I beat parking tickets. You can too!

I AM ON A ROLL BEATING PARKING TICKETS. Well, sort of. I've beat 2 in the last like 8 years, but I've only gotten like 4 in that time period so I'm beating like half of them.

I probably shouldn't say anything, because now the SFMTA is going to be looking for me and I'm sure they have some NSA-level surveillance shit that can identify my car just from this blog. The SFMTA is very powerful. But anyway, I want to share my good fortune with you and also tell you how to beat parking tickets. Sometimes.

OK, our story begins at the Alemany Flea Market. Wife and I go there a few months ago to buy some used crap or whatever. Here's a picture of it from Google Street View in its empty state. See that red MS Paint arrow? Of course you do. That's where we parked, along that curb. Not by the fire hydrant.



OK, so look at that. Is there ANYTHING about that curb that suggests you can't park there? (BTW, there were also other cars parked there along that curb when we got there.) I mean, there's maybe a hint of some red paint that might have been there, but it's long fucking gone now. And no vertical "NO PARKING" signs or anything. So we park and go buy some stuff and come back and there's a ticket on my car and every other car parked along that curb.

WELL FUCK THAT.

So I write a protest letter and basically say "Hey, no red paint, no signs, how the fuck am I supposed to know you can't park there?" Time passes. Then earlier this week:



"We have reviewed your claim and found it to be valid. Therefore, the citation has been dismissed." BOOM.

The last one I got dismissed was I think in 2004 and it was one of those cop-handwritten tickets, not a SFMTA printed-out ticket, I think for not having my wheels curbed or some shit like that. The cop didn't write the code section on it and I pointed that out and it turns out that's a must-have for parking tickets and so that one got thrown out too.

So here's my PARKING TICKET ADVICE:

1. Protest every ticket. If you can't think of a reason, make something up. Protesting buys you at least 4-6 months while it sits on someone's desk that you don't have to pay it. That way, paying it becomes Future You's problem. Fuck Future You, that guy's a dick. Present You can take that $90 and spend it on something worthwhile.

2. Think like an asshole. Look at the ticket and think "Are there any little stupid problems that only a jerk would notice? Like did they get my license plate number wrong? Is the code section wrong? (BTW, you can get to the San Francisco Transportation Code from here. It's got all the rules for parking and the section numbers and shit.)

3. Look at the fucking signs before you park. Duh.

I should also note that I am not 100% with my protests. I was parked in SOMA at one of those "1 Hour Parking without permit" zones and I moved my car down the street after an hour but it turns out I didn't move it far enough. Anyway, still didn't have to pay until like 6 months later.

Let's be careful out there. Have a good weekend!

UPDATE/LATER ADDENDUM: OK, this is like the 4th post in a row with no comments. WTF? Did you guys all get together and decide not to comment any more? Very funny. Ha ha. We all get it.

IMPORTANT WALK-UP MUSIC NEWS

(Reference.)

This just in:

So @bcraw35 is going with "Stronger" by Kelly Clarkson as his walk-up music. It served its slumpbusting purpose. Two hits today.

— Andrew Baggarly (@CSNBaggs) June 27, 2012

YAY BRANDON GOOD CHOICE!!!!




Brandon, let's get together and make collages and we'll braid each other's hair and lip sync this with hairbrushes!! WE ARE EMPOWERED BRANDON!!!

(BTW Brandon, don't you hate Stephanie? She thinks she's soooooo much better than us. What a bitch.)

(Hey, whatever, it worked.)

The Bachelorette: Nothing says romance like a creepy fucking marionette

Like many 1994 college grads, we have found ourselves in Prague without any real goal or the ability to speak Czech. Here in this Classical European Cultural Hub, we will cut two dimwits and send them back to America to return to the office parks from whence they sprang.

We begin with a solo date with Arie the Racecar Driver. Whoa, holy sequined shorts, Em! Pride was yesterday, girlfriend. Standard establishing shots of them traipsing around Historical Prague sipping hot wine and rubbing statues but DUN DUN DUNNNNNN here's Chris Harrison breaking in to tell us that something Very Important is going on. It seems that Arie once dated producer Cassie Lambert for about 20 minutes 10 years ago and Emily has learned this and it has shaken her to her very core. Wait, I don't get it. Who gives a fuck? Em's talking like they've been banging just off-camera during this whole season? But apparently they don't remember each other? The fuck?

Back to the date. Em is going all Psychological on his ass. "Don't you think it's important to be HONEST!!!!!!!" she says and a gong sounds and he doesn't get it because why the fuck would he? He's trying desperately to think of something to confess and here's what he comes up with: He used to have a girl's name tattooed on him but he had it covered up. This news Em treats like NBD, even though it is MUCH MORE WORRYING THAN THE PRODUCER THING. Hasn't anyone learned from Wino Forever? Listen up, folks: once you get a romantic partner's name tattooed anywhere on your body, that is a 100% guarantee the relationship will not last. Just get a butterfly or Tinkerbell on your lower back and be done with it.

ANYWAY, this is boring and apparently Emz and Producer Cassie (not that hot, BTW, doubt I'd hit it) and Arie all sat down and had a rap session and everybody's cool now because Ems is back to looking at Arie with googly eyes and he says "I love you" and boat trip and fireworks whatever.

Next solo date is with "John," I think that's his name, still not sure how he made it this far. He is the Bachelorette equivalent of the First Guy Off the Boat in a war movie. We know a little about him but he's about to get sawed in half by machine-gun fire. They do some Prague tourist shit and then there's the Uneaten Dinner in the castle and John decides to get all romantic with the story of how his last girlfriend cheated on him all weekend with a doctor. Nothing says "I'm a good catch" like a story about how the last chick you were with blew you off for the first thing that came by with a full head of hair and an oncology practice! Oh, next topic is how cool his parents are! HOTTTT. This leads to some 7th Grade Formal lip-kissing.

Meanwhile, back at the hotel, shovel-faced Chris is FREAKING OUT I think because he hasn't had a solo date in a while? Then Fivehead gets back from his date and Sean goes rogue and leaves the hotel to find Emily. His strategy is to wander the streets of Prague yelling "EMILYYYYYYY". No wonder Europeans fucking hate Americans. Oh wait, there she is! Just hanging out alone in a tunnel. They decamp to what appears to be a Czech grandmother's sitting parlor for some alone time and making out.

Another fucking group date. This is the last fucking group date, thank God. Everyone into a horse carriage and off to Castle Greyskull. Man, Doug is such a fucking lump. He probably changes the channel when he comes across Cinemax because it's too "racy." (Alternatively, The Wife thinks there's a seething cauldron of Fucked Up inside him and he probably watches midget donkey porn.) Anyway, he's hanging with Em and looks physically uncomfortable to be that close to a Real Girl and starts with the flop sweats and stammering. She's finally had it with him and cuts him loose and he gets taken away in the Black Ops Rejection Van, hopefully to a Secret Site for torture and cookies. Sean gets the No Shit Rose, while Chris collapses into a heap and bitches about she never picks him first for kickball. What a maroon.

The last solo date in Prague will be with Jef, whose hair seems to have grown in size and importance as he draws closer to the finale. Hey, let's visit this FUCKING CREEPY ASS PUPPET STORE. It is run by a kindly Czech and there is no way he has body parts stored downstairs. The puppets would like to play with you! Forever and ever and ever. Then it's off to some library where we'll have a puppet show and, not making this up, re-enact key moments in their relationship. Oh fuck fuck fuck this is painful to watch. This is some David Lynch shit right here. Then his puppet confesses love for her puppet and even that chick from The Ring goes "This is fucking fucked up."

See what I mean about the hair?

This segues into some making out on the library floor and Jef is telling her about his parents and says they won't be there if she comes to visit because they're "committed to some stuff for a few years." Like a mental institution, I'm guessing! Oh, his family's "really private," no surprise there. He closes with the very sweet "I want to date you so hard and marry the [BLEEP] out of you." Ugh, is this how Mormons talk dirty? He probably said "marry the SATAN out of you."

Time for the Czechtail Party. See what I did there? Oh, fuck, never mind, joke ruined, there is no cocktail party this week. Chris Harrison breaks the bad new to the fellas and Chris starts to decompensate at once. He must talk to her!

Rose Ceremony. Emily is wearing what appears to be a dress made from discarded purple mylar balloons. Jef, of course, gets a rose, then Arie, and it's down to Chris and Fivehead and Chris finally snaps and really must talk to her. He's all in love with her and ready to be a Dad and whatever dude I guess it worked because Fivehead is shown the door like duh we didn't see that coming.

Here are your musings on weddings and church for today; also, a quick bicyclist story

Because I married a Catholic girl (well, pretty much lapsed, but you get the point), there's been a sharp uptick in the number of Catholic weddings I've attended. My own wedding was about three minutes long and was hilariously bungled by the officiant, who started out with some Jesus shit we didn't ask for and it went on for a bit until he realized he was using the wrong vows. We may not even be married, I don't know.

Catholic weddings do not last three minutes.

[SHORT DIGRESSION: My wife, having grown up in Ireland, is obviously Catholic, but doesn't really go to mass that much. HOWEVER, when we moved into our last house before this one, she got a letter from the local Catholic church - ADDRESSED TO HER PERSONALLY - welcoming her to the neighborhood and asking her to come on by and be Catholic with them. HOLY SHIT JESUS, what kind of worldwide monitoring network are you running? How could the Catholic church have known that she just moved in? It's not like she notified the pope or anything. CREEPY.]

At this particular wedding in suburban (way, way suburban) Chicago, the priest had a distinct Eastern European accent but the service was all Rome: stand up, sit down, kneel, here's the reading of "Love is patient love it kind", vows, communion, and so forth. Like an hour. Those Catholics like their long services, huh? Also, there's a lot of talking back and forth, which those of us raised Protestant don't expect. Protestant services are mostly one-way affairs, and the congregation doesn't really get chatty with the preacher like at Catholic.

This has been your musings on weddings and church for today.

ALSO A QUICK BICYCLIST STORY:

We were in Wicker Park in Chicago on Thursday. I guess it's the "hipster" part of Chicago, to use some shorthand so I don't have to do a whole lengthy description of what it's like. Anyway, we're walking down the street and suddenly hear this guy SCREAMING violently. So naturally we look and it's a guy on a bike basically freaking out and unleashing a shitstorm on a car. Now, admittedly, I didn't see what the car did to provoke this but I hope it was REALLY BAD because the guy on the bike was losing his fucking mind. Like "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER? YOU FUCKING IDIOT." The car obviously had Kansas plates because the bicycle guy goes "OH FUCKING KANSAS HUH? GO BACK TO FUCKING KANSAS OR LEARN HOW TO DRIVE" and so on and so on and so on. Now, I am more than willing to accept that the car might have done something very bad and that the bicyclist's safety was endangered but personally I think it was maybe a bit much.

(I know, I sound like C.W. Nevius, but it was actually really amazing how long the guy went on. If somebody cuts you off or something, I can understand being mad, but I really thought this guy was going to kill someone.)

We're in Chicago.

As you may have gathered if you follow me on the Twitter, we're in Chicago. I'm actually typing this on The Wife's iPad in occur hotel room which is not an ideal way to do this so sorry if this post doesn't live up to the normal High Standards you have come to expect from this blog.

Also, I can't figure out how to get pix from the iPad up to Blogger so you'll jus have to imagine this post is full of well-composed shots of various Chicago stuff.

[Pic of those two round buildings that are on the cover of "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot"]

SO. Chicago. It's great! I mean, I've been here before, but that was just for the Pitchfork festival a couple of years ago and we didn't really do anything besides go to the festival and the hotel. This time, we have more time and not a dedicated event to go to.

OH CRAP I just hit "PUBLISH POST" by mistake. Sorry if you read the first part of this post and thought it sucked and ended suddenly.

Rather than a long boring recounting of everything, here are a couple of notes:

1. The Art Institute is amazing but terribly laid out. You are constantly going through the Indian art to get anywhere else. No offense, but I never want to see another Ganesh as long as I live. But WHOA here's a whole room of Gaugins and a whole room of Monets and HEY THERE it's a Jackson Pollock and over here is American Gothic. It's like the Greatest Hits of Art.

2. Everyone is super friendly. Waiters and bartenders especially.

3. Really hot here, but weather stories are boring so let's don't belabor that.

4. Breaks my heart to see people waiting in line outside a Rainforest Cafe. I mean, you're in a great food city! Which is not known for its jungle-themed cuisine! Try something local!

5. What you heard was true. Wicker Park is full of hipsters. Great neighborhood, though.

[Pic of tattooed bearded hipsters lounging at outdoor bar]

Sadly, we're leaving the city today and heading out to Deer Park or something for a Family Wedding this weekend. Sad Face. Although weddings usually have open bars! Happy face.

See you on Monday.

The Bachelorette: "Sucks, as in S-U-C-K-S"

Looks like the Tourism Board of, what, Croatia won this week's round of Who Bribed The Bachelorette Producers because when you think romance, you think Dubrovnik, right? PLIS TO BE MATING WITH DIS LADEE NOW AMERICAN EENVESTOR. Hey, at least we finally lost Lil Rikki! That chick was some serious baggage, oh, whoops, not supposed to say that.

We'll kick off our Croatian Whirlwind with a solo date with Travis. Travis has the flat affect of the tired or heavily medicated and so far has been a bit player. Em has her Lonely Planet guide out and they're off to Olde Towne to sample some local flavor, which in this case includes, hey, what the hell, buying some religious icons and tasting some ice cream. Careful where you set down that crucifix! Don't want to offend St. Hydrogenated Phattus. Cut to the predictable Nighttime Candlelight Dinner. Emz wants to know about why Travis's engagement broke up. I don't know, maybe his ex fell asleep listening to him and drowned in her Chunky soup or something. Gotta hand it to him, though, he's the first one to fucking SAY SOMETHING about how NO ONE TOUCHES THE FUCKING FOOD. I so desperately want someone to pick up a plastic lime and go "This food is fucking fake!" Dreams. That' s all I have left are my dreams. ANYWAY, they have a sweet hug and she friendzones him and no big shock there. Travis is the kind of guy you call to fix your water heater, not impregnate you with Rickie Model 2. Travis is sent into the rainy streets of Dubrovnik where, overcome with emotion, he angrily discards his umbrella.

Begone from my sight, Umbrella! You are heavy with the stench of failure!

HEY GUESS WHAT GUYS. Disney/Pixar has a new movie coming out and it's called Brave or something and I guess their target demo is chicks who drink Skinny Girl margaritas or angry male bloggers or whoever watches this show because there's a bigass tie-in segment on the Bachelorette this week! This takes the form of a Group Date where whoever is left minus Sling Blade all head out to the Opera House or something and pretend to enjoy this film. Then, as if that's not debasing enough, everyone is issued kilts and black muscle Ts and we're off to compete in some low-rent highland games thing. I will say this, the scenery in this episode makes me want to go to Croatia, no joke. What do they speak there? I should learn some Croatian phrases, like "Is there where Boy Band Hair Jef humiliated himself trying to throw a phone pole?" Oh, here we go:

Je li to gdje je dječak bend kosa Jef ponižen sam pokušava baciti telefonski stup?

Sure, that should be no problem.

Night falls on Croatia. Em is compelled to wear sequins in every nighttime scene this week, I see. She has a little Hang Time with everyone. Arie gets all Dashing Hero and throws her against the medieval wall for a little makeout. Meanwhile, Ugly Kid Chris gets the Smashed In Face rose.

Solo Date with Sling Blade, who prepares by carefully shaving his facial hair into some kind of Wu-Tang logo or Evil Supervillain look or something. I can't figure out what the fuck he's got going on there. They're off driving around Croatia and stopping to sample oysters which Ems promptly spits out because oysters are gross and plus who knows where that's been.

Over dinner, Sling Blade once again pushes the envelope in What The Fuck when he produces a handwritten list of the 12 Things He's Looking For in a Wife. Not kidding. He really did do this. It's predictable stuff that your typical Christian-lite Semi-Pro athlete would come up with, like "Always have beautiful hair" and "Let Jesus guide your housework" and shit like that. Ems, thank GOD, is fucking APPALLED, and for the first time I actually kinda like her. HOLY SHIT SHE CUTS HIM and then he tells her she's making a mistake for like 20 minutes but FUCK, good move, Ems! He is shocked. Oh shit, is he gonna hit her? He looks like he's gonna hit her. Oh, no, he didn't, OK. Well, Ryan, if it's any consolation, there's gotta be a 22-year-old drinking Sex on the Beaches in a TGI Fridays in Duluth who'll think you're aces.

Meanwhile, back at the Dubrovnik Most Pleasurable Tourist Chalet....


Someone asked them to define "irony."

Anyway, let's wrap this up. Cocktail party. More sequins. Sit-down with John, who is so on his way out he may as well keep dead people's funeral cards in his wallet. Oh wait. He does keep dead people's funeral cards in his wallet. You know how to turn a chick on? Gentle kisses to the neck: YES. Showing her dead people's funeral cards: NO. Meanwhile, Doug is cracking under the pressure. He has flop sweats and is weeping and squeaking out barely intelligible phrases. Who should she end up with, Doug? "Probably me." That's the kind of confidence we want!

So she chucks some roses around and it comes down to Funeral Cards and Probably Doug. This is so nerve-wracking that Em needs a minute and leaves the set and surprises Chris Harrison who appears to be having a smoke with some chick backstage but anyway the upshot of the whole thing is that she gets an extra rose and DOESN'T CUT ANYBODY. Oh for fuck's sake.

STREET SIGN APOCALYPSE

First of all, as you might have heard, one of our baseball guys did an Important Baseball Thing last night. I tried and tried to think of some unique angle on this but I got nothing. So props to you, Matty Cain. You are Earth's Biggest Badass and, honest to God, no one - NO ONE - deserved it more than you.

(ONE PERSONAL SIDENOTE - I just want to point out that I did my best to help out by keeping the 2 other people I was watching it with from saying the words "no hitter" or "perfect game," and pretty much succeeded, so I'm partially responsible for this, in that I kept it from being jinxed. So when you're handing out the Rolexes, Matt . . . well, I don't want to say anything, but you know what to do.)

OK. LET'S GET TO THE TOPIC AT HAND.

One of the most iconic and immediately noticeable features of Our Town is the street signs.

(Image from vdored123's Flickr stream. Hopefully he doesn't mind.)

Unlike the bland, boring, white-on-green street signs of other bland, boring places, our Much Better Street Signs are ALL CAPS, black on white. Cool looking. It's one of the first things you notice when you come here from somewhere else.

So you can imagine my horror when I was proceeding down Stanyan a while back and saw this:

I know, it's kinda heard to see. You have to give me a break, I shot this pic with an iPhone out of the window of a moving 33 bus yesterday. Anyway, it says "P a g e," not "P A G E".

(It just occurred to me that SF street signs are also notable in that they don't include the road type - i.e., street, boulevard, avenue, whatever. That's probably why a lot of people don't realize that it's Grant AVENUE, not Grant Street, or Arguello BOULEVARD. Last night I was reminded that the street in the Mission is Treat AVENUE, not Treat Street, which is even weirder because there used to be a bar on 24th near Treat called "Treat Street," but I'm getting way off course here.)

SO WHAT THE FUCK! As it turns out:

In 2009, the city adopted something called the Federal Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices, which says street signs are harder to read in all capital letters, he said.

Therefore, new signs will capitalize the first letter and make the rest lowercase.

"However," Rose [i.e., spokesman guy] said, "we are only doing it as signs need to be replaced."

DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THIS MEANS? We will slowly convert citywide to boring, lowercase signs. In fact, we may be the last generation of San Franciscans to enjoy ALL CAPS street signs. I wonder how long before there aren't any left.

Ugh. Soon they'll all look like this (courtesy of Instagrammer rickinsf):


Just fucking great.

The Bachelorette: Beheading looks good right about now

Know how I can tell we're in London? Because there is an Ironclad Rule of Stupid TV that whenever you are in London, you must show a red double-decker bus and play Rule Britannia. And that's what they do! Along with the usual establishing shots, i.e., Buckingham Palace. "We don't have anything like this in Charlotte," Ems says, I guess because Buckingham Palace isn't a strip mall with a Jiffy Lube and a Subway.

Our first solo date today is with Sean, a strapping lad with the intellect of a three-toed sloth. We begin by taking a bus tour of Famous Locales which Emily describes Just. Like. This. She. Is. Obviously. Reading. Off. A. Card. Look. There. Is. Westminster. Something. We have a so not planned in advance completely impromptu stop at Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park where Sean is summoned to deliver a speech the producers have provided him with about why the government owes a duty of care to its citizens no I mean about his parents are in love or something. Excruciating. Remember this word. It will appear again.

For dinner, we cavort over to the Tower of London where, Emily informs us, "King Henry lived." Oh, wait, "King Henry Eighth used to put all his wives locked up here and he beheaded two of 'em." Fantastic! Once again, no one touches their food. And Emily seems genuinely shocked that Sean, who is 28 years old, had his last date 4 months ago, and whose greatest fear is "forgetting my wallet," has not seriously considered how many kids he would like to have. Jesus Christ Emily not everyone whelps at 15 or whatever like you did and spends 24/7 thinking about how they can overpopulate the planet with vapid future sorority girls.

Through a little space between my fingers which are covering my eyes I can see we are off to Stratford Upon Avon to dig up Shakespeare's corpse and urinate on it and make it dance or something. Oh no, wait, we're just going to mug our way through 3 scenes from "Romeo and Juliet." Of course some of the guys have to play the Nurse and put on women's clothes and HA HA HA HA YOU ARE DRESSED UP LIKE A LADY SO FUNNY. There are some boring rehearsal scenes and then they do their little thing in front of a crowd and I recognize some of the people from the Hyde Park scene and I think the producers have paid a group of down-on-their-luck Brits about ₤25 to ride around in a van and watch some Americans debase themselves. Beats working! Ryan cannot stop talking about Arie's "woman dress" and, to paraphrase Shakespeare, methinks the steroid-addled crapmonkey doth protest too much. Here's that word again! Excruciating.

TIME FOR THE BIG DRAMA CONFRONTATION. You ready for this? OK. So. After the "performance," we are off to Ye Olde Pub for some pre-poured pints and while Sling Blade or somebody is off entrancing E it comes out that Krylon called Little Ricki "baggage" and that is Very Mean and everyone pretends to be outraged even though it's technically true and they're all thinking it but Ryan Phillippe from Cruel Intentions is the only one with enough balls, ironically, to say it. So this gives everyone the vapors and Doug runs to Emily to tell her about this disturbing news and she becomes overcome with emotion because Little Ricki is the Most Important Thing to her except when she's gallivanting all over the globe for months on end during the Brad season of The Bachelor.

I have to admit, though, when she said she was going to go "West Virginia hoodrat backwoods on his ass," I did have mad respect for that. Also: Girl fight!

The Big Confrontation. Doug is the Oprah here and seems to be running the show. She asks Krylon if he said it and he says yeah basically and she tells him to get the bleep mouth blurred out. Then shit gets confusing because E goes on a rant that will last the rest of the show about how nobody said anything about Krylon's heresy but WTF didn't Doug just tell her? I don't fucking get it.

Let us try to gather our shit and somehow move past this soul-crushing devastation and go on a solo date with Boy Band Hair Jef. Wow, he is wearing an outfit that took somebody in the Boys' Department at Ross easily 5 minutes to assemble. The first part is some boring British stuff with tea and then they're off to the Bell & Crown which, sadly, does not enjoy positive Yelp reviews, although you will enjoy this if you read it in a Cockney accent: "Nearly a fiver for a bitter and a pack of crisps?!! WTF sell walkers please not poncey tyrrells."

Since the whole Baggage Incident still weighs heavily on Emily's little slip of a mind, Jef decides to get into it and comes up with "If Ricki's baggage, then she's a Chloe handbag that I want to have forever."

WAIT WHAT.

Little Ricki (as visualized by Boy Band Hair Jef)

"Chloe," as I learned from asking The Wife "What the fuck did he just say?" last night, is a type of purse apparently. I don't know what is more bizarre, Jef's generous working knowledge of women's accessories or his stated desire to possess Little Ricki in the form of an $1800 purse forever. Weird weird weird.

OK, off for another uneaten meal. This time, it's dessert in the London Eye.


Some kind of a parfait thing? Looks delicious. WHY WON'T ANYONE EAT THEIR FUCKING FOOD THIS SEASON.

ANYWAY, blah blah blah sounds to me like Jef is auditioning for Em's best friend, not boyfriend. Oh, he does sketch out a creepy vision of "dance parties" he will have with Ricki while Emily's away. Emily, sweetie, hidden webcams. Invest. In a few. Just a thought.

At the cocktail party Sling Blade appears to be wearing either a hoodie or some kind of swashbuckler wear under his jacket. All Em wants to talk about is the Baggage Incident. Oddly, she doesn't ask to see Jef's handbag collection. Anyway, Alejandro, the San Francisco Mushroom Farmer, gets cut which is no big surprise because Little Ricki's gotten more screen time than he has. Let's move on.

Here for the Right Reasons Count: A disappointing 2.

Hey, just for fun, let's see what's going on in the Strictly Platonic section of Craigslist!

The best thing about Craigslist - well, besides the fact that it is the Economic Engine that powers the world and also that it almost put the Chronicle out of business - is the fact that it has so much shit to look at that you could never get bored looking at it. Craigslist verily contains multitudes.

Like the Strictly Platonic section! There's a section for people who want to be platonic! What do you think goes on in there?

Some people really are just looking for friends!

true friends - w4w - 30 (santa rosa)

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Date: 2012-06-07, 5:38PM PDT
Reply to: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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im looking to makes some friends with some drama free non bitchy girls that i can talk too about anything realtionships family just anything between 27-37 if you just wanna be a chat buddy thats fine with me

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Looking for someone who likes chat buddies but hates drama and punctuation? Here's your girl!

Unless you're 38.

Some people are looking for something else:

Do you noe molly - m4w - 23 (san jose east)

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Date: 2012-06-06, 9:50PM PDT
Reply to: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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We'll I have this friend very light skinned she that kinda friend you have around wen ur trying to have a good time she have u feeling ur self. Me my self Latin male husky build cute face fun and out going pic 4 pic

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HINT: "Molly" isn't really "light skinned." She's not really a person. Wink wink. Nudge nudge. And I'm not sure I want to give this guy any Molly if it will result in him "feeling ur self."

I'm not sure this next ad is completely "platonic." I mean, MAYYYYBE, but I kinda doubt that this guy really wants "a relationship marked by the absence of romance or sex":

Asian woman in panties - m4w - 47 (lafayette / orinda / moraga)

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Date: 2012-06-04, 11:27AM PDT
Reply to: XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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I'm looking for an Asian woman, about my age, for panty play. I'd like to see you in your panties. I can give you a massage or anything else you may need. As for me, I need an Asian woman to wear cotton panties and be sweet to me.

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I mean, maybe this guy and an Asian woman will get together and she'll hang out in her panties and be sweet to him and that'll be about it. Maybe they'll play some backgammon and watch Season 2 of "Big Bang Theory" on DVD and whatnot. But I suspect Mr. Lafayette/Orinda/Moraga may be looking for a little more than that.

And then there are some that are just fucking weird:

LAS VEGAS TRIP WANNA JOINT - m4w - 29 (san jose downtown)

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Date: 2012-06-06, 3:26PM PDT
Reply to: XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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HEY HOW R U ? I AM SINGLE GUY I LIKE TO GO LAS VEGAS I AM ALONE NOW U LIKE TO JOINT WITH ME I WILL TACK CARE OF YOUR FLIGHT AND ROOM AND SOME EXPENCIVE R U REAL PUT TITLE LASVEGAS THAN I WILL KNOW U R REAL I AM NON SMOKER SOCIAL DRINKER FUN AND HONEST GUY PLEASE SENT ME PIC AND CONTACT NO I DONT LIKE TOO MANY E MAILS THANKS HAVE A NICE DAY BYE

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OK, let's break this down. I think SINGLE GUY wants someone to "join" him on this trip. Contrary to the headline, I don't think he's offering anyone a "joint." He's alone. Alone even as he types this plaintive request. I think "I WILL TACK CARE OF YOUR FLIGHT AND ROOM" is pretty self-explanatory, if we assume that "TACK" means "take," but as far as what EXPENCIVE thing you will get, your guess is as good as mine.

Also, ladies, this FUN AND HONEST GUY does not like TOO MANY E MAILS, so make sure you're one of the first and not, say, the 53rd email he gets, because that is TOO MANY E MAILS.

Have a good weekend!

The Bachelorette: I Have Been Called to Something Bigger.

We will now decamp to Bermuda and begin in earnest the process of winnowing down this crop of idiots and Axe body spray wearers until we arrive at the final gel-headed doofus who Emily will never, ever marry. It seems that Single Dad Doug is getting the first Solo Date and he responds with a stream of obscenities at his fellow contestants, who, in a rare bright spot on this show, continue to needle and provoke him and Thank God because it's the only sign of life we ever see from this borefest.

So Doug and Emz are off to wander the touristy streets of St. George which I guess is where the tourists go because I don't see a lot of local interest in the Bermuda Perfumery or the Ye Olde Chocolateria or whatever other stores exist solely to provide Americans with places to deposit dollars and leave with something breakable. Oh, hey, let's send a postcard to Doug's son AUSTIN. Emily muses, "What little kid doesn't want a postcard from their Dad?" And a complete stranger?

Nighttime sees another dinner where nobody takes a fucking bite and I'm starting to think that ABC is just setting out plastic food as scenery. Em tries to get Doug to reveal something dark about himself, but the best he can muster is that he loves too much or some bullshit like that. Obviously there is something here but Doug won't give it up.

WHAT IS DOUG HIDING?

1. Stash of child pornography

2. Total pothead

3. While out driving with Helen, Julie, and Barry, they hit a man on the road, push his corpse into the ocean, and all vow never to speak of it again

4. AUSTIN is actually a bonobo monkey

Doug then refers to himself in the third person, which is worse than any of that other stuff. Anyway, he gets the Flat Affect Rose and we will keep trying to learn his Dark Secret.

Hey, Group Date! We're going Sailboat Racing. It's like the Special America's Cup. Ugh, that joke didn't work at all. Anyway, Krylon happily notes that he's "in his element," which of course, Richie Rich, all you need is a monocle and a cigar to light with a $100 bill, naturally boat racing is your element. Anyway, blah blah blah cut to the chase and Sling Blade's team wins and they get to spend more time with Ems. Meanwhile, in the Loser Bus, Charlie is crying because he didn't get ice cream and Barney isn't on and I HATE YOU I HATE ALL OF YOU YOU'RE NOT MY REAL DAD.

The Winners, however, gather on the veranda for canapes and cocktails and Sling Blade offers a toast to Emily, the "beautiful trophy/possible wife," and it's clear now that Sling Blade is negging because he read that works. He talks in high school football coach cliches and when Em asks him straight up if he'd still love her if she got fat he says "God designed you to be a beautiful woman, so be a beautiful woman." WHAT DOES THAT FUCKING MEAN. And then he starts criticizing her for making out with Arie on TV? Because she's supposed to be a role model? And then she apologizes? Where the fuck is the napalm?

Next we have the Bachelorette version of the Cage Match, except it involves Hurt Feelings and Sad Looks instead of Eye Gouges and Carotid Artery Compression. Two losers will go on the date, but only one will be lucky enough to leave. The two on this date are Nate and Joe? Or John? Or Something? Anyway, cliff diving, whatever, then off to a cave for dinner where Nate repeatedly calls quinoa "kwin-oh-ah," which is understandable if you've never heard the word pronounced, but come on, he's from LA, not Fargo. The whole thing is completely awkward and painful and then Nate starts crying talking about how awesome his brother is. I guess his brother built him his first dollhouse or a cabinet for his doilies or something. He gets mercifully cut loose and now he can go braid his sister's hair or whatever.

Cut to the Douche Suite where Sling Blade likes his chances. He's "romantic, athletic, a charming guy, all of these things." Furthermore, he is "called to something bigger." Bigger than being on the Bachelorette? I don't understand! Then we move on to an instigated-by-the-producers made-for-TV confrontation between Chris who is faux-mad because people make fun of him for being only 25 and Doug who continues to be in a heavily narcotized state. Sadly, this ends without anyone being killed.

OK, Rose Ceremony. Somehow San Francisco Mushroom Farmer Alejandro makes the cut. Sadly, TBI Charlie and Ponytail Guy get axed. You can go home now, Charlie. Don't cry. It's OK. Shhh. Shhh.

Signs of TRYING TO HAVE A GOOD TIME SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE

WebMD! When they're not convincing my sister she has cancer, they're busy telling us what the symptoms of alcoholism are. WHAT:

Signs of alcohol abuse

• You have problems at work or school because of your drinking, such as being late or not going at all.
• You drink in risky situations, such as before or while driving a car.
• After drinking, you can't remember what happened while you were drinking (blackouts).
• You have legal problems because of your drinking, such as being arrested for harming someone or driving while drunk.
• You get hurt or you hurt someone else when you are drinking.
• You keep drinking even though you have health problems that are caused or made worse by alcohol use, such as liver disease (cirrhosis).
• Your friends or family members are worried about your drinking.

Yeah, my friends or family members are worried about my drinking. WHEN I DON'T BUY THEM A ROUND WOCKA WOCKA

You want to know the real Signs of alcohol abuse?

• You took home somebody you met at R Bar
• You laughed out loud watching a Will Farrell movie
• You listen to a Carrie Underwood song on repeat more than 8 times
• You found a Zima at the back of the fridge after a party and drank it
• You found some mouthwash under your laundry in the closet and drank it
• You found a drink someone left on the bar at Li Po and drank it
• You made Kraft Mac n Cheese after 8 pm
• You played "Sexy and I Know It" on a jukebox
• You're a member of my family

"You might not realize that you have a drinking problem. You might not drink large amounts when you drink. Or you might go for days or weeks between drinking episodes. But even if you don't drink very often, it's still possible to be abusing alcohol and to be at risk for becoming addicted to it," WebMD says. Shut up, WebMD. It's Friday.