Other than the thing about pizza, everything else in this post is disturbing in one way or another.

- The Wife is currently in Louisiana on a business concern.



I've got a little Louisiana story for you. I once found myself in a really, really rundown strip club in New Orleans, pretty much blind drunk. The kind of strip club where the girls are all a little pasty and look like junkies and they come up to you at the bar and ask you to buy them a drink, which costs about $20 for a light beer but whatever. So I mostly just wanted to talk to somebody and I asked this girl what her favorite movie was and she said "8 MM," which might be the most depressing thing I've ever heard, given that it's a movie about snuff films.

So I declined to buy her a drink and she said "Fuck you, then," and I left.

This isn't intended to be a condemnation of Louisiana in general! There are some very nice things about Louisiana, too.

- Go and listen right now to Jessi Klein's story from The Moth about her sister's wedding at Disney World. L O L.

"A couple of weeks before the wedding, my sister informs me that she and her fiance have decided to spend a little extra to have the characters attend the reception. Of course. And I decide that if I am single and I’m going to be spending my birthday weekend at Disney World, then I am definitely fucking one of the characters while I’m there."

- Finally tried out Pi Bar last night. Above average slice. GREAT beer selection. It's very new-new, in the sense that everything is still sparkly and clean, but give it time, that'll change. Also, very friendly service. A+++++++ WILL DO BUSINESS AGAIN.

- Is this ad horrifying or what?

I guess we're all used to the idea of a bunch of old people in Vegas, since they're pretty much the ones who keep that town in business, one nickel slot and Don Rickles show at a time. So I guess having a big AARP meetup/confab in Vegas isn't so strange. BUT LOOK - he looks like he just got off a SERIOUS FUCKING BENDER and his tie's all undone and you know what that means: OLD PEOPLE SEX. Gross. Gross. Change the channel.

- This is an Administrative Friday for me, since I'm not working tomorrow for complicated and personal reasons. I'll try to post, but who the fuck works on their blog at home? We'll see.

Hey Intel, sponsor my life list too!

So this chick Maggie (who actually is a friend of a friend, so we're like 2 degrees apart so HI MAGGIE!) writes this blog called Mighty Girl and she's pretty much famous in the blogging world and probably gets about a billion hits a day.

Like a lot of people, I guess, she has a life list of things she wants to do or try or places she wants to go before she dies. Not that she's going to die soon, there just has to be some end point. [SIDE NOTE: If you need help creating your own life list, or getting motivated to do the stuff on it, there is, OF COURSE, Mylifelist.org.]

UNLIKE a lot of other people, Maggie got someone to pay for doing the stuff on her list. Namely Intel. So she's gone to Greece and eaten at the French Laundry and some other stuff, all on Intel's dime.

HEY INTEL!!!! OVER HERE!!!!

Lighting can strike twice. Help me out, Intel, and I guarantee you tens of hits a day from MOTIVATED BUYERS, some of whom can read and/or are sober for part of the day.

Just think, Intel, with your help I can achieve my dreams of:

1. Going target shooting with Subcomandante Marcos.

2. Weekend in L.A. with the Lohan.



3. Going swimming with the sea turtles in the Galapagos.

4. Eating a sea turtle from the Galapagos.

5. Kneecapping Dane Cook.

6. Doing shots at the Ha-Ra with Thomas Pynchon.

7. Breeding a mutant race of Super Dogs who will respond to only my commands and become my Dark Army of the Night.

8. Learning HTML.

That's just off the top of my head! Wait til I really start thinking about this stuff, Intel. So what do you say? Hook us up?

I liked the old Bobby better

Sorry to sound like such a hipster, but it’s true. I find New Bobby a little flat and one-dimensional. His heart just wasn’t in the “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” That Sally can throw a fucking punch, though, huh? I don’t know who she’s kidding kissing that dork Ernie in the bathtub. She’s going to be reading radical feminist theory at Bryn Mawr in a few years.

Speaking of kissing, did anyone else find Betty’s little explanation to Sally about kissing a little weird? She’s all, “Well, after that first kiss, it’s all downhill from there.” Gee, great outlook, Betts! Why don’t you just tell her that all men suck and are just going to rape her. I guess she’ll learn that at Bryn Mawr anyway.

So we’re all sure that Pete raped that au pair, right? I guess the scene with the neighbor coming over and confronting Pete wouldn’t make sense if he didn’t. That Pete is such a fucking toolbox. I loved how Joan called him out on his bullshit by saying “Trudie’s too fat for this dress” or whatever. You know she just wanted to watch him squirm. Joan fucking rules. She best be taking over Bonwit Teller.

Back to Betty for a second, since this whole episode kind of revolved around her. Who knew she could speak Italian? She and Don had a big time there in Rome, then they get back and it’s all the Same Old Shit again and so Don gives her a very nice little gift and she’s all “HATE IT.” Fuck, man, sorry you’re stuck being a housewife in Ossining, but you don’t have to be a total bitch about it.

Sadly, no Roger Sterling. An episode without Roger is like a day without an Old Fashioned.

A picture an hour: Saturday, October 2, 2009

I thought I had the timestamping on. It wasn't on. You'll have to trust me that these are about one an hour. First one is around 8:50 a.m., I think.

That's Will Sheff, of Okkervil River, one of the two bands we saw at this year's Hardly Strictly Bluegrass free concert in Golden Gate Park. It was an absolutely beautiful day, sunny and in the high 60's, and we found a nice spot on the hill with a pretty much unobstructed view of the stage. For a huge outdoor festival with about 80 acts, they did it right.

That's Rhett Miller of The Old 97's, who were on the same stage right after Okkervil River. I thought their set was kind of bland, but hey, no one hits a home run every time.

That's a PBR and a Jameson's rocks, at The Page. At this point it's, what, 9:30 or so. What I should have done is gone home. What I did do was go to Debaser. I went mostly just to say hi to Chris. We talked about some stuff for a while but I don't have a lot of details on that. Then I went home.

New Bar Night: Ace's

There are bars with regulars. In fact, every bar has regulars, as far as I can tell. And then there are Regulars Bars, where everybody there pretty much knows each other. Ace's, on Sutter and Hyde at the edge of the Tenderloin, is definitely a Regulars Bar.

[SIDE NOTE #1: I know from regulars because I used to be a regular at a bar. Not surprisingly, it was the bar where my ex-wife worked, so I pretty much drank for free. Drinking for free sounds good unless it involves a desperately unhappy marriage. So think about it before you get married for free drinks.]

The regulars, in this case, were a group of maybe 5-7 middle-aged white guys who clearly have been hanging out at the bar forever. In fact, just as we got there, two of them arrived by car, meaning that, at least for some people, Ace's is a destination bar.

There's nothing wrong with this bar. There's a vaguely sports bar feel, with lots of Yankees and other New York paraphernalia scattered about. I assume that it gets a strong NYC crowd for Yankees and NY football Giants games. That's great. If you're an expat, it's nice to have a place to go to that feels like home.

[SIDE NOTE #2: Since a lot of people who live here moved here from somewhere else, there's a whole subculture of these expat bars, mostly centered on sporting events. Like, there are bars where people from Boston watch Boston sporting events, and the same for Steelers fans and so on and so forth. Which makes me wonder if it's like that in other cities. Like, if I happen to be in Cincinnati, can I go to a SF Giants bar? Probably not.]

It was a surprisingly warm night last night, so we sat right by the open front windows. Got a Tecate, which came in a can with a bar-issued coozy. Nice touch. There couldn't have been more than 15 people in the fairly big room, which is either a selling point or a slow night for a Thursday at 8:30. Maybe it picks up later.

There's a bar dog, which you like to see, and a picture of a guy on the toilet in the bathroom, which you don't. Ace's certainly wouldn't be the worst place you could end up - I assume that's MatrixFillmore or something like that - but it's not a place you'd go out of your way to go to. Unless, I guess, you're from New York and you want to watch the Yankees with a bunch of other New Yorkers.

We split and walked down the hill to Whiskey Thieves. I hadn't been there in like 5 years, so I guess it's a New Bar again and this is a twofer. Fuck, when did everybody get so young? It was like Romper Room with booze. Is that a birthday party in the corner, or are you just shrieking for no reason? Jesus.

Then I took a cab home. The end.

Introducing New Bar Night™

Sometimes you get in a rut. Don't beat yourself up; it's natural. You sort of get in the habit of going to the same places over and over. That's life.

So what can you do about it? Well, you could make some changes in your life, stop going to bars so much, clean yourself up, shave, spend some time outside, maybe throw the ball around with your kid.

Nah, fuck that. The answer is force yourself to try some new bars.

I would like to introduce a new feature, New Bar Night. Once per month, I will take one or more intrepid adventurers with me and we will visit at least one new bar where none of us have ever been before. It's going to be a little scary and a little fun.

Tonight is our maiden voyage, so to speak. Results will appear in this space tomorrow.

If we don't make it back, do pour out a PBR and a shot of Jameson's for me, won't you?

Here's why I'm such a bastard

As regular readers are aware, The Wife is doing this grueling 3x-a-week fitness bootcamp thing in Berkeley that basically amounts to an hour of strenuous workout every time. This involves getting up Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning at 5:40 a.m.

In a show of husbandly solidarity, and maybe marginally in the interest of my own self-improvement, I have also been rising with her 3x a week and doing my own workout regimen, which consists of jogging about 2 1/2 miles. So, yay, everyone’s self-improving.

So The Wife has come down with something and she’s really, really sick. She called me this morning at the office and groggily informed me she’s not going to work today. She’s making an appt. with the doctor instead. She sounded just awful. POOR THING.

I, of course, extended the appropriate sympathy and encouraged her to seek medical treatment and told her I hoped she felt better soon and whatever else. But you know what I was thinking?

Sweet, no boot camp tomorrow, I can get my drink on tonight!

The line to slap me forms to the left.