We take our show on the road and confuse the natives of the Turks and Caicos

You know what's more boring than listening to someone drone on and on about their vacation? NOTHING. So I'm going to keep this semi-mercifully short. Then on Monday we can get back to baseball and stupidity like normal.

As you may or may not know, after New York my child bride and I departed these friendly shores for the much odder and maybe not as friendly Turks and Caicos Islands. Now, the islands are undeniably beautiful, but customer service in the Caribbean is like sauerkraut or democracy - they've heard of it, but they're not quite sure how to do it.


So just by way of example, after 2 semi-long flights we arrive in T&C and after an odd van/cab ride in which the driver deputized one of the passengers to collect money from all the other passengers, then got mad when people didn't have exact change, then blasted reggae the whole way, making normal conversation impossible, we arrive at the resort and are "greeted" by two women at the front desk who are clearly pissed off to have to be greeting guests at 9:00 p.m. I gathered later from talking to other people that "Caribbean service" is sort of known for being maybe not up to North American standards but still, after coming from New York, where everybody was falling over themselves to be friendly and help out and everything, it was kind of a shock.


Once you get used to it, though, it's not so bad and some people are actually friendly and cheerful. We thought the bartender at the hotel bar hated us, too, until we realized that his knowledge of English was limited to "pina colada" and "make mine a double" and he wasn't an asshole, he just couldn't understand a word we were saying. So that explains the blank stare and the failure to engage in conversation.


I don't want to get into a whole sociological analysis here too, but there is a kinda weird dynamic created when every single employee everywhere you go is black and 99% of the customer base is white.


Now, yeah, I know, count on me to find the cloud in every silver lining, but if I couldn't bitch about it, it didn't happen, you know? In the end, ANYWAY, we had a really great time, which consisted of lying on the beach and then having some drinks and then going out to eat and then drinking some more and then going to bed.


Without further ado, HEY, LOOK AT MY BORING VACATION PICTURES!

You don't have to get married to go on a 2-week vacation, but it's a convenient excuse that no one can make you feel bad about

So yeah, I totally got married.

This is actually a picture from the night of the rehearsal dinner but I sort of love this picture and you get the idea. The tent was in my Dad's backyard.

The rehearsal dinner was notable for the fact that everyone got pretty drunk, especially The Sister's boyfriend and Phil the Irish DJ, who between the two of them polished off about a half a gallon of Jameson. I mean, are you kidding me?

The wedding itself was perfectly nice and Super Hot Irish Girlfriend looked awesome and all that stuff. There was a slight hitch in the proceedings when our officiant, who claimed to have done "thousands" of weddings, started reading someone else's vows in the middle. Really? That's funny, I don't remember writing "Let us pray." Anyway, I guess it's all still legal and stuff.

Now we're in New York and having an awesome time and everything except that SHIG is maybe a little tired from lack of sleep and let me assure you that dragging a tired SHIG through the Metropolitan Museum of Art at 9:30 a.m. on a Tuesday is maybe not the best way to start off a new marriage.

I have a couple of other observations about NYC:

(1) The whole New-Yorkers-are-rude canard is totally false. Everyone is perfectly nice. Maybe even nicer than SF. Is this just Manhattan or is everyone in NY nice?

(2) WHAT THE FUCK is up with the peds walking against red lights? I thought it was bad in SF, but here peeps have taken it to a whole new level by actually walking in front of cars. Carazy. But now I'm doing it too, just to fit in.

(3) Buddakan was really good. It's one of those sceney kind of places where you expect the food to be an afterthought, but every dish we had was awesome. I could have that Chinese sausage fried rice every day. And the lobster and shrimp chow fun? Oh fuck yes.

(4) If you live somewhere like SF, then NYC doesn't seem expensive at all. We had breakfast with my nephew and his wife at Balthazar yesterday and I was all "$14 for an omelette and potatoes? Seems right to me!" I could see this possible surprising someone from, say, Amarillo, Texas.

Off to Turks & Caicos tomorrow. I don't know what the Internet situation will be and I'll be too tired and drunk to type anyway, so I don't know the next time you'll hear from me. It's amazing I even posted this.

ONE FINAL NOTE: SHIG (who shall remain SHIG until further notice, despite our change in status) and I both wrote a little something for San Francisco Love Story and it's up there today, so go check that out for EVEN! MORE! BONUS! CONTENT! You should totally be reading SFLS anyway.

That's it. I've gotta go walk around some more. Last day in NYC. SHIG is out shopping. We agreed it would be better to split up today than to go shopping together, which would consist of me sighing and staring at her REALLY HARD while she holds clothes up.

Sure, Mom! Would you like to stay in our room with us too?

How can I put this delicately? My mother is...ummmm....not very normal. Yes, that'll do. Anyway, we kind of have a history and consequently we don't see each other much and, as it happens and for reasons too exhausting to detail here, she's not coming to my wedding, which is - hold the fucking phone - a week from tomorrow. Which is fine and I totally understand her reasons and whatever blah blah blah.

But here's the funny thing: she doesn't want to come to the wedding. She wants to come to the honeymoon.

Oh Christ. Here's how this went down. Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and I are getting married and then we're going to NYC for a few days and then Turks and Caicos to relax in tropical Caribbean splendor and have little men bring us fruity drinks whilst we recline under the palapa. ANYWAY, Mom calls me and says she has a delicious idea - "How about I meet you and SHIG in New York and you can tell me about the wedding?????"

Umm, how about no fucking way? Because our few days of romance and nightlife in New York would turn into a tightly-scripted Momcation with events planned to the minute and long evenings gazing into my Mother's eyes over a candlelit dinner. No. No no no no no.

So I tell her no and she's genuinely surprised and hurt. I mean, am I being crazy here? Growing up with this woman, you kind of lose your handle on what crazy is. So am I? Was it wrong of me to tell my Mom that she can't come with us on our honeymoon? It's kind of weird, isn't it, that I see her about once a year and the one time this year she wants to get together is my honeymoon?

ANYWAY.

Happy Friday, everyone!

So anyway, yeah, tonight is the bachelor party, for what's it's worth, but it's not going to be one of those crazy, limo-riding, strip-club-going kind of things. Just a nice dinner with the fellas and maybe kill a hooker hit a few bars.

She's not really a morning person

One thing I think has been kind of overlooked in the whole debate over torture is the fact that WE'RE DEBATING WHETHER OR NOT TORTURE IS OK. I mean, seriously, what the fucking fuck!?!!??! Can we all just take a deep breath and sit back and think about that for a second? Did the Bush administration fuck with our heads so fucking much that we think this is some kind of reasonable debate? Are you out of your fucking mind? I thought we settled this after the goddam Spanish Inquisition ended. Imagine me saying this with my hands cupped around my mouth: IT'S NOT OK TO TORTURE PEOPLE. Fuck, it's like everyone is 13 years old or something. Unbelievable.

Speaking of torture, I was reminded this morning that it's not a good idea to fuck with Super Hot Irish Girlfriend in the morning. She was still in bed and trying to sleep and I was joking around with her and making noise and kissing all over her face just before I left for work and she opened her eyes just a little bit and said "I will jam your nose up into your brain." So cute!

The perils of being Internet-famous. Or I guess knowing someone who's Internet-famous.

So Saturday was Super Hot Irish Girlfriend's bachelorette party thing, for lack of a better term, which consisted of her and 5 of her friends getting a limo (from "Mr. Limo," no joke) and going up to Sonoma and going to a bunch of wineries and seeing who would pass out and/or cry first. I have access to her camera and could technically post pics and in fact even said I would do so on Saturday night but I have since thought the better of it in the harsh light of day and because these girls are my friends too and I would like to keep it that way. But they were good, and you'll have to trust me on that.

So our friend Jessica is kind of Internet-famous now and has 771 followers on Twitter mostly because Adam Savage from Mythbusters is a friend of hers and has like 30,000 followers on Twitter and one day casually mentioned that Jessica is really funny and you should follow her and BLAM all of a sudden 771 followers. NOT LIKE SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE 771 FOLLOWERS ON HER OWN WITH OR WITHOUT ADAM'S HELP BECAUSE SHE TOTALLY SHOULD but I'm just saying that's how it happened.

Now, as it happens, Adam Savage was totally right and Jessica is one of the naturally funniest people I know and her Twitter stream is comic gold, with things like "Person in front of me @ Long's got plastic-bottle vodka, cat food, & adult diapers. I just got a candy bar & a free glimpse of my future."

SO, this is already too long and whatever but on Saturday, Jessica happened to post a picture of the gals on her Twitter stream which is basically like displaying it on a big screen in front of a theater full of strangers and some guy (at least I think it's a guy) who's a complete stranger to us comments on the picture: "Oh, excuse me while I wipe the drool from my mouth."

I guess it's nice to be thought of as drool-worthy, right!?

Leprechaun Man strikes again

Super Hot Irish Girlfriend says that she believes God is running out of extras to populate her life, because she sees the same people all over the place. Totally true.

The one extra in the movie of my life that is getting way too much work is this guy I call Leprechaun Man because, well, he looks like a leprechaun. He's short and has one of those chin beards with no moustache.

I see him in my work neighborhood pretty regularly, but the weird part is when he pops up unexpectedly, like once when SHIG and I were having brunch in Cole Valley and BOOM! there he was, with his kids (or at least I assumed they were his kids). Another time I was downtown on my way to the movie theater in the Westfield Center and BOOM! there's Leprechaun Man on the sidewalk going the other way.

SO TODAY, I took Leland to the beach which was awesome and fun as always. So we're driving back on Divisadero and there's this ASSHOLE trying to get over in my lane and cut me off. DON'T FUCK WITH ME IN TRAFFIC MOTHERFUCKER. I WILL CUT A BITCH.

We get up to the light at Divis and Haight and I look over and by now you can guess who it was. LEPRECHAUN MAN IS STALKING ME. It's officially weird now.

SHIG and 5 other chicks left this morning at 10 a.m. in a limo to go wine tasting in Sonoma. Any bets on whether they're lit now? It's like 1:30 p.m. No one? No takers? Smart.

Stay inside! Don't speak to anyone! Avoid travel!

Thanks, media, for serving up a new disease panic! Guess it's a slow news day and people are bored of the global financial crisis anyway. Remember all the friends and relatives you lost to SARS and Bird Flu and flesh-eating bactera? Well, Swine Flu is here to finish off everyone else. Make sure to wear a mask and take a ton of Tamiflu!

Good weekend. Friday night, went to Art Explosion, which is basically an open studios thing where you can wander around and drink free wine and check out a bunch of artists' stuff. Our friend Ehren was one of the artists who has a studio there and so I saw her and then looked around at some other stuff. I ended up buying some little cartoon kind of things from Telephone and Soup.

Then Olu and Gabe and Brett and I left and went to Shotwell's, which used to be Inner Mission but now is Shotwell's but is still basically the same bar. Had a couple of beers there and went home.

Saturday, after band practice, Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and I went to Contigo in Noe Valley. We were lucky enough to sit at the bar because the bartender took a liking to us and gave us tastings of all the Cavas he had and was totally cool to hang out and talk with because it wasn't so busy yet.

The food was really good, too. We had the albondingas, which are little lamb and pork meatballs, patatas bravas, and a little pork belly sandwich. Oh, and some jamon serrano. The only quibble I have is that the portions seemed really small. Now, I know they're supposed to be small and they're authentic tapas and blah blah blah but when you're paying $7 each you're still a little surprised by how small they are. Anyway, totally not a big deal and I'm sure we'll go back.

Yesterday was Whole Foods and a Locked Up Abroad marathon. So there's the weekend.

Ticketmaster saved my ass

You know, I'm right there with everyone else in hating Ticketmaster, with their $10 "convenience fees" on a $20 ticket and then an extra $1.50 fee just for the fuck of it. But last night, I've never been so glad I got my tickets from Ticketmaster.

So Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and I ride the Logan's Run train over to the E. Bay to see Blitzen Trapper and Fleet Foxes at the super-duper fancied up Fox Theater in Oakland. We ate dinner first with Stephen and Jessica at Flora, which was really good but the bartender was kind of an asshole but that's another story. ANYWAY, we sit down at our table and we haven't ordered anything yet and I realize FUCK I left the tickets in SF.

So here's where we are: We're in Oakland, an hour away from showtime, and the tickets are in a drawer in our house in SF. We are truly fucked.

I get up and go over to the Fox Theater box office and ask if it's sold out. As a matter of fact, it's not! So I resign myself to eating the tickets and buying two more.

HERE'S WHERE THE MIRACLE OF TICKETMASTER COMES INTO PLAY.

I casually mention to the Ticket Lady that I have to buy 2 tickets because I left mine in SF. She says, "Oh, did you use Ticketmaster?" I say I bought them online, so probably so. I give her the credit card I used and in about 30 seconds she's handing me replacement tickets FOR FREE. I almost wept with relief. She said, "Now, the tickets you bought earlier won't work anymore" and I said "That's OK, the guy I sold them to probably won't come" and I left.

How cool is that? Thank you, Ticketmaster, for finally doing something good instead of evil.

As long as we're here, dinner was really good. I'd go back to Flora again in a heartbeat. They were slammed, but the service was still pretty good and the food was excellent.

The Fox Theater is all kinds of awesome. It's sort of like a slightly smaller, fancier Warfield with late-19th-century brothel decor and these huge buddha-like guys on each side of the stage with eyes that light up like they're in an Indiana Jones movie. They would FREAK YOU THE FUCK OUT if you were tripping, I bet.

As for the bands, yeah, they were OK. I'd rather see Blitzen Trapper in a smaller place, since it seemed like their sound got kind of lost and bounced around in there. Fleet Foxes were fine, I guess, but I've never been that into them anyway.

Yes, it's over 65 degrees OMG OMG

HOT ENOUGH FOR YA!?!!?!

I swear, you live in this godforsaken windswept rock of a city for long enough and you actually forget what warm feels like. So yesterday it got up to, what, 88 degrees in SF and that brought out all the sickly pale people in tiny clothes all RUSHING RUSHING RUSHING to Dolores Park or the beach before the warm wears off, which will likely be Wednesday, I think.

NOT US! Since we are lucky enough to be the proud renters of a backyard, we had Stephen and Jessica over, along with their dog Todd. This is a very rare picture of Leland and Todd together:

So we hung out in the backyard and drank some beers and then ate this quinoa thing that Super Hot Irish Girlfriend made and then watched the Cristy episode of Intervention, which I can pretty much watch any time. More or less a perfect day, I'd say.

Saturday SHIG and I were out at the old ball yard to see the Giants lose a heartbreaker to the D-backs despite Timmy Lincecum's incredible 8-inning, 13-strikeout shutout. What a drag.

Urban etiquette: an occasional series

Today's topic: At the movies

So last night Super Hot Irish Girlfriend had Book Club at our house, which is an all-female event and thus not conducive to my easygoing, albeit male, presence. So I hied myself down to the Century 20 Daly City to see "I Love You Man", not because I'm in complete awe of the whole Apatow school of comedy but because basically it was the least offensive thing at around 7:00 p.m. What am I going to see, "The Fast and the Furious"? Or maybe "Hannah Montana". I'd love to have to explain that to the police when they inevitably arrive.

ANYWAY, I get there and it's clearly a younger crowd, maybe average age 25. And there's the usual talking during the previews, but hey, that ship sailed a long time ago. Then the movie starts and the couple behind me (both wearing SFSU sweatshirts, for what it's worth) talk through the whole goddam thing.

Here's the rule, and I can't believe I have to even say this, because it's so basic like "Don't spit in a stranger's mouth" or "Don't stop to chat with the Bay Bridge toll taker," but here it is: When you're at the movies, keep your fucking mouth shut. If you're not having a heart attack or a PCP freakout, there is no fucking thing important enough to share right then.

(Sidenote: Yes, I appreciate the irony of going alone to a movie that's basically about a guy who has no friends. But I actually like going to movies alone every once in a while and there's usually not such a blatant connection to what's going on onscreen.)

You know one thing I liked about Ireland? Well, one of many? I went to a movie there with SHIG's best friend's boyfriend and a couple of other guys and a couple of people whispered during the movie and the WHOLE FUCKING THEATER basically went SHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! really loud and I guess there's some kind of cultural thing where the Irish like complete silence during movies and I wish we had that here.

I don't know what it was about this particular movie, but couples (and yes, it mostly attended by younger couples) all over the theater were chatting it up. Fuck. I blame the parents. From the time they're infants, these kids get taken to the Finding Nemos and the Little Mermaids and the parents probably (I'm guessing here, as I don't see a lot of G-rated films in theaters) let their little brats yap through the whole thing. So they grow up thinking it's ok. It's not OK.

I guess I'll stick to seeing "Depressing Yet Quirky Characters Trade Bon Mots in a Plotless Urban Milieu," 8:15 at the Embarcadero Cinema. Nobody ever talks during the movie there.

Almost Famous, Part 2

Funny coincidence. Sort of. On the same day my blog is featured on SFist, my friend[*] Jon is featured in the Chronicle. He does voiceover work for museums and is generally an all-around great guy.

[*] I say "friend," in the sense that we know each other on sight, know each other's names, and he's the brother-in-law of a guy who used to be in a friend's band and who recorded my band's first demo. And he serves me drinks at Valley Tavern. So, yeah, I guess I can call him a friend.

So if you're reading my blog for the first time, welcome. Here are some of the topics you can expect to read about:

1. Drinking
2. Music
3. Baseball
4. My Super Hot Irish Girlfriend
5. Escalator rage
6. Snack foods
7. Furries[*]

[*] I haven't actually written anything about furries yet.

Don't worry. Not all the posts are as bad as this one.

Your name is Wild

Today has been an emotional rollercoaster, and it's not even 10:00 a.m. yet.

So I get on BART at 24th and get off at Civic Center and I'm walking towards the fare gate and reaching for my shirt pocket where I usually stick my ticket and OHFUCKINGNO it's not there. So I stand there with that bewildered look while all the commuters flow around me and I search every pocket and come up empty. I just lost my Fast Pass.

I explain my situation to the BART girl (who looks like she's about 14, BTW - did BART start hiring middle-schoolers?) and she tells me that usually it's $4.90 for a lost ticket but I must look extra-forlorn because she lets me out for free.

I get to to the office and am thinking about how I'm going to handle commuting for the rest of the month (srsly, I use my Fast Pass every day, bar none) and I'm taking off my coat and IT FLUTTERS TO THE GROUND LIKE A BLUE SNOWFLAKE. I had somehow wedged it between my coat and my shirt. THANK YOU JESUS FOR THE SAFE RETURN OF MY FAST PASS.



Happy Friday, everybody!

Super Hot Irish Girlfriend is detoxing. No, not rehab, but maybe worse: no dairy, gluten, caffeine, alcohol, or crack cocaine. You can read all about it (in short daily bursts) here.

I'm sure everyone's heard about the Girl Scout who tried selling cookies online and mean old Girl Scouts Inc. made her stop and blah blah blah it's a funny human interest story and everything but did you see that the girl's name is WILD FREEBORN? Who the fuck names their daughter "Wild"? That's the kind of name that you'd only hear preceded by "Now on the main stage in the Champagne Room, it's...."

P.S. I just realized that Fast Pass story may not be interesting to anybody but me. I guess that's why this is a blog and not CNN. Oh well.

P.P.S. Bonus points if you know where the title of this post comes from.

Happy Dangerously Volatile Alcoholic Day!

A lot of people assume, reasonably enough I guess, that since my girlfriend is from Ireland that St. Patrick's Day is a Big Thing in our house. Not really. As it turns out, when she was growing up in Ireland it wasn't the big deal kind of thing that it is here and so it's never been like a Thing for her. It's never been a Thing for me, either, because it's one of two nights a year (NYE being the other, obviously) when bars are packed with people who don't know what they fuck they're doing and get in the way of Serious Drinkers like myself. So blagh, you can have it.

A couple of years ago I did go to the big block party that O'Reilly's has every year in North Beach where they block off the streets and have bands and outdoor kegs and everything else. It was just as nightmarish as you might imagine. Later that night, we were sitting at an outdoor table down the street at Rogue and some drunk guy came down the street SCREAMING and then knocked over a newspaper box in some kind of alcoholic rage. Happy St. Patrick's Day!

P.S. I know I said not that long ago that I would never get a Twitter account. FAIL.

** UPDATE: This email from SHIG is illustrative of my point above. Note that when she says "here," she's talking about her office, which has a booze-soaked SPD party every year. The drinking habits of her office are a whole other post. ANYWAY:

I don't know why, but I'm extra on-edge today because we're having such a big SPD thing here. They were discussing the booze for the afternoon (keg, Irish car bombs and Irish coffee), so I just kinda blurted out in the lunchroom "Irish Car Bombs are bullshit and no Irish person would ever drink that. No bartender would ever make one. It's very offensive and I'd never walk into a bar here and order a 9/11". Stoney silence. So, yeah, I'm in buzzkill mood already.

Restless Dog Syndrome

I would describe our condition this morning as "tired." Let's review and see if we can determine how this came about.

Daytime Drinking Season traditionally begins April 1, but we kicked it off yesterday this year. We began with brunch at Foreign Cinema with Super Hot Irish Girlfriend, The Sister and The Sister's bf. It was crazy fucking busy, so even though we had 1 p.m. reservations, we got seated at 1:15 and didn't get our food until about 2:00. No matter, though, as any incipient feelings of hangry were staved off by a succession of Fellinis (the drink, not the director - some combination of champagne, Aperol, and juice (maybe grapefruit?)). The food was pretty good, nothing to write home about.

We then relocated, minus The Sister's bf, to Valley Tavern and sat outside in the back, where we were soon joined by Laur and Linds, Stoney, and Olu and EReed. Now, I'm not one to cast aspersions on anyone for being - oh, how to put this - loud as a fucking jet engine - but The Sister is not renowned for her soft-spokenness, and get her together with Laur and EReed and things quickly escalate from "conversational" to "front row of NKOTB concert." Add some cold pops into the mix and you see where I'm going with this. We were shushed by the bartender.

Before we could get thrown out of VT, we left voluntarily and relocated to our place for more beers and pizza and downloading MIA songs and that kind of thing. Things broke up relatively early, like 8:30 or so, so that was good.

So, you're asking yourself, why tired then? I'll tell you right now. We kind of screwed the dog this weekend and never got around to taking him for some long walks like we usually do on weekends and this is how dogs let you know they didn't get enough exercise this weekend: starting at around 4 a.m., the dog would jump on the bed, lie briefly between our heads, get under the covers, shimmy down to the end of the bed, pop out, wander around the house for a minute, and then repeat the process. Until SHIG got up and walked him at 6:45. Oh, and this was also punctuated by the cat jumping on the bed, lying down on my chest, realizing the dog was also on the bed, and quickly departing from the bed whilst unleashing a stream of hisses. Fuck. So I'm kind of tired, and this time it's not from drinking.

P.S. Saturday night Stoney and I stopped in at Contigo for a bite around 10 pm. That place was fucking packed at 10 pm, but that's not the point. Can't two guys go out for a couple of tapas and a nice bottle of Albariño without everyone thinking they're gay? Not according to everyone yesterday, no sir, not at all.

40goingon28 recommends

Last night we finally watched last week's episode of Lost, so we're all caught up now. Super Hot Irish Girlfriend says she has an abusive-boyfriend relationship with Lost. It keeps beating her up and then it apologizes and does something nice and begs her to come back and she does and then it smacks her across the face again. Or something like that.

So just so I have this straight, Sawyer and the Asian guy and Juliet all just spent three years in the 70's and got assimilated into the Dharma Initiative? And next week Jack et al. are all going to join up with them in the 70's? Is this even close?

Anyway, along with "Lost," I have the following current recommendations for you:

1. The Moth podcast

2. Hangar One kaffir lime vodka

3. Sexpigeon

4. Fleet Foxes

5. Optimism

Top 5: Things I did this weekend

1. Ate at Basil Canteen

Super Hot Irish Girlfriend treated me at this newish Thai place on Folsom and 11th Friday and it was DFL! I had the pad kee mao, which too often comes out as a clump of chewy noodles with some veggies and meat thrown on top. The noodles at BC were cooked perfectly, light and delicious, with thinly-sliced, perfectly seasoned steak. SHIG's noodle soup was also good.

But you know I couldn't get out without a complaint, right? Here goes. It was FUCKING FREEZING in there. Turn on some heat, people!

2. Drinks at Bloodhound Friday night after dinner

When we first got here on Friday, it was pretty packed, which was worrisome, but it seemed like it was the tail end of some kind of company happy hour and emptied out a little as our group coalesced around one of the tables in front.

3. Took the dog for a walk at Crissy Field

Leland's still got this thing where he'll charge up to other dogs to be all "Hey, I'm a fucking tough guy, you know that? So I'm just letting you know ahead of time not to fuck with me, k?" And it usually works, but on Saturday this HUGE white dog started giving it right back to him and chasing him around and basically not leaving him alone. SERVES YOU RIGHT, RIGHT? He stopped running up to other dogs after that. Such is the way you learn.

4. Saw the Watchmen movie at the Sundance Kabuki

Damn, I'm going to see movies here from now on. Reserving your seats ahead of time! Extra big chairs and lots of legroom! And you can drink during the movie up in the balcony! Fuck yeah!

The movie was OK, I guess. I'm not really a comic book guy or anything but I liked it better than I thought I would. It's fucking long, though.

5. Takeout from Hahn's Hibachi

Beef/chicken BBQ combo. DON'T MIND IF I DO.

The aliens also dress really well

Let me preface this by saying that my Dad is totally cool, as Dads go, and especially as 82-year-old Dads go. He's not just from another generation, he's from a whole different era, but he's always been fine with letting me live my life however I want and do pretty much whatever I want to do. I mean, he's always been supportive of me, even though he's ex-military and a hardcore Republican and I'm ex-stoner and live in San Francisco.

Now, with that being said, we have to remember that Dad is from a different time and he's maybe even gotten a little more conservative as he's gotten older. I remember asking him about the gays in the military thing when it first appeared on the radar about 20 years ago and he goes, "Sure, I know guys in the military who were like that, but they were just fine. Never caused any problem." At the time, I thought that was pretty damned impressive.

ANYWAY, all this is leading up to a semi-funny story. As you may know, The Sister and Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and I were all at my Dad's place this past weekend doing some wedding prep and just hanging out and so forth. So two friends of The Sister's who happen to be a gay couple came to town to hang out with us and they stayed at Dad's house, and he seemed fine with that, even though, of course, no one talked about the pretty obvious elephant in the room. He was perfectly nice to them, because he's just generally a nice guy, but he might have felt a little awkward, I don't know.

SO, Friday night The Sister and the gays are getting ready to go into town, specifically to go to a country music bar and the fact that one of the gays is a HUGE country music fan is its own separate topic but whatever. So when they're getting ready, Dad pulls me aside and darkly tells me, "You tell your sister that it's not safe for them to go to gay bars." Now, I immediately almost burst out laughing but didn't, and so off I went to tell my sister this very dire warning.

She did not resist in bursting out laughing. "Are you kidding me?" she said. "That's about the safest place I could go." We're not sure what Dad thinks goes on at gay bars, but I'm pretty sure that it rarely involves sacrificing straight females to their god or stuff like that. In fact, I'd be way more worried about my sister at a straight club than at pretty much any gay bar. As it turns out, they went to a country music bar and everyone got home safely, although I'm pretty sure you're about 50 times more likely to get knifed in a country music bar than a gay bar.

The next night, though, Dad hung out with all of us at home and when I was in the kitchen helping make dinner I could hear him chatting it up with the gays in the next room and having a big old time. The next day, he told them, "Anytime you're in town, you're more than welcome to stay here, whether or not [The Sister] is here. You make sure and call us, OK?"

SHIG put it best. She said that when we're all 80 years old, our kids will be friends with the aliens and at first we'll be scared and say, "I don't want any aliens in my house," but then after we talk to the aliens for a while, we'll be all "Well, I wasn't sure about their tentacles and stuff, and I don't want to say that I support the alien lifestyle, but once I got to know Gor, I gotta say, he's alright."

Just take the salad and be done with it

So I seem to have found myself back in the old country once again, this time to do some wedding planning, since this is where Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and I will be betrothed, for a number of complicated and/or boring reasons. Anyway, these plans including attending a bridal fair on Saturday, which promises to be either a hoot or a descent into a nightmare that I cannot begin to fathom.

We got here last night in the company of The Sister and proceeded to dinner at a restaurant where we were served by an oddly intrusive waiter hell-bent on making the ordering process as complicated as possible. Seriously, it took like 10 minutes to order dinner, like so:

Dad: "I'll have the salmon."

Overly Intrusive Waiter: "What kind of salad? House salad or caesar?"

Dad: "No salad, thanks."

OIW: "Hmmm, OK, why don't I get you the salmon club then, since you're not having salad? It's cheaper."

Dad: "OK. That's fine then."

Me: "Dad, that's a sandwich."

Dad: "I don't want a sandwich."

OIW: "I'm just trying to help out because it's cheaper."

Dad: "I don't want a sandwich."

OIW: "But you're not having a salad!"

Dad: "Can I just get the dinner without the salad?"

OIW: "OK. Whatever you say."

And so on. Now repeat that for 5 different people and you can see why this was so excruciating.

ANYWAY, off to the wine store now to see what kind of group discount we can negotiate. We'd be able to work out a big discount with an unnamed online wine merchant, since The Sister knows someone who works there, but Tennessee is one of those states with byzantine alcohol laws that include a complete ban on the retail shipping of wine into the state. And you can't buy beer on Sunday, I think. Or maybe Sunday before noon. Or something like that.

My skillset includes swimming and eating people

Shark attacks drop; recession blamed

Jesus, you know shit is tough out there when a fucking shark can't even get a job.

Happy Friday, everyone!

- SO. We have a budget. The ridiculous thing about this is that everybody knew, all along, that we were going to have to raise taxes. It was a foregone conclusion. But we had to drag this shit out for months waiting for one Republican to finally cave. What a way to run a state.

- Who's the best player in the NFL? Peyton Manning? Adrian Peterson? Judging strictly by paycheck, it's Nnamdi Asomugha, who the Raiders made the highest-paid player in the league yesterday. Oh, Raiders.


- Super Hot Irish Girlfriend returns from the wilds of Louisiana today and goes immediately to a weekend-long gig babysitting for some friends, or, as I like to call it, the Baby Desire Enhancement Program. Srsly, though, the kid is pretty cute. Funny story - SHIG was out with the kid at the park, pushing her in a swing, and a Young Mom smiled and asked, "How old is she?" SHIG said, "Uh, nine, ten months, something like that." Young Mom nervously edged away from SHIG, the Worst Mommy Ever.


Have a good weekend!

She left the cat in charge

This morning at around 4:30 a.m. (I think, I'm not really sure) Super Hot Irish Girlfriend got up and left to go to Baton Rouge for work. That's funny, I didn't know she was a riverboat gambler or an offensive line coach. Anyway, I got up and walked the dog around 6:30 and when we got back he started an intensive search of the house, like all "WTF? Where's that lady?" Then he was super-needy until I left.

Speaking of football, SHIG has a semi-intense crush on Kyle Chandler, who plays Coach Taylor on Friday Night Lights, which is a great show that you should be watching if you're not already.

Although the show is tangentially about football, it's really more concerned with the interrelationships between the characters in the small Texas town where it's set. I was immediately impressed with the dialogue, because it sounds like how people actually talk, and that's pretty rare for a TV show. If you need proof that you don't have to know about football to enjoy the show, last Friday SHIG paused a football scene and asked me what "downs" are. And it's basically her favorite show, so there you go.

In other news, there was a shooting early Monday morning outside the L'Amour nightclub, which the Chron says is in North Beach but which is actually in Chinatown. At one point when I lived nearby in North Beach, a friend and I got on this kick of visiting really weird little Chinatown bars and clubs, and hoo boy, was that place one of the weirdest. It was a long time ago, but I vaguely remember lots of middle-aged Chinese guys smoking and drinking whiskey and singing really bad songs on karaoke. I can't imagine what a 21-year-old kid from Oakland found appealing about it. Maybe it's different now.