Reason #437 to revoke my gay card

Until yesterday I didn't know the difference between Pia Zadora and Diamanda Galas.

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Pumpkin Time!

Yesterday CJ and I blew off work, drank vodka for breakfast, beer for lunch, rye drinks for dinner, then margaritas for dessert. We also carved pumpkins. Mine is the disco ball one. Hooray!

Has your email to me bounced?

A few different people have said their email to me bounced in recent weeks, yet plenty of mail has been getting through. If you've had an email bounce to me, would you kindly forward it to me or let me know what the error message was?

Thanks.

District Six Bitchfight

I suppose I'd better start following the issues involved in the upcoming elections. I live in San Francisco's District 6, which is currently represented by Chris Daly.

Daly is a notoriously hotheaded little bitch, who swears at other government officials, threatens the police with "I'll have your job!"-type comments, and generally makes an ass out of himself like two-year-old child in a temper tantrum. On the other hand, he wields considerable power over real estate developers, bleeding them for millions of dollars in community and low-income projects in exchange for his approval. Many of his other causes I think are a bit too progressive, but this is San Francisco and that's what you get. I think that in general he could do a good job in politics if he would grow the fuck up and stop embarrassing himself. The mayor, the police, and a whole lot of other people hate his guts, and you really can't blame them.

Then there is his opponent, Rob Black. I don't know too much about him other than what's on the smear campaign postcards I've been getting stuck in my mailbox. Not surprisingly, they all mention Daly's childish antics. But at the same time, he also looks and sounds like a rotten little bitch. My guess is that his poses in pictures (they're always the same) are supposed to reflect hardworking, take-no-prisoners strong politician. But instead they look like someone who's going to open his mouth and start whining and complaining and you just want him to shut up already, before he's ever even said anything. The pose matches the tone of his nasty campaign mail. He doesn't appear to be pro-anything, just anti-Daly.

Low and behold, my vote must decide between the lesser of two evils. I really hate politics, and most of the people in it.

Food For Dummies

Today I borrowed a Zip Car to go grocery shopping. I spent $100 at Trader Joe's and $188 at Safeway. That's a lot of fricking money, considering I live alone and didn't buy any fresh vegetables. And really, I needed those five kinds of mustard. It wasn't like I was leaving the house to go out to eat that much anyway, but now I won't be able to afford to.

About Last Night

Last night we went to Medicine for Vanessa's birthday. It's all fancy foo-foo veggie food. I realize the only time I go to restaurants above the taqueria level is when it's someone else's birthday, and that's kind of sad.

Anyway the food was pretty good but the burps afterward were atrocious. Chris from Boston was in town and he and I then went to the Rickshaw Stop for Non-Stop Bhangra. It was fun as always but that place is incredibly hot. You need to commit to getting sweaty and throwing down if you're going to stay there a while, but Chris couldn't stay out late. Next time, I'm going for it and wearing my aerobics outfit.

Then we went off for a final drink at Martuni's. I think I finally figured out why I like that place, despite its many flaws. (Bad drinks, bad decor, bad music.) First, you can sit down and cocktail servers bring your drinks. They make an okay gin martini, but I've learned never to stray from that choice. And second, it's a gay bar where they're not playing horrid gay disco. Granted, they're playing horrid gay showtunes, but it's not obtrusively loud. The last time I was in the Castro (the last time Chris was visiting with John), I thought I was going to have a brain hemorrhage with all the Shakira and Pussycat Dolls remixes.

Why gays, why?

I created a campaign slogan for the California election

A vote for Arnold Schwarzenegger is a vote for being completely fucking retarded.

A very long trip

I just realized that I haven't been further than a mile from my apartment in over a week. Last night I went to a volunteer event at the Lost Art Salon, which is a lovely space filled with art I didn't enjoy. It's all of five blocks from my house, so I really felt like I was getting out there and mingling.

Luckily tomorrow I am doing gardening work in the SF Botanical Garden, which is a good 2 and a half miles away. I'd better bring my passport!

Help! I Am Retarted!

From: Brandon Hahn [omahaskater3001@gmail.com]
To: Camper
Subject: Minutes in a day

Hey you dumb fucking piece of opinionated whiny shit! Stop being a bitch and get over yourself, no one gives a shit about what pisses you off, that shit pisses no one off but you. Oh, and retard, there are 1440 minutes in a day, not 160 jackass, how hard is that upper lever math, there are 160 minutes in 2.7 hours, you weren't even fucking close you moron. So if you're going to whine about stupid shit that pisses you off because you are secretly hiding your homosexuality. So shut the fuck up and stop being retarted.

Home Repair

I had a plumber come over because my water pressure is all crappy. (It turns out the owner or gardener just turned it down on me.)

The plumber also discovered that my hot water heater vent is absent (though the vent hole reveals that there used to be one), so that it has been pumping carbon monoxide directly up into my apartment for who knows how long.

Perhaps this explains why I am dumb, and take a lot of naps.

Book Club

Last night I went to my monthly book club meeting. We read Perfume by Patrick Suskind, which is a terrific little book about murdering virgins to capture their scent. It ends in an orgy followed by cannibalism. There is only one other guy in the club, which is disappointing, but on the other hand the book selections like this one are usually right on. The exception was when someone chose Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, a total chick book. To counter, I chose the next selection which was In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex.

I forget what the selection is for next month. For now I'm reading a book on personal productivity, which probably says something about blogging during work hours...

My not-so-beautiful laundrette

I forgot not to do laundry first-thing Monday mornings, because that's when Bothersome Crazy is there. She's this nutjob who obsessively does her laundry, complains about the price, says, "I didn't mean to bother you," and "you HAVE TO!," over and over again, and doesn't shut up the whole time. I've been at the laundromat about ten times when she's been there, and it's always the same routine.

The morning started well, with only two people finishing up their laundry when I arrived. (The good thing about insomnia is you get to the laundromat before the Mexican mothers who show up after walking the kids to school. Them ladies got lots of clothes and take up all the machines.) But just as the last guy gathered up his sack of clothes to leave, in walked Bothersome Crazy. And I was the only person there for her to talk to. I said to myself, "Fuuuuuuuck."

On the other hand, this was the perfect opportunity to test out a theory. I've been working on a book proposal about living in the ghetto and how to deal with its various inhabitants. My theory is that with crazy people, as with drunks, if you don't give them an opening they'll leave you alone. If you acknowledge them or make eye contact, they'll annoy you to no end.

In the past I've been barely responsive to Bothersome Crazy, but she always had other people in the laundromat to annoy so she didn't need me. Today it was one on one. I took my book to the back of the room near where my dryers were and faced the wall, leaving her at the washers up front. I could sense her looking for an opening to launch into her usual tirade.

She mumbled quietly to herself for a while, then began doing things to get me to turn around and look at her. She opened and closed the washing machine several times, sighed loudly, and dropped change. I didn't move. After ten minutes or so of this she could hold out no longer.

"Excuse me sir, I don't mean to bother you. What's wrong with these machines?"

Without turning I said, "I don't know."

There was nothing wrong with the machines. I had just used them.

Amazingly, my plan worked. She did not bother me again. I heard her go outdoors to smoke a cigarette, which from past experience I know she does directly outside the doorway so all the smoke blows right back inside. But I also know this: never try to reason with a crazy person. It's easier to be annoyed by what they're doing than to be subjected to their insane ranting response when you tell them not to do it.

As I was folding my clothes, a guy came in to use the change machine that is located near where I was standing. As he was attempting to feed his dollar in, I sneezed. Bothersome Crazy thought that the sneeze came from him and seized upon it.

"Terrible weather, isn't it? But you still have to do your laundry. You HAVE TO! I do, anyway. You HAVE TO! Make sure you're feeding the dollar in head first. Use the other machine. I just used it. I don't mean to bother you, sir. I just used it and I was trying to help. I didn't mean to bother you. You have to warsh your clothes but it's so expensive! Seventy-five cents for soap- that's a lot of money. But you have to get clean- you HAVE TO!"

I'm pretty sure the guy she was talking to didn't speak English. But that doesn't matter to a crazy person. Any opening will do- even a sneeze.

Excuse me, I'm on the list

My doorbell just rang. It was a kid telling me which way to vote in the upcoming elections. He asked for me by name, which I thought odd. Then he went over some propositions his group was supporting, all of which were the typical liberal causes that get voted on in San Francisco- against parental notification of abortions, for paid sick days for waiters, for making landlords pay more money to tenants they evict.

It wasn't until after he left that I noticed the header on the literature he handed me: "Proud Union Queer: Pride at Work Progressive Voter Recommendations."

Umm, who signed me up for that list? I mean, the queer part I can understand but I'm not exactly proud and I've never been in a union. And which union would that be exactly? Cocksuckers Local 69?

Now Accepting Applications

I think the whole Mark Foley scandal is hilarious. An intern position is like a waiter position- getting hit on and touched inappropriately by creepy old men comes with the job. (Hello Lewinsky!)

The truly shocking part of the whole issue is that you can get interns as young as high schoolers. Who knew?

Pics

Hi- until I have time to do a proper write-up, pics of my recent trip to Sweden and Denmark are here.

Anniversary Party

Hey dancing fools- The good folks at Non-Stop Bhangra are holding a big anniversary party on October 21 at the Rickshaw Stop. Anyone want to go shake it with me?

1015 on a Saturday Night

I was out last night doing some research for a clubs article in San Francisco Magazine and decided to stop into 1015 Folsom. I wanted to see if anything much had changed since the last time I was there several years ago.

Has it ever! Where was I when the club became awesome? Now there are several flat ultra-lounges with innovative design, lighting, and sound. It was really looking beautiful. I don't think the main room was even open last night unless I just couldn't find it. That's one thing that has remained consistent- I always manage to get lost inside that club.