortion doctors do)

-English-Only movement supporters

-Birthers

-Health care reform opposition

-Sanctimonious vegans (Natalie Portman who compares being okay with eating meat to being okay with rape)

-Anti-union (Whole Foods, starbucks)

Not all of the above can be associated with businesses to not give my money to, but certainly if I caught wind of affiliation I would prevent further patronage.  I know that can’t be everything I’ve gone off the deep end about.  They are just the issues I can think of off the top of my head.  While a lot of them are no-brainers (who would support known racists?) listing everything I disagree with makes me feel like the most intolerant person in the world, which is the opposite of what I am trying to achieve here. 

I’m interested...what have/do you avoid(ed) with your wallet for political reasons?

a few things you don't care about

I didn't really take any photographs on Halloween.  I went mansion hopping in Pacific Heights and the combination of uncomfortable excess and a slightly younger crowd acting like total assholes had me wanting to end it all by the end of the night.  Here are the two pictures I took of some of the only people who AREN'T going to hell.  And by Hell I mean the Pac Heights spoiled Bro' version of hell which is filled with fat girls and economy cars (the poor dears...not a charity gala for all eternity...)

 

The royal couple B & R, the original hosts of the evening before we went to Assholesylvania.  Check out douchebag Cookie Monster in the background....thinking about his Dad's Cookie portfolio no doubt...if only he could do math in his head...

 

The endlessly creative M...no caption needed, really.

In other asinine news...

A new sushi restaurant in Lower Haight!  The answer to my prayers. Sushi Raw (btwn Steiner and Pierce).  I ate this like it was my job (goddammit I need a job)

 

Speaking of not having a job here is what Internet told me as I was looking for sneaky ways to watch Mad Men streaming online (because really what self-respecting hyper-liberal white person has a tv and cable anymore...)

 

I found a perfectly good copy of this book in the middle of the sidewalk today:

A Murakami I haven't read yet!  Just plopped in the middle of the sidewalk at 8 in the morning!  Free books!  I'll let you know how it goes.  

not dead

Hey Bitches!  We have a lot of business to cover. 

First of all, I’m not dead.  Thanks to those of you who emailed to ask.  Everything has been so stagnant with me that even I haven’t wanted to know what I’m getting into.  This is why there have been no updates.  I’m still jobless and directionless and I’ve had about all I can take of it.  I apply to so many jobs and hear back from so few.  I could just pull my hair out.  For a while I was having nightly panic attacks when I was lying in bed before going to sleep thinking fatalistic thoughts about how no one will obviously ever hire me and I might as well give up and end it all which set off my monkey reflexes that are REALLY anti-dying.  I don’t like having the task of convincing myself that it’s not Golden Gate Bridge time yet.  Frustrated.  I’m smart and amusing and [can be] loyal like a dog and I need a motherfucking job, y’all!!

I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking about how much I’ve been affected by the feminist rhetoric of needing to have an Important Career with a capital I and C.  I think that’s why I wanted to be in medical research in the first place.  If I could do it all over again I’d go to some extra liberal arts school and major in creative writing I think.  This all started with me being the top student in AP biology senior year of high school and then making a perfect score on the exam.  I went into college with 11 credits of biology and math already knocked out so I was like, “well I guess this is how it’s going to be.” Having been off and on competitively academic throughout my life (depending on how gloomy I was at whatever period of time) I’ve been terrified of wasting potential.  Now all I want is a job where I can work and go home and do other things that interest me.  If I am going to be completely honest I would love to just have a home in San Francisco where I could read the news all day and have some nerd babies.  It’s awful how dirty I feel admitting that.  As much as I’ve half-assed tried to mold myself into some hard-working intellectual who is going to do something high-powered and awe-inspiring, I can’t think of anything I find more important than reading, writing, friends and the quirky family I hope to someday build. 

I’ve used the time I’ve had not working to do the thing working women always say they have no time for: diet and exercise.  It started when I went to a used bookstore and picked up this book for three dollars: 

I highly recommend it to anyone who either lives here or is planning a vacation here.  San Francisco is made up of 42 hills, and these are not the middle Tennessee hills I grew up with, these are HILLS! So steep you feel like you’ll have to get on all fours to ascend.  I’ve been through a lot of up and downs since I stopped taking Effexor over the summer, but even at my darkest I feel that as long as I can somehow be in San Francisco and have the opportunity to traverse it’s sundry terrain I could spend the rest of my days completely alone and unconnected and still have a life punctuated with moments of joy.  I wonder if other card-carrying introverts feel more connected to cities than they do other people. 

Wow that was sappy.  Back to my original point, I’ve made some major strides in reclaiming physical health.  My original goal was to fit back into some single digit pants I had kept around and today is the first day I can proudly say I put them on and didn’t have to suck in to zip them up.  They actually fit.  I thought I’d be happier about it but really I’m just panicked about gaining it all back.  It happened faster than I thought but I have been working out like a bitch.  I get really nervous thinking about getting a job and not having the time to exercise all the damn time.  I always told myself that once I lost weight I would just not say anything about it and pretend like it never happened, but it takes so much energy and thought that it’s not really possible.  That’s the weirdest thing about standards of beauty.  You are supposed to be perfect but never ever let anyone know that you try.  You’re supposed to be skinny AND not order a salad on dates. 

I have a ton of photographs piled up a lot of which are from doing the stairway walks from the aforementioned books.  Hopefully the pictures do justice to how beautiful and well planned these routes actually are. 

Fort Mason/Marina Green/Aquatic Park (walk 6)

Alright there weren't actually any stairs here (wtf?) but it's still an interesting part of town and made me actually see Ghirardelli Square for the first time in the three years I've lived here.  Turns out its a bunch of lameass shops I didn't need to see.  Aquatic Park is a much cooler area to explore.

 

 

 

I love it when you can see Alcatraz (top right of image)

Forest Hill (walk 12)

Forest Hill is beautifully boring full of very expensive looking houses on some very steep hills connected by series of back alley stairways. 

 

 

The second two images are of the Grand Stairway of Pacheco Street and can't be done justice without a wide angle lens.

Diamond Heights (walk 23)

 

The bottom portion of the Harry Street Stairs which are by far my favorite.  They are very hidden and look like a private entryway and take you about three blocks straight up into the sky

 

 

Amatista Stairway goes much further than you can see in this photograph.  They lack the Secret Garden charm of the Harry Street Stairs though.

 

The view from the Harry St. Stairway

Golden Gate Heights

There is an official walk for this neighborhood but I haven't done it.  This is just from a quick trip to the top of Grand View Park which is far more magical than these foggy pictures look.  And...um...about getting up to the top of this park....prepare to be winded.

Forest Hill as seen from GG Heights

If you've made it this far here are some pictures that have nothing to do with neighborhoods or stairs but I like anyways:

 

This guy was just taking a snooze in the trunk of his car.  Or he's dead and I stumbled upon something far more sinister.

 

back in my neighborhood

 

Civic Center Farmer's Market

worst christmas ever

A thoughtful San Franciscan left this vinyl record on my front stairs outside.  I must say that Dylan Thomas reading Do Not Go Gently into that Good Night is not how we did things back home.  Christmas means hungover parents, American Girl dolls, erector and chemistry sets (I was a multi-faceted child)

God Bless America.

photos 08.29.09

you go to health and you die

listen up bitches,

So y'all remember how lately I'm infinitely concerned about the status of my own demise, i.e., IMPENDING?  Well a few weeks ago I decided something had to change between the brain quakes, the shaky hands, constant general life TERROR and multiple sex dreams about Bill Maher. 

So I'm actually trying to be somewhat healthy.  I always said this god damn city would make me healthy someday.  I've been running through different parts of the city almost everyday trying to take lots of pictures.  I am not anticipating a smooth transition back into the work force.  All I want to do is exercise and go to the farmer's market and take pictures of the city like a tourist.  I guess that's what trophy wives do.  I'll file that idea away upstairs for later.

I've taken the drinking down a level.  It needed to happen anyways.  No more beer for a while though.  Or maybe just a little beer.  But mostly white wine. 

And since this drastic change in my body chemistry has turned me into a humming and rocking autistic child, I haven't been able to stop listening to Michael Jackson on repeat.  I'm taking that whole thing a lot harder than I imagine.  I've never given a shit about celebrity deaths other than I love a good media circus.  When Princess Di bought the farm I remember thinking "GOD DAMNIT DIANA!" Because I mean the Spice Girls were on SNL that night.  Come ONNN. 

On the day I was born in '83, a Michael Jackson song was #1 in the country.  In a way I was born into MJ's world, and he certainly was on top of it that day (and so many others)  This little bit of trivia makes me feel really insightful when I run exclusively to his Greatest Hits album through Buena Vista, where I am determined I will eventually find a dead body.  Often people mistakingly think I don't give a shit what anyone thinks, but I always turn down the music when I pass people because I'm afraid that they'll hear that I'm listening to Free Willy.  Do with that what you will.  In that scary ass park no one will hear you scream but someone will certainly hear your music and judge you.  This is all very rational.

In other health news, I'm obsessed with the civic center farmer's market.  Word on the street is it's cheap because the system basically is set up to poison poor people which makes sense to me.  I got there early enough yesterday to catch the fish lady.  Legend has it there is a cheese guy but I've certainly never seen that asshole.  Anyways, the fish lady is amazing and I bought some REALLY gory fish including a big red slab of tuna and giant shrimp that stare at you with their soulful yet lifeless eyeballs.  I appreciated getting perfectly clear plastic bags and when I got on the 21 Hayes bus I held my plastic bags of fish up at chest level proudly like you would hold a goldfish in a bag you won at the carnival.  If I had my carnival those would be the prizes, fish gore and headless barbie dolls.  AND YOU'D THANK ME FOR IT.

what unemployment looks like to me

photos 08.24.09

mystery time

So I found this weird Morrissey sticker on my floor and I have absolutely no idea where it came from.  It was on the other side of my bedroom door like someone had slipped it under.

Now it lives on my refrigerator