40 going on 28

The Bachelor: Who the fuck is "Jamie"?

2012-01-31T08:48:00.000-08:00

Hey! We're in Puerto Rico. Is that a state or what? I can never remember.

We know they speak a different language there, because the first date card arrives and it's in Spanish! No problemo, Emily translates! Is there anything she can't do? She cures diseases! She calls Courtney a bitch! SHE SPEAKS FUCKING SPANISH. CALL ME, EMILY!!!

OK. I'm OK. I'm alright. The first solo date is with Dead Boss Nicki and her big deer eyes. After the obligatory helicopter ride, which is so played now it might as well be a pedicab, we land near some Spanish fort and grab some piraguas, a "shaved ice dessert shaped like a pyramid." Nicki says everything is great and "it's like God smiling down on us" except then it starts pouring fucking rain, prompting the two to go shopping for "authentic clothes." After a brief pit stop at La Bodega De Ropa Auténtica (Emily, quick check - how's that?) they emerge and Ben looks like a Desi Arnaz impersonator and Nicki looks like a tablecloth.

They just happen to come upon a Puerto Rican wedding (NOTE: not a euphemism) and this provides a chance to talk about Nicki's failed marriage. WELL DUH YOU SHOULD LIVE WITH SOMEONE FIRST BEFORE YOU GET MARRIED NICKI. How else are you supposed to find out about his weird bathroom habits or interest in Japanese tentacle porn?

For the night portion, we've switched back to normal person clothes and will have our usual outdoor dinner. Nicki is ready for her "second chance." HEY BITCH HOW ABOUT LETTING SOMEONE ELSE HAVE A FIRST CHANCE HUH? Her marriage only lasted 3 years, so she's not exactly a good bet. She gets the Honesty & Openness Rose and it's time for making out.

For our Group Date, we decamp with a bunch of chix to Roberto Clemente Stadium for some baseball! You know Lindzi's gonna be on this like an anorexic on a LiveJournal. She loves that Guy Stuff. As it turns out, they're gonna play some 5-on-5 and the winning team gets a "romantic beach party" and the losing team can probably still beat the Astros. Ben is the "designated pitcher" and motherfucker is getting LIT FUCKING UP. He gives up 5 runs in the first inning! Who the fuck is he, Barry Zito? BAM. Anyway, this game is only supposed to go 2 innings but they keep tying it up and it goes 5 and Jennifer fucking strikes out to lose it for the Blue Team. THIS IS FORESHADOWING REMEMBER THIS. Jennifer swings at something around her eyes and she is the Aaron Rowand of the Blue Team. OK, I'm all out of insider baseball jokes. The Blue Team is forced into a darkened school bus and taken to a gloomy swamp to be drowned or something.

The "Romantic Beach Party" is mostly a bore. Kacie B. manages to make it through without crying, so that's something. Meanwhile, Courtney the Lizard Queen gets her prey down to the beach and blathers on and on about skinny dipping and if you've seen any promo for this show you know where this is going. It's going to boring is where it's going.

Solo date with Elyse, who we haven't seen much of. They're out on a boat and Elyse is talking about how she's "done everything she wanted to do," like get a Master's and move to Florida. Sheesh, you could set your sights a little higher, Elyse. I bet she has a Master's in Getting Dumped because this date is not setting the world on fire. At our Outdoor Beach Dinner, Elyse lets it slip that she's "sick of being single" and is ready to marry whatever reality show contestant asks her first. Ben is not all that into her and cuts her loose. She is taken away in the Crying Boat and is fucking moaning and weeping and I wonder if she decompensates after every other first date that doesn't go well. Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself, lady. You don't even know this badly-haired dork.

Back at Chick Ranch, the ladeez collectively FREAK OUT when the guy comes to take Elyse's bag away. Courtney opines that "maybe she drank too much and the Jersey Shore came out" and thanks Courtney for dropping every pop culture reference from last year over and over and over again. "Maybe Nyan Cat took her away!" Courtney also says it "blew my panties off," just like anything with an IMDB profile and a gold card.

A plan has formed in Courtney's primitive Lizard Brain. She muses, "I wonder if he's ever skinny dipped with a model before." Like she could get any more repellent. So she camps out by his door and baby voices her way into his room and they go down to the beach and take off their clothes and blah blah blah you've seen the commercial.

OK, cocktail party. B. feels "creepy" about his "intimate moment" with Lizard Queen. You ain't the only one, brother. Oh wait, Blakeley has something "very important" to tell him! Finally, she's going to tell him she used to be just "Blake." Oh, no, wait, she tells him that she writes something down about him every day! Ewww, speaking of creepy! Emily tries to salvage her prior mistake of talking shit about Courtney by TALKING MORE SHIT ABOUT COURTNEY. Jesus, Em, I love you, sweetie, but you've got to shut up about that shit. Seriously, girl. Stick with Spanish and diseases and you'll be fine.

Rose ceremony. Wait, JAMIE gets a rose? Has she been on this show the whole time? Where the fuck has she been hiding? OK, so we're down to Em and Jennifer and JENNIFER STRIKES OUT AGAIN. Yeah, I went there. She is taken away in the Crying Jeep to weep and weep and weep and wonder what she did wrong. LITTLE MORE TIME IN THE BATTING CAGE NEXT TIME, GIRLFRIEND.

Next week, B announces we're "going to the most glamorous city in Central America, PANAMA CITY, PANAMA!" Really? That's like saying we're going to the "Most glamorous store in the Discount Mall, T.J. MAXX!!!!" I don't know, maybe Panama City really is glamorous.

WE'LL SEE.

Urban Etiquette: On the Elevator

2012-01-30T12:23:00.000-08:00

In 1853, Elisha Otis installed the first public elevator in a 6-story department store in New York City. I can guarantee you that the first time it was used, some asshole jumped on right before the doors closed and hit "2".

Despite 158 years of practice, it appears that a sizable portion of the population still has problems with Basic Elevator Etiquette. Let's review.

1. People get off first. Then you can get on.

The door opens. There is an elevator with people in it. Do you (a) Try and shove yourself on because goddammit I GOTTA GET ON THIS ELEVATOR NO MATTER WHAT or (b) Wait for the people inside to de-elevator? If you chose (b), you get a Gold Star and you're a cool person. If you chose (a), you're just another asshole, one of the millions.

Seriously, this isn't hard: EVERYONE OUT FIRST, THEN EVERYONE ON.

2. Doors closing? You don't get on.

As soon as the doors begin to close, even if it's just the slightest fraction of an inch, that elevator is now closed to new passengers. We do not (a) thrust our hand between the doors to make them open again, (b) frantically push the button, or (c) Say "Hold that elevator!" No. Once the doors start to close, that elevator's dance card is full. You are not on it. There will be another elevator soon. If it's an emergency and the building is on fire, you shouldn't be taking the elevator anyway.

3. The Two-Floor Down Rule

If you get on an elevator that is located anywhere near the stairs and take it down one or two floors and you are physically capable of descending a flight of stairs, you are a lazy bag of lard and you need to get some exercise, fatty.

4. No hold and talk

I can't believe I even have to say this, and I wouldn't believe it happens if I hadn't seen it myself, but you do not hold the door open so you can continue chatting with your pal or coworker outside the elevator. I mean, Jesus Christ. You cannot be serious with that shit.

Also, if you absolutely HAVE to make a joke about how often the elevator is stopping or some other zany elevator-type humor, go ahead, but just one and also think "Why am I doing this? It's not that funny." But hey, I get that there are Silence Haters who have to fill up every second with the noise of their own blathering and that's fine.

As long as we're talking elevators, two other things: (1) This fascinating New Yorker article about a guy who got trapped on an elevator for a whole weekend and also elevators in general is so worth reading that you're cheating yourself every second of your life that passes without you having read it; and (2) This guy is my hero:

TK's Recipe of the Week

2012-01-27T09:05:00.000-08:00

I was going to start this feature a while back and then forgot to. Shit's been super busy and I can't be responsible for that. Anyway, I'm starting it now.

Brunch, as we know, is more than just a meal. It is a Life Requirement on par with oxygen and reality TV. But we can't always go out for brunch. It gets expensive and we can't take our dogs. Instead, tomorrow or Sunday invite some peeps over and make this shit. It is SO FUCKING GOOD that The Wife and The Sister always demand it and I'm all I CAN'T MAKE THIS EVERY TIME YOU BITCHES WANT BRUNCH and they're all SHUT UP AND MAKE THE HASH and then I make the hash.

Sources indicate that this recipe originated with Gordon Ramsay. If that's true, dance in heaven, you foul-mouthed famewhore British son of a bitch, for your gift to us all is immeasurable.

Let's get on with it.

CHORIZO, RED PEPPER, AND FINGERLING POTATO HASH

1 lb. fingerling potatoes
1 large sprig rosemary
Olive oil
8 oz. loose chorizo
1 red bell pepper, diced
Butter
1/2 red onion, finely diced
4 eggs
Sea salt & black pepper
Champagne
Orange juice
Pomegranate juice
Acme Bakery herb slab

Open the champagne. Pour into glass with either orange or pomegranate juice, your choice.

Boil the potatoes in a pot with the sprig of rosemary until they're just cooked, not like super-soft, but enough so a knife slides easily into them. Rinse them in cold water and then get someone to cut them in half or cut them in half yourself, what do I care.

Heat a big pan over medium heat and pour enough olive oil in to coat the bottom. Put in the chorizo and saute it until it begins to release its oil, then throw in the onions and peppers. Take a sip of your drink and saute all that stuff for like 4 or 5 minutes, until the onions start getting soft.

Add the potatoes and a big hunk of butter and mix it all together. Keep stirring it and sauteeing until the potatoes start to get a little crispy, so like 7 to 10 minutes. Salt and pepper the whole thing.

When the potato stuff is almost done, either poach or fry 4 eggs. I like poaching them, but I'm not gonna tell you how to run your life. If you fry them, it's not the goddam end of the world.

Divide up the hash into 4 portions and put an egg on top of each. Serve with the bread and more champagne.

When finished, recline on the couch. Moaning optional, depending on how badly you're hungover.

Serves 4, duh.

The Bachelor: Rise of the Lizard Queen

2012-01-24T08:41:00.001-08:00

Tonight it's off to Utah to either cull the herd or marry 'em all. OH NO HE DIDN'T JUST MAKE A POLYGAMY JOKE! You bet I did! BAM!

Anyway, let's start with a solo date with Rachel, the gravelly-voiced "fashion sales rep" from NYC. It's been bugging me who she reminds me of, and then I remembered: she looks like a less-porny version of Miss California contestant Brittany High of Larchmont Village! Uncanny, right? Whatever. Anyway, the news that Rachel is off for a solo date causes Kacie B. to start crying and I now have identified Kacie B. as the Girl Most Likely to Practice Signing "Mrs. Guy's Last Name" and Photoshop Herself and Guy Into Wedding Scenes and she is a little bit crazy.

So Rachel and Ben take the Inevitable Helicopter to some Peaceful Mountain Lake for a canoe trip/picnic. A conoenic, if you will. No, don't. Forget that. Anyway, they paddle around and then sit in awkward silence by the lake drinking champagne and boring each other. For the nighttime portion of the date, we are having dinner inside for a change, preceded by a lengthy voiceover from Ben about what a drag Rachel is. Ben wants to get some Feeling Talk going but Rachel isn't having it. When she finally cops to having communication issues, he gives her the rose. If she had said she was bipolar, she probably would have won the whole thing. Anyway, this segment was boring and I'm not helping.

OK, Group Date. B blathers on and on about how outdoorsy he is and rides up on a horse and they're going horseback riding and it looks just like "True Grit" instead of with dingbats instead of Jeff Bridges. Since life on The Bachelor is apparently inspired by the LL Bean catalog, this horseback riding leads to fly-fishing, or rather leads to a bunch of girls in hip waders throwing polyethylene fishing lines at 6 inches of water. I guarantee you - GUARANTEE YOU - there is someone in America turned on by chicks in hip waders. I'm not even Googling it but I bet you anything there's hip wader porn out there. Kacie B., shockingly, feels that her connection to Ben is getting stronger.

Anyway, Courtney drags Ben off and uses the time-proven seduction technique of talking about his favorite condiments. (Dijon mustard, if you must know). She catches a fish. Kacie feels a connection to it. She and the fish pick up right where they left off every time they see each other. She practices signing "Mrs. Brook Trout" on her 6th period English folder.

Nighttime drinks by the pool. Dental hygienist Nicki wants to talk about how her boss just died a week ago and WAY TO KILL THE MOOD NICKI. Also, what's up with the dental office now? Are you guys just going rogue and gonna keep hygiening without a trained dentist or what? Samantha bitches about being on 3 groups dates and YOINK, OFF WITH HER HEAD. B says she's "highly emotional" and tells her to GTFO. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR BITCHING SAMANTHA. Courtney meanwhile greets B with a cheery "Hello, Jello," not kidding, she really said that and God she is so fucking annoying and she makes up some crap about feeling insecure and gets the I Can't Believe You Fell For That Rose. This obviously sends Kacie into a tailspin. Girl needs to pull her shit together.

Solo date with Jennifer. First stop: THE WELL OF SOULS. It's a hole in the ground that leads to a huge underground cave and seriously, ABC? This is what you consider a "date"? The idea is you put on a bikini and then rappel down into this thing and then probably die. Well, Jennifer's wearing a bikini anyway. I don't really see the point. Oblig outdoor dinner, it rains, blah blah blah, she gets a rose. Then we journey to an outdoor concert by someone named "Clay Walker," at which time member of the audience STARE RELENTLESSLY AT THEM. It is SUPER FUCKING CREEPY.

On to the Cocktail Party and it's TIME FOR DRAMA. Emily decides she's going to drop a dime on Courtney and tell B that bitch is a fake. Whoa, bad move, Em, SNITCHES R BITCHES.

The whole thing kinda backfires and B isn't that psyched to hear about this because he's totally into Courtney the Lizard Queen and Em kind of fucked this up. THEN WE GET SOME MAJOR DRAMS. Em is telling Casey (not Kacie, Casey, BTW) how fucked Lizard Queen is and Casey runs off to tell her and Lizard Queen licks her hard little lips and slurs that she wants to do one of three things to Em:

1. "Rip her head off"
2. "Verbally assault her"
3. "Shave her eyebrows"

RECORD SCRATCHING SOUND. Wait, what? Shave her eyebrows? I guess once you have her head torn from her lifeless bleeding corpse then shaving her eyebrows is the least of her worries. Anyway, Courtney is fucking disturbing and weird with her mouth and how she slurs all her words and her flat affect and it's hard to believe that Ben or any other vertebrate would be into her. AND STOP SAYING "WINNING" ALL THE TIME. IT WASN'T FUNNY WHEN CHARLIE SHEEN SAID IT AND YOU ARE NO CHARLIE SHEEN.

OK, Rose Ceremony. Monica gets cut. In the Crying Limo, she tearily confesses that "I want a marriage. I want kinds. I want it to last and I want it to be right and I'm skeptical that even exists any more." That's right! Ever since the gays started getting married, it's all gone to hell. They made it almost impossible for straight people to get married on national TV to someone they went on 3 dates with being followed by a camera crew.

B says their next stop is Vieques, Puerto Rico. Fucking Lizard Queen pipes up with "I was just there two months ago." You did not just fucking say that. What Ben should say is "WELL, BITCH, I'D HATE TO BORE YOU, SO WE GOT YOU A ROOM IN A TRAVELODGE IN HOBOKEN WHILE WE'RE IN PUERTO RICO" but instead he says "Well, we're going back." But seriously, that girl is not right.

By special request

2012-01-21T09:04:00.000-08:00

I had a tiny bit of indie clout until I sold completely out

Then we met an agent from Burbank

Signed a multi-album deal and looked around for songs to steal

Our credibility went in the tank

Played some frat rock for some bros as if we weren't one of those

Our songs are vapid but we didn't care

Sucking at the corporate teat, all the money was a treat

We'll play whatever gets us on the air

We are Train, we are bland

What passes these days for a band

Suburban Moms, we're what you seek

Won't you save us Walnut Creek?

(For reference.)

Your Five

2012-01-20T08:30:00.001-08:00

Your Five is a list of five famous people that you can have sex with and not get in trouble with your partner for if you're in a relationship.

(Embarrassingly, this concept seems to have originated on Friends. But pretty much everyone I talk to about this is at least familiar with the concept, so I think it's safe to say that it's penetrated the collective cultural subconscious. Heh heh, "penetrated.")

Now, since this life and it's serious, there have to be Rules. Nothing is fun without Rules. Here are the Rules:

1. The person has to be famous, i.e., be generally well-known. Although this is a somewhat fluid concept, I think it's pretty clear-cut who's famous and who isn't. If he or she regularly appears on national TV or in magazines or even indie films, that person is probably famous. You personally may not have heard of Sabrina Soto of HGTV, but she is unquestionably famous (and would actually be a completely reasonable pick, now that I think about it). "That girl from accounting" is not famous, unless she is Mindy Kaling.

2. You can't put someone on your list for the first time when you see them in person. EXAMPLE: A while back I was talking to Veronica Belmont at a party (true story). I didn't know who she was. I still don't really know who she is, but I've been assured that she is famous. So I could not have said "Excuse me, Veronica," and gone over to The Wife and said "Veronica Belmont is now on my list" and then gone back and tried to hit it. She was with her boyfriend anyway, but you get the point. So if you get a call from your girlfriend at 12:30 a.m. and she sounds a little drunk and says "MARK WAHLBERG IS NOW ON MY LIST" you say "ABSOLUTELY NOT."

3. You can't enter into an ongoing FWB relationship with the Famous Person. It's one and done, people. No every-time-you're-in-LA thing.

4. Your partner can be cold and withdrawn for a day or two following your Famous Hookup, but then they have to let it go. That's the deal.

OK, so with that out of the way, here's mine:

1. Minka Kelly

We were first introduced on FNL. She is on some next-level shit. Nothing really to say except duh. No longer engaged to Derek Jeter, I understand, so that's good.

Also, born "Minka Dumont Dufay," be still my heart.

2. Mila Kunis

Too predictable? Who gives a fuck? Super hot and she also seems cool, for some reason.

3. Lohan

Love ya, girl!

Yeah, she looking a little haggard these days, but I want the full doors-blown-off 48 straight hours of partying experience. She can go back on the wagon on Monday. She is clearly fucking insane and you can't put a price on that.

4. Elisha Cuthbert

She also seems like she could throw down. I mean, this is your shot, you don't want someone who's boring. I bet she can out-drink me. She's fucking CANADIAN. In the morning, we will pull the empty Labatt's bottles out of the hot tub together.

5. Elle Macpherson

I felt like I had to choose someone at least roughly age-appropriate, and girlfriend is older than me and still radiantly hot.

POSTSCRIPT: Charlize Theron is crazy hot, like not even the same species as us hot, but it would be pointless to put her on the list because if we were ever in the same physical space I would just babble nonsensically or literally melt into a formless puddle of organic material and Charlize would be all "Eww, oh God, what is that pile of undifferentiated organic material? Somebody clean that the fuck up please." There is no sense having her take up a spot that someone I could look at without exploding can take.

In the interests of Gender Fairness, here's The Wife's list (all comments hers, not mine, obvs.):

1. John Cusack- OG. Grandfathered in even though his politics are crazy and he doesn’t spell very well.

2. George Clooney- because, you know, CLOONEY!! You’d have to. As I said, any man in the world would have to concede that in the case of Clooney you’d gladly hand over your partner and the better man would have won.

3. Ryan Gosling – avoided it for as long as I could, but that guy’s definitely fuckable. (I’m basing this mostly on his abs and sexiness in “Crazy, Stupid, Love”.)

4. Timothy Olyphant – but as Raylan Givens, not as the family guy who’s been married to his college girlfriend for 20+ years because I’m not a ho.

5. Zac Efron – WHAT? No, as it happens I wouldn’t feel skeevy and old at all just because he’s a zygote and adorable.

So there you have it. Who's on your list?

This Fucking Old House

2012-01-19T09:37:00.000-08:00

My life right now is kinda consumed with working on this new place we're moving into but I'm not really a fan of home makeover blogs and so I'm not really psyched to document how we hung up a vintage map of the Transcontinental Railroad and then have my comments section fill up with "So cute!" comments. Instead, here's an askew picture of our new living room, taken from our new dining room, and featuring my sister's dog:

The place has potential but it's trashed right now. There have been tenants in there for like 10 consecutive years and it shows. We have to pull up all the carpets and paint the whole interior and also do some work in the kitchen. There's crazy sound transmission between the first floor (where my sister is living) and the top floor (see above), so we have to put down soundproofing material. We got 2 bids for this. One wants around $4,000 to do it and the other guy wants $17,500 in cash - no checks or credit card, like hand him stacks of $20s wrapped up in those little paper sleeves. SHAY DEE. Anyway, so yeah, that 13 grand difference kind of takes Guy #2 out of contention. I've never house shit before but is this standard? There's a 400% difference in bids to do the same thing? What the fuck?

This whole thing is going to be fucking expensive and everyone's all "Oh, you should paint the interior yourselves" but fuck that, I'd rather pay someone and have it done right than do it myself.

ANYWAY, this is already a snooze so sorry about that. I'll try and have better content in the near future once this fucking stress bolus has passed through my system.

The Bachelor: Back from the dead!

2012-01-17T08:38:00.001-08:00

Guess what? Tonight we're heading to San Francisco, or as every chick irritatingly and repeatedly calls it, "San Fran." Ben says about a million times how much he loves it and how it's his home and blah blah blah we get it. Anyway, the harem is installed at the Fairmont and we're ready for some activities. Hopefully they do some authentic San Francisco stuff like eating a small disc of artisanal something for $62 or doing key bumps in the bathroom at Blow Up!

We begin with a solo date with Emily. Whatever, you guys, I like Emily. She seems cool. They're off to climb the Bay Bridge! Ben and Emily manage to wake up some CalTrans workers long enough to get some climbing gear and then up the cable they go. Laugh all you want, it does look fucking terrifying. And Emily's afraid of heights! Haha. They're going up and she's freaking out and he says "TALK TO ME GOOSE" and I was all "What the fuck?" and The Wife told me it's from Top Gun and now we know that B is the kind of dork who uses Top Gun quotes in conversation. Anyway, they make it to the top and discover the skeletal remains of a family of German tourists who got lost.

[TRUE STORY INTERJECTION: I have a friend who (totally illegally) walked up the cable of the Golden Gate Bridge one time in the 90's. He made it to the top and said he found an empty Budweiser can and a pile of human shit. Then he walked back down and didn't get caught. That would not happen today.]

Night portion of date. They're having an outdoor dinner. At first I was all "Why aren't they shivering and why isn't the food blowing off the plates?" and then I remembered they were filming this during the heat wave last summer. Serendipitous! Anyway, Emily tells some story about dating her older brother or something, I wasn't really paying attention.

Group date. Just your usual everyday bikini skiing on a street in San Francisco. Remember when they were filming this? SF Weekly does! Anyway, it's like extreme sports as conceived of by a 14-year-old boy. I am vicariously embarrassed for everyone. For the nighttime portion of the date, we head to the Tonga Room and start doing some shots. Someone says "I don't think there's going to be any drama tonight." THAT'S FORESHADOWING and means there is going to be a lot of drama tonight. This drama will take the form of Brittney realizing for the first time that SHE IS ON A TV SHOW and this TV show involves COMPETING WITH OTHER WOMEN TO WIN THE AFFECTIONS OF A BADLY-HAIRED MAN. What, did you think you were going on Slutty Jeopardy or something, Brittney? I mean, have you ever watched this show? Do you own a TV or do you just hang out with Grams and go to bingo? FUCK. She cries a lot and says leaving the show was the "hardest decision of her life." Second hardest was trying to decide between General Tso's chicken and moo shoo gai pan the other night at Golden Lotus. Anyway, KMAGYOYO. You are not here for the right reasons. You must take your ugly purple roller bag and get into the Cab of Tears and go back to wherever they grow people like you.

Speaking of B's hair, it is now starting to look almost as bad as Ali's dime-store extensions a few seasons back. Really, ABC, at least give the man some shampoo.

OK, time for a solo date with LINDZI or however the fuck you spell it. I'm not Max Factor or anything, but even I can tell you that girlfriend needs to learn how to put on some makeup. Even a little lipstick might help out. Anyway, they're off for a tour in one of those fake cable cars. They're tooling around and just as they're passing through the fucking CHINATOWN GATE, which is festooned with paper lanterns and Chinese characters and whatnot, Lindzi goes "WHERE ARE WE NOW?"

Well, I don't know, Lindzi! Maybe this is Little Armenia or Frenchtown! Hard to figure out! Maybe there'll be a visual clue of some type. Sigh. So they go to City Hall and Matt Nathanson is playing which is fine, he seems totally inoffensive and whatever and I'm just psyched it's not Third Eye Blind or Smashmouth. Then it's off to Bourbon and Branch to not eat yet another fancy dinner and he's all "Hey, how come you're still single?" and she tells a very sad story about how she was in love once but he had to be put down after he broke his leg in a race.

DUN DUN DUNNNN. MEANHWILE, a dark presence is drawing closer. It's some chick but they're filming it like it's a hired assassin which would be sweet.

OK, Cocktail Party time. B comes in and now his hair looks like the skinned pelt of a diseased squirrel. Jennifer gets some alone time and she could probably blow a .15 at this point, girl is LIT UP and she babbles on about how she likes him and pats him and is getting weird. WEIRD. This leads to some Deep Tongue Exchange. Swear to God, one person in this group has mouth herpes and everyone's got it, 'cause this guy is making the fuck out with everyone.

The Darkness has arrived. Hey, it's Shawntel of the Dead from Brad's season! She has managed to pull herself away from her ghoulish corpse play long enough to try and get back on TV. Meanwhile, B and halibut-eyed Courtney, who is increasingly resembling a lizard with her tiny food slot mouth and dry, hard lips, are up on the roof and Courtney goes on about how'd they'd make "cute babies," and (1) NOT A GREAT STRATEGY, and (2) ugh, some kind of lizard-human hybrid baby with cold clammy luggage skin and that little mouth slit. No thanks.

Shawntel cruises in and upsets the herd. Her mere presence reduces some women to tears, while others are shaking in rage. It is as if we told them the spray-tanning machine is broken or that Katy Perry will not make any more albums. So she has a little chat with B and it comes out that they've "talked before," which is obviously code for "banged after one of those Bachelor parties and then he didn't call because he had moved on to Jennifer Love Hewitt and also the VIP cocktail waitress from a casino in Laughlin" and so they have this awkward convo and she wants to be on the show because she's decided she prefers the company of the living now. Courtney pronounces this whole situation "whack." Too true, Courtney.

OK, this is running long so let's get to the Rose Ceremony and GTFO. They;re all lined up and BOOM! ERIKA GOES DOWN. ERIKA GOES DOWN. WE HAVE A GIRL ON THE FLOOR. All the other chicks immediately start offering advice, like "Breathe in through your nose and out through the mouth" and "Put your head between your legs" and "Begin to rethink your life choices." Anyway, the Medical Staff gets her upright again just in time to show her the door, along with Jaclyn and Shawntel too. Jaclyn flees in tears. Jesus Christ, people.

Spoilers

2012-01-12T08:51:00.000-08:00

The line you got in will be the slowest one.

They messed something up in your delivery order.

She's not in love with you.

It's sold out.

They sold out.

It won't look as good when you get it home.

You're going to be in the bathroom when they play the song you wanted to hear.

It's backed up to the Maze.

There's a line at the lunch place.

There's a new meme going around. It involves a dog and text in all caps.

This place will be ruined by hipsters.

Someone is offended by something you don't find offensive at all.

A celebrity will die unexpectedly.

A commenter on the Internet will profess an objectionable opinion.

You spent too much.

Fog in the morning, burning off my midday.

Maybe you'll move to New York.

The Giants won't be able to hit.

That thing with Rob Schneider in it is going to suck.

You can't believe they broke up.

It's a mistake for them to get married.

You will have too much to drink.

The Bachelor: The Crying Game

2012-01-10T08:34:00.000-08:00

I got distracted by the BCS Championship Game and missed the first couple of minutes of The Show, which means I probably missed the swooping helicopter shots of the Sonoma Valley and Chris Harrison saying "TONIGHT, ON THE BACHELOR," so instead I tune in right as Ben and "Kacie" (ugh) are embarking on their solo date. Is it just me, or does Kacie look exactly like EVERY OTHER GIRL THAT'S EVER BEEN ON THIS SHOW? There's a factory in Shenzhen China where grossly underpaid workers get RSIs working 18 hour days cranking out Bachelor contestants. Kacie is the apotheosis of their craft. This is the first time "apotheosis" has been used in a Bachelor recap.

BACK TO THE MATTER AT HAND. Ben, as we will be informed repeatedly, LOVES his home, Sonoma, and so he and Kacie take a moonlight stroll through a COMPLETELY DESERTED POST-APOCALYPTIC DOWNTOWN SONOMA, I mean seriously, is this like a "Walking Dead"/Bachelor crossover? WHERE THE FUCK IS EVERYONE? She says "It's like we're the only two people on Earth right now," like NO SHIT KACIE, I'm starting to wonder if we've all been raptured or something. Anyway, they have a dinner at an otherwise-deserted Girl and the Fig and it's time for more Dead Dad talk. FORESHADOWING. She collects her rose and it's off to the Sebastiani Theater for a TOTAL MINDFUCK, get ready for this. They sit down expecting to see the latest creatively bankrupt Jennifer Anniston romcom or something and instead we're treated to Kacie's childhood home movies. Sure, mortifyingly embarrassing, but whatever. But then the producers really turn the screws with Ben's old home vids, featuring prominently, of course, Dead Dad. FUCK. That is some fucked-up shit to be pulling, producers! Love it. Anyway, cry cry cry and then they make out in the post-nuclear Sonoma town square.

Group date with 10 or 12 or whatever of them. I can't be bothered to learn their names yet. That comes later. It seems that they will be performing a play written by a bunch of kids! It's called "Dragon Ball Glen Ross." No, not really. First all the chicks have to audition for the kids. This is almost as demeaning as real auditions. Whoa, one kid asks Nicki to do a "sexy dance." I might have CPS ask around at that kid's house, just saying. So they're putting on this play at the Community Theater and it's called "Prince Pinot of Bachelorville" because you know kids would think of a title like that. I'm bummed it's not "Sir Scotch of Skid Row," but you've got to keep the alcohol references high-class when you're dealing with kids. They're barely old enough to drink wine coolers. All I know is that this play features Blakeley as a Sexy Groundhog or something.

Anyway, this "play" also features Ben in a sheep costume and I can already hear the Furry Message Boards exploding and the whole thing is borderline inappropriate and we're all glad when it's over.

Back at the Sonoma Mission Inn, THERE IS GIRL DRAMA. Everyone hates Blakeley and now it's Samantha's turn to retreat to the bathroom. These chicks hit up the bathroom more than hipsters at Delirium. We segue into a pool party and Ben is fucking making out with everything in sight. Maybe all those bathroom trips! Blakeley "super believes in her kissing skills 100%." Girlfriend is doing something right because she gets a rose. This makes Jennifer cry and cry. Crying and bathroom trips. This is our season.

OK, solo date with fish-eyed "model" Courtney. They're off for a picnic along with Ben's dog "Scotch." Scotch has taught Ben that he wants children! Ben, not Scotch, I mean. Well, maybe Scotch wants children too. He and Ben apparently have a lot of soul-searching late-night convos, so who knows what else Scotch has taught Ben. In the Night Phase of this date, they're off for the obligatory Outdoor Dinner, this one in a vineyard, of course. Ben regales Courtney with tales of his "partying" and his life of excess in the Krazy World of Internet Advertising. Whoa, remember that time we all finished that bottle of Skyy and then ordered room service to someone else's room? That was quite a lollapalooza!!! Crazy days, crazy days. Courtney's dated an actor, she says, but she had to dump him when she found "underwear in the bed." Apparently it's something named "Jesse Metcalfe." Is that an actor? I don't know. She gets a rose. Of course. She's a fucking model.

OK, pre-Rose Ceremony goings-on. Ben makes yet another speech about how much he LOVES Sonoma. WE GET IT ALREADY. He has a little private time with Lindzi or however you spell it and she goes on and on about how she drives a truck and wears dirt for makeup and doesn't know what high heels are and likes to watch wrestling and anything else she can think of to persuade him that she is actually a man. GREAT STRATEGY THERE. Ben's trying to get some face time with all those chicks and Blakeley keeps barging in. This makes everyone hate her and everyone wants to go to the bathroom and cry now.

Oh, here comes Trainwreck Jenna! Being around girls is "very abnormal" for her. I'd say being in any kind of situation without her Seroquel is "very abnormal" for her. Naturally, the stress of interacting with others is too much and she collapses into a crying jag. Jenna is not equipped to handle things like being on national TV or when the vending machine fails to dispense her Sun Chips. Meanwhile, Blakeley sees everyone else's Obvious Bid for Attention and joins in by going off to cry behind the luggage. Ben finds her there on his Fun Trip Around the House collecting the decompensating bags of tears. Quite a crew we've assembled.

Let's get to the cuts. Some chick I've never seen before and Trainwreck Jenna. She responds by stoically accepting her fate and acknowledging that it's not that big a deal. No, I'm shitting you, she totally fucking falls apart and will need years of therapy to deal with this shit. She "can't believe it." Really? Because I can totally fucking believe it. Nobody wants to date an Emotional Plane Crash, and Jenna, you are the Tenerife Airport Disaster of women.

Jenna's psyche, upon learning that Netflix streaming is down.

NEXT WEEK: SF. I wonder if there will be any interaction with cable cars?

Bars of the Inner Richmond: A Limited Survey

2012-01-09T08:55:00.001-08:00

Here's some news: We're moving to the Inner Richmond. Long story, but there it is. As it happens, we will be occupying the top floor of a 2-unit building and The Sister is on the bottom floor. This is not the setup for a sitcom, although now that I think about it, it has certain sitcom-ish potential.

ANYWAY on Saturday The Sister and I checked out some of our new neighborhood bars. I've been to all these places, so technically it wasn't a New Bar Night, but it's been years so it sort of was. We were out between roughly 7 and 9 pm, so we probably didn't get the Full Saturday Effect, but that's enough disclaimers now. Here's where we went:

We walked into Buckshot, took one look around, and walked out. It looked like a bunch of kids at a county fair where they happened to serve booze, what with all the skee ball and shuffleboard and picnic tables. I hope someone's checking IDs. (Also, their website says "Be excellent to each other. And... PARTY ON, DUDES! - - - - - - - - poop on a stick!" That probably tells you everything you need to know about Buckshot.)

Next we went to Ireland's 32. I actually kinda like Ireland's 32, as far as Irish bars go, but Saturday night it was in full sports bar mode, with the Saints-Lions playoff game blaring from all 15 or whatever TVs. I'm not opposed to sports bars per se, but it just wasn't what we were looking for. I've been there other nights and had a good time though.

Maintaining the Irish theme, the next stop was the Plough & Stars on Clement. Nice enough place, but The Sister's drink was super-weak which made her more surly than normal. Perhaps sticking with beer here would be advisable. Also, apparently not everyone's drinks were weak, because there was a group of super shitfaced guys careening around the bar. Ah, youth. Maybe it'll be more of a weeknight bar.

Moving down Clement, we came to the Bitter End, which might be a semi-Irish bar. At this point, there is very little to distinguish one place from another. They're all that kind of exposed-wood-pool-table-TV-screen-wooden-booth kind of places. Another way young crowd.

Last stop: the 540 Club. Not an Irish bar, thank God. We actually liked this place a lot. Divey but cool. The bartenders were totally friendly. Also fairly young crowd, but not as college-y as the other places. I guess the Yelp says it gets crowded on weekends? Not when we were there (but, again, this was at like 9 or 9:30 pm). I could see hanging out here.

Then we took a cab to the Tenderloin and some other stuff happened. The end.

Today in Self-Denial News

2012-01-04T08:51:00.000-08:00

You know all about Sober January, right? Let's see, I wrote about it in January 2010. It's just like what it sounds like: no booze in January. Kind of a chance to dry out for a bit and get some stuff done and also save some money. You would not BELIEVE how much money you save.

I only made it 9 days in 2009.

Actually, I already know there's a built-in break this year. The Wife had already made plans to attend a "cider tasting" (i.e., alcoholic cider, duh) this Saturday, so in support of her struggle, I might have a couple of drinks on Saturday too. Then we're back on it! I know, that's cheating. MYOB.

Just to make this even more unpleasant, we're also on severe diet restrictions for a while! We're doing a modified "Paleo" diet, which is basically just meat and vegetables and a little bit of fruit. No dairy. No sugar. No wheat, rye, barley, oats, corn, brown rice, soy, peanuts, kidney beans, pinto beans, navy beans and black eyed peas. It's basically supposed to mimic the way our distant ancestors ate, so I'm planning to get the guys together and see if we can run a wooly mammoth off a cliff and then feast on its entrails.

But wait! The Wife is a semi-lapsed Catholic and even no drinking + Paleo isn't enough self-punishment for her, so she's taking up self-flagellation! Not really. She's actually doing a Juice Fast for the next 3 days. Then she'll have to think of some other way to punish herself.

Maybe we'll rent "Jack and Jill." That should take care of self-punishment for a year or so, easy.

The Bachelor: Now with 35% more crazy!

2012-01-03T08:27:00.000-08:00

[Previous seasons of this crap here, here, and here. God help you if you read through all that.]

Yes, friends, time to load up the Crazy Cannon and shoot despair and tragedy all over the TV again and, ew, not too happy about that metaphor, let's leave that alone and move on. This season we have simian winemaker/feelings-haver Ben, who is fresh off being dumped at the proposal by Ashley and is now ready to move on and "knows what [he's] looking for." Not Jennifer Love Hewitt, obvi!

We have returned, as we often do, to San Francisco and we have the usual establishing shots (cable cars, etc., etc.) interspersed with shots of Ben gazing out to sea REALLY HARD and now he's on a boat. Let's get on down to the Mansion in Malibu and here's Chris Harrison, who really does not age at all, I mean, that kid looks EXACTLY like he did in Season 1, and after some conversation about how Ashley dumped him and broke his heart, LET'S GO TO THE VIDEOTAPE AND MEET US SOME CHIX!!!!!!

Our first misspelled Lindsay is "Lindzi," who is either into horses or is one herself. Also hailing from the Land of the Curiously Spelled is "Kacie," who "wants this me to be a we," ugh. We then see her either doing an interpretive dance or signaling her Alien Overlords that she has achieved her goal of penetrating America's Most Sacred Institution and will now send reports form the inside.

Courtney claims to be a model, maybe for the National Fetal Alcohol Syndrome Foundation. Jamie has a sad story! She had "no Dad" and her mother had "dependency issues" and she had to raise her siblings and she is going to cry a lot, I can tell. Our second misspelled Lindsay is "Lyndsie," who is an "Internet entrepreneur" with a fake-sounding British accent that she can't even keep straight and has the annoying in-your-face personality of someone who wasn't hugged enough as a child.

Jenna is a "blogger" who lives in NYC and does Sex and the City stuff like sitting at an outdoor cafe with her glass of red wine and typing something on her laptop and then looking off wistfully into the distance. She is a handsome woman, I'll give her that! Nicki is 26 and divorced and can't figure out why her marriage at age 21 didn't work out. You're fine, Nicki! Jesus, stop talking about it already. We're all damaged goods at this point, babes.

More Chris interview with Ben. Feelings feelings feelings blah blah blah whatever. Chris wants to know if Dead Dad will be with him and Ben says "pieces of his father" are with him. Gross.

Alright, enough of this foolishness. Let's get these crazy bitches out of the limos and into our hearts. Here they come! Erika is a law student and tells Ben "You are guilty of being sexy." Jesus, who writes this shit? Ben's mouth says "That was funny" but his face betrays a different emotion.

Then they start coming in too fast. It's kind of a blur. Some chick says her nickname is the "Baconator." Not sure that's a detail I'd be broadcasting but whatever. Jenna seems to think that Long Awkward Pauses are the way to a man's heart. She didn't get the memo that Ben's not autistic. Much. Emily is in school studying "the transmission of disease," so she's in the right place! OH SNAP!! That was too easy, don't laugh at that.

Here come some more. Amber is wearing some kind of banana yellow window treatment as a dress and has a pronounced head tilt, like when you speak Spanish to a dog. You know you do that! Shira is an actress from LA and looks like an anorexic insect of some kind. I don't want to be too mean to Blakeley, but did anyone else find her a bit....manly? Lyndsie arrives. If they play that faux-British music every time she's on screen I will...I will continue to watch the show quietly or something. One chick sends out her grandma, whose occupation, disappointingly, is not "VIP Cocktail Waitress."

OK, time for the party. All these chicks seem about half-lit, except for the few that are full lit. There's the usual cattiness and all the bitches HATE the chick who brought grandma, but this is window dressing for the 2 main events:

1. Jenna must have apartments in Antarctica AND the Arctic, because bitch is BI-POLAR!!!! GET IT???? Ugh. Anyway, she's crazier than a shithouse rat and begins decompensating directly after her third glass of Korbel. Here she is tearing Monica a new one because Monica isn't in love with Ben yet. Monica wants to patch things up, so Jenna thoughtfully offers that "maybe we can share a tampon sometime." I didn't make that up. That's what she said. Do girls really talk like that? Anyway, Jenna is clearly insane and they should at least do some kind of basic mental health screening before putting these people on TV. She ends the episode with a good crying jag in the bathroom. That's how I end most episodes too!

2. Speaking of Monica, she and Blakeley have a serious cuddle puddle on the couch and she's playing with her hair and telling her how beautiful she looks and the whole scene is straight out of the Chill Room at a rave in 1996 and it really does look like they're about to make out and all we're missing is The Orb on the soundtrack. I mean, what the fucking fuck is going on this season. Decompensating Jenna! Sapphic Love on the Couch! Crazy intense Courtney with the eyes on the side of her head like a salmon! It's too much.

Let's just get to the Rose Ceremony and put this unpleasantness behind us. Ben starts with a boring speech. I'm sure he's a nice enough guy but I've met cacti that had more engaging personalities. Who are we keeping? Damaged Jamie and Post-op Blakeley and her Cuddle Buddy Monica with the Hate Eyes and Disease Transmitter Emily and I think every variant of "Casey" and THANK GOD YOU KNEW IT WAS COMING, at the producers' insistence, Trainwreck Jenna! Yay! Yay!

UPDATE: I'm not on Facebook (as I will pompously advise anyone who asks, like I'm so superior), but am advised that this post has been flagged on FB for being "abusive or spammy." I can't imagine how it's spammy, so it must be "abusive." I don't know how to not be abusive about the Bachelor, but in an effort to patch things up:

1. I'm sorry I said Lindzi might be a horse.
2. I'm sorry I can't string together more than 150 words without saying "fuck" or "Jesus."
3. I'm sorry I implied that Courtney looks like she has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome even though she totally does.
4. I don't have any PERSONAL information that Emily is disease-spreading walking petri dish and you should hand sanitize every time you touch her.
5. Jenna really did say the tampon thing, so I'm not apologizing for that.

Can we be friends again? We cool here?

Your last-minute San Francisco New Year's Day Brunch Guide

2011-12-30T09:33:00.000-08:00

You haven't made reservations for New Year's Day brunch yet? What are you, some kind of lunatic? Well, I'm here to help. I just looked on OpenTable and these places all have availability for 2 people at 1 pm on New Year's Day.

(There are actually 138 restaurants with availability, but I'm only listing the ones you should actually consider.)

(There are others with availability at like 11 or 2, but let's go with 1. That's late enough that you can be up but early enough that you can finish and hit another bar and watch some NFL and have pints.)

Luna Park - I think we went there for NYD brunch the last 2 years, so we can't go again this year. But you can! Oh, whoa, they raised the bottomless mimosas to $13. That's a drag, but you can put down $13 worth of champagne no problem, plus the waitresses are really good about keeping them filled. The food's pretty good. And fuck it, it's probably stumbling distance from your apartment. FOUR STARS.

Maverick - I really like their brunch. It might be too "nice" a place if you look like what you're probably going to look like. I mean, you may not want to attempt duck confit hash if you're still spinning. No bottomless mimosas, but they're only $6.50. THREE AND A HALF STARS.

Butterfly - It might be nice to be by the water! That might make you feel better. I had brunch here once like 5 years ago so I don't even know if it's any good. Bottomless mimosas are $18, ouch. Might have to Occupy Table 18 for 2 hours or so to make the numbers work. TWO AND A HALF STARS.

Farmerbrown - Excellent all-you-can-eat brunch, including their fucking awesome fried chicken, for I think $16 or something. Also bottomless mimosas, but I don't remember how much. I remember getting pretty buzzed, though. This is a quality brunch. The Tenderloin location might be a bit challenging, but if you need to pick up some rock to keep the party going, you'll be in the right place. FOUR AND A HALF STARS.

Le Zinc - If you can handle dodging the strollers and labs of Noe Valley in your weakened state, this place actually has a great brunch. Mimosas are $9 each, which is kind of a drag, but the French omelet is really good. Plus, Valley Tavern is across the street, so you'll be steps away from an available post-brunch bar. THREE STARS.

Medjool - At first I was all HA HA BIG JOKE I'LL PUT MEDJOOL ON THERE AND WE WILL LAUGH AND LAUGH and then I looked at the brunch menu and guys, it's a brunch buffet for $10.99, and the mimosas are THREE DOLLARS. It can't be THAT bad for brunch, right? I mean, the spiky-hair/shiny-shirt crowd will be at Circa, not here, right? Somebody talk me down. UNKNOWN STARS.

Park Chalet - $25 gets you the buffet (which I've had, it's good) AND unlimited champagne. Plus, you're right there at the beach so you can have a soul-searching walk after brunch along the surf and gaze meaningfully out at the sea and meditate on some changes you'll be making in your life this year. The downside is somebody needs to stay sober enough to drive because, come on, it's at Ocean Beach. THREE STARS.

Anyway, have a fun NYE. See you next year.

A few vignettes with Mom

2011-12-28T08:26:00.001-08:00

Vignette 1: We are at lunch at Slanted Door. Mom asks the busboy who is filling our water glasses "What country are you from?" After initially looking somewhat surprised, he says "Mexico" and smiles and walks away. Mom says, "I would have expected him to say Nepal."

Later, as he is clearing plates, she asks him "What part of Mexico?" He says, "Yucatan," smiling broadly now. This time, after he leaves, Mom says "I was going to ask him if he enjoyed snorkeling. Snorkeling is very popular in the Yucatan. Probably more for tourists than locals, though."

Vignette 2: As we are leaving Slanted Door, we see Mom stop at the service bar, get the bartender's attention, and then talk to him. We see him initially look puzzled, then say something to her, then get back to making drinks. We ask her what that was about. "I asked him what a popular drink in San Francisco is now. He said rye and bourbon. That surprises me."

(Speaking of Slanted Door, that ginger limeade [kaffir lime vodka, ginger, lime] is delicious. But $38 for shaking beef on the lunch menu is a little ridiculous, especially since it's like 7-8 cubes of beef. Still delicious, though.)

Vignette 3: Mom and I are having lunch at King of Thai Noodle on Clement. It is moderately full. There is someone sitting directly beside us. Mom says to me, "So tell me how therapy worked for you." The guy next to us, who looks like he could be a therapist, looks at me and gives a kind of sympathetic smile. I tell Mom I'd rather talk about it later, in a more private setting. "Who's going to hear?" she asks. She nods at the the guy next to us. "This guy?"

Vignette 4: We are in Grace Cathedral. A very nicely dressed woman in her mid-30's is there with two little girls wearing very fancy dresses. Mom says "Don't you two look pretty!" The woman says "We just came from high tea at the Fairmont. Now we're going to see where Mommy got married." After some more oohing and ahhing over the fancy dresses, the woman and the girls walk away. Mom says, "She must be their nanny."

Vignette 5: I find out that Mom has been secretly feeding our dog peanuts. (While peanuts aren't toxic to dogs, you don't want to give them too many, and I had no idea how long this had been going on.) I asked Mom not to feed him peanuts. She said, "Well, when you were a little boy, our dog [a 10 or 12 pound cocker spaniel/poodle/pekinese mix] ate a 5-pound Hershey's kiss and she was fine. So what's the problem?"

(I have no idea if this actually happened, BTW. Mom tends to either remember things very differently than I do or create entire incidents out of whole cloth in her mind.)

Ah, well. Bon voyage, Mom!

Happy Holidays!

2011-12-23T10:27:00.000-08:00

Oh, whoops, I mean Merry Christmas! I don't need Bill O'Reilly up my ass.

Anyway, MOM'S IN TOWN!!! YAY!!!!!

See you on the other side.

TK goes to see "Young Adult," likes it.

2011-12-21T12:09:00.000-08:00

Went to see "Young Adult" last night and I kinda loved it. I was a little surprised. It's written by Diablo Cody, and while I thought "Juno" had some laughs, it was mostly too precious and self-aware to be a good movie. But YA is all grown up and much funnier and more bitter (which is why I like it).

One problem with the suspension of disbelief: You have to accept, as a plot point, that a functioning heterosexual male would NOT leave his wife and infant child for alcoholic Charlize Theron. Not buying it.

Here's another reason I liked it, and this is going to kind of be a spoiler but not too much but if you're REALLY REALLY CONCERNED then SPOILER WARNING DON'T READ ANY MORE. But the ending is not at all happy or conventional in any kind of Normal Hollywood Sense and is in fact at the very least ambiguous and at the worst/best it's an active "fuck you" to Hollywood endings and the lessons we've come to expect from Hollywood movies, e.g., (1) small towns are where it's real and where True Happiness resides and (2) you find happiness in life by eschewing the Big City and returning Home.

But people aren't used to that! It pisses them off when they get an ending they're not expecting! So that's why the two mouth-breathing mush-brained talking-during-movie late-teen-early 20s chicks next to us were VISIBLY UPSET at the end of the movie. Mush-brained Idiot #1, in fact, stood up and announced "That's the worst movie I've ever seen! I'M BLAMING YOU FOR THIS DANIELLE." Hopefully Danielle told her to stick it up her talkative fucking ass, but we were already on our way out and didn't get a chance to hear what riposte, if any, Danielle offered.

(Also, to make this sound official and like a real review: "Great performances by Theron and especially by Patton Oswalt!!" The review in Slate pointed out that Oswalt's come a long way as an actor since he stood perfectly still in the background for 3 minutes in the opening scene of this episode of King of Queens. Seriously, watch the beginning. It's like performance art. He's JUST STANDING THERE. Hilarious.)

Anyway, check it out.

PG&E will not stop until we are dead

2011-12-20T08:39:00.000-08:00

You know what I'd like from my electricity and gas provider? A steady stream of electricity and gas. Most of you probably get that from your provider. However, since I live in Northern California, my provider, Pacific Gas & Electric, has a different priority:

KILLING US ALL.

Last night PG&E fucked up and it just happened to be during a nationally televised broadcast of "Monday Night Football," between the 49ers and Steelers.

WHOOPS. Maybe PG&E didn't realize that everyone could see. Anyway, no one was killed, apparently, so TOUGH SHIT PG&E.

Just within the past year and a half or so, PG&E killed eight people in a gas pipeline explosion in San Bruno. They just admitted liability for that, after exploring the option of possibly blaming the victims. It's like they have a secret lab where they sit around and try to think of ways they could be more evil or at least appear that way.

Then you have the manhole explosions, which are, at this point, so routine that they barely make the news any more.

Not content to confine their murderous ways to simple explosions, which do seem kind of dated and 19th-century, PG&E then moved on to Smart Meters, which, we are told, will kill us all with radiation. Irradiating us all seems like a much more efficient way for PG&E to eliminate us, plus it's not as noisy and steam-punky as exploding manholes.

(J/K abt Smart Meters, I'm sure they're totally safe and whatever.)

And when they're not busy trying to kill us, PG&E also has constant problems with delivering power. I mean, every time it rains, the power goes out somewhere. Is it that way everywhere, or just here?

ANYWAY, PG&E, if you really want to make an impact, step up your electrocution game. Seems like you've got unlimited electricity, so why not use it? You could take out 100, 150 people a day, probably. And those nuclear plants! They're not gonna melt down on their own, PG&E. Blow one of those up and we could start talking Fresno-sized victim counts.

I'm already going to hell, so....

2011-12-16T09:15:00.001-08:00

The theme of today's post is RELIGION. Oh boy.

ITEM NUMBER ONE: Why do people hate Tim Tebow?

(I just realized that not everyone may know who Tim Tebow is. Tim Tebow is an American footballer generally considered to be of average-to-poor skill at his position, which is quarterback for the Denver Broncos. Previous to this, he was considered to be of superior skill at his position in college, which was quarterback for the Florida Gators. Some people are really good in college and not very good in the NFL. Anyway, Tebow is also known for vehemently and publicly practicing his religion, including frequently kneeling on the field to thank God for a successful football outcome and/or to beseech his help at a crucial moment. Despite his seeming lack of skill, the Denver Broncos keep winning games that they shouldn't win. This is more due to Denver's excellent defense than anything Tim Tebow is doing, but quarterbacks always get more attention than defenses. Back to our story.)

Oh, look, Deadspin already answered this question: Why People Who Hate Tim Tebow Hate Tim Tebow.

I'll nutshell it for you: Because anyone other than Tebow in Tebow's position would be EXPECTED to succeed, but somehow, for Tebow, it's a case of God pulling the strings for a gutsy believer who is somehow triumphing despite being a valiant underdog.

Athletes giving credit to God is nothing new, but Tebow sort of takes it to a whole new level with his very public displays of faith and whatnot. Let's leave aside the obvious question - with something like 200 billion galaxies in the universe, each containing 200-300 billion stars, there must be trillions or quadrillions of planets, and many of those must have life, so why does God take a personal interest in the outcomes of sporting events on one of those planets and, moreover, why does He not seem to care so much about cricket or curling? - and instead ponder WHY IT'S NOT GOD'S FAULT WHEN TEAMS LOSE. The way I see it, if you give God credit for winning a game (or doing well on a law school final, or getting your lost wallet back (actually, that one was St. Anthony, not God, but they work in the same office), then the Big Guy gets the blame when things go south.

How great would that be? Imagine the sideline reporter interviewing the kicker who missed the game-winning field goal: "Well, I lined it up perfectly, hit it dead on, and it sailed wide right. God really fucked us on this one. Thanks for nothing, God. Zero for you in the collection plate tomorrow. Winners get paid, not losers."

SIGH. I'm sure there's a Deep Theological Reason why it's not God's fault but I don't really care.

ITEM NUMBER TWO: R.I.P. Christopher Hitchens, one of the best atheists of all time.

Like I said to someone last night, I didn't always agree with Hitchens - on his strong support for the Iraq War, for example - I always wished I could write like him.

Are Yahoo comments gone forever or what?

2011-12-15T10:44:00.000-08:00

We all know about SFGate comments. But did you ever check out comments on Yahoo news stories? They made SFGate commenters look like a Mensa convention. They were truly the ugly id of the Internet. No story, no matter how innocuous or heartwarming, could escape their wrath. "Miracle baby survives crash" would inevitably devolve into a shitshow about Obamacare, and God forbid if the baby was African-American. Wonder whether racism is still a problem in 21st-century America? Peruse the Yahoo comments, and wonder no more.

UNTIL A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO.

I stopped by Yahoo to get the brain-damaged racist perspective recently and the spot where "3,045 comments" used to be was an ominous banner that said:

"We're having problems with Reading Activity and Commenting features on our site. We're working to re-enable them as soon as possible. We apologize for any inconvenience."

Oh, we're having problems with the Commenting features, all right.

I immediately knew that was it; Yahoo had finally had enough of being known as the Sinkhole of American Idiocy. FAREWELL, YAHOO COMMENTS. WE WILL MISS THY OVERT RACISM AND RAMPANT MISSPELLING.

Maybe Yahoo Answers can tell us more!

Good, now we'll get to the bottom of this. Tell us, Yahoo Answers answerers!

Oh. That's why.

UPDATE: It looks like they're back on. Never mind.

In which we ponder the existential meaning of the term "bar"

2011-12-12T09:50:00.001-08:00

Food & Wine magazine recently named the 50 Best Bars in America. Because the topic of bars is very dear to my heart, I perused this list carefully. There are a number of San Francisco establishments on the list, like Alembic and Beretta and Comstock and Slanted Door.

Wait a second, because we have a problem.

As much as I like Slanted Door - and make no mistake, I like it a lot, I mean, I have often said that the Shaking Beef from Slanted Door would be my Death Row Last Meal - there is one significant problem with its appearance on this list.

IT IS NOT A BAR.

Slanted Door HAS as bar, but it's NOT a bar. I have a CD by Pavement, but I'm not Steven Malkmus.

Not a bar.

I guess, in the World Vision of Food & Wine, anywhere that sells alcohol for onsite consumption is a "bar." So under their erroneously expansive definition, the French Laundry is a "bar." So is Yankee Stadium. And Delta Flight 2081 from Atlanta to Charlotte.

See the problem here?

What Food & Wine needs is a more restrictive definition of "bar." Here's what I propose:

A bar is an establishment that exists primarily to sell liquor and other intoxicating spirits to the public.

Sorry, Slanted Door! (And Beretta, for that matter). You are not bars. You are restaurants. The 500 Club is a bar. Bourbon & Branch is a bar. Even the Uptown is a bar, although it's a bar that masquerades as a garbage dump with shots.

Bar.

Now we can talk about the 50 Best Bars or whatever. But let's talk about bars, not restaurants. You want an artisanal cocktail and a squid ink risotto? Go to Beretta. You want a shot and a beer? Go to a bar.

(BTW, I know what you're saying. You're saying Why am I reading this bullshit when I could be watching Dr. Oz and eating Candy Cane Joe-Joe's? Now, you're actually saying Doesn't Alembic serve food? Isn't it a restaurant? No. You can be a bar and still serve food, as long as you PRIMARILY exist to serve alcohol. Thus, Alembic = bar; Outback Steakhouse = Not Bar.)

From the Magazine Rack in Hell

2011-12-09T09:18:00.000-08:00

I'm not even sure why I made this. I don't even have kids. Parents just bug me sometimes.

Let's talk about radio for a second

2011-12-08T09:58:00.000-08:00

Nobody listens to the radio anymore. This is practically an article of faith. Oh, wait, maybe more people are listening to the radio. "An average of 241.6 million people 12 and older listened to conventional radio stations each week last year, an increase of 2.1 million over 2009 — and up 4.9% vs. 2005," says USA Today. 241 million is a lot, so maybe people do listen to the radio. That kind of hurts my point so let's move on.

2 radio things to touch on today.

First, Live 105. Live 105 is a sad radio station that I guess positions itself as "alternative" or something. "Alternative" was what new and interesting music used to be called in the 80's and 90's. Live 105 calls itself "alternative" even though they still play the same shit they were playing in 1992.

Just looking at the playlist, in the past 12 hours, Live 105 has played the following:

"Come as You Are," by Nirvana
"The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, at least twice
"Adam's Song" by Blink-182
"Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley
"Wrong Way" by Sublime
"Say It Ain't So" by Weezer
"After Midnight" by Blink-182, twice
"Come Original" by 311
"Creep" by Radiohead
"Snow (Hey Oh)" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers
"Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana
"The Sound of Winter" by Bush, multiple times
"Tell Me Baby" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers
At least two songs from Stone Temple Pilots' 1992 debut Core
"Jamming" by Bob Marley
"Santeria" by Sublime
A shitload of Linkin Park songs

Not pretty, is it? We can make a few observations:

1. Live 105's program director really likes the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkin Park, "Legend" by Bob Marley, and the Stone Temple Pilots' first album
2. Very little of this is "alternative," in any sense of the word
3. Bush apparently has a new album out and Live 105 is interested in seeing it succeed, for some reason beyond my grasp
4. Blink-182 is still played as if they were a viable concern and not a band that we all laugh about behind their backs

This isn't alternative; this is classic rock. I mean, do you really need to hear any Sublime song, ever again? And what the fuck is up with the Bob Marley? What is this, a freshman dorm room in 1988?

Go in peace and do whatever you want, Live 105. I guess it's just kind of sad that there is so much good, new, exciting, interesting music out there that I bet people would actually like if you played it and you're not giving it a chance. You could be pushing Ty Segall (who has the extra advantage of being a local!) and Yuck and TV on the Radio and instead you're pushing albums that came out in 1991 and 1992.

Don't get me wrong, "Nevermind" is one of the best albums ever, but we've all heard it, Live 105. You can set down Nevermind and back slowly away. We know every song.

In other radio news, KGO 810 just fired everyone that works there, in one fell swoop destroying decades of goodwill and community relationships. WOW GREAT PLAN.

(MOMENTARY DIVERSION: The Wife says I'm the only person under 50 who listens to talk radio, but that can't be true, right? I even listen to KSFO Tea Party Radio sometimes just to see how far around the bend those people have gone. ANSWER: Very far. But you know where you to go if you want to hear the word "Marxist" tossed around in a context-free manner.)

Anyway, I'm not in radio and so I have no idea but it seems like a bad move to me.

In response to some reader complaints, we are launching a new feature

2011-12-04T09:30:00.000-08:00

On Friday, Allan over at Mission Mission linked to our story about people talking at shows. Some people commented! They will do that. One person said "grandpa," which is mean because, while I am old enough to be a grandparent, I am not actually a grandparent. Unless that person meant it in the Sexy Grandpa sense, in which case, RIGHT ON.

But then another commenter said:

his whole blog is a moan – and he goes on about being like a 28 year old (when he’s 40) or something. Old, old, old – not physically but has the mentality of a conservative Victorian…

Kinda has a point. I do tend to bitch a lot on here. I do have to dispute that I have the mentality of a conservative Victorian, though. Maybe a Sexy Victorian.

Anyway, in an effort to make this blog more positive and less of a moan, we are introducing a new feature: Universal Pepsodent Super Fun Hour!!!!!

What we do for UPSFH is we pick one thing that we like and we talk about how awesome it is. This is designed to counteract the normally dyspeptic and misanthropic nature of this blog and instead suffuse you, the reader, with a sense of warmth and well-being that you will carry with you throughout the day.

For our inaugural Universal Pepsodent Super Fun Hour, we pick A FEW GOOD MEN, the 1992 Aaron Sorkin-penned military-legal drama starring TOM CRUISE and DEMI MOORE and with the totally killer JACK NICHOLSON monologue that we all love.

A Few Good Men is one of those movies that I always watch through to the end when I pass it flipping around on cable. And since it's on TNT every Saturday, I've seen parts of it hundreds of times!

Look, it's not Citizen Kane or even the Citizen Kane of military-legal dramas. Well, maybe it is, but I can't think of others right now, but it's a well-written, sort of well-acted drama that keeps you engaged without being too tense. The perfect thing when you're hungover on the couch on a Saturday having Outdoor Guilt because it looks nice out but you just don't want to go out.

I celebrate you, A Few Good Men. You are worthy of being featured on the very first Universal Pepsodent Super Fun Hour!

People who talk through shows should be swiftly and summarily executed

2011-12-02T10:33:00.000-08:00

Went to see the Weakerthans at the Independent last night. Fantastic show. Going again tonight, as a matter of fact. I may not have mentioned lately how much I like the Independent. Even at sold-out shows it never seems packed, the beer prices are totally reasonable, the sound is always great, and the location is perfect. (The last two things are reasons why I never go to Bottom of the Hill any more.)

Oh, and the bartender last night said "I haven't seen you around in a while." I used to go to a lot more shows than I do now.

ANYWAY. You didn't think this was going to be all sweetness and light, did you? You want that shit, go read Zooey Deschanel's blog or something. (I'm assuming here; I've never read Zooey Deschanel's blog. Does Zooey Deschanel have a blog?)

There was one, and only one, problem at the show last night, and if you go see live music with any regularity, you will recognize this problem at once: THE LOUD TALKERS.

FUCK THESE PEOPLE.

Standing by the bar was a group of four, two guys and two girls. And during the entire show, nonstop, start to finish, they were YELLING at each other. I don't think they could have heard a single song. I really just do not fucking understand this. With service fees and everything, tickets to this show were around $22 apiece. Why would you spend $22 to go to a show that you have no interest in watching and then compound your mistake by bothering everyone else around you who IS watching it? Fuck you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck you.

After a couple of songs of that, we moved further up into the crowd and that fucking frizzy-haired bitch's donkey-like braying receded, but I was treated to a fresh round of her shrieking every time I had to go to the bar, which was often. Fuck.

They left during the encore and the same frizzy bitch bumped into The Wife on her way out and kept walking. Throat cancer for her. Crippling arthritis for the other 3. That is my decree.

But it's hard to bitch too much. We had a great time.

Anyway, if you go to a music performance, don't talk through the whole thing.

Urban etiquette: Modern Air Travel

2011-11-30T08:21:00.000-08:00

Lo, we are here in Peak Travel Season. You know what the busiest travel day of the year is? WHATEVER DAY I'M FLYING. On the one hand, the availability of reasonably-priced airline tickets has made the convenience and speed of air travel available to Americans of all income classes. On the other hand, the availability of reasonably-priced airline tickets has made the convenience and speed of air travel available to Americans of all income classes. Now that I have seen (1) a guy spitting tobacco juice into a bottle, (2) mouth-breathing mall rats loudly comparing their sexual and alcoholic misadventures, and (3) people wearing what appear to be their pajamas and taking off their shoes, all within 2 rows of me, the Ship of Air Travel Decorum has long since sailed, crashed into an iceberg, and come to rest at the bottom of the Southwest Airlines Ocean.

Perhaps if we all agree to follow a few simple tips we can make the experience more palatable for all of us.

IN THE BOARDING AREA

Here is our first chance to get a look at our fellow passengers up close. Ew, that's enough. Say, could we maybe silence the feature that makes your cell phone keyboard audibly CLICK every time you type a letter? Because your CLICK CLICK CLICK is slowly driving me insane. Otherwise, go to town: this is your chance to get the ya-yas out of your system before we're all imprisoned together in a metal tube at 39,000 feet.

ON THE PLANE

No issues here! Just sit back and enjoy the complimentary gourmet meal we will be served.

Not really. What I need you to do is sit quietly in your seat.

Unless you're Miranda Kerr or Freddy Sanchez, I probably don't want to talk.

If you're in the window seat, you get one trip to the bathroom per flight, so plan accordingly. I would go in the airport right before you board and then think dry thoughts.

It's fine to carry on your luggage - fuck, since it takes a minimum of 30 minutes at SFO for them to get the luggage on the goddam carousel, you should always carry on unless you're going to Tibet or something - but if you somehow manage to sneak one of those sarcophagus-sized rolling monsters past the gate agent and then fill up an entire overhead bin with it, there is a special place in Hell for you where you keep getting bumped from your flight over and over again for all eternity.

Are you trying to have a conversation with the person across the aisle from you? Do you know why you have to YELL? Because you're 35 feet away from a 40,000 horsepower Pratt & Whitney jet engine. You are not going to win this fight. STFU and talk about it when you get to Raleigh-Durham.

Did you just laugh out loud to something you saw in "Mr. Popper's Penguins"? Now the whole world knows. That's sad.

WE HAVE ARRIVED AT OUR DESTINATION

OK! We've landed. EVERYONE JUMP INTO THE AISLE. Our latest scientific research has shown that standing in the aisle increases your chances of getting off the plane sooner by around ZERO FUCKING PERCENT. I know you're going to do it anyway, but next time, ask yourself, "Why am I standing in the aisle?"

Once you get your bag and make it down the jetway and into the airport, make sure you FREEZE AT THE DOORWAY and look around at this strange and magical land called Phoenix Sky Harbor and MAKE SURE no one else can get around you. Now you're doing it right!

We look forward to serving you again soon.

Two anecdotes that illustrate how the New South continues to resemble a Flannery O'Connor short story

2011-11-26T11:25:00.001-08:00

Anecdote one:

A few days before Thanksgiving, something broke on one of the upstairs toilets at my Dad's house and water leaked through the ceiling into the living room on the first floor. It was kind of a mess but didn't destroy Thanksgiving or anything.

Anyway, Dad's next door neighbor is a plumber and he came over and shut off the water to the offending toilet and then proceeded to tell us, in more or less an unbroken monologue, about how his house was once saved from burning down in the middle of the night because there was a tiny hole in a bathroom pipe that spewed out water and extinguished a fire that had started in the bathroom (!!!!). He opined that it would have been extra tragic if he had died in a fire because when he was 12, "both of my grandparents burned up in a fire when they lived next door." He left and later returned with a dehumidifier that he rented for Dad.

Anecdote two:

A cashier at the grocery store told my sister "I haven't seen you in a while." She said he must have her confused with someone else, because she doesn't live there. He said, "Oh no, I remember you. You were in this store eight months ago. The Lord has blessed me with the ability to never forget a face."

The Lord has also blessed him with the ability to win big by card counting in Vegas, but he didn't mention that.

(If for some reason you've never read any Flannery O'Connor, do yourself a huge favor and pick up a copy of her Complete Stories. You won't regret it.)

Today's Worst Groupon of the Day

2011-11-18T11:08:00.000-08:00

$9 for 10”x17” Personalized Letter from Santa ($19.99 Value)

Jesus Christ. Is this what it's come to?

Wait, I think I can make out the text!

Dear Insert Child's Name,

It has been a cold and snowy winter here at the North Pole. Making presents for all the children is hard, but not as hard as parenting! Keeping up with you little shits while Dad and Mom are trying to put together some semblance of a living wage in this postmodern fuckhole we call an economy can be very taxing. So when they get home from a day of eating shit to placate their demented paranoid schizophrenic boss, they don't really have time to break out the old calligraphy tools and pen a faux letter from the God replacement we call "Santa." So they hired this company to do it instead! They know how much you love insert name of store-bought crap here and insert $5 check from Grandma here, so you'll be getting that. Now they're going to have a box of wine and glaze out to NCIS so please shut up.

Also, fuck paying $19.99 for this shit. 9 bucks sounds more their speed.

In other news, making the usual Thanksgiving trip to the Red States, so updates may be severely limited, etc. You'll be fine.

Negative Ticket Pricing and You

2011-11-16T09:03:00.000-08:00

From the estimable Mission Mission (via the lesser-known but still very nice I'm sure Slob on My Blog) we learn that "$1,800 VIP tickets to Kreayshawn’s New Year’s Eve Show are sold out."

Sayeth MM:

Here’s what you could’ve gotten had you acted faster:
Luxury Limousine transportation to and from the show
Red Carpet Treatment (Sound Check attendance, Pre and Post-show Meet & Greet, VIP seating)
Personalized Engraved Limited Edition NYE Pot Leaf Dog Tag
Limited Edition Signed T-Shirt – designed personally by Kreayshawn and autographed at the show. Design to be revealed prior to performance!
Admission for (6) six to Kreayshawn’s NYE 2011 show
Bummer, dude.

Appended to this disturbing story is the following comment:

It's all well and good to go to a show if someone pays you to do it, but the more interesting question is how much you would pay not to go. This is a subject that we have discussed for years: NEGATIVE TICKET PRICING.

What is NTP, you ask? Simply put, it is the amount of money you would pay to NOT see an event. In other words, if a deranged, meth-addled Nickelback fan (I know, redundant) pulled out his rusty fish-scalin' knife and held it to your ribs and said "You ARE going with me to see Nickelback live in concert at the Sleep Train Pavilion," the NTP is the amount of money you would give up to get out of that kind of dark and sad fate. (Incidentally, my Nickelback NTP is around $80-135, depending on how much I have in the bank and with the realization I'm going to need at least $100 to get blackout drunk at the show just to make it through.)

SO, for example, the NTP for any kind of Glee-related production is about $75. Not sure how much I'll need in reserve for drinks because I don't know if they even sell alcohol at shows like that. The repetitive Eagles reunion tour tickets are always something ridiculous like $300, which exactly mirrors the NTP for the same show. In fact, the basic rule for any Formerly Huge Arena Rock Powerhouse that has reunited is to flip the actual ticket price and that's the NTP. (EXCEPTIONS: Cheap Trick and Judas Priest).

For any kind of dinner theater, it's about $30. If there's any type of audience participation, it goes way, way up. Maybe $50. For a Comedy Hypnotist, easily $100

The NTP for the Vans Warped Tour is your age multiplied by 1.5. So if you're 18, it's $27, but if you're 38, it's $57, and if you're 38 and you wouldn't pay $57 not to go to the Vans Warped Tour, you're probably a Megan's Lister.

Let's see who's coming up at the Oakland Arena!

Katy Perry, November 21! Hmmm, I bet there would be a lot of hot Moms there. Nevertheless, I'll go $29 not to see her. I also note that there are "Katy Perry VIP Packages" available. The Katy Perry NTP VIP Package includes a bottle of Wild Turkey, transportation away from the show in a repurposed SuperShuttle, and a cassette of T. Rex's "Electric Warrior."

Live 105's Not So Silent Night, December 9, featuring Jane's Addiction, Mumford & Sons, Florence & the Machine, Bush (!!!), and Young the Giant. Ugh, Huge the Puke. Wait, Bush is still around? What the fuck? $68.

Bob Seger, December 21. It would be almost worth it to count the grey ponytails, but on the flip, you would have to sit through "Turn the Page" and that truck commercial. I'll throw down $50 not to go and I'll drive to Konocti Harbor, where this show would have been held if Konocti Harbor hadn't shut down.

Oh, and Kreayshawn? Hell, I'd not go see her for $5.

What about you guys? What would you pay not to see Lady Antebellum? Yanni? Sting? Skrillex? ($76, $110, $63, and $254, respectively, for me.)

UPDATE: Right on cue, Groupon pops up with today's deal: "One Ticket to See Pink Martini at Paramount Theatre in Oakland on November 20 at 7:30 p.m." It's $22 for balcony seating. There's something sad about selling tickets for your show on Groupon. Anyway, I don't know anything about Pink Martini at all, but based on the picture, the name, and the Groupon blurb - "The sonic ensemble of Pink Martini dazzles listeners with a multilingual repertoire that spans classical, jazz, old-fashioned, and pop genres" - I'll also pay $22 not to go.

Let's talk about Walking Dead for a second

2011-11-14T09:27:00.000-08:00

I need to talk about some Important TV right now. Walking Dead was on last night, so if you haven't seen it yet and care about it, you should probably stop reading because I may unintentionally mention things that happened last night and then you'd be all "HUH!!! SPOLIERS!!! YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!!!" and get all mad and we don't want that.

Walking Dead is a show set in a post-zombie-apocalyptic future. We have learned from this show that in the zombie future, people talk about their feelings a lot more than they do now. Like, here's the basic plotline of every episode:

CHARACTER 1: Feelings feelings feelings feelings.

CHARACTER 2: Boring boring blah blah blah.

ZOMBIE ATTACK

CHARACTER 1: That was awful. Feelings feelings feelings.

Despite all that, Walking Dead continues to upset and frighten me. You know that disclaimer at the beginning? When it says "Portions of this program may be too intense for some viewers"? Or something like that? Guess what. I'M SOME VIEWERS. Remember last week, or I think it was last week, when there was that white bloaty zombie trapped in the well and they lowered Glenn down by a rope to lure the zombie up (or something like, I'm not excatly sure what the thinking was with that) and the thing they had the rope anchored to broke and Glenn fell down towards the bloaty zombie and whatnot? FUCK. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack or die.

ANYWAY. So I really the like the show but I'm getting sick of how nothing ever happens. I mean, STOP SEARCHING FOR SOFIA ALREADY AND MOVE THE FUCK ON. Jesus, we've been looking for that girl since, what, episode 1? A 10-year-old girl couldn't make it alone for a week in fucking DISNEYLAND, much less a zombie-infested wilderness. Really, the problem with the show now is that it's static. All that happens now is lot of talking about feelings and then something happens when people are out looking for Sofia. Gotta movie it along now.

And also Darryl is the best thing about the show because he's the only character with any personality beyond a steely jaw and a firm resolve and long stares into middle distance. That's why last night was so scary what with the arrow through him and then that fucking chick almost killing him! Oh, I guess she doesn't get to use the gun any more, by the way. FUCK.

Everybody's teleportin'

2011-11-10T09:12:00.000-08:00

A while back I was at bingo with some good Christians and we were talking about what superpower we would like to have. I remember invisibility being tossed around but really, what good is invisibility? So you can sneak around and spy on people? You don't even need to do that anymore, because everyone puts everything on Twitter and Foursquare anyway. Plus, who cares? Invisibility doesn't do anything.

TOTALLY UNRELATED INTERJECTED STORY: A while back, they had this little display thing at AT&T Park with pictures of Giants players and like a question-and-answer type thing. And one of the questions was something like "If you could have one wish granted, what would it be?" And Barry Zito, who is just such a tool, you can totally tell, said he's like to have a jaguar for a pet or something tool-y like that. But God bless Matt Cain. He said his dream was to "visit Australia." CAN YOU IMAGINE? All he wants to do is visit Australia! It almost made me cry. His dream is so simple and attainable that it seems sad. It's like he doesn't realize that he can totally visit Australia! He's so humble he doesn't even realize it. It's like if someone asked you what your dream was and you said "To get an Icee at Target someday."

ANYWAY, BACK TO OUR STORY.

Flying. Big whoop? So what? You can fly. The novelty of that would wear off after about a half-hour. And then it would just get so rote and boring and your friends would call you and all be like "Yo, I'm heading to North Beach right now, can you fly up there and find me a parking space and then fly down and stand in it until I get there? Thanks."

SO YOU KNOW WHAT WON? TELEPORTATION. Think about it. One second you're here. ZZZZOOOOOOTTTT. Now you're in Paris, France. Also, in our rules you have the ability to teleport anything or anyone you're touching at the time you teleport. So you can grab ahold of your girl and then ZZZZZOOOOTTTTT beach on Kauai. Or grab some bros and ZZZOOOOOTTT Wrigley Field. Teleportation! It's what's for dinner. Seriously, there is no better superpower. Think about it.

2011-11-09T11:12:00.000-08:00

Serving California and the world – since 2008

Dear Loyal Customer,

We admit it. We made a mistake.

We know you’ve come to count on 40 Going On 28’s wry blend of news, information, and humor, and you’re understandably distressed when there are no new posts for a while. You feel like you’re not getting the service you’ve paid for, and you’re right.

Although we hate to make excuses, we have to tell you that the last few weeks have been kind of a trial and whatnot. We’ve been in the process of completing a rather complex transaction we’ll tell you more about later, but suffice it to say at this point that we’ve been dealing pretty much 24/7 with a parade of idiots that make your typical preschool class look like a meeting of Phi Beta Kappa at M.I.T. Seriously, it is sort of mind-boggling that the people who are in charge of managing one of the most complicated things you’ll ever take part in can’t figure out what the fuck they’re doing. It’s frustrating!

But we know what you’re thinking. “Boo hoo, like I give a shit. WHERE’S MY CONTENT.” Fair enough. We’ll be back on track pretty soon with all the rage and bile you’ve come to expect and need.

We value your loyalty, and appreciate your patience during this trying time.

TK's Official San Francisco 2011 Election Endorsements

2011-11-04T08:29:00.000-07:00

MAYOR

MEGALON

Megalon is currently the only cockroach/beetle-like arthropod in the race. With the ability to shoot lightning from a horn-like appendage on his head and launch napalm bombs from his mouth, Megalon has the tough-on-crime solutions that San Francisco needs now. He lives in Glen Park with his wife Margie and their children Brad, 15, and Taylor, 10.

SECOND CHOICE: Ivan Doroschuk of Men Without Hats.

SHERIFF

JUDGE WILLIAM ADAMS

His campaign slogan says it all: "I will whip San Francisco into shape."

SECOND CHOICE: Seth Bullock. Or Timothy Olyphant, either way.

DISTRICT ATTORNEY

YAHOO COMMENTER

OBUMMER WANT TO RAISE MY TAXES AND GIVE MONEY TO HIS ACORN PALS....NOTT EVEN BORN IN THIS COUNTRY

SECOND CHOICE: Woman Whose Recorded Voice Announces the Stops on Muni. I love how she says "VALENSHA" for Valencia.

If you know what red orach is, you're already ahead of me

2011-11-01T08:47:00.000-07:00

It was Halloween again last night, and you know what that means! Throwing together a poorly-thought-out costume, getting knee-walking drunk, and having terrible sex with a stranger! No, not really. Well, not for us. For us, it means the Mystery Dinner at Maverick.

Longtime readers will recall that I also attended this same event in 2009 and wrote about it then, but if for some reason you haven't committed all my posts to memory for the last 2 years (and, in that case, what the fuck is wrong with you?), here's the basic idea. You get three courses, each with wine pairings. You have to guess as many components of each course as you can. The person who gets the most right at each table wins a bottle of wine. There are three separate dinners, so for a 4-top (like us last night), only 2 people will have the same dinner.

ANYWAY. Sounds easy, right? WRONG.

The first course was clearly some kind of pâté thing. There was some yellowish sauce and little bits of some other stuff. I guessed goose liver pate, candied pineapple, and pancetta. HA HA HA WAS I EVER WRONG. It was foie gras with persimmon, chestnut, tobacco (!!!), oats, and marigolds. Tobacco! WHAT THE FUCK.

It came with some kind of very sweet wine. I guessed muscat. It was Pacherenc Du Vic Bilh. OH COME ON GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK.

The second course had some kind of little disk in the middle and other vegetable-y stuff scattered around it. I thought it was maybe a duck terrine. It tasted vaguely duck-y. WRONG AGAIN. It was "Red Orach Sformato." I know what "red" means, but I don't know what any of that other stuff is. As it turns out, "red orach," "also called Red Orach, Mountain Spinach, or French Spinach, is an annual leaf vegetable with a salty, spinach-like taste." That's right, I ate a vegetarian entree and thought it was duck terrine. FUCKING GENIUS.

The wine was a pinot noir. I guessed cabernet sauvignon. What can I say, it tasted like a cab.

Dessert course. Some kind of pudding thing, a cookie, and some nuts. I guessed pomegranate tapioca. It did have pomegranate seeds in it, but it was pistachio pudding. The wine was served in a little dessert wine glass JUST TO THROW YOU OFF because it was fucking CHARDONNAY. At this point, I had given up and just written down "I don't know." Sad.

My takeaway from this is that red orach sformato is a vegetarian dish you could serve to carnivores and get away with. And that it's a mind fuck to serve chardonnay in a little dessert wine glass. Needless to say, I didn't win.

Oh and then I got woken up at 1:30 this morning by some guy in the building that faces our bedroom window who was out on his back stair YELLING INTO HIS CELL PHONE IN SOME UNIDENTIFIABLE LANGUAGE that must be some Eastern European thing because he looks like a Russian gangster and it sounds like this:

"BIZZBIZZ BIZZ CHEH CHEH BIZZ BIZZ HEH HEH BIZZ BIZZ."

And it was weird because it wasn't inflected at all. Every word had the same stress, I mean. Weird. Anyway, I wanted to go out there and tell the guy to shut the fuck up but (A) that would require getting out of bed and putting clothes on and (B) I didn't especially want Sergei to go all Eastern Promises on me, so I let him finish up his beheading threat/arms sale/extortion conference call in peace.

I was going to write a whole post about people should just be more fucking considerate of each other but now I'm tired of talking about this.

What every mayor of a city with an Occupy encampment wishes they could say when addressing the crowd

2011-10-28T08:55:00.000-07:00

Attention hippies:

Having fun? Back in my day, when we would pitch tents and smoke grass and wallow in our own feces, we called it "camping," not "protesting," but to each his own, I guess. Look, I get what you're trying to do here. I've often said publicly that I respect everyone's First Amendment rights, but that's total BS and we all know it. Besides, you're having a fucking ongoing sleepover in one of my parks and that has about as much to do with free speech as David Hasselhoff has to do with acting. But I'm down with economic reform as long as it doesn't reform me out of my chance to run for Senator and get the fuck out of this shithole and make some real Monsanto lobbyist money in DC.

If I had my way, I'd send in the fucking cops to bust your heads up and send you back to that Maoist paradise you call a university, but that would look shitty on TV and God forbid we fuck up another Iraq vet. My heart goes out to you, Jean Quan. Christ, what a fucking mess you've got there.

Anyway, I'm more or less sure that you're going to eventually get bored of this shit and want to get back to your gravity bong and Adult Swim, so I'm pretty much going to wait this out. It's going to start getting into the 30's at night soon and let's be straight with each other, you're not exactly the Greatest Generation. Intolerable hardship for you guys is when your iPhone drops a signal. Not really hunkering down in a snow cave in the Black Forest and praying you don't get your eye shot out by a Nazi sniper, is it?

So have your fun and take lots of pictures - like I have to tell you guys that! - to post on your Twitters and blogs and Facebook and whatever. As long as you don't start looting Foot Lockers and don't hassle tourists we can stay out of each other's way until you get bored and go home. So I'll be thinking about you slurping up bowls of that fucking vegan stew or whatever Earth Mother over there is cooking up while I'm enjoying an ice-cold martini and getting blown by the Deputy Chief of Staff tonight.

Suck it, motherfuckers!

Today's Worst Groupon of the Day

2011-10-27T09:56:00.000-07:00

You knew this was eventually coming:

$97 for Intimate or Glamour Photo-Shoot Package with Print and Photo CD ($350 Value)

Glamour photography! Nothing says 1986 mall shop more than glamour photography. You know what the problem with glamour photography is? It works backwards. It's the only form of photography that can make otherwise totally attractive people look terrible.

See, they say you'll look like this:

But you're actually going to look like this:

Oh, wait, no you're not! What the fuck do you mean, "Women only"? THAT'S FUCKING SEXIST. THANKS A LOT, GROUPON. NOW MY DREAM OF BEING GLAMOUR PHOTOGRAPHED HAS DIED.

Is Groupon still a viable concern? I heard they fucked up their IPO real bad. The very last Groupon will be for Groupon itself and there will only be one for sale. WHOA DUDE THAT IS SO FUCKING META.

In conclusion, glamour photography is funny.

The Herman Cain campaign is turning into performance art, and we should love that

2011-10-25T08:42:00.000-07:00

For a while there, I wasn't sure what Herman Cain was up to. I mean, he wasn't REALLY trying to win the Republican nomination for president, right? Oh, wait, maybe he is! He's actually leading! Then last week he fucked up and said what he really thought about abortion:

Appearing on CNN’s Piers Morgan show Wednesday night, Cain said that while he personally believes that life begins at conception, and is against abortion in all circumstances, “it ultimately gets down to a choice that that family or that mother has to make,” in cases of rape or incest.

“It gets down to that family. And whatever they decide, they decide. I shouldn’t try to tell them what decision to make for such a sensitive decision,” Cain said.

Morgan then pressed Cain on the issue, asking if as president, his views would be a “directive.”

"I can have an opinion on an issue without it being a directive on the nation,” he said. “The government shouldn’t be trying to tell people everything to do, especially when it comes to a social decision that they need to make.”

Uh-oh. Cain essentially said it's up to the family to make private health-care and reproductive decisions for themselves. This is, of course , anathema to Big-Government Conservatives who want to control what people do with their bodies. So now Cain is backtracking and saying abortion should always be illegal in all circumstances.

But whatever, that's not why I'm here. I'm here because the Cain campaign just released some kind of video that is so deeply bizarre that now I think the whole campaign is performance art. Check this shit out:

I love it! The shaky camera! The clearly uncomfortable, sallow-faced chief of staff! THE BIG DRAG ON THE CIGARETTE AT THE END. This video is such a clear FUCK YOU to the entire political establishment that it is obviously not meant to be taken seriously.

Starting to love this guy. WHAT WILL HE DO NEXT!

A San Francisco liberal visits the Pima Air & Space Museum

2011-10-21T10:39:00.000-07:00

Is it possible to be a liberal pacifist and still think planes - even warplanes that rain death and destruction on unsuspecting innocents - are cool? Yes. Yes it is.

When we were visiting my Mom in Arizona, I prevailed upon her to go to the Pima Air & Space Museum in Tucson. It was unbelievably cool if you like planes, like I do.

My Dad was a pilot, so I come by it naturally. I grew up in the copilot seat as he flew us around. When I was born, he was making mad cash flying DC-3s between Bangkok and Saigon for Continental Airlines. Before that, he flew for the Army. Yes, the Army had planes too. This is the kind of plane he flew.

Moms didn't care for the museum much. She got focused on the death & destruction aspect and finally took a seat by the B-24 Liberator and let us wander around. We went to the next hangar and checked out the B-29 Superfortress, the bomber that dropped the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Not these actual planes, but the same model.

Outside, they have acres and acres of decommissioned military aircraft. It was actually pretty incredible. Even The Wife loved it. Not so much Mom.

I guess all of us in San Francisco have the same internal debate every year when the Blue Angels appear during Fleet Week and fly over SF, terrifying our pets and simultaneously annoying and impressing us. On the one hand, yes, it's an obscene display of militarism and our horrifying involvement in misguided foreign wars. On the other hand, it's pretty FUCKING AMAZING. As the son of a military pilot, who grew up loving aviation, and then grew into a single-payer-healthcare-wanting, bring-on-the-new-New-Deal bleeding heart liberal, I'm used to seeing it and LOVING it and feeling like "Ugh, this is wrong." It's possible to have both ideas in one's mind simultaneously.

Hard to argue with the World War II planes, right? I mean, we can't argue that stopping Hitler was a good thing, right? Plus, the F-4 Corsair is maybe my favorite plane ever. I love its clean lines. Fuck, I sound like I'm reviewing it for Dwell magazine or something.

Anyway, pretty cool. Have a good weekend.

Deadpool UPDATE!

2011-10-20T08:34:00.000-07:00

Looks like Gaddafi's dead! Wanna see a gross picture? Guess I got my Halloween costume!

Anyway, seems like a good time to update the Deadpool. Cast your thoughts back to January 7, 2011, when I first posted this year's Deadpool. Let's see how our contestants are doing.

TK had Zsa Zsa Gabor, Elizabeth Taylor, Tony Bennett, Willie Mays, and Jerry Stiller. I haven't checked on Zsa Zsa lately. Still alive? I think she's still alive. So all I got is Liz. I feel bad for picking Willie Mays, but this is strictly business, nothing personal, Say Hey. 21 points.

(To recap, to determine your points, subtract the person's age at death from 100. That way, you get fewer points for picking the Extremely Old/Close to Death. If you pick over 100, you lose points. That's on you. Blame the playa, not the game.)

The Wife had Roger Ebert, Hal Holbrook, Queen Elizabeth, Tara Reid, and Liza Minelli. I just checked and Hal's still alive, so no luck here. 86 years old and still doing the Mark Twain schtick! We should all be so lucky! 0 points.

The guest anonymously known as Sigmund had Michael Douglas, Dick Clark, Betty White, Margaret Thatcher, and Tracy Morgan. Unless you can die of getting laid too much, Michael Douglas is gonna be fine! HAR HAR HAR. 0 points.

The Sister had Lindsay Lohan, John Cougar Mellencamp, and Fidel Castro. She tried to sneak in later and add Aretha Franklin. I DON'T THINK SO BITCH. Anyway, lotta good it did her. She's still got an outside shot with Castro, I guess. 0 points.

Stoney selected Bret Michaels, Natalie Portman, Jimmy Carter, and David Crosby. I kind of like each one of these picks for different reasons, but I hate to inform Stoney that it's not 1736 and so the chances of Natalie dying in childbirth were slim. 0 points.

Finally, we have Natasha. Fucking Natasha picked: Hugh Hefner, Gaddafi, Kim Jong-Il, Amy Winehouse, and Dick Cheney. Winehouse, obviously, was a points bonanza, and Gaddafi wasn't exactly ancient either. Natasha is fucking walking away with this. DON'T LET NATASHA GET CLOSE TO YOU, FOR THE STENCH OF DEATH IS HEAVY ON THIS ONE. Also, WATCH THE FUCK OUT, KIM JONG-IL. I mean, if you're even still alive. 104 points!!!!!!

So, in other words, even if Zsa Zsa, Tony Bennett, Willie Mays, and Jerry Stiller all get ahold of some bad mussels at a charity auction in Lake Havasu, I STILL CAN'T FUCKING WIN. I need to remember to pick some young people next year.

Hmmmmmmm.

Watch your back, pretty boy.

Shut up, Rainn Wilson

2011-10-18T13:01:00.001-07:00

Rainn Wilson, I hope this is a joke:

Just what every nascent populist movement needs! A wealthy Hollywood actor telling them who can and can't be included on the basis of their personal wealth!

Based on 30 seconds of research, I couldn't determine how much Rainn makes per episode of "The Office," but Steve Carrell apparently made $297,000 per ep, so I think it's safe to say that Rainn is in six figures for a week's work. Not bad! Certainly not "trust fund" money, whatever the fuck that means. I guess there's a New Money exception to the No-Rich-People-at-the-Protest-Rule that Rainn is apparently espousing.

I think the Occupy movement is interesting, if a little unfocused, but anything that calls attention to the yawning income disparities in this country is worthwhile. I don't understand, though, why you shouldn't be allowed to participate if you have a "trust fund." Let's assume that Rainn is using "trust fund" as shorthand for "independently wealthy." Wouldn't you want to see some of those people on your side? They're the people who can actually influence politics. Wouldn't that be a great group to have aligned with you?

So maybe he's joking.

I have some Fun Vacation Snaps to share with you, but I left my camera in the rental and they're UPS Ground-ing to me, so it'll be a few days. Now trying desperately to remember if there are any incriminating pictures on that camera.

TK looks at the mayor's race

2011-10-12T12:17:00.001-07:00

Guess what? There's a mayoral race on here in SF. Are you one of the 40% of San Franciscans who thinks Gavin Newsom's still mayor? SUCKS TO BE YOU. He's not. He's the Emperor of Cheeseburgers or something, I forget.

So let's clear some shit up.

FACTS ABOUT SAN FRANCISCO MAYORAL CANDIDATES

- There are 413 people running for mayor of San Francisco. One of them is named Ed Lee and is the current mayor. He got the job when Gavin Newsom went to the Big Rock Candy Mountain because his office was next to Gavin Newsom's and he could pull his phone into that office and they wouldn't have to reprogram it.

- 62 percent of the people running are schizophrenic, sociopathic, or mildly retarded. Under federal law, we are not allowed to disclose which are which.

- One of the candidates is John Avalos. I have no idea what any of his positions are, but I love love love this picture from his website:

Here we see Candidate Avalos discussing the finer points of brightly colored murals with a narcoleptic who has unexpectedly drifted off during his monologue.

Here are some basic rules for voting:

1. Vote for whichever candidate you know personally first
2. If, for some odd reason, you don't know any of the candidates personally, vote for Wilma Pang, because it's fun to say "Wilma Pang."
3. If you don't like saying Wilma Pang, what's wrong with you? Also, then vote for Phil Ting, so the SF Bay Guardian can catch him doing something illegal and then use the headline WHAT A PHIL-THY TING.
4. If you're a narcoleptic, vote for John Avalos because he's on the side of the narcoleptic (see above)
5. You're not going to vote anyway. Who are we kidding?

Wilma Pang. Wilma Pang.

Off to Arizona tomorrow. May or may not be posting from there. We'll be in touch. I gotta let you go now. Yes. Yes. I gotta go. Yeah, we'll talk soon. OK. OK. Bye.

More fun with Mom

2011-10-11T12:36:00.000-07:00

Me and The Wife are going to Arizona to visit Mom on Thursday. Pray for us. In advance of our visit, I received an email with the following information:

1. She will be making breakfast for us on Friday morning. Apparently, I have not eaten a meal she has prepared "in 30 years." Pretty sure this can't be true, but that's her apparent belief. True, I eat at her place sparingly, but that's only because she favors food far past the expiration date. That seems to be a thing with Old People.

2. I am to leave some room in my suitcase so I can "carry back some kitchen utensils" she picked up for my sister (who's getting a new place) at garage sales in and around her Arizona retirement community. That's right, I am to leave room in my carry-on to schlep back Corningware and used spatulas. I don't think so.

Mom's always on the go. For her, a family visit isn't complete unless the day is chock-full of activities. Sitting around and talking is her idea of hell. Thus, she asked me to suggest some activities we could do. I suggested the Pima Air & Space Museum, just to see how that would go over. That didn't go over very well. I haven't been asked to make any other suggestions since then.

We're staying at a resort in this oldster community. Know how you can tell it's an oldster community? The bar & grill in the hotel closes at 8.

This Week in San Francisco in Verse

2011-10-07T09:46:00.000-07:00

Look! It's Bevan Dufty riding Muni
With his daughter Sidney
If he can fix the fucking trains
I'll give him my left kidney

Steve Jobs passed on; I guess you'd say
His work benefitted us all
Another way to put it would be
AT&T dropped his call

The mayor's race is heating up
Ed Lee is getting attacked
I wouldn't worry about it though
He's pretty heavily Rose Pak'd

Occupy SF took to the streets
To stir up some civil strife
I doubt they're going to reform Wall Street
By yelling at my wife

The Blue Angels are here for their yearly flight
Some people think it's tacky
If the sound of fighters bothers you
Be glad you're not Iraqi

Hank and the First Amendment: A Primer

2011-10-06T08:55:00.000-07:00

To no one's great surprise, ESPN and Hank Williams have parted ways after he compared Obama and Boehner playing golf to Hitler and Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu playing golf. Just as well; we've been subjected to that retarded "Are you ready for some football" song for 20 FUCKING YEARS. About damn time to shake things up.

Anyway, Hank immediately played the Victim Card:

"After reading hundreds of e-mails, I have made MY decision," he wrote in a statement on his website. "By pulling my opening Oct 3rd, You (ESPN) stepped on the Toes of The First Amendment Freedom of Speech, so therefore Me, My Song, and All My Rowdy Friends are OUT OF HERE. It's been a great run."

No.

Here's what the First Amendment actually says:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

First phrase: CONGRESS shall make no law. Not ESPN shall make no law. The First Amendment is designed to keep the GOVERNMENT from telling you what you can and can't say, not ESPN or any other basic cable network. Or your employer. Or your Mom. Or any other non-governmental body. Hank Williams Jr. and ESPN had a mutually beneficial business relationship. When ESPN decided that it would no longer be beneficial, they cancelled it. I have no idea what kind of contract ESPN and Bocephus had, but I'm sure it didn't contain a provision saying that "ESPN will not terminate its relationship with Williams Jr. because of any retarded thing he says in public." But there's not First Amendment involvement here at all.

(Of course, over the years, courts have added a number of exceptions to the seemingly plain "Congress shall make no law . . . abridging the freedom of speech." It's illegal to threaten to kill someone, for example, even though that's a law abridging the freedom of speech. But that's neither here nor there.)

Oh, one more thing: I fully support Hank's right to say whatever the fucks he wants. If he wants to say Obama faked the moon landing and is secretly a Chinese spy, go for it. I'm just saying that ESPN firing him has nothing to do with the First Amendment, despite what he says in his oddly capitalized email.

You have a beautiful egg

2011-10-03T13:25:00.000-07:00

Here, read this Slate story "Did Human Pregnancy Evolve Because of an Infection?". You're not gonna read it, so I'll tell you what it's about:

HOW COME PEOPLE HAVE LIVE BABIES AND DON'T LAY MOTHERFUCKING EGGS.

Holy shit. MIND BLOWN. Can you fucking IMAGINE if people laid eggs? So, you'd like have labor and birth after a few months of being pregnant and then PLOP, "OK!! Here's your egg!" and then you'd leave the hospital with a pamphlet called "Caring for Your Egg" and it would have stuff like "It's best to wrap your egg in an electric blanket at night, especially if you live in a cold climate." No, even better, people would sell EGG COZIES on Etsy and you could get one with your baby's name on it.

For some reason, I'm picturing them about a foot-and-half tall and maybe 15, 20 pounds. Don't ask me about how that gets out, biologically. Gross.

There would totally be anti-abortion groups called, like, Don't Crack That Egg and Americans for Egg Integrity (AEI). And a whole underground of people who would like dispose of your egg if you didn't want it. There would, naturally, be a snuff film black market underground of people who ate human eggs and said they were "delicious, if a little gamey."

Custom shell-painting. Nuf said.

People would bitch about mothers who carried their eggs with them everywhere and they gave them an extra seat at the movie theater because they just couldn't stand to be away from their egg for a second. They'd be called "Penguin Parents" because they never leave their eggs alone. Other parents are happy to sometimes leave their eggs at the Egg Watchery at the mall while they go shop for hatching supplies, but not Penguin Parents.

Southwest, however, makes you buy an extra seat on the plane for your egg.

Don't even get me started on the people who hatch at home. SO UNSAFE.

Monday: Random

2011-10-03T08:44:00.001-07:00

- I saw a completely naked guy on a bicycle on the corner of Church and Market yesterday. Is that a thing now? Naked bicycling? There wasn't even a group, just him. Whatever. Everyone is an attention whore in their own way. Walk around with a parrot on your shoulder? Attention whore. Have a face full of metal? Attention whore. BART protester? Attention whore. Naked bicyclist? You guessed it.

- Here's a completely fake rant about Hardly Strictly Bluegrass:

Oh great! Where else can 600,000 white people crawl all over each other and talk through a performance by the Fetal Alcohol Syndrome Band singing songs about a life of hardship and deprivation that the crowd pretends to embrace but which is as foreign to them as a moon rock, since "deprivation" to this crowd is a full parking lot at Trader Joe's? Yes, I know you spread out your blanket at 11 am to save you 8 square feet of space but I don't see any Deed from the City and County of SF tranferring title of this muddy patch of GG Park to you and unless you've developed the first working force field, people are going to walk over your blanket and you're going to have to get the fuck over it.

j/k. I didn't even go this year because I don't like crowds and it's always a nightmare getting anywhere afterwards. But I honestly think it's a very nice event and I've always enjoyed it in the past. But: Too Crowded.

[Also, professional musician? Attention whore.]

- I know it's Election Season again when fucking campaign workers start knocking on my door. (PARENTHETICAL: Does this happen to everyone, or am I just especially afflicted?) One day last time around, we had something like 8 different people come to the door in one day. I've gotta put the "No Campaign Workers" sign back on the door. This time it was 11 am on Sunday morning. I'm sorry, but that is fucking bullshit. You do not knock on someone's door before noon on Sunday. (Well, you should never knock on someone's door, but ESPECIALLY not before noon on Sunday.) So, David Chiu, guess who's not voting for you now?

When they knocked on the door, my dog naturally went apeshit like he do and I yelled through the door "WHO IS IT" and I heard someone say "David Chiu for Mayor" and I said "IT'S NOT A GOOD TIME" and now I wish I had said "YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I OPEN THE DOOR AND LET THIS DOG OUT."

Meanwhile, in Vallejo....

2011-09-30T12:11:00.000-07:00

(via the Times-Herald)

Woman brandishes gun during Vallejo bar melee

A man got beaten up and a woman brandished a shotgun during a melee in the Blue Rock Inn bar parking lot early Thursday, police said.
A 22-year-old Vallejo resident told officers he was outside the bar, in the 200 block of Springs Road, smoking a cigarette when a suspect punched him in the nose and grabbed his necklace, Sgt. Herman Robinson said.
Two other suspects struck the victim from behind, and the victim's female cousin tried to help him, Robinson said. A witness said the three suspects fled in a silver Hyundai Access and drove south on Oakwood Avenue.
Witnesses said a woman, described as a 50-year-old with long blond hair, brandished a gun at the victim while standing next to a small car, Robinson said. No arrests were made.

Not sure why, but I was fascinated by this story. Here we have a guy just trying to enjoy a smoke outside the Blue Rock Inn when he gets punched in the nose! And somebody tries to steal his necklace! Actually, judging from the looks of the Blue Rock Inn, I can't say I'm 100% surprised by this battery/attempted larceny incident.

I have to say, I don't see the Blue Rock Inn as a destination for New Bar Night any time soon. Despite its 2 cheerful Yelp reviews! Ricardo A. opines thusly:

this was my last bar on my 21st b-day and it was really nice and calm no beer from the tap but overall really comfortable and they also let you smoke in here the bartender was really nice. i had spilled my beer ( lol i as kinda drunk by the time i got here) and she was very kind and cleaned it up i did tip her ok lol they only have one pool table and there is a much older crowd in here but overall good spot to hang out if u wanna smoke.

Wait a minute. If they let you smoke in there, what was 22-year-old Vallejo resident doing in the parking lot? Hmmm, maybe there's more to this story.

ANYWAY. We're getting off-track. This necklace must be made out of pure diamonds or something because it took a concerted effort by three people to get it. And one of them, who we'll call "Wanda" because she seems like a Wanda, was a 50-year-old woman with long blonde hair toting a MOTHERFUCKING SHOTGUN. Damn, Wanda!

Google Image Search result for "50-year-old woman." Is this our suspect? PERHAPS!

I'm picturing Wanda with a Benson & Hedges 120 dangling from her lips, telling her younger crime partners to "kiss her ass" if they disagree with her. And yet Wanda can be sweet as hell. She calls you "darlin'" and totally fed that homeless Mom and her kids for free one night at the diner where she waits tables four nights a week.

The story doesn't say whether Wanda et al. got away with the necklace. Anyway, next time you're in Vallejo, keep your eyes peeled for a 50-year-old woman with long blonde hair driving a Hyundai Access. Your necklace: she wants it.

Be safe out there this weekend, kids.

This Week in San Francisco in Verse

2011-09-29T08:50:00.000-07:00

Haight and Fillmore, burning bright!
The whole damn building's done for
Haighters, no condoms for you tonight
Walgreens is no more

Lee and Yee and Avalos
Herrera and some scrubs
We got more mayoral candidates
Than fully licensed pot clubs

Anonymous done given up
BART protests served no use
Now they can go on back
To hassling Tom Cruise

Giants took an early fall
The playoffs are no more
You could give them a tub of rohypnol
And they still couldn't score

Obama came to the peninsula
To get some cash from plutocrats
I don't care who the Repubs nominate
I just wish there was a Democrat

OMG! Heat wave! Everybody freak!
90 degrees and clear!
I know it seems unique as fuck
But it happens every year

Trouble

2011-09-26T08:34:00.001-07:00

Apropos of nothing, I was thinking about bar fights the other day.

Maybe I'm just lucky, but I've managed to mostly avoid bar fights (or fights in general) during my many dissolute years of bar-going. Honestly, that shit is stupid and I fail to understand why someone looking at your girl would provoke a violent outrage, but I guess some assholes just want to get into fights and need an excuse.

I can only think of a handful of times when I've even been close to getting in a fight, like:

- A couple of weeks after I made the catastrophically bad decision to move to Santa Cruz, one of the Worst Places on Earth, I was playing pool in this dive called the 1007 Club. I hadn't noticed that more people had come in and someone had written his name on the chalkboard to play next game. I started to put quarters in and the guy totally got in my face and was screaming about how he was next and I was like "Fine, whatever, you're next." Looking back now, I realize that he was probably tweaked out of his fucking gourd on meth, like 90% of everyone between the ages of 19 and 29 in that Godforsaken shithole.

- One weekend afternoon I was hanging out at the Columbus Cafe with my ex-wife and drinking and playing the jukebox and shit and this little angry Scotsman started hitting on her right in front of me. He offered to buy her a drink and I said "It's cool, I've got her drinks" and he FUCKING FLIPPED OUT and told me to come outside to settle this and I was like "No, I think I'll pass" and then the bartender kicked him out. The bartender told us the guy works on a ship and comes in whenever they dock in SF and gets into fights.

(Knowing what I know now, I should have let him buy her the drink, then jumped up and pointed and said "A-HA!!! NOW SHE'S YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM!!!" and run out.)

Other times I've been on the periphery of big fights that have started and spilled out into the street. Whatever, that shit is boring.

UPDATE: Humorously, between the time when I first wrote this and now, when I'm about to post it, I have learned that Famous Teen Mom Bristol Palin almost got herself into a bar fight recently:

Bristol Palin was riding the mechanical bull at a Hollywood bar in front of a throng of paparazzi and reality TV cameras, when a rude drunk yelled, "Your mother's a whore!" Bristol marched up to the man, jutted out her new chin, and got into a heated confrontation:

Man: She [your mother] is evil.
Bristol: You want her dead?
Man: You know what, if there is a hell, and I don't think there is one, she will be there.
Bristol: OK, why is that?
Man: She's evil. She's evil.
Bristol: Is it because you're a homosexual?
Man: Pretty much!
Bristol: And that's why you hate her?
Man: And why do you say I'm a homosexual?
Bristol: Because I can tell you are.

On the way out she gets into a fight with another pair of angry drunks, including one who yells, "White trash Wasilla!" and "You fucking bitch!" as Bristol and friends storm out of the bar.

"Is it because you're a homosexual"? Who the fuck talks like that? Although, I gotta say, it's probably a drag when you're out for your usual night on the town being followed by a camera crew and wearing an ugly sweatshirt that says "Empowered" on the front with a Lightning Bolt Cross and some stranger says "Your mother's evil." I guess that would suck.

(This all happened at Saddle Ranch, right? That place blows.)

A true story of injustice averted. And a pop-punk cover of a Joni Mitchell song.

2011-09-23T08:45:00.000-07:00

It's Friday! Thank God. Here's the Parasites' cover of Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now":

How I got here today: Go to bagel store. Order sesame bagel toasted with butter. Lady at counter asks if I want butter "on both sides." (Odd, but whatever.) VOILA. Parasites' cover of "Both Sides Now" pops into my head.

But that's not what we're here to talk about today. Remember that whack-ass chick that's renting the garage next to my house? The one who's stealing the parking spaces? Who wanted to use our wireless network? SHE'S UP TO NO GOOD AGAIN.

First, a little backstory. As part of this bitch's quest to monopolize the parking spaces in front of our house, she parks her fucking beat-up hooptie scooter in one of the spaces to occupy it so then she can pull her car into the other half of the space and half in front of her fucking garage. I'm not explaining this right but you get the idea. Basically, her janky scooter is always always always parked in the same space in front of our house. She only moves it for street cleaning. It's basically a traffic cone with a basket.

So yesterday I'm coming home from my workstation and there's a Lexus SUV (annoying, I know, but that's another story) parked in front of the scooter WITH A NOTE ON THE WINDSHIELD. Oh yay. I love a good bitchy note. So I read it and basically it's Bitchy McBitchface accusing the Lexus of knocking over her piece of shit scooter! And she says "I've already reported this to my insurance company"! So I roll my eyes and go inside.

Where I talk to my sister (who is temporarily staying with us after breaking up w/ her bf, but that's a whole other story) who's just as nosy as I am and constantly watches the Outdoor Activity like I do and SHE SAW THE WHOLE THING GO DOWN. And guess what? LEXUS SUV HAS BEEN FALSELY ACCUSED. Sister says that Lexus parked and like an hour later the scooter topples over TOWARDS THE LEXUS and then McBitchface comes out and huffs around and leaves her Poison Pen Letter.

(I should explain that the windows of our living room are DIRECTLY ABOVE these parking spaces and if you're in the living room you basically see and hear everything that happens out there. It's not like she's sitting in the window spying on the neighborhood. Not that she wouldn't do that, but I don't think she was.)

WAIT IT GETS BETTER. As she is recounting this tale of False Accusation to me, LEXUS SUV OWNER WALKS UP AND READS THE NOTE AND STARTS INSPECTING THE SCENE OUTSIDE. She looks exactly like what you imagine when you hear "Lexus SUV owner." ANYWAY, I shove my sister out the door to right this injustice and volunteer to be a witness because anything that will fuck McBitchface is good with me. And the first thing Lexus says is "I DIDN'T HIT YOUR SCOOTER!!!!!!" and my sister is like "Chill, lady, not my scooter," and tells her the whole story and everything. JUSTICE WILL BE SERVED BITCH.

Wow, this a boring story. I just realized that. Sorry.

Exploring the Giants' playoff chances

2011-09-19T08:51:00.000-07:00

With 9 games left to play,the Giants are 5 games behind the NL West-leading Diamondbacks and 4 games behind the Braves in the Wild Card, tied with the Cardinals. Although it looks somewhat bleak - especially given how well the D-Backs have been playing, all hope is not lost. It is still possible for the club to qualify for the postseason tournament. Let's look at some possible ways.

1. Giants sweep D-backs in AZ, win 2 vs Colorado, beat LA once; meanwhile, D-backs lose once to Pirates and twice to LA.

Doesn't look extremely likely at this point. The D-backs have been playing pretty well and both the Pirates and Dodgers are crappy. Unlikely.

2. Giants win 5 of last 9 games; Braves get swept by Phillies, lose once to Nationals, once to Marlins.

Possible! Unless the Phillies are just phoning it in at this point and waiting around for the playoffs.

3. D-backs team plane crashes attempting difficult maneuver at air show. Giants become NL West leader and win division easily.

Hard to say without knowing a littler more about the D-backs team charter pilot. A reckless iconoclast with a score to settle, or a go-along-to-get-along corporate drone? Check the glint in his/her eye next time they're boarding.

4. D-backs ownership group replaces players with illegal immigrants to increase profits. Since enforcement of tough Arizona immigration law is currently barred by injunction, no one notices.

Lyle Overbay heard darkly muttering about how they're "stealing our jobs;" dismissed as a right-wing crank; goes on a shooting spree. Meanwhile, Immigrant Diamondbacks put up heroic effort by lose NL West by one game when someone in stands shouts "La Migra!" on last day of season.

5. Larry Ellison purchases Major League Baseball; awards NL West to Giants after renaming them the "Oracle Larry Ellisons;" misplaces Diamondbacks and can't find them.

"They were right here. I swear to God. Honey, have you seen the Arizona Diamondbacks? No, Diamondbacks. Yeah, like the snake. I coulda sworn I set them down in San Diego and now I can't find them anywhere. No, they're not on my head. Yes, I looked in the glove compartment."

The Muffaletta Report

2011-09-16T12:45:00.000-07:00

[ED. NOTE: Today's post is also featured on San Francisco Treats, which is a much nicer blog than what I have going on here. But they asked me to write something and so I did.]

[ED. NOTE PART TWO: It may not be posted there yet, but I'm sure it will be soon.]

Food trucks!!! They’re the black chunky glasses of mid to late 2011! If you don’t own one, you want to. If you don’t eat at one, you’re hopelessly out of touch. FOOD TRUCKS FOOD TRUCKS FOOD TRUCKS. In 10 years, people are going to be like “What was up with the fascination with eating bacon and waffle things on Acme artisanal bread from an idling vehicle in a parking lot? SO WEIRD. Also, I need the hoverboard tonight. I’m going to a Re-Elect Ashton Kutcher for President rally at the oxygen farm.”

NEVERTHELESS, I am a slave to fashion and thus a dedicated food truck aficiondo, by which I mean there are 4 or 5 that appear within 3 blocks of my office every Friday and now it’s like A Thing with me and my coworkers to go.

Today’s lineup at Off the Grid – Civic Center was the usual lineup:

Ebbett’s Good to Go – Fancy-shmacy sandwiches
Curry Up Now – Indian, duh. BLAZINGLY PAINFULLY HOT Indian, I should say
Liba Falafel – What do you think?
HapaSF – “Modern organic Filipino cuisine,” according to the website. I’ve never gone to this one so I’ll take their word for it
Crème Brulee Cart – Man, you guys are phoning it in with the names. It’s supposed to be a funny name! How about “Crème Bru-WAY Cart!!!” or “Crème OKAY Cart!!” “Crème Lisa Bonet Cart!!!”??? THINK ABOUT IT AND GET BACK TO ME.

But enough about me. Let’s talk about food. I wasn’t sure what I was going to get today. Then I was advised that Ebbett’s had a muffaletta today. MUFFALETTA. In case you don’t know and thus by definition have been living an empty and sad husk of a life, a muffaletta is a New Orleans-birthed sandwich that usually features ham of some kind, mortadella, salami, provolone and maybe mozzarella too. Now, all that sounds good, but then it’s topped with olive tapenade, which is the money shot of a muffaletta. Olive tapenade is the Stunt Casting of sandwiches. It makes the muffaletta.

So I go down there and order the muffaletta. The girl who makes the sandwiches says “I made you an extra big one” because that’s the effect I have on women and also I was wearing my Noted Local Blogger smock. Then I ate it.

It was good. The bread was nice and soft, almost focaccia-like, or maybe it was focaccia, which, strictly speaking, isn’t what a muffaletta is supposed to be on but we’ll let it slide. It had the appropriate meats and cheeses. And the olive tapenade was solid.

So, good sandwich! I think it was 9 bucks. Don’t think that Food Truck food is extra-cheap or anything because it isn’t. It actually tends to be pretty steep. But that’s cool. It’s worth it.

SO, IN SUMMATION:

Ebbett’s Good to Go Muffaletta: It’s Like Rain on Your Wedding Day. No, wait, that’s bad.

Ebbett’s Good to Go Muffaletta: Did You Know That the Girl From the College in Your PJs Ad Was Don Draper’s Whore Mother on Mad Men? No, wait, that’s just too weird. Here we go:

Ebbett’s Good to Go Muffaletta: If Sandwiches Were Wu-Tang, It Would Be GZA. There.

This is a non-exclusive list of TV shows I've never seen a single episode of

2011-09-14T14:48:00.001-07:00

1. My So-Called Life

I know it's like an iconic show and all, but I was a guy in his 20's when it was on. I mean, come on, that would be kinda weird if I watched it. It would still be kinda weird. Claire Danes was super hot in Igby Goes Down, though.

2. Bones

Come on. I think I saw 5 or 6 minutes once and I was like "What the fuck?"

3. The Beverly Hillbillies

Even when I was like 6 years old I could tell this was dumber than a box of rocks and not funny at all.

4. Battlestar Galactica

The remake, not the original. I was a kid when the original was on and I think I was pretty into it. It was pretty much straight-up scif-fi. The remake is all Very Serious Allegory, right?

5. Criminal Minds

I don't even know what this is supposed to be about. I was just looking at a list of top rated TV shows and this was on it and I was like "What's that?"

6. Saved by the Bell

I don't think I even knew this show existed until it started seeping into the cultural group consciousness (there's a word for that, right? Something Jungian? I forget) and it was on during a time when I didn't watch much TV and I probably wouldn't have watched it anyway.

7. Dr. Who

This is like some serious sci-fi fanboy shit, right? Never saw it. Don't know the first thing about it. Does it involve time travel in some way?

8. Any show that starts "Real Housewives of"

Just doesn't seem like my thing.

9. Grey's Anatomy

How many medical dramas will there be? Haven't we played out every possible angle? (NB: If you want to see a GREAT hour of medical drama, check out the episode of ER that Quentin Tarantino directed. It's awesome. It's probably streaming on Netflix or some shit.)

10. Two and a Half Men

Kutcher's not sweetening the deal, either.

In which TK enters the craft brewing business

2011-09-12T15:05:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact that I have no facial hair and a BMI solidly within normal range, yesterday I joined the ranks of Dudes Who Brew Beer At Home. Surprisingly enough, I enjoyed the brewing process (well, Stage 1 of it, anyway). "Surprising" because I don't really like anything.

I'm not going to break down the whole 4-hour process into what I did because that would be boring. Basically, it involves a lot of boiling things and then cooling things off and then boiling something else and then cooling that off and then pouring yeast into it. It's more difficult than making Top Ramen and less difficult than making chili. It does make your house smell strongly beer-y, for lack of a better word. Not really like beer, but like something related to beer. It's this sort of fetid, yeast-y, agricultural smell. Also, hops smell a lot like marijuana. This must be the reason that so many homebrew guys are probably also big stoners. (The guy who taught the beer-making class I went to acknowledged this reality on several occasions.) I can also say that the process felt vaguely medieval. I can easily see a monk in 1358 doing pretty much the same thing I did, except over an open fire instead of a Kenmore stovetop and also probably not while occasionally checking in on the 49ers.

I ended up with 5 gallons of a dark brown liquid. It is now in the Primary Fermenter, which sounds complicated but which is actually a 5-gallon bucket with an airlock on the top, which is actually a bendy plastic tube that lets gasses out but doesn't let anything floating around in. Every few minutes, the Primary Fermenter makes a reverse-burping sound and, I suppose, gasses come out, although you can't smell anything.

Saturday we do the First Racking, which means we pour the stuff out of the Primary Fermenter and into the Secondary Fermenter, which is a big glass jug. We should have beer ready to drink in like a month. I'll keep you posted.

If this goes well, I'm going to start distilling my own whiskey at home. Maybe I'll grow some tobacco too. And opium poppies can't be that hard to grow, right? Never mind. Disregard that. I never said that.

Finally, a relationship column we can actually relate to.

2011-09-08T12:51:00.001-07:00

Man, do I ever love the Chronicle's Union Squared feature. If you're not familiar, they're little stories about couples who are getting married or just got married or whatever. It has, like, how they met - which is usually some way PRETTY FUCKING CUTE - and what their wedding was like and all that stuff. Like, here's an excerpt from this week's example, Megan and Tyler (quick context: both are Stanford grads):

Although Stanford is a backdrop throughout Heinen and Mobley's love story, they did not start dating there. In fact, they met the night of a formal dance on campus, and Heinen had another date. It wasn't until two years later, when both had graduated and moved to San Francisco, that they ran into each other repeatedly while bar-hopping one night in the Marina.

"At the last bar, he left," Heinen said. "And then he came back in to get my number."

See? Cute! They met (or re-met) bar-hopping in the Marina! I'm not even going to say anything mean. You're already thinking it for me. Why do I have to do all the work?

SO that's all great and stuff but what I really want to see is a weekly column about Relationships That Didn't Work Out, you know, like the Normal Relationships Everyone Has. We'll call it either Dolores Parked or Mission Failed. It'll be like this:

Daniel and Juliana met at happy hour at Casanova. "I was totally just there to get free drinks from the bartender, who I used to bang, and make fun of the crowd, but Daniel was actually kinda cool," Juliana remembers. "So we did some key bumps in the bathroom and then later went to this super lame house party, but it was cool because we had some pints of J&B and the music didn't completely suck."

After some fumbling, unprotected sex, the newly-minted couple stopped at Walgreens the next morning for Plan B before enjoying a leisurely brunch and bottomless mimosas. The next few weeks, Daniel happily recounts, passed in a dreamy blur of taquerias, Netflix, and artisanal cocktails. And more sex, but with more condoms and less blackouts.

Oh, but fate, it seemed, would intervene: Juliana got a job writing copy for an agency in LA. "I mean, duh, I had been making like ten bucks an hour temping, so it was a total no-brainer," she recounts. Daniel, after asking who was getting her apartment, bid her a bittersweet farewell. "She was a cool enough chick, I guess," he muses now.

Juliana is happy in LA and, after being shown a picture of Daniel and reminded who he is, offers that she has nothing but warm thoughts about him. For his part, Daniel is now seeing his coworker's roommate. "I still kinda wish I had gotten her apartment," he reflects on Juliana. Love can hurt, it is true.

This story just blows my mind

2011-09-07T08:46:00.000-07:00

This is from Uptown Almanac:

Bi-Rite Market Hires Bouncer, Institutes One-In-One -Out Policy

The very nice bouncer, who didn't size up my wardrobe or pat me down in search of concealed weapons, informed me that this has started happening on busy weekends lately in response to the fire marshal enforcing capacity limits. He acknowledged the whole situation was "kinda embarrassing." Why? "Because, you know, we're a grocery store."

Anyway, if you can get over the public shaming of patiently and nonchalantly standing behind a red rope for organic peaches and cruelty-free cheeses, Monday afternoon's line was only 2 minutes and 34 seconds long (I timed it, for journalism) and you're treated to a sampling of free tomatoes once you make it to the top of the list.

God, it is becoming SO FUCKING HARD to make fun of anything in San Francisco any more because it ALL MAKES FUN OF ITS FUCKING SELF. How am I supposed to go on as a Relevant Local Lifestyle Critic/Angry Satirist when there are people who *WAIT* *IN* *LINE* *TO* *GET* *INTO* *A* *GROCERY* STORE*????!!!??!!!!!

The following things blew my mind about this story:

1. People will apparently wait in line to enter a FUCKING GROCERY STORE
2. Ummmm, I think that's it. Just that people will wait in line to go to a grocery store.

Seriously, my troubles with waiting for anything are well-documented. If I needed emergency gall-bladder surgery and they said "Sure, we can help you, just put your name on the list and we'll call you when your operating theater is ready," I'd be like, "Nah, it's OK, thanks, I'll self-medicate with Naproxen and shots of Fernet and come back some other time." So the very idea that people who appear to be otherwise Rational and Sane Adults (some of whom may, in fact, have kinda nice legs, but the photo's a little blurry) would stand behind a velvet rope to be admitted into a place to buy Artisanal Sandwiches or Herbes de Provence is mind-boggling to me.

(The comments section should also finally put to rest the stubbornly longstanding SF Urban Legend that Burning Man somehow clears the city [and specifically the Mission] out on Labor Day Weekend. I've been trying to debunk that bullshit for years.)

(I realize this post is basically just an extended comment on an Uptown Almanac post, so I would like to thank the staff of Uptown Almanac for letting me basically steal their material and run with it. If I could fit this entire Rage-O-Gram into a tweet, I would have.)

(Also, speaking of "would have," it's "would have," not "would of," FYI.)

Not really a film review, but more of a meditation on why this film might have happened

2011-09-06T08:19:00.000-07:00

Slightly hungover and just wanting to get out of the house, a few of us went to see the new Paul Rudd vehicle "Our Idiot Brother" yesterday. The film, which is as bland and inoffensive as mayonnaise, is interesting in that I can't figure out why it was made. I mean, someone had to champion this film, right? They had to walk the script around LA and have pitch meetings and go home and think "Man!!! I think I'm really close!" And then you get this wallpaper paste of a movie that isn't angry-making like an Adam Sandler movie but isn't interesting or even funny. There are episodes - maybe almost every episode - of "Parks and Recreation" that are funnier than this movie.

I mean, one of the major jokes - SPOILER ALERT, I guess, if you're hell-bent on wasting $10.75 to see this - is that Paul Rudd's dog is named "Willie Nelson." Hilarious, right? The dog is a major part of the movie, and no one passes up and opportunity to say the dog's name. A dog named after a real person! I'm gasping for breath! THAT IS SO FUNNY!!!!

(Plus, this gave the producers a reason to put a bunch of Willie Nelson - the musician (or "musician," I could say), not the dog - on the soundtrack. I fucking hate Willie Nelson. Like nails on a chalkboard. That voice. So I would say the repeated Willie Nelson songs did nothing to enhance my enjoyment.)

The basic plot is that Paul Rudd's character gets out of prison and then ruins the lives of his sisters in one way or another. I got the impression that he's supposed to be one of those Magical Innocent character types who's the only one who can tell people the truth, but whatever, I didn't really care enough to think about it. I just kept going back to Why did this movie get made?

Here's what I hope happened: It was originally a much, much darker comedy called "Our Sociopathic Brother" in which Paul Rudd gets out of jail and then decides to WREAK HAVOC on all those who have wronged him. He returns to his sisters' homes and kills them and their families and burns their houses down before dying in a hail of gunfire. Then this script was progressively watered down by one studio exec after another until we have what's left. Anyway, with all these fine actors and all this money, it's curious that no one thought to make a better movie.

One of the people who went with us took a klonopin and seemed to like it better than me, so if you have to see it, I recommend taking a klonopin first.

I'm still on jury duty. That is all.

What are your Panhandler Rules?

2011-09-02T08:16:00.000-07:00

If you're like me (and there is almost no chance of this, I realize that, it's just an expression), on your daily perambulations through the City, you encounter a variety of panhandlers, homeless and otherwise. As with most things in my life, I'm often perplexed about how to handle this fraught situation and so I'm croudsourcing this issue to find out what it is you do.

As I work in the Civic Center area, which is part of/maybe just immediately adjacent the Tenderloin, I see some of the same panhandlers every day.

There is the oddly well-put-together woman who I've written about before who posts up at the corner of Grove and Larkin during commute hours (she's there roughly 7:30-9 am and then 4 to about 6 pm) silently holding a sheaf of Street Sheets and who doesn't look homeless or even really troubled in any way; in fact, she would not be out of place waiting on you in a diner or something. NOT HOLDING THAT AGAINST HER; I'm just saying, it's kinda weird.

(I wrote that prior post about her in 2009. She's still out there, basically every day. I continue to be really curious about what her deal is but I really don't want to stop and talk to her because I pass her every day, usually twice a day, and I don't want to set up a thing where I have to stop and talk to her every day. It has nothing to do with her being homeless; I don't want to stop and talk to anyone twice a day. I'm not one of those people who hangs around their corner store trading neighborhood gossip or that kind of thing.)

(OH SNAP I just looked at the Google Street View for Grove & Larkin and thought I saw her but it's just some chick with a coffee. Goes to show how normal she looks.)

There's the Bearded Disheveled Guy Who's Always Reading a Paperback Book. He can be found in Civic Center Station pretty much all the time. I've actually given him money before.

There's a whole crowd that hangs out around the Main Library. One of them is a guy who wears Rollerblades all the time and skates around passing a football back and forth with one of his comrades. In all fairness, I've never seen him ask anyone for money, so maybe he just likes to wear Rollerblades and throw the rock around and hang out by the library.

UNRELATED: Check out the cool Street View Dog on the corner of Larkin and Golden Gate! AWWWWW, PUPPY!!!!

And so on. My point is, when you see your Regular Panhandlers, what do you do? Do you give them money?

Or I guess, what are your usual Giving Money to Panhandler Rules? I mean, in SF, you probably get hit up for money 5 to 12 times a day unless you're Richie Rich and live in Pacific Heights and drive your Volvo to work and your secretary brings lunch to you. So what are your giving money rules? When do you toss a buck at a panhandler?

(RELATED STORY - I remember reading somewhere years ago about an invitation to some fancy-ass party in a part of town where there were obviously panhandlers and the invitation asked guests to not give money to the "outdoorsmen." Outdoorsmen! FAVORITE HOMELESS EUPHEMISM.)

Have a nice holiday weekend at Burning Man or whatever it is you do. I guess if you're at Burning Man you're not reading this anyway.

Also, I'm still on jury duty but hopefully only for another week and then everything will be back to normal.

Also, we're trying out Boxing Room tonight and I'll totally tell you if it's good or what. Smoked Chicken & Andouille Gumbo! FUCK YEAH. Speaking of restaurant websites, THANK YOU FOR NOT AUTOPLAYING DIXIELAND JAZZ ON YOUR WEBSITE BOXING ROOM. I KNOW THAT MUST HAVE BEEN NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE TO RESIST.

OK, I'm done now.

You know what you should protest? The Giants' utter inability to hit.

2011-08-30T08:20:00.001-07:00

- Other than my usual snarky Twitter comments, I've pretty much stayed away from the ongoing Anonymous protests centered around the Civic Center BART station, because it's been pretty well covered and I don't have a lot to add about how stupid and pointless the whole thing is. I guess one of their demands at one point was to disband the BART Police. SPOILER: The BART Police aren't going to be disbanded. How about free coffee on Wednesdays or something like that?

You know what would end the now-weekly protests? STOP PUTTING THEM ON TV. I mean, it's eventually going happen anyway, if they keep it up long enough. After some period of time - 6 weeks? 7 weeks? - local TV is going to get bored of the story and once it's not covered in the media any more, the number of protesters will drop like a rock, I guarantee you.

Actually, I have an idea. If the protesters really want to effect meaningful societal change, go set up shop on International Boulevard in Oakland and see if you can do something to stop the daily violence there. Short of declaring martial law, people are fresh out of ideas about what to do. You guys seem like smart people. Maybe you can save some lives instead of just pissing people off.

- In other Sad News of the Day, your San Francisco Giants. Ugh, what a fucking trainwreck. Last night's ugly little 7-0 loss to the Cubs is just the latest chapter in a frustrating grind of a year. There's no big mystery about what's wrong; they can't fucking hit the baseball, and you cannot win a division, even the NL West, scoring 0 to 1 runs per game.

And yes, last year was a fluke. Aubrey Huff is a career .280 hitter who hit .290 last year and is hitting .243 this year. Cody Ross is a career .260 hitter who hit .288 last year and is hitting .231 this year. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe THIS YEAR is the fluke. Huff, Ross, fuck, just about everybody is hitting below - in some cases, WAY WAY BELOW - their career average. Might as well send batting coach Hensley Meulens into space now, instead of waiting for 2014.

- I'm on a jury. Not joking. Can't say anything else about it, but believe you me, I will tell you all about it when I'm done. But that means probably fewer posts between now and say September 12th or so.

Lyric Deconstruction: "American Ride"

2011-08-26T08:39:00.000-07:00

Toby Keith, 2009

Winter gettin' colder, summer gettin' warmer.
Tidal wave comin' 'cross the Mexican border.
Why buy a gallon, it's cheaper by the barrel.
Just dont get busted singin' Christmas carols.

By this point, about 24 seconds into the song, you're probably thinking "Oh no, here's some more Toby Keith retarded bullshit," and you're partially right. It's difficult to put a charitable spin on "Tidal wave comin' cross the Mexican border." And if you have any reports of anyone being arrested for singing Christmas carols, do forward them.

That's us, that's right
Gotta love this American ride.
Both ends of the ozone burnin.
Funny how the world keeps turnin.
Look ma, no hands.
I love this American ride.
Gotta love this American ride.

I feel like I really don't have to explain that ozone degradation and the rotation of the Earth are two widely disconnected phenomena. I mean, we could lose the entire ozone layer - indeed, the entire atmosphere - and the world would keep turnin, for billions of years. It's angular momentum, a widely-understood property of physics. So it's really not that funny that the world keeps turnin. IT'S NOT FUNNY AT ALL.

But wait! You have to see the video to appreciate this song. I mean, it's a terrible video, but it makes clear that this song is an equal opportunity hater.

There's a fascinating scene that begins around :40. We see the classic American Gothic couple, only they're getting foreclosed on! And what's replacing the family farm? Big box stores!

Now wait a minute. Isn't the guiding principle of unfettered capitalism that you should be free to do whatever you want with your money? So if you're Best Buy or whatever and you want to buy a farm and put up a store there, you should be able to, right? So what's the problem, Toby Keith? What are you, some kind of socialist?

Momma gets her rocks off watchin' Desperate Housewives.
Daddy works his ass off payin' for the good life.
Kids on the YouTube learnin how to be cool.
Livin in a cruel world, pays to be a mean girl.

I guess this is more or less the standard kind of workin-hard-to-make-a-buck-my-wife-don't-understand country music stuff. Hard to have any problem with that.

Chorus

At this stage in the video, we are presented with two interesting animated images. The first is Pat Robertson riding George W. Bush like a horse. Let's set aside the extremely disturbing aspects of this tableau and try to divine what's implied here - that Bush was a tool of the Religious Right? Meh, he certainly had that potential, and God knows what would have happened, but 9/11 kind of took the focus off those nutbags.

The second image is Obama being carried aloft by Wall Street bankers. Hard to argue with that. In fact, that's probably the most straightforward and accurate political commentary in the whole thing.

Poor little infamous, America's town.
She gained five pounds and lost her crown.
Quick fix plastic surgical antidote.
Got herself a record deal, can't even sing a note.

Hmmmm. Well, Dominique Ramirez, Miss San Antonio, did, in fact, lose accuse pageant officials of taking her crown when she gained weight. But I have no information that she got herself a record deal.

(I initially thought this was a backhanded slap at Carrie Underwood, another former pageant contestant who got herself a record deal. But I think the consensus is that she's a perfectly fine singer, although, I confess, I'm not really down with the Nashville gossip.)

Plasma gettin bigger, Jesus gettin smaller.
Spill a cup of coffee, make a million dollars.
Customs caught a thug with an aerosol can.
If the shoe don't fit, fits gonna hit the shan.

I have to confess, when I first heard this, I thought "I, for one, am glad that plasma is widely available! It's a valuable life-saving tool that doctors in emergency situations use every day!" Oh, wait, he's not talking about that, is he. Oh, he means TVs.

Well, so what if TVs are getting bigger! That's progress!

I won't even bother with the frivolous lawsuits thing. Yawn.

The last line is completely impenetrable, and I assume the songwriters just ran out of gas at the end. Just as I have here.

Chorus

Also, the year "Titanic" won Best Picture, "Boogie Nights" wasn't even nominated

2011-08-24T08:34:00.000-07:00

I learned yesterday that local alternative newsweekly/predatory ad pricer SF Weekly has something called the "SF Weekly Web Awards." I learned this because everyone in my Twitter feed perked up around the same time yesterday with "OMG I'M NOMINATED FOR AN SF WEEKLY WEB AWARD VOTE FOR ME LOL KTHXBAI"

I was not nominated for an SF Weekly Web Award. Oh great! It's like being picked next to last for kickball in 5th grade all over again.

Let's take a look and see what these awards are all about.

They're broken down into general areas like "News," "Music," "Food," "Art," and the like. Fair enough. Certainly seems reasonable to vote for "Best Local Politics Blogger" or "Best Food Vendor Twitter." I have some issues with "Best Yelper," in that it implies that there can be a "best" in Yelping, but we'll leave that convo for another day and also I don't want to get dragged in to the whole Yelp thing.

(BRIEF DIGRESSION: Before I moved to SF, I had been a music writer for the local alt-weekly in the mid-level City From Whence I Came. So when I got here, I packaged up my clips [there were actual "clips" back then, in the sense that they were on newsprint and clipped with a scissor from the pages of an alt-weekly] and sent them in to SF Weekly with a cover letter offering my not-inconsiderable skills as a music writer. I never heard back. IT STILL BURNS, SF WEEKLY. STILL BURNS.)

(ANOTHER BRIEF DIGRESSION: I can't hold a grudge, though, because SF Weekly published, for years, in the mid-90's, a comic strip by then-unknown [or maybe slightly-known] Dave Eggers and some other guy [Leon? I can't remember] called "Smarter Feller" that was hilarious and is also now impossible to find online. SF Weekly, if you're reading this, do you have all the Smarter Fellers cached somewhere secret that I can access? Do tell.)

So blah blah blah we get past "Best Fashion Blogger" and "Best Local Music Website" that you'd expect in any online voting thing like whatever YAWN seen it a million times, vote for "Bay Bridged" and move on, and then we get to "Only in SF," and this is where I'm thinking SCORE, I GOTTA BE HERE.

I'm not here.

Again, there are the usual boring "Best Local Government Site" (like, really, who gives a shit, no joke) and "Best Neighborhood Blog" (which is fair enough, that's reasonable, although you didn't nominate Civic Center and that kinda sucks) and then this:

"Best Tumblog"? WTF, SF Weekly? Does anyone ever use the term "Tumblog"? I think people just say "Tumblr." Anyway, you know that Tumblr is a blogging platform and not a genre, right? It's like having a Pulitzer Prize category for "Best Word 97 Document." Why isn't there a category for "Best WordPress" or "Best Blogspot"?

(That being said, there are two on that list - Kate's and Jane's - that I read regularly and like a lot. IT AIN'T PERSONAL, GIRLS. THIS DON'T INVOLVE YOU. JUST KEEP ON WALKIN.)

Anyway. Here are some categories you missed, SF Weekly, and my suggested nominee in each:

BEST SUTRO TOWER TIMELAPSE/LOCAL HISTORICAL MAP BLOG

Burrito Justice

(Seriously, though, if you have a local web awards and you haven't nominated Burrito Justice for something, you have gone wrong. It's like having Celebrity Rehab without Steven Adler. It's just not done.)

BEST VERY ANGRY DOLORES PARK COVERAGE

Uptown Almanac

BEST MOSTLY CORRECTLY SPELLED SOMETIMES ANGRY BLOG BY A FRIEND OF MINE

Periqueblend

MOST RIDICULOUSLY USER-UNFRIENDLY LOCAL INSTITUTION WEBSITE

The San Francisco Public Library

(Humorously, as I try it right now, it's not opening at all. CONGRATULATIONS, SFPL.ORG, YOU'VE MANAGED TO FIGURE OUT A WAY TO BLOW EVEN HARDER!!)

I guess it's possible that I wasn't going to get nominated no matter what. I mean, unless there a category for "Angriest Post-Hipster Alcoholic," I don't know where I'd fit in.

ANYWAY, no hard feelings, SF Weekly, and I'll still come to the party and drink your free booze. Can I bring a +1?

Trip Report: Los Cabos

2011-08-22T08:31:00.000-07:00

At my advanced age, I could give a shit about adventure tourism. You and William T. Vollmann can go dodge mortar fire in Tripoli or live amongst the whores of Bangladesh. Fuck that noise, my chief concern is how long it takes to get a drink and why the fucking pool closes at 8:00 pm instead of 10:00.

Well, not entirely. When I go to places like New York or London or some shit like that, I'm super into running around and going to museums and all that jazz. I guess I'm talking about the kind of vacation where you just lay around in the sun and drink. Do kids like to do that still? Oh, I guess everyone has to make it extra difficult and do it on a beach in India (NOT GOA, THAT SHIT IS SO PLAYED, I KNOW) or Bali or Madagascar or some place. I know that the harder it is to get to and the more primitive the conditions the better, right?

Well, fuck that. I'm all about it being easy and that's why we just went to this all-inclusive resort in Los Cabos called the Riu Santa Fe. We got a total deal on this place - like $200 a night, which includes all the food and alcohol you want.

That's right. ALL THE DRINKS YOU WANT. INCLUDED. That means they essentially gave us the room. I've run up $200 bar tabs on vacation in 45 minutes, so you can see why the Riu Santa Fe probably lost money on our visit.

The crowd was interesting. It was basically 50-50 Mexicans (well, I assume they were Mexicans; they were Spanish-speaking and darker-skinned; I mean, they could have been Honduran or whatever but I just got the Mexican vibe from them) and Americans. Seemed like a place where Mexicans go to vacation, too. The line at the Los Cabos airport for the Mexico City flight was longer than for the Phoenix flight, anyway. But I digress. Of the Americans, it tended towards a bit younger and, for whatever reason, sort of Jersey Shore-ish. I mean, a lot of elaborate tattoos and backwards baseball caps and gold chains and chicks who dressed for dinner by putting on skintight electric blue dresses that ended just below crotch level and 6" heels. Interesting. There were also a smattering of older couples and families with kids, and also some Australians.

The resort was huge and loosely organized around this central plaza area that was clearly meant to evoke the plaza in a Mexican town but without any stray dogs or non-English-speaking Mexicans. Instead, there were a couple of outdoor bars and a stage where they had some form of live entertainment every night. Entertainment beyond the bartenders - who, make no mistake, were unflailingly cheerful and incredibly fast - making odd rainbow-layered shooters for the assembled blockheads to enjoy. The entertainment veered from Resort Cheesy to Really Weird, but hey, it was something to look at whilst enjoying as many rounds of free drinks as you could put down before passing out.

Speaking of "free," it's nice to bring a stack of ones if you're coming to one of these places and tip frequently and with gusto. They really appreciate it and it makes you feel like less of a dick for watching someone make your drinks and then just saying "gracias" and walking away with them.

Oh, that brings up the Spanish Problem, which is, how much Spanish do you attempt if you don't really speak Spanish? Everyone who works there speaks enough English to get by, so is it weird or insulting to say "Dos pinas coladas, por favor" instead of "Two pina coladas, please"? I mean, does it seem kinda condescending? I could never figure it out. Also, why did the guy at the restaurant door say "Hola" to Americans but "Buenos dias" to Mexicans? I ended up usually ordering in English and then saying "Gracias" and walking away quickly, oddly ashamed. These are the kinds of things I worry about.

Anyway, the whole thing was a complete success, from a Morning Drinking and Total Relaxation standpoint. The food was actually really good, and the weather was nice and hot, and on the second day we found the quiet pool away from the thumping disco music and Vinnies whooping at each other and so forth. After a few days, though, I couldn't really handle the all-day all-night drinking any more and it was time to split.

The only other thing of note was the HUGE DOUCHEBAG who sat next to The Wife on the flight home. He got on in Phoenix and started braying at her immediately (she was one row ahead of me but I could hear his booming asshole voice from the back of the plane if I wanted) and I learned, involuntarily, that he lives in the Marina and had been in Scottsdale for some reason and had bought 3 bottles of champagne already earlier that day for "Sunday Funday" and just bought a place in "Pac Heights," although oddly it turned out to be near "Washington Square Park, I guess," which is, of course, nowhere near "Pac Heights" and I was trying to read and he blared on and on and on at her and finally I had to put in my headphones and turn up the music so loud it was almost painful just to drown out his piercing drunk voice. OK whew I'm alright now just had to get that out of my system.

(She also said that he showed her "every picture on his phone," and that they were mostly of him.)

Programming Note

2011-08-16T13:58:00.000-07:00

We're going to San Diego tomorrow and then Mexico on Thursday for a few days. We'll be back Sunday, so the blog will probably be quiet until Monday. C'est la vie.

In the meantime, here's a video of a chihuahua wearing booties.

Have a good rest of week/weekend/whatever.

Trip Report: Fresno!!!

2011-08-15T08:47:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago The Wife and I were watching the Giants lose again and they mentioned calling up someone from the Fresno Grizzlies and she said "We should go to a Fresno Grizzlies game sometime" and because we are People of Action and not just Big Talkers, on Saturday we found ourselves in a car driving to Fresno.

One of The Wife's work friends is from Fresno and I guess knows people associated with the team so we got tickets in what I assume is like Club Level here at AT&T Park and got some concessions vouchers and stuff like that. That's all nice, but the greatest gift we got was the hotel he recommended: The Picadilly Inn Shaw. I shall explain in just a moment.

Fresno is flat as a pool table and searingly hot, which felt great after the Non-Summer of High 50's in SF. When we got there it was 104. As far as I can tell, Fresno is comprised mainly of strip malls, chain restaurants, and chain everything else. So I guess it's like most of the rest of the country.

ANYWAY though. The Picadilly Inn! I don't know where to start. It was obviously built circa 1972 and NOTHING HAS CHANGED SINCE THEN. It is like visiting the set of a movie that's set in a hotel in 1972. I mean, look at our room!

That picture actually makes it look creepier than it was, which is sort of unbelievable. But it really did have that trapped-in-70s-amber vibe.

Anyway, our room was on the second floor and overlooked this garden where they were setting up for a wedding. We were kind of absently watching through the window when The Wife started to notice something. "I think there's 2 brides," she said.

GET. THE. FUCK. OUT.

So they're setting up and we decide to hit the bar up for a drink and guess what? THERE'S SOME KIND OF RODEO CONVENTION at the SAME FUCKING HOTEL and the bar looks like a slightly spiffier Deadwood. I mean, all they needed was a player piano and a bartender with a handlebar mustache and those arm garter things.

On the way there, we pass one of those little signs that tell you where things are in the hotel and it said something like "Congratulations Roxanna and Noemi"!!!! AWESOME!!! I mean, here we are being all Too Cool For School from San Francisco and we walk right into a Lesbian Wedding in Fresno. Fresno! I misjudged you and feel bad now!

We got the drinks to go and hustled back to the room to watch the wedding. I can report that both brides wore white. They looked amazing and happy. CONGRATULATIONS, ROXANNA AND NOEMI!!!

Then we went to the baseball game. The stadium is in Downtown Fresno which has obviously seen better days. Apart from the people going to the game, downtown was populated exclusively by homeless people. We walked through this pedestrian mall thing from the parking garage to the ballpark. It had obviously been an effort to get people hanging around downtown but didn't work. As we passed one older homeless lady, she greeted us by saying "Suck it, bitch." AND A FINE GOOD EVENING TO YOU, MA'AM! Anyway, nothing you can't get anywhere in SF.

The park was really nice and obviously recently built. It was a delight to sit outside at night and watch a baseball game in shorts and a t-shirt. It was 90 degrees at 8:30 p.m.

I don't have much to say about the game. Barry Zito - remember him? - started for the Grizzlies and was doing OK until he sprained something and limped off the field. The other Grizzlies pitchers weren't very good. They lost.

The next day we drove home. This was uneventful except for a stop at the Carl's Jr. in Atwater, California. HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS I have never seen a bigger collection of weirdos and freaks than at the Carl's Jr. in Atwater, California.

The Atwater Carl's Jr. has 3 Yelp reviews! If I were a jackass enough to post Yelp reviews, here's what mine would say:

"I'm not sure who was more impressive, the Charles Manson clone with a neckbeard and prison tattoos who stared malevolently at my wife the whole time we were there or the Tweaker Family featuring the kid was unusual facial hair and a topknot ponytail and Morbidly Obese Uncle with a definite Lou Albano vibe, but the crowd at this Carl's Jr. made the backwoods family from 'Deliverance' look like the Algonquin Round Table.

"Also, I'm not 100% sure if anyone here has ever assembled a hamburger correctly, but it usually involves something more than randomly shoving a meat patty and a bun and some wilted lettuce into a paper sleeve.

"It did have a bathroom, though, and also a parking space in front of the door which facilitated our very rapid exit."

So, yeah. Fresno. There you go.

Today in Giants/Bachelorette News

2011-08-11T08:36:00.000-07:00

WORLDS COLLIDING. Take it away, Us Magazine:

Bachelorette contestant Ben Flajnik may not have earned Ashley Hebert's final rose, but that doesn't mean he's sworn off dating forever.

In fact, a source tells Us Weekly the 28-year-old winemaker went out for drinks with Jennifer Love Hewitt last week in San Francisco. "She began pursuing him right after the finale aired," a source tells Us of the Can't Hardly Wait actress, 32.

Incidentally, isn't "Us Magazine" the weirdest name for a magazine about celebrities? They're not "us" at all! They're them!!! I think I kind of assumed that "Us" stood for "U.S.," like the United States of Celebrities or something, but I have no idea if that's right. If it's just "us," like you and me, that's fucked up.

BACK TO THE MATTER AT HAND. Ben F. from the Bachelorette going out for drinks with the winsome Jennifer Love Hewitt is only a 1-star story. IT GETS SO MUCH BETTER THOUGH.

Indeed, Hewitt hasn't been shy about showing her love for Flajnik, who placed second behind JP Rosenbaum on The Bachelorette's August 1 finale. "Omg! Ben f except my final rose!!! Gotta book a flight to Sonoma !!!:):)" Hewitt Tweeted August 2. And when the pair cozied up at San Francisco's Lion's Pub four days later, the actress was similarly smitten.

Though Flajnik initially stopped by the bar with San Francisco Giants player Cody Ross, he made a beeline for Hewitt after spotting her from across the room.

HOLD THE PHONE. So Ben just happened to be out with his boy, weak-hitting Giants outfielder Cody Ross, when he stopped by known Lower Pac Heights Dudebro Cruise Pit Lion Pub (not "Lion's Pub," but who's counting) and then just happened to espy Jennifer Love Hewitt who just happened to be trolling for spiky-haired popped-collared Chads at Lion's Pub? WHAT.

I have a few questions.

1. So when you're the second-place finisher on the Bachelorette and you're walking off the set, they just hand you phone numbers of professional athletes? Or did formerly-effective lineup-saddening Cody Ross (+ wife Summer Ross, I assume) just like the cut of Ben's jib so much that they called up the Guy Who Has Everyone's Number and say "Hey, put me in touch with Ben F. from the Bachelorette. I needs to hit up some Fruity Drink Palaces with that boy"? Is that how it works?

2. And Jennifer Love Hewitt was just hanging out at Lion Pub? What was she, just back from visiting the Party of Five house? (2311 Broadway, if you're curious. About a 10 minute walk from Lion Pub.)

3. You know what's good about Lion Pub? Here, let Jessica C. from San Mateo tell you: "I asked the Gorgeous Bartender what to order. He made me the most amazing Watermelon Vodka drink! It was crushed up watermelon and vodka. What more could you ask for." NOTHING, JESSICA C. YOU COULD ASK FOR NOTHING MORE THAN CRUSHED UP WATERMELON AND VODKA FROM A GORGEOUS BARTENDER.

4. This isn't really a question, but Jen, sweetheart, I assume you meant "accept my final rose," not "except my final rose." Either one is weird, but only the former comes close to being grammatically correct. Ugh, I just turned into a guy who corrects people's spelling on the Internet. UGH I JUST CORRECTED JENNIFER LOVE HEWITT'S SPELLING ON THE INTERNET. HIT ME IN THE FACE. I EXCEPT THIS PUNISHMENT.

Fast forward to the next day:

Hewitt seemed ecstatic the morning after. Although she didn't mention her date by name, she Tweeted Sunday: "Morning lovelys! I got lost in the most amazing sat! Just when you think u can't be surprised.... You are and it's awesome!"

SOMEBODY GOT LAID.

And apropos of nothing except this struck me as funny:

The creeping problem of ISWNOCHFS

2011-08-09T12:05:00.000-07:00

Found on Twitter earlier today:

Oh, please. Get over yourself. This is a prime example of what I call the If Something's Wrong No One Can Have Fun Syndrome (ISWNOCHFS). You see this kind of thing pretty regularly. Like "There are babies starving and you're still watching Toddlers and Tiaras" or "How can Adam Sandler keep making movies when the world is like this?" Actually that last one is kinda true and I do wish Adam Sandler would stop making movies.

BUT ANYWAY. Point being that this scold above would have you be ashamed for watching Jersey Shore (as long as you're in the "western world," apparently. If you're in Japan or Soouth Africa, enjoy Jersey Shore at your leisure! You're fine!) because there are Problems in the World and watching Jersey Shore doesn't help.

Let's take a look at some different possible outcomes:

Millions watch Jersey Shore ----------> Syria nightmare
No one watches Jersey Shore ---------> Syria nightmare

Millions watch Jersey Shore ----------> Economy in shambles

You and your stupid brother
watch Jersey Shore; no one
else watches Jersey Shore ------------> Economy in shambles

Your cat and Eric Cantor
watch Jersey Shore while
eating In N Out burgers --------------> Economy in shambles; cat and Eric Cantor happy

You see? The number of people and/or animals and/or members of Congress who watch or don't watch Jersey Shore has exactly zero impact on whether or not the World's Crises are ameliorated in any way. The real point of this kind of faux-shaming technique is to say "Look at me! I'm so superior that I would never deign to watch that crap, especially when there are World Crises for me to be Very Upset about! Shame on you for pursuing such a lowbrow entertainment whilst I monitor the BBC feed 24/7!"

THIS IS NOT TO SAY, of course, that we shouldn't all be appropriately concerned about riots in London and the DJIA falling 600 points and starvation in Somalia. OF COURSE you should care about those things. But watching Jersey Shore isn't really going to affect them one way or another. So don't be ashamed. Well, you should be a little ashamed, but just because you're watching Jersey Shore in the fourth season. It all went downhill after Season 1. Duh.

This is a partial list of things that unaccountably enrage me and probably shouldn't

2011-08-08T14:31:00.000-07:00

1. People who take up 2 parking spaces

2. Perfectly able people who push the handicapped door opener button and then stand there and let the doors majestically swing open like they're the Queen of England

3. Recycling poachers

4. People who yell into their cell phones

5. People who chatter away obliviously on cell phones while they're blocking an aisle in the grocery store or blocking the sidewalk or something

6. Pretty much anyone talking on a cell phone in public, ever. Text, you bastards, text.

7. People who walk more than two abreast on a sidewalk. BONUS: They're walking slowly. DOUBLE BONUS: They're walking four abreast and all talking on cell phones.
8. iTunes
9. "There is a new version of iTunes available. Would you like to download?" Hey Apple, how about saving up the changes and just releasing a new version once every six months, instead of every other day?
10. The bagger at Safeway yesterday who put my bread at the bottom of the bag
11. Fox Sports

August 5, 1977: Giants at Mets

2011-08-05T11:22:00.000-07:00

Giants lost, 3-2. Let's take a look at the Giants box:

Let's see. Bill Madlock had a nice day, 2 for 4 with a run scored. McCovey walked but was otherwise not a factor. Couple of other hits sprinkled around. Not a lot of offense. Reminds me of some other Giants team I could name!

15,747 showed up at Shea for a 2 hour 35 minute game. Probably a nice night out at the yard.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, in a medium-sized town in Ireland, The Wife was busy being born. She was successful in this endeavor, so I guess she had a better night than the Giants.

Happy Birthday, The Wife! We'll be seeing the 2011 Giants tonight. Hopefully they can do better than their counterparts 34 years ago.

(Also, Mark Mulder was born on the same day, so there's another baseball thing. Happy Birthday Mark Mulder.)

(Also, I know, 2 blog posts in one day. I have the day off, cut me some slack.)

Fox has now completely Onionized itself

2011-08-05T10:46:00.000-07:00

From Fox Nation (via Dave Weigel on Slate):

I normally wouldn't even touch this because, hey Fox News and all, but it appears that they have finally rounded the corner into complete and total self-parody and I thought I'd just leave this here as a marker of that event.

This cracks me up, obviously, and not just because it's a transparently racist sop to hardcore conservatives but also because WHEN DID CHARLES BARKLEY AND CHRIS ROCK START RAPPING? God, I hope they aren't rapping.

Also, just because everyone loves a good counterfactual, can you imagine if NPR ran a headline like "George Bush's redneck hootenanny fails to stop terrorism" or "Dick Cheney's wild gunfire party fails to prevent fellow plutocrat from getting face half blown off"? I mean, I think NPR would be a lot more entertaining if they did that, but no, you can't imagine that.

But hey, "fair and balanced"!

Did you misplace your Insanity Machine and accidentally leave it turned on?

2011-08-04T09:11:00.000-07:00

I first heard it last night around maybe 7:30. It was a sound like a truck backing up, but just three beeps in a row.

BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP.

Of course, the first thing you think is, "That's a truck backing up" and resume to your normal activities.* As I did. Which was drinking a beer and watching "Locked Up Abroad" on DVR.

(Just in case you don't watch "Locked Up Abroad," let me give you some advice. When someone offers you $6,000 to smuggle cocaine on a plane from Lima to - well, it was Cape Town, South Africa in this one, but really, it applied to anywhere - DON'T DO IT. Also, great show. Also, the actors they use in the reenactments are always way better looking than the actual person. I mean, I almost want to fly a few kilos from Bogota to LA just to see what kind of hot dude they get to be me on the show.)

But then it goes off again. It seems louder! Like it's COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!!!

BEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEEEP

So there I am like a crazy tweaker on a five-day run tearing the house apart looking for the hidden CIA camera except in this case it's not a hidden CIA camera it's a fucking beeping noise making thing. I pulled the smoke detector down and examined it like I could visually see where the noise was coming from or something. BUT IT WASN'T IN THE HOUSE because the next time I was outside taking the recycling out I heard it again EVEN LOUDER.

BEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEP

ANYWAY, I know this story is way boring but I also SWEAR TO GOD it was a real noise because The Wife heard it too when she got home.

We didn't hear it again for a long time until 6:22 this morning when it went off like an Exterior Alarm Clock

BEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEP

and we were lying in bed trying to sleep and then the dog decided that would be a good time to start licking himself so it was like BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEP SLURP SLURP SLURP

and the cat, never one to be left out of any fun, started doing her "Hurt Cat" cry OWWWWW OWWWW OWWWWW that she does when she thinks she's not getting enough attention and at that point I just said fuck it and got up.

If that thing is still going off when I get home I'm going to freak out.

So the moral of the story is, if you left your Insanity Machine on in the vague area of my house, please come pick it up.

[*] True story, there's an alarm system/loudpseaker thing where I work and occasionally the security people come on and say shit like "There is an emergency situation on the fourth floor. Please listen for further information" and it''s usually some false alarm - well, since I've worked there, it's always been a false alarm, not usually - and then after a while the Security Person hops back on the intercom and says "The emergency situation on the fourth floor has been cleared. The emergency situation on the fourth floor has been cleared. Please resume to your normal activities." That's right, not "resume your normal activities," but "resume to." I've often wondered if that jacked syntax appears in the Operating Manual because it was badly translated from Chinese like alarm clock instructions, or if it was passed virally from the Ur-Security Person on down the line. Anyway.

The Bachelorette: Thank God this trainwreck is over. I mean, Exciting Conclusion!

2011-08-02T08:36:00.001-07:00

Well, it appears that we have staggered across the Finish Line alive and now we can have our Monday nights back and I have to sign up for this beer making class at SF Brewcraft because I am not sitting through the Apocalypse without beer and they only have the class on Monday nights and now I can finally go. Wow that was Super Off Topic.

Let us meet Ashley Chipmunk's family who ABC has imported to Fiji. Mom and Dad are pretty much off the shelf, but sister "Chrystie" (Yes, ugh, that's how it's spelled, like chrysalis or Chrysler Town & Country) is a fully tatted Suicide Girl and brother Something I Didn't Catch His Name just wandered in from the set of "Intervention" and is wearing like 10 lbs of shell necklaces and has furious Meth Sweats which require constant toweling off.

Sis is way hotter than Ashley Chipmunk and is clearly gunning for her own show and more on that in a sec.

Here comes JP! Mom seems to like him BUT WAIT after a little wine & maybe a pupu platter Sis and Chipmunk sit down inside and she's all "I don't think he's the one" like WHOA BITCH CHILL THE FUCK OUT. Mom's "OK with him," so what's the prob, Sailor Jerry? Oh, she thinks Chipmunk is "too much for him" like NO SHIT THANKS FOR THAT she's too much for anyone that's not on 150 mg of Ritalin a day and then Sis is all "I'm much more rational," which you don't expect from someone from the Nikki Sixx School of Beauty.

Chipmunk seeks input from Meth Sweats. He says "Whoa." I get the impression he's not the Star of the Family Show and is also maybe slightly retarded. Then Suicide Girl and JP sit down and man is she a fucking bitch. I'm sorry but there is no other way to put it. She's all "You're much older" and he should say "Bitch, I'm like 3 years older than her, it's not like Hugh Hefner and some preteen or something, FUCK" but he's actually pretty cool. Then Chip tries to reassure him on the beach but does a pretty crappy job and then I guess he swims away or something.

Let's throw Ben into the mix and see if the Painted Lady rips him a new one. The initial meeting seems OK, if a little fucking weird b/c Chipmunk forces him to do his Dog Voice and then she does her Dog Voice and you can fast forward 40 years and they're going to be the Creepy Grandparents You Don't Like to Visit. Sis and Ben sit down and she's much nicer to him! Oh, Sis lets it slip that she's been divorced. NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED. I'd hate to see what she did to that poor bastard.

Next day, Ben & Chip take the inevitable Helicopter Ride and she squeals and points and says "Island!!!!" which is correct! That is an island! Then it's off to the Healing Mud Bath and Ash is all "I feel like a kid again!" and then does her weird imitation of someone being Sexy and the whole thing is way uncomfortable.

Then there's another date with JP. I'm not gonna lie, it's kinda boring. Blah blah blah love talk and then he gives her a photo album and nothing happens. Whatever.

Let's just get to Proposal Day. As with every season, Proposal Day is punctuated by Journaling and Long Walks Staring Meaningfully at The Water.

Dear Diary, today is a very special OMG READING RAINBOW IS ON!!! YAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!!

OK, time to do this thing. Wow, Ben looks like a Mormon missionary in that suit. At least JP looks like he's maybe put on a suit before. OK, here comes Ben popping out of the seaplane. They might as well have funeral music playing because it's obvious what's gonna happen here. So he gets down on one knee and she's all "Sorry!" and it's really hard and Ben says "Have a nice life together," when what he means is "Have a nice life together IN THE BURN UNIT." He gets put in an Open Boat that putters sadly towards a bleak horizon.

Here comes JP. Blah blah blah I love you so much and yes they're getting married and I kinda wish Bentley would parachute in right now with an Uzi and then he's like "PROPOSE THIS, MOTHERFUCKER" and blasts JP away and then scoops up Ashley and whoa, I don't know where that came from. Anyway, REO Speedwagon makes a couple of bucks for the first time this decade because they're playing "I Can't Fight This Feeling" over the Gauzy Montage and that's about it.

More important brunch news

2011-08-01T08:51:00.000-07:00

By now you guys know how important brunch is. (Wow, that's just 3 posts - a search for "brunch" on my blog returns like 10 posts.) Part of the importance of brunch is trying new places, so in that spirit we checked out Uva Enoteca in the Lower Haight for brunch on Saturday.

Not too crowded at 1 pm on Saturday. In fact, not crowded at all. It was just us (me, Wife, Sister), a table of like 7 hipsters, and one table with 2 girls. I was told there would be bottomless mimosas, but there were bottomless bellinis instead which I'm not too crazy about but whatever.

The food was pretty good. I got the fried eggs, which were 2 sunny side up eggs that arrived cold. Maybe not cold, maybe room temp. Still, warm would have been good. Came with what was advertised as "bacon" but I'm sure was pancetta. Also a salad and a little "potato cake" thing. The best part is that, pre-tip, the total tab was $60 for 3 people, including 3 bottomless bellinis. We ended up drinking 2 pitchers of them but based on the table of hipsters it looked like you could pretty much hang out all afternoon and keep getting pitchers brought to you.

Anyway, just OK, not great. 3 stars out of five.

Then we had pints on the back porch of Mad Dog and then some more things happened and the upshot is The Wife was super-hungover yesterday. The end.

Please meet these former Miss California contestants

2011-07-29T08:52:00.000-07:00

For complicated and boring reasons, I recently had the occasion to come across the Miss California website which features all of last year's contestants and all I have to say is wow. I think my favorite thing about it is that it appears that the contestants have made a concerted effort to look like the area they're representing. You know how like on Miss Universe they're always wearing their colorful native garb? Same thing.

They're also from very very specific geographic areas! Like, this is Charlotte Giustiniani, from "North Brentwood." Not Brentwood, mind you, but NORTH Brentwood:

WHOA, BRITTANY HIGH FROM LARCHMONT VILLAGE,I just got arrested for looking at your picture. Did someone offer you candy or something to come down to their basement for your photo shoot?

I gotta be careful because you know these chicks are all Googling themselves 24/7 and I don't want them to find my blog and then go "Oh, what a fucking asshole," even though I'm totally used to that.

Just a couple more, though, cause this is totally fun.

Erika Robertson is from "Honey Bee Haven," which sounds like a syndicated children's TV show. She's got a real Black Swan thing going on:

OK, now you guess one. Where's Holly Doll from, you think?

Got your guess? Ready? She's Miss East Sacramento! I know, right?

I got one more, and she's my fave. Please meet Jael Lloyd, Miss Glendale:

The headband! The peace sign tattoo! We will get high and listen to Ariel Pink on vinyl and drink homemade sangria and just have a blast. Miss Glendale doesn't care. She's down for anything.

Have a nice weekend.

Crime Report

2011-07-28T08:53:00.000-07:00

Whoa, there is a lot of weirdness in the past 24 to 36 hours. Let's start off with Alex Trebek:

Alex Trebek, host of the television game show "Jeopardy," was injured early Tuesday as he chased a burglar in his San Francisco hotel.

The longtime game show host appeared on crutches Wednesday to host the National Geographic World Championship at Google Inc.'s Mountain View headquarters.

"It happened at 2:30 a.m., chasing a burglar down the hallway of my San Francisco hotel, when my Achilles tendon ruptured and I then fell on carpet, bruising the other leg in process. Surgery on Friday," Trebek said, according to Patch.com. A spokeswoman at the Marriott Marquis confirmed the incident took place at that hotel.

San Francisco police officials confirmed a burglary at a San Francisco hotel early Tuesday, but would not identify Trebek, 71, as the victim. Lt. Troy Dangerfield said two people were asleep in a hotel room when "around 3 a.m., one of the victims awoke to notice someone in the room and then noticed the suspect leaving the hotel room."

Hmmmm. Does anything about this sound perhaps maybe somewhat suspicious to you? I mean, how does some rando chick get into a hotel room in the middle of the night? I dfon't know about you, but I always use every goddam locking mechanism they have on the doors, and there's always one that keeps the door from being opened from the outside, like a chain or that weird U-lock thing that flips over the knob thing fuck I don't know what it's called but you know what I'm talking about.

Now, I don't want to engage in rank speculation, but I just want to say that it's possible - possible - that Alex and his +1 met the suspect, "Lucinda Moyers," at the View Lounge and closed that place and then maybe suggested they blow a couple of rails back in Alex's room and everyone was having a good time when Alex went to the bathroom and the +1 was otherwise engaged and Lucinda thought she'd make a break for it and grabbed his wallet and took off and Alex came out and was all "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT BITCH DOING" and took off down the hall and ruptured his Achilles. PROBABLY NOT, but I'm just saying it's possible.

I also love the pic that SFGate went with:

No flash photography! I'm doing key bumps over here! Aaaahhhhh! Bright light!

Let us now turn to the world of Aviation. Regular readers of this space are well-aware of my sometime troubles with Air Travel. I tried communicating with the airline, but by then the troubles have long passed and I'm not that mad anymore. Brothers "Jonathan and Luis Baez, both of Las Piedras, Puerto Rico," have a way of more directly and immediately communicating their dissatisfaction with their carrier: punch out the fucking pilot!!!!

A man punched an American Airlines pilot who kicked him off a flight from Miami, and he and his brother then attacked the pilot again before bystanders tackled the brothers in the terminal, officials said Thursday.

Jonathan and Luis Baez, both of Las Piedras, Puerto Rico, were arrested at Miami International Airport. They had been aboard American Airlines Flight 1755 bound for San Francisco on Wednesday night, according to an arrest affidavit.

While the plane taxied away from the gate, a flight attendant noticed 27-year-old Jonathan Baez was sleeping and had not buckled his seat belt, police said. She tried to wake him, but she told police that Baez was unresponsive and appeared to be intoxicated or on drugs.

The pilot turned the plane around and returned to gate D51.

Luis Baez, 29, decided to join his brother as he was being escorted off the plane. As the brothers walked toward the aircraft's exit door, they became belligerent, and Luis Baez told the pilot, "When you fly to San Juan I will have you killed," according to the arrest report.

The brothers walked off the plane, but then Jonathan Baez returned and punched the pilot in the face and hit the flight attendant in the shoulder when she tried to intervene, police said.

Both brothers attacked the pilot again in the jet bridge and chased him in the terminal, according to the arrest report.

Other flight crew members and passengers held down the brothers until police arrived.

The only appropriate sentence in a case like this: middle seats between two fat guys with colds for life.

Finally, let us turn to a crime that is shocking in the extreme because it occurred at a place where so many of us feel safe: the Lagunitas Brewing Company in Petaluma. Some Guy from Tiburon and his girlfriend were taking the tour and whatnot when they ran into some Stranger Danger:

Officers arrested a man who was taking a tour of a brewery in Petaluma Tuesday evening after he allegedly robbed another tour member at knifepoint, police said.

Ben Davis, 26, of Windsor allegedly befriended the victim, a 24-year-old Tiburon man, and his girlfriend while taking a tour of the Lagunitas Brewing Company brewery.

Police said Davis confronted the victim with a knife in a restroom during the tour and demanded his wallet.

Davis allegedly took the wallet, left the brewery and drove away. Officers responded to the brewery around 5:20 p.m. and learned that the victim's girlfriend had taken a picture of Davis before the alleged robbery.

Now, I'm no Criminal Mastermind or anything, but I feel like once my victim photographs me, I'm either (a) calling off the Planned Bathroom Knife Robbery, or (b) taking the fucking camera too.

Anyway, Ben Davis of Windsor, way to harsh Tiburon Man's mellow.

Be careful out there, folks.

The Bachelorette: Fiji Is for Dumpers

2011-07-26T08:38:00.000-07:00

Friends, we are finally reaching the end of our Journey and this is how the Crusaders probably felt, only if they were crusading for the Most Boring Stupid Pointless Thing in the World and not pieces of the True Cross or whatever. Anyway. Fiji. Ashley Chipmunk prattles on and on about how beautiful it is but it basically looks like a more rocky Hawaii to me. Lots of filler while Chippy recounts her romantic histories with the three losers we have left.

But wait! Some stranger's flip-flops and ugly fucking feet are trudging through the jungle to Shake Things Up! Apparently the producers have realized that this show is so boring it makes Masterpiece Theater look like Transformers 3 so they desperately try to inject some kind of interest or tension by bringing back that fucking loser Ryan who apparently has no bottom limit for debasement or humiliation and so he arrives and grovels and begs her to give him one more chance and you know what, producers? You fucking suck. You really do. This is the best you can do? Fuck.

OK, date thing with Ben F. He got a haircut and has now progressed up the ladder from Neanderthal to Cro-Magnon. They're heading out on a Drug Kingpin Yacht and Ben says he's "found himself on this journey" and finding yourself leads to both of them oiling each other up for what may be a bout of Greco-Cro-Magnon Wrestling but just ends up with snorkeling in about 18 inches of water while the music swells in the background and sadly no one drowns.

Outdoor dinner time. Ben opines that today was "hysterically perfect." I can't even begin to make sense of what that might mean. He's "on my way to the whole I love you thing." That's nice. I'm on my way to the Finishing This Whole Bottle of Wild Turkey Thing. Anyway blah blah blah they're off to the Fantasy Suite to get it on and it has its own private pool and whatnot and he carries her out of it like some Java Man Officer and a Gentleman and I guess they hit it.

Next up: Pumpkinhead Constantine. Helicopter ride, finally! Hilariously, the producers have them fly right over Ryan, who is standing on a reef and staring intently at the sea. God, I wish they have given them water balloons to drop on him. That's the only way this could get stupider. They land and do a little waterfall jumping and hidden pond swimming and then we get to Outdoor Dinner Time. Chipmunk wonders: How come you're not in love with me yet? Pumpkinhead says he's not gonna ask her to get married so might as well stop fucking around and he bolts. BOOM!!! She gets dumped again. This show should be called "The Bachelorette...GETS DUMPED" because that's all that happens. No, wait, that's a little clunky. How about The Dumperette? Bacheloserette? I'll work on it.

So the next day Chipmunk is going to take out her boiling rage by dropping by Ryan's room and re-dumping him. BOOM YOU ARE DUMPED MOTHERFUCKER HOW DOES THAT FEEL oh wait, he's crying! That's sad. He seems kinda stalky, like he might show up at her place in a few months with rope and duct tape in his Kidnapping Kit whoops I mean Truly In Love Kit. Anyway, lots of gazing at the ocean and this sad little diversion is over.

OK, time for JP date. Is there any question that this guy's not gonna win? Well, "win," I guess. If you could see me I'd be doing air quotes around "win." No, that's douchey, I wouldn't do that. Anyway, Chipmunk is wearing a tapestry from a stoner's dorm room that's she's cut into some kind of crop top. They seaplane out to some island where it's just them and a camera crew and boom mic guy and the guy with the light meter and then nothing happens. Let's cut to Outdoor Dinner in the Jungle. Chipmunk tells him about Constantine leaving and she's totally making it sound like she dumped him. He's into staying in the Fantasy Suite and she's clearly ready to bone down too. She changes into what I assume are some very sexual undergarments but she's wearing a shirt over the top of it so whatever.

Pre-Rose Ceremony Interview with Chris Harrison. She says this is going to be the "most important rose ceremony" but how the fuck is that? There are two guys and two roses. A fucking Roomba could successfully complete this Rose Ceremony. Oh, she thinks there'll be a lot of tension in seeing whether or not they Accept This Rose. Have you ever seen this fucking show before? Of course they accept the fucking rose. Jesus Christ.

Rose Ceremony. In a shocking twist, Ben F. spontaneously combusts and leaves a smoking pile of charred prominent browline and femur on the deck. Not really. Everyone accepts the rose. Let's move on.

TK's Better Tour of San Francisco

2011-07-22T08:38:00.000-07:00

Got some of the Wife's relatives in town! It's her brother, who grew up in Ireland and now lives in New Zealand, and his New Zealander kids. They're all super-nice and awesome and everything. I volunteered to show 'em around SF this afternoon. Now, anyone could go see the sea lions at Pier 39 and whatnot, but where's the fun in that? I have my own tour of SF that beats the shit out of that:

Portsmouth Square

Kearny and Clay Streets

"The Sydney Ducks were this Australian gang, duh, that pretty much owned the waterfront around Broadway and Pacific. On May 3, 1851, one of the Ducks was seen running out of a shop on the southern side of Portsmouth Square just before the building started burning. The fire destroyed something like 2000 buildings, and was so bright you could see it in Monterey. They apparently set the fire so they could loot shit when people fled. A few Aussies were lynched a couple of months later and that seemed to have the desired effect."

Erno Tattoo

252 Fillmore

"That's where I got my first tattoo. I was drinking with my friend Jim at 13% on Haight, which was this bar where the Underground SF is now, and I stood up and said 'I guess I'm gonna go get a tattoo,' and I walked up there and sat down and got one. I was pretty lit. The less said about the tattoo, the better. Erno's is long gone now. So is 13%."

Church of Satan

6114 California Street

Wiki can tell the story better than me:

The Black House is a building that formerly stood at 6114 California St. in San Francisco, California, in the United States. Though the building is sometimes referred to as a mansion, photographs of the building taken just before its destruction show that it was a moderately sized single family home, considerably smaller than the two small apartment buildings on either side of the property. According to public records, it was listed at 2,205 square feet and constructed in the year 1905.

The house was used by Anton LaVey as the headquarters of his Church of Satan from 1966 until his death in 1997. LaVey conducted Satanic seminars and rituals at the house; one of the most notorious such rituals was the Satanic baptism of his daughter Zeena Schreck in 1967, punctuated by LaVey speaking the words "Hail Satan!" over the nude body of a female acting as the 'Satanic Altar'.

Public ceremonies were performed at the house until 1972. LaVey lost ownership of the house in 1991 as the result of a court settlement resulting from his separation from Diane Hegarty, but LaVey was allowed to reside at the Black House until his death.

Following LaVey's death, members of the Church of Satan unsuccessfully attempted to raise funds to repurchase the house, and it was demolished on October 17, 2001. A duplex now stands in its place.

A duplex! Man, Satan, that fucking SUCKS.

Imperial Palace restaurant

816 Washington Street

"Two and a half stars on Yelp. Tammie W. says that 'the selection was rather heavy on pork and shrimp and gone were the forays into vegetarian choices,' whatever the fucks that means. But we don't care about the food. This used to be the Golden Dragon, site of the Golden Dragon Massacre, a shootout between the Joe Boys and Wah Ching on September 4, 1977. 5 people got killed and 11 injured. Even more tragic was James Woods' hair in the 1989 film True Believer, which was loosely based on the incident."

Nightmarish.

The Furniture Mart

1355 Market St.

"This is the future home of Twitter. Twitter may be cool and all, but I bet you anything they will never, ever have a party like Jack Davis had on his 50th birthday at the Furniture Mart penthouse. Here's how Cintra Wilson described it:

In a nutshell, for those of you from points elsewhere, this Jack Davis guy, an openly gay and notoriously "outrageous" political consultant who is generally believed to have gotten the last two S.F. mayors elected and whose current client is the 49ers, who are trying to get the voters to approve a bond initiative to finance their new stadium, had his friends throw him a 50th birthday party that was attended by a slurry of big polyurethane-headed politicos in smart little suits and ties. The party, replete with multi-sexual go-go sluts and a glory hole wall, climaxed with a guy named Steve Leyba getting a pentagram carved on his back and being pissed on and sodomized with a bottle of Jack Daniel's by my old friend, vampire/lesbian/dominatrix/Satanist/junkie/poet/performance-artist Danielle Willis.

Top that, Twitter. Also, more Satanists! Yay!"

Corner of Haight and Stanyan

Haight and Stanyan Streets

"Let's stop here for some weed."

Corner of Golden Gate and Hyde

Golden Gate and Hyde Streets

"That's the Post Office where the homeless guys pick up their SSI checks. Luckily, they have multiple opportunities to spend them directly outside."

Pier 39

Embarcadero and Beach Streets

"I gotta stop at Krazy Kaps and We Be Knives and then OF COURSE we can look at the sea lions. I'm not heartless. Also, Red Jack Saloon is like 4 blocks away and it's probably been long enough that they wouldn't remember last time I was there and I could go in for a pint."

That's it. I'm beat. KMAGYOYO.

Trip Report: Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum

2011-07-20T09:01:00.000-07:00

I just got back from visiting my Dad in Tennessee for his birthday (Happy Birthday, Dad! Please stop working harder than me, you're making me look bad!) and I went to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum for the first time in my life and you know what? Old-time country music stars were gangsta as fuck.

Oh, before we get to that, here's the sign on the front door:

No, those aren't my sandals reflected in the front door. I don't wear fucking sandals. Those are my adidas Samoas, though. Anyway, NO WEAPONS. First museum I've ever been to where you had to be told not to bring weapons in. It sure as fuck doesn't say NO WEAPONS on the front door of the Louvre! TAKE THAT YOU PUSSY-ASS FRENCH MUSEUM!!!

Anyway, these country music guys used to booze harder and take more drugs and do more chicks than anyone else. They were basically the Motley Crue of their day.

Check out Gram Parsons' sweet Nudie suit with the marijuana leaf embroidery:

This next thing, though, blew my mind. Hank Williams shot some squirrels and then had them mounted by a taxidermist to look like they were playing in a little squirrel band and then displayed this gross little tableau in his house. My picture of it didn't turn out well, but I found this one online:

Welcome these fellas to your nightmares for the next few weeks. Anyway, Hank Williams took painkillers by the fistful and was a full-time drunk and still was one of the most most influential songwriters for both country and rock of all time.

And how about George Jones? Here, he tells it best:

Once, when I had been drunk for several days, Shirley decided she would make it physically impossible for me to buy liquor. I lived about eight miles from Beaumont and the nearest liquor store. She knew I wouldn't walk that far to get booze, so she hid the keys to every car we owned and left. But she forgot about the lawn mower. I can vaguely remember my anger at not being able to find keys to anything that moved and looking longingly out a window at a light that shone over our property. There, gleaming in the glow, was that ten-horsepower rotary engine under a seat. A key glistening in the ignition.

I imagine the top speed for that old mower was five miles per hour. It might have taken an hour and a half or more for me to get to the liquor store, but get there I did.

I fucking love George Jones. Here's some for you right now:

The Bachelorette: Anybody got a Dad they can spare?

2011-07-19T05:41:00.001-07:00

Like Ashley Chipmunk, I am also currently on a Hometown Date, except that mine consists of drinking on my Dad's back patio until 1 a.m. in 80-degree heat and hanging out with the extended family, while Ashley's consists of a painful road trip across America where she is confronted by Greek ladies asking how soon can she drop everything and move to Atlanta because they need a waitress stat.

Anyway, I knew I said I probably couldn't do the recap but last night all of us were burnt out on boozing and so we gathered around the family TV and watched Ashley make a series of semi-awkward to outright painful visits to these losers' families. Up first is Constantine, who I was really hoping lived in a tenement in Greek Town somewhere but who sadly hails from a McMansion in a featureless suburb of Atlanta. It seems that his family runs Giorgio's but that's cool because ethnic food is ethnic food, right? Pumpkinhead and Chipmunk visit the restaurant and pretend to make food and I don't think that kitchen crew is Greek unless Greece has relocated to Oaxaca. Then we get on to the Family Portion and Mom immediately puts the screws on Chipmunk to relocate and then Dad offers that she has a "gorgeous personality" which is Greek for "I'd hit it" and then clearly at the urging of the producers they have a My Big Fat Greek Reality Show moment and do that circular dance around the dining room and then Dad makes it rain and throws money in the air like he's some old Greek 50 Cent and the whole thing is just sort of sad.

Next we're going to visit the factory where Ames was assembled! Oh, I mean Chadd's Ford, Pennsylvania, which is so white it makes "Leave It to Beaver" look like "The Wire." Ames's "family" look like leftovers from an 80's movie about preppies and his sister has a sixhead just like him and tells Chipmunk how "romantic" he is and, what, did you two used to date? Where's Dad, anyway? Oh, we find out Dad died. Then Stepdad died. This is very sad but also I hope someone looked at Ames for the Dad Murders of Chadd's Ford. Ames needs to prove that he's not gay, so natch he takes Ashley to the "most beautiful garden I know," GREAT JOB AMES just like any old straight guy would say and they have a picnic and he tries to romance her by lowering his robot head onto her face for Lip Engagement Sequence Number 47B and I think it's safe to say that Ames will be parked back in the garage at the end of this episode.

OK, off to Sonoma to meet Early Man Ben F.'s family. They tromp off to his winery to have the now-oblig. picnic and Chipmunk wants to know if there's anything she should know. "Well, actually," Ben says, "my father was a silverback gorilla," oh, no, wait, his Dad is dead too. All these dead Dads are bumming me out. OK, let's meet the fam. Well, his sister sure is a handsome lady! She assures Chipmunk that Ben is in touch with his emotions. Good thing, because Mom isn't exactly a waterfall of feeling. Something else may have happened but I kinda zoned out a little at this point and I was also playing Words With Friends at the same time. It's a good thing that whoever named Words With Friends didn't name other games too or checkers would be called Moving Discs Across a Flat Surface. But I digress.

Last stop: Long Island, to meet JP's fam. They start out with a little roller skating to "I Can't Fight This Feeling," and I guess the rights to that song are so cheap now that even "The Bachelorette" can afford them and why are we even doing this? Let's meet this family. Oh, thank God, Mom has the Classic Long Island accent. Look, JP has a Live Dad! Now we're getting somewhere. He sure doesn't say much, but at least he's still up and mobile. Everyone talks darkly about JP's last relationship and how much it fucked him up and by the way they're talking it sounded like he needed electroshock to get over this bitch and what the hell did she do? Ohhhhh, maybe that's why Dad's so quiet! Anyway, we all chow down on some lasagna and Mom hauls out the Embarrassing Photo and that's about it.

Back in LA, Chipmunk sits down with Chris Harrison and God save our fucking souls, we are going to rehash the Bentley thing one more fucking time. They recap the dates a little and it's clear that Ames is already her Gay Best Friend and they're totally going to have slumber parties and watch Audrey Hepburn movies and talk about boys.

Time for the cuts Yes, no surprise. Ames is let go and he talks about how "poetic" the whole thing has been like he could get any gayer. So the final three is Pumpkinhead and Early Man and GI Joe. Good luck with that.

Speaking of the weather....

2011-07-14T14:00:00.000-07:00

I'm off tomorrow on a semi-brief trip to that aforementioned furnace-like middle of the country area. Here's my near future:

Looks like it might rain. No, looks like it might APOCALYPTICALLY STORM WITH SLASHING RAIN AND ANGRY BOLTS OF PURE ELECTRICITY but I guess that's hard to fit in the little columns.

Here's how my little trip might affect you:

- No Bachelorette recap on Tuesday. Probably not until Thursday, actually. I don't know how I would explain to my Dad (1) why I'm watching the Bachelorette, and (2) taking notes while doing so.

- A SHARP INCREASE in travel-related posts on Twitter if even the SLIGHTEST THING goes wrong during travel tomorrow or Tuesday.

Anyway, have a good weekend and all. Don't do anything fun without me!

Does the weather suck? Yeah, but not as bad as I thought.

2011-07-13T11:06:00.000-07:00

While the middle part of the country feels God's wrath for its many shortcomings by roasting in record heat, we sinners here in San Francisco are also being punished by the Almighty, in the form of just generally shitty weather. It's overcast and foggy and never gets much about 60 degrees.

I know the only thing more boring than blogging about the weather is blogging about blogging, but I'm starting to get the SAD real bad and so it got me to thinking - is this an extra-shitty July so far, or do we just forget every year about how shitty July in San Francisco is?

So I decided to do some Burrito Justice-style research and, you know, marshal some facts and shit and find out. I went to Weather Underground and looked at the high temps for July (and the last week of June, as long as I was there), and then wrote them all down on a clipboard while reading them off the screen out loud to myself. "72, 73, 68, 69," I'd say, and then write write write. It took about 15 minutes and looked like this:

Here's the short answer: Except for today, it's not appreciably worse than any other July in the last 10 years. Except for 2008. Let's look at the numbers.

So far, the average daily high temperature for July this year has been 70. That's pretty much exactly normal. Last year it was 72 through this date, and 71 in 2009, and 70 in 2006 and 2004. 2008 was a hot one - 74 average, but that's because it was really really nice from the 7th to the 11th, like high 70s and 80s.

There have been some bright spots this July. Remember when it was 80 on the 1st? That's the hottest July 1st in the last 10 years. Same with the 84 on the 3rd. Hell, it was 69 on the 10th, just like on the 10th of 2010 and 2003.

The only weird thing will be if it doesn't get above 59 today. If that's true, that will be the lowest high temperature for July in the last 10 years. That fucking sucks, I'll give you that. But overall, so far it's not a bizarrely off July.

I will tell you this, though: That last week of June we just had was the coldest last week of June in the last 10 years. Average high: 66. Last year was 70 and the year before that was 76. So maybe it's just the cumulative effect, starting in June.

(Does anyone remember June 2003? The last week's average high was 83! 3 days of 90s in a row! Jesus!)

So hang in there. It's just the usual shit.

The Bachelorette: And then there were four. Losers.

2011-07-12T08:36:00.001-07:00

There have been bad Bachelor/ette seasons and BAD seasons and REALLY BAD seasons but this is now officially the worst. We've seen some lame-ass dudes and chicks on this show, but this group of barely functioning jellyfish is so lifeless and inert they make a coma patient look like a spider monkey. Thankfully it will all be over soon and we can begin to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives and maybe watch Big Brother instead, which is starting to look like a Merchant Ivory production next to this crap.

Oh look, we're in Taiwan! Ashley Chipmunk informs us that it is known as "the hidden jewel of Asia because not a lot of people know about it." That's right, Ashley!! Never heard of it!! Now how do you say it again? TIE WON? TIE WANE? Say it one more time for us! We will begin with a Solo Date with Constantine the Pumpkinhead, in which we will take an old-timey train to an "adorable little village." YOU BE CUTE FOR ASHLEY YOU VILLAGERS. Oh see, we're painting Dream Lanterns. You paint your wish on it and hope it comes true. I put "A Quick and Painless Death" on mine! Fly, Dream Lantern, fly! This is followed by the Standard Outdoor Dinner/Relationship Talk and Chipmunk wants to know why he's not in love with her yet. That's not normal! Then they release their Dream Lanterns and it's romantic and they make out and whatever.

Next we have a Solo Date with Ben from Sonoma. They hop on a moped and immediately go the wrong way up the street, in an act of EERIE SYMBOLISM AND FORESHADOWING.

OH SHIT HE JUST CALLED HER "KIDDO." What are you, her crazy confirmed bachelor uncle with a brightly colored scarf? "Kiddo"? He drives the dorkped to the Next Outdoor Dinner and they talk about going to Sonoma maybe and he casually mentions something about "dropping the L-bomb" and I wish he would stop talking like that.

Group Date! Taiwan is famous for wedding photos! Who knew! So let's all go do the least fun part of any wedding and get faux wedding photos done! You have outdone yourself on the Wild and Fun Ideas, ABC! It goes over about as well as you'd expect. Then, in a Shocking Change of Pace, we have Indoor Dinner instead of Outdoor Dinner and then a little facetime with all the losers. Ames has brought family pictures! He is one weird fucking guy. Chipmunk calls him "unique" which is code for "Just Arrived Here on Earth and Still Trying to Figure It Out." JP is still pissed that she's Seeing Other People. You should hit her now and show her who's boss! He gets the Please Don't Hurt Me Rose and is in the Final 4.

Solo Date with Ryan! Everybody hates Ryan because he's like the Student Council President. Remember that guy? That's Ryan. After walking around an outdoor temple where Chipmunk says "Isn't this amazing?" about a million times they sit down for a picnic by a water feature and BOOM here comes Ryan turning on the romance with a half-hour seminar on TANKLESS WATER HEATERS. FASCINATING. Ashley looks like she wants to cut herself and is visibly distraught by this lecture on environmentally responsible plumbing and finally just lets him go. THANK GOD. Ryan ducks behind some bushes and has a panic attack, then wanders the streets of Taiwan looking melancholy. Whoa, he doesn't even get the Loser Limo! He gets the Loser Cab! Bonne chance, you fucking weirdo.

Time for the Pre-Rose Cocktail Party. Oh wait, she's bagging it again! Man, she keeps doing that! Who do you have to fuck to get a Pre-Rose Cocktail Party around here? Anyway, she says she knows who she's gonna cut. My money is on Spaceman Ames. Right on cue, he says to his fellow bros "The situation's pretty grave." Like, who the fuck talks like that? I mean, besides advisers to the President in those movies where Bill Pullman's the President?

OK, here we go. Rest of the Final Four. Pumpkinhead. Ben from Sonoma. AMES! What! You have got to be kidding me!! Lucas is kind of a dud, but AMES! Oh well. I am actually looking forward to meeting his family so we can figure out what happened there. Awww, poor Lucas just wants "someone I can cook breakfast for." You should get a job at Denny's! It would be like paradise for you! So there you go.

Then we have a little interview with Emily from last season. Chris Harrison begins with the Understatement of the Century: "Some of the couples who have gotten together on our show have not stayed together." NO FUCKING WAY. REALLY. Anyway, Emily, who is in full porn star makeup, cries a lot and really doesn't explain why she and Brad broke up but maybe getting engaged after 4 dates on a TV show has something to do with it. Who knows?

New Bar Night: Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem

2011-07-11T09:05:00.000-07:00

I finally got an iPhone on Friday. I didn't get one for a long time because they were only on AT&T and I don't get any AT&T signal in my house. Came to find out that nobody gets any AT&T signal anywhere in San Francisco, so that turned out to be a good move. I got a G1 instead and went with T-Mobile. I liked the G1 pretty well. Having an actual keyboard was helpful but damn that thing was slow. So anyway my contract was up and what it really came down to is that I can carry one box around instead of 2 (i.e., phone and iPod). So I upped with Verizon and got the iPhone.

So far, I pretty much love it except there's a definite learning curve with the keyboard. Also, why is there no notification light? On the G1 (and every other phone in the world, I think), there's like a little green light that blinks on the front of the phone if you have a new text or email. How hard would it have been to put that on there? Seems ridic. But no, I'm just bitching. I pretty much love it.

OK, so Saturday I happened to be at the Phoenix to catch the end of the Giants game (Romo FTS! [That's "for the save," I just made that up]) and we were trying to decide where to go next and I was all "Let's go to that new place on Mission that was on Mission Mission and Uptown Almanac!!!!" and people usually let me get my way when I've been drinking so off we went.

It's called Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem and they don't appear to have a website. In case you didn't know, that was the name of the Muppets band. (OF COURSE there's a Muppets wiki.) My initial reaction is that it's a retarded name for a bar. But whatever, what's inside?

Initial reaction is that it's pretty much just your basic bar. There's a cocktail list but it's not online and I didn't take a picture of it or anything. Not crazy about the beer selection so the chicks got some specialty cocktails and we got a couple of Bud tall cans. Bud is gross but I wanted something not so heavy and not Trumer.

I stole this picture from Grubstreet. Thanks, Grubstreet! They have a good slideshow of the whole place.

OK here's the background: this place was opened by the same people who own Tonic, on Russian Hill, apparently, and you might say that Tonic appeals to a different demographic than you typically find in the Mission (except for Blondie's, but that's another story). Now, of course I'm generalizing to some extent, and a full discussion of the Tribes of San Francisco is beyond the scope of this piece, but I think we can agree that there's a general "type" that's associated with the Mission and a general "type" that's associated with Russian Hill and they're not exactly the same type. Like there was a guy at the bar unironically wearing a peach Polo (and I mean an actual Polo, with the little Polo guy stitched on it) who smelled like cologne and had no visible tattoos. More power to this guy and all, but it was just a surprise is all I'm saying.

Then more stuff started to stand out. Like, there's a second bar in the back of the room that, don't get me wrong, is certainly convenient but it's just odd because you don't see that second bar thing much. Oh, and when I came back from the bathroom there was a chick at the table next to us climbing up onto her chair for reasons unknown and and I thought she was going to start table dancing but she didn't thank God.

ANYWAY this is probably more than you wanted to hear and it turned into like this fucking Sociology thesis and whatever it's a bar not a Social Experiment. It was crazy crowded by the time we left so keep that in mind. It's fine I guess. If you happened to be walking by on a Wednesday and wanted to stop in and get a drink there are worse places, I suppose, but I wouldn't make a point of coming here.

POSTSCRIPT: Over on Yelp (only 4 reviews as of this morning), reviewer Tom R. gives it two stars and says:

"Hipster irony is eating it's own tail"

and links to a Youtube video of the Muppet band.

Maybe I'm just dense, but I cannot figure out for the life of me what Tom R.'s point is. What does he mean, hipster irony eating its own tail? That's it's so ironic that it's not ironic any more? Because I don't think that has anything to do with this bar. Like the owners went "Wow, it would be so ironic to name this bar Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem"? That doesn't make any sense. Oh well. Maybe Tom R. is just more savvy of a cultural critic than I am.

This short anecdote is illustrative of the way The Wife thinks

2011-07-08T12:09:00.000-07:00

We were recently walking near Union Square, by where all the hotels are, and passed by the back door/loading area for some hotel, and there were 4 or 5 guys loading a series of Igloo-type coolers into a car. They were all wearing like hotel uniforms or something.

She asked me what I thought was in them and I said I had no idea.

She said she thought it was probably organs stolen from hotel guests who are now lying in their bathtubs packed in ice, still sedated, and the organs in the coolers were being loaded for transport to wealthy foreigners who bought them.

Could be.

Have a great weekend.

(P.S. You know what one of the hazards is with following ballplayers on Twitter? You find out that they have opinions that differ from your own and then you don't like them as much, even when they play for a team you like. Just today Jeremy Affeldt, a relief pitcher for the Giants who I basically liked despite his ridiculous chin beard thing, retweeted Rick Warren saying something about "Planned Parenthood's Scandal" with a link to some anti-choice group's website. Oh great. Now every time Jeremy Affeldt pitches I'm going to think about how he's all anti-Planned Parenthood, which basically means that you're anti-health care for poor and middle-class women, who might not get it any other way. I'm sure Jeremy Affeldt's wife can afford all the top-notch healthcare she wants, but a lot of people can't.)

(True story, when I was younger and poorer, my ex got her health care through Planned Parenthood and I don't know how we would have afforded it otherwise. So all you people trying to defund Planned Parenthood, go fuck yourself. God, that makes me angry.)

The sad inevitability of change in the modern world and whatever

2011-07-07T08:31:00.000-07:00

There is no way I'm going to be able to do this without sounding like an asshole. Luckily, I'm used to that.

We have learned that the Red Vic movie theater on Haight is closing.

Later this month, 31 years to the day after it became an instant landmark in the Haight-Ashbury, the Red Vic Movie House will close.

"Our closure is 100 percent certain at this point," co-owner Claudia Lehan said. "On July 25, our birthday screening of 'Harold and Maude' will be our last, I'm sad to say."

Now, of course it is always sad when a business closes down, whether it be the Red Vic or any other business. (Speaking of Haight Street, does anyone remember Crescent City Cafe on Haight, where Best of Thai Noodle is now? Wow, Crescent City continues to have a lively online presence, despite the fact that it's been closed for years. That place was good. But I digress.)

I hate to sound like a dick about it, but that's commerce. You have a good idea, you run with it, it works for a while, but if people stop showing up, it's time to pack it up or come up with a new idea. Now, the Red Vic was a non-profit, so I guess having fundraisers to save it is cool and whatever, but in the end, if people don't want to pay for the product any more, it's not going to be viable any more.

I think it's sad and regrettable that San Francisco has lost most of its neighborhood theaters over the last 20 to 30 years, but that's life. I wonder if people had benefits to save the last remaining neighborhood blacksmiths in 1911 or the last neighborhood tanneries or whatever. Point being that change is inevitable and nothing lasts forever and even though it's sad, that's just the way it is. Let's all have fond memories and move on.

(Full disclosure: I used to live around the corner in the 90's and saw a fair amount of movies there and always found it slightly annoying, but patronized it nonetheless.)

(Also, I don't remember anyone being especially heartbroken when the Full Moon Saloon - where the Red Vic moved into - closed down. I have this vague memory of going into that place once. But NFI, as the cops say.)

(That's police talk for "No Further Information." I'm rambling now. I was at a ballgame last night until 11:00 and didn't get home until midnight, so you'll have to give me a break.)

Brief reviews of things from this weekend

2011-07-05T09:09:00.000-07:00

Churchill: The newish bar on Church and 14th. Friday happy hour was like the 3rd or 4th time I've been there and it is always packed. At least during the times I go there. They are going to make SO MUCH MONEY. Anyway, I like the place OK, I guess. I'd like to go sometime when it's not crazy busy to get a better idea. I had a Pimm's Cup (give me a break - it was like 75 degrees out, that's like Crazy Surface of the Sun Hot in SF) that tasted a little weird, not sure why. The Sister's Moscow Mule was pretty badass, though. 7.5/10

Uber car service: We go outside, The Sister pushes a button on her iPhone, and we're getting into a black town car driven by "Mischa" 3 minutes later. I did not pay for this service, so it was a fucking awesome way to get across town. How can you not like riding in the back of a town car driven by a guy who may or may not be in the Russian mob and never takes off his sunglasses? 10/10

The Royal Cuckoo: Newish bar on Mission and Valencia. I don't know, it's probably better when it's dark out. We got there at 7:30 and it was still bright out and it didn't seem exactly right. I like the feel of the place, and there are the usual artisanal cocktails and hand-muddled herbs and whatever and also a guy showed up and started playing a Wurlitzer organ and we all got a little Twin Peaks-ed out and went across the street to Knockout for beers. I'll try it again, though. 6.8/10

Nickie's: I always forget how much I like Nickie's. Everyone there is super nice and it's got a great convivial vibe, which you want from a pub-feeling kind of place, and I always manage to get into a conversation with a stranger here, usually someone interesting. I gotta start going there more often. 8/10 [Oh look, I wrote about Nickie's in 2008 and said about the same things. Well, good to know it's still good.] [Also, Nickie's, your website auto-plays music! BAD!!! BAD!!!!]

The brunch I made at home on Sunday: Scrambled eggs with andouille sausage, green onion, and cheddar. Hash browns. Fresh fruit. Mimosas. Fucking heavenly. 10/10

Le Colonial: Sunday was like the perfect night to sit on the veranda (and I do not use that term lightly) and have what turned out to be some really, really good Vietnamese/French food. Again with the weird cocktails, though! I got a mojito and it had orange juice in it. Yuck. But the food was outstanding and it's a great atmosphere out there on a warm night. Fucking expensive as hell, but sometimes you just gotta go for it. 8.2/10

Guy Getting Shot by BART Police at Civic Center Station on Sunday Night: They got a report of a guy with an open container of alcohol acting drunk at Civic Center Station? Dude, that is EVERY DAY AT CIVIC CENTER STATION. Fuck, I'VE been that guy at Civic Center Station. Good thing I didn't get shot. Anyway, I'm sure that it will be determined that the cops acted reasonably and whatever. That's how these things always turn out. 3.5/10

Cedar Rapids: I guess I would describe it as "cute." It's a cute movie. There are a few laughs, and John C. Reilly should get nominated for an Oscar for his supporting role as the Huge Douchebag. He was really fucking phenomenal. Worth Netflixing, I guess.

Illegal Fireworks in the Mission Last Night: Jesus Christ, people, WHAT THE FUCK. It sounded like a fucking war out there. I chugged a bottle of wine around 10 to take the edge off so I could go to bed without having flashbacks triggered and then I realized I didn't have any flashbacks to trigger but it was still pretty intense and the wine helped anyway. 1/10

Prices slightly higher in Times Square and Hell

2011-06-30T12:35:00.000-07:00

HEY-O!!! IT'S RED LOBSTER SEAFOOD FEAST TIME AGAIN!!!!!

Whilst recently watching some network TV (probably the Bachelorette, God help me, that feels like my fucking job half the time), I happened to see an ad for Red Lobster's special Seafood Feast, wherein one might get a 4-course dinner for $15!!! THAT'S A HELL OF A DEAL. I couldn't find the ad online (because, what, there is nobody in the United States uploading all Red Lobster ads on YouTube? FUCK YOU AMERICA GET TO WORK. Sure, we have this one - FROM 2009 - or this one - FROM 1986 - but nothing for the Seafood Feast? WEAK.)

A N Y W A Y, there is a curious disclaimer at the end of the ad, reproduced here in their online advertising thing:

Now, ignore, if you can, the prospect of some signature New England Clam Chowder followed by some Shrimp-and-Scallops Alfredo and look there at the bottom. See it?

PRICES HIGHER IN TIMES SQUARE AND HAWAII

Now, Hawaii I can understand. It's very expensive to ship frozen processed seafood to an ISLAND CHAIN SURROUNDED BY AN OCEAN FULL OF FISH. It must take tons of fossil fuels to deliver each savory bite of parmesan-crusted tilapia to your table in Honolulu.

BUT HERE'S THE THING.

If you are in New York City, and you go to eat at Red Lobster, KILL YOURSELF. And not just because prices are higher in Times Square! But because you are in one of the greatest dining destinations in the World and you have chosen to drop off your hard-earned dollars in one of the crappiest chains there is. I don't eat a lot of seafood and I don't live in New York, but I will bet you ANYTHING there is a better seafood within walking distance of Times Square that's either comparable or cheaper.

Now I'm not some "Oh, I wouldn't dare eat at a chain" kind of snob. When I'm in the South, I loves me some Cracker Barrel and don't even get me started on Krystal. I want to open a Krystal here and CLEAN THE FUCK UP. I have been known to partake of In N Out, although I fail to see its mysterious allure, and fuck it, I'll throw down at McD's when the time is right.

But here's our standing deal: When we're traveling somewhere, NO CHAINS. C'mon, you've gone 500 or 1000 or 5000 miles away from home and the best thing you can think of is to have lunch at the same place you can hit while you're waiting for your car at Jiffy Lube back home? COME ON MAN.

[DISCLAIMER - I've never really traveled to the Far East and I guess if you went to China and all you had was squid eyes and catfish roe and dirt patties for a week, I could cut you some slack on posting up at KFC. But you're on an Intra-American trip, I'm pretty strict on this. NO CHAINS.]

[Second disclaimer - In the interests of exploration and reportage, I did hit up Supermac's last time I was in Ireland, which is like the Irish equivalent of McDonald's. Terrible. But none of the food in Ireland is any good. Well, there was this vegetable soup at this pub in Gerrykennedy that was really really good. But that's about it.]