A great bum died here

Seriously? The SF Board of Supervisors passed a resolution to put bronze plaques on the sidewalks in places where homeless have died commemorating their lives. This will apparently bring attention to the plight of the homeless in San Francisco.

How could you possibly avoid the plight of the homeless in San Francisco? Woe the great invisible population, who bravely clog the sidewalks and perfume the air with their honor!

Happiness is...

A laundromatt devoid of crackheads, mentally ill people, and grandmothers doing laundry for 13 children hogging all the dryers.

And they say hippies are dirty...

Bill Cosby wants his sweater back. And I want you to wash your hair before you use the headrest on any public transportation. Ack.

Winter break is over

The hordes of screaming children are again out on the playground next to my house for recess. Damn, it was a nice quiet couple of weeks.

LOLMauling

Tatiana has a MySpace page! Two, actually.

Cintra takes down carrots

Cintra Wilson, who is motherfreaking hilarious, makes fun of the SF store Carrots in her New York Times Critical Shopper story.

The piece was awesome, but I couldn't disagree more with this statement:

Babylon by the Bay, with its delirious views, voluptuous palm trees and cherry vintage tram cars, is truly the pinup girl of American cities, to the point of having the unintentionally surreal gloss of TV dramas set in the ’40s: it’s all a little too clean. The cars are straight from the O.C.D. collector’s garage; the Victorians have had cosmetic procedures; even the trees look moussed. San Francisco now looks like a Las Vegas luxury casino called “San Francisco.”

Clean? Seriously? Yeah it's very pretty, but this city is filthy, usually smells of urine and human feces, and is the place where personal hygiene goes to die. Maybe she was here when it was raining.

Finland Trip Recap, Part I

I went to Finland July 17-22 courtesy of Finlandia Vodka for their annual Midnight Sun event. Here's the recap.

I flew cross-country to JFK, then on Finn Air over to Helsinki. They kindly seated the other writers and I in business class. When the people who work for Brown-Forman, the company that owns Finlandia, found out about this, they were about to stage a riot as they were in coach, and consequently emailed their managers angrily. But once I explained that I've only flown business class once in my life previously, they calmed down a bit. Also, I plied them with Xanax from my pharmacy bag.

We arrived in Helsinki early in the morning (Helsinki time, anyway) only to find that they'd left the luggage for half the plane back in New York. Oops. I was thrilled I'd get to wear my not--for-the-public-but-comfortable-for-flying red Nautica logo t-shirt for another day, as this made me look the the fat slobby American tourist I am.

About the trip: Most of the people flown in for this trip and subsequent party up in Lapland are either employees or distributors of Brown-Forman products. The rest were a few writers, top-selling retailers, and radio and bartending contest winners. But overwhelmingly the mood was set by the B-F people who are exceptionally good at:

• Drinking
• Staying Out Late
• Repeating the Above
  

I'm saying they're not just employees, they're an invading party horde. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

In the morning we visited the bottling plant for Finlandia, which is a lot closer to Helsinki than the distillery. It was interesting but many of us were so tired from flying that we didn't absorb as much information as desired. Luckily, I took notes.

We returned to our hotel (Hotel GLO) for a couple of hours then met for dinner. To get to the restaurant we had to take a ferry boat to an island only a few hundred feet from the shore. Odd. The restaurant had a traditional look about it, a shot glass tray that held about 20 glasses and was carried by one person at each end and held over the table, and the largest pepper grinder known to man. Instead of the meal the others were having I opted for the vegetarian reindeer alternative.

The first night is when I found out that The Horde are not fueled by food and proper rest, but liquor and hedonism. We entered one bar and found it womb-like and semi-creepy, yet stayed for several drinks while very gay dance music played on the stereo. We then hit Helsinki Club, which is a big dance club that was not exactly jam-packed on a Monday night, yet we stayed for a few drinks. Next was the bar next door that was closing shortly so we had to ingest our two drink quickly before heading out. We ended up at RedRum, which was full of people and really fun and I remember little of what happened or who this man is in the picture.

Finland Trip Recap, Part II

On the second day of the trip, I had to go buy clothes that were not the ones I'd been wearing for the last 48 hours. I stopped into a small euro-boutique known as H&M to purchase some clothing. It was better than anything I'd brought anyway, since all my clothes have stains and holes.

We met for lunch at Memphis restaurant, where the veggie burger was an odd combination of pepper and mushroom stew with a chunk of mozzarella cheese on top. Then demure, Philadelphia-area Carol and I set out for a walk about town. We stopped into a charming euro-bakery where I purchased some mustard. The bakery lady then gave us a map and told us how to walk to the waterfront era where some fancy houses were.

With me leading the tour, we were almost immediately lost but did not figure it out until the waterfront we encountered was populated only with smokestacks and warehouses. We made our way back eventually with the assistance of four or five helpful Finnish people. But it was determined by Carol that my Finnish reading and speaking skills were impeccable.

That night we went on a harbor dinner cruise with beautiful views, terrible food without reindeer alternatives, and a great deal of liquor. From there, The Horde descended upon RockBar where there were live bands playing.

I think I forgot to mention how The Horde operates. As everyone has an expense account, at each venue one of The Horde is chosen to throw down his or her credit card at the bar. An initial round of shots plus an additional beverage is ordered. Often each of The Horde will consume a few more drinks over the next hour or so, then a final round of shots will be ordered unless we're planning to stay longer.

After the RockBar, it was fairly early still- probably 11PM or midnight, but it's very hard to tell since it stays light out so late- we tried several venues we'd been in the previous night but they were not open yet. We finally found a bar near the hotel but I decided it would be best to escort mild-mannered Colleen back to the hotel instead. I learned the next day that much of The Horde had stayed at the bar, then had an after-hours party in one of the hotel rooms until the early morning.














I awoke early, not on purpose, and went downstairs to borrow one of the hotel's bicycles. It was there I found demure Carol doing the same thing, so we set off together with my map from the previous day. We found the section of town we'd missed the previous day (about three blocks from the hotel) and visited one of the large churches you could see from nearly everywhere, which was thus easy to find. Shortly thereafter, we got lost and discovered new and interesting parts of town, and also where they park the cruise ships and the railroad tracks. Two or three helpful Finnish people helped us find our way back to the hotel.

Finland Trip Recap, Part III

On the third evening, The Horde loaded up into buses, then into airplanes and flew to Lapland for the Midnight Sun event the trip was centered around. In Lapland, the sun shines 24 hours a day, especially on this, the longest day of the year. (Okay, actually the day before the longest day of the year but the longest day of the year is a national holiday in the country and we probably wouldn't have been able to get there.)

We checked into hotels and killed a few hours before going to the party. We had to walk a path through the woods to this lakeside farm where the party was held. The party had DJs and live bands, fortune tellers and folk crafts, about five bars, and all the reindeer meat you could eat. It was fun just going around to all of the activity areas in between cocktails. At midnight, they lit the ceremonial bonfire on the lake. (Yes, it's that bright at midnight.)

It did get pretty cold so people were swaddled in Finlandia blankets and chattering their teeth, until The Horde decided the best way to stay warm was to start drinking vodka straight from the bottle without all the chilling ice and mixers. This was a very good idea, and soon we were shitfaced. Then the dance music picked up around 2AM and we threw down on the dancefloor/muddy lawn area. The Horde and I were disappointed that the last bus left at 3:30AM, which most of us seem to get on.

Unfortunately for demure Carol, she got off at the wrong hotel, passed out on a couch, then got lost trying to get back the correct hotel. It was good to learn that the getting lost thing wasn't just my fault.

At what seemed like an early hour the next morning, we all boarded buses, planes, and another bus to get back to the hotel in Helsinki. That night we went out for a final dinner and then I returned to the hotel, only to hear the next morning that The Horde (all of whom professed a desire to have an "easy night") stayed drinking at the hotel bar until they were thrown out, then had another after-hours until 5AM or so.

I couldn't sleep so I went for a bike ride at 7 AM before packing, check-out, and a generally miserable flight back home. My liver was rebelling, my system was in shock, vodka was pouring from my pores, and I needed a good week to recover from the trip and the cold I picked up on the plane ride home. Unfortunately, I had another distillery tour to fly to in Idaho two days later...

More pictures here.

Mr. Nasty Pants

On one hand, I am totally psyched for my big trip to Finland coming up. On the other hand, it's hot out and I don't like it. After a few months of being in a great mood, this week I'm grouchy and irritable and I hate hate hate everything.

And then it just occurred to me that this is the week the cat left after being here for a few months. Oh.

I haven't even thought about Rent-a-cat since the day he went to his new home, except for thoughts like, "I'm sure glad I can keep the window open on this hot day since the cat won't jump out of it now," so it's not like I'm walking around weeping. But could the cat be an anger-management device? Now that is sad.

Oh so sad

Lest anyone accuse the Chronicle of yellow journalism, here was the important news banner stretched across the website this evening (one day post-highway collapse):

Evening Commute Goes Smoothly
Updated 10:05 p.m.: But experts say those conditions won't last
Detours | Video: CBS 5 / YouTube | Map | Traffic | Maze page

Remain alert! It's like the Bush terror color scale, except instead of a desperate attempt to justify stealing constitutional rights from the public, it's a desperate attempt to make San Francisco's only real newspaper seem relevant (and as an extension, the city itself).

There was a job posting for an editor at SFist.com, a website whose main purpose is to pick on the Chronicle. A couple of friends recommended I apply, but you know what? That's entry-level humor lobbed at an easy target. A challenge would be mocking the city full of amateurs, instead of the coverage of it.

Hasselbob

Sorry for my lack of posts lately. I have a very demanding cat. Recent observations:

- Nobody told me Hasselhoff was in the Spongebob Squarepants movie! Baywatch and Spongebob are two of my very favorite things. On the other hand, it was such a pleasant surprise!

- Don Imus. Umm, who? Without ever having heard of the dude, I am always happy to see another self-righteous Boomer get shitcanned.

- Sunshine must be good for you. Whenever I leave the house, which is rarely, I feel like a winner.

- I turned 36 a few days ago. That's old enough that I'm embarrassed by it. Time to start lying about my age.

- I am reading The Sea, by John Banville. It won a Booker. It rocks.

- Rent-a-cat is suspicious when I take a bath. He pokes his head in and out of the bathroom spying on me. It's like we're in a spy movie and he's all, "I've got a real bad feeling about this!"

- I bought some more fish for my fish tank. Let the death watch begin!

Feng You

Backers of a proposed community college building in San Francisco's Chinatown say the flowing glass tower will be imbued with feng shui -- the ancient Chinese concept that the placement of things brings balance to their surroundings and promotes prosperity, health and happiness.

But some residents and merchants say City College of San Francisco's new building is a 17-story, 253-foot "monstrosity" that would loom over Portsmouth Square -- and has already created negative feng shui.

"The objective of feng shui is to achieve harmony with the environment," said Albert Cheng, a community leader and strong opponent of the proposal. "The whole fact that this proposal has created such a disturbance is a sign that it is not good feng shui. It is really historically, architecturally, esthetically incompatible with the neighborhood."

Seriously. You're arguing that because a building is tall it violates your Ancient Chinese Secret? Feng shui has become a legitimate architecture critical analysis tool? Oh okay, I guess I missed when that happened, because it sure seems like a bunch of stupid hocus pocus to me!

I pushed her over the edge

I was doing my laundry last week on Tuesday. The reason I do it on Tuesdays is because Bothersome Crazy does hers on Mondays, and I hate listening to her insane ranting. I had several months without running into her and it was super. But this recent Tuesday she showed up when I had just put my clothes in the dryer, meaning I would have to spend an hour in the same room as her. Damn!

Within two minutes of entering, she went up to some guy and started her old routine. "It's so expensive, and I'm not rich, huh? But you have to do your laundry. You HAVE TO! I do! You HAVE TO!"

I had used a broken washer that day. I had sticky notes with me, so I labelled it as broken. But it turns out that was Bothersome Crazy's choice of washer too. "It's broke! It's not broke! It says broke and but it's not even broke!" She walked back and forth between those washers and other (perfectly good, available) ones, contemplating out loud the huge monkey wrench thrown into her plan. Back and forth, back and forth.

"The other laundry is cheaper! This is expensive! They say the machines are broke and they're not even broke! Huh?" On and on she went, getting herself more riled up. I was regretting labelling the broken washers because it was making her even more bothersome than usual.

Then something wonderful happened. She had a meltdown, pulled all of her clothes out of the washers, and ran out of the laundromatt screaming about going to the other one instead.

I made a mental reminder to always bring sticky notes with me to do laundry from now on.

Silence = Silence

Some former basketball player came out as a homo and another current basketball player got banned from an all-star game for reacting to it by saying "I hate gay people" and other fun comments. The homo then said it was a good thing that the hater hated out loud because it opens the discussion and shows that yes, mary, homophobia in sports is a big problem.

I'm generally all-for speaking your mind about your prejudices, because it's best to know who you're dealing with when dealing with a prejudiced asshole. But this incident made me reflect on my upbringing:

Growing up in upstate New York, we never went to the city but I watched its TV stations all the time. (WPIX, yo!) And in doing so, I learned a ton about Jewish culture (and knew more Yiddish than any goy I've ever met) and because this was New York television, I never saw anything negative about Jewish people. I knew about the holocaust, of course, but I had no idea that people in America and other countries were prejudiced against Jews. (If you remember that commercial "Why is Jimmy your Jewish friend, and not just your friend?" I thought they were picking a fake example, like how when talking about race people will say "I don't care if you're black or brown or green!") It helped that my parents never mentioned Jews nor did I even know that we had any in our school system to be prejudiced against.

It wasn't until college that I first heard reference to people not liking Jews, and at first I thought they were making it up. Turns out not!

So anyway, when this basketball player hater started talking, I thought that was fine because then at least it was out in the open. But now maybe I think that homophobia is best kept in the closet. If you don't talk about it, maybe no one will know it's there.

On the other hand, you can't escape negative portrayals of gays so easily. All you have to do is study politics or go to church.

People are so stupid

I love love love this! About two blocks from my house is an abandoned armory building that has sat empty for at least the ten years that I've lived in San Francisco. The outside of it had broken windows, graffiti, skate punks using the steps as a ramp, passed out bums on the sidewalk, and lovely trash and feces adorning the abandoned area.

Then the company Kink.com bought it for 14.5 million to build a giant porn studio inside it.

Nobody in the neighborhood would have noticed what was going on had not the Chronicle run a big article about how great it was that finally someone bought it.

Now there are protests outside it- apparently 50 people in the rain today. From the looks of it most of the protesters are Mission District Latinos- a particularly insular and hilariously myopic community.

"This is oppressive and inappropriate for our community,'' said Sam Ruiz, executive director of Mission Neighborhood Centers. "It's not OK to promote acts of degradation and violence. We don't want this kind of stuff here.''

Another protester carried a sign that said "Why not a recreation center for youth?"

Apparently they are unaware that:

1. Pornography is perfectly legal, and here it would be filmed indoors where they'd never see it.
   
2. There are (I believe) at least three youth/community recreation centers in the Mission already, plus several art centers.
   
3. There are at least two other porn studios in the Mission.
4. Latino gang violence over drug dealing turf plagues the neighborhood, and that the real prostitution, crime, and homelessness in the neighborhood are caused by the drugs sold and not by $500-an-hour bondage actresses.
   
5. You can buy a hooker or crack outdoors, day or night, within two blocks of the Armory building.
   

Ghetto Living Today!

I was out doing errands today and decided to go the Walgreen's at 16th and Mission Street instead of the non-ghetto one at Church and Market in order to facilitate multi-tasking.

When I arrived, there was a crackhead shoved up against the front door of the drug store with two security guards behind her, and a crowd of people who'd just stepped off the bus watching her give the typical shoplifting crackhead defense:

"I DIDN'T TAKE NOTHING! THAT IT OVER THERE. I AIN'T DONE NOTHING! LET ME GO MOTHERFUCKA! NO! NOOOOOO!"

all while trying to push her way out the door.

Usually this tactic works, because it's a lot of hassle to stop, search, and arrest a screaming crackhead. As someone who's witnessed this scenario dozens of times (it must go down 10 times a day at that particular Walgreen's), I was glad to see the security guards drag the crackhead into the back office and wait for the cops to arrive. You could still hear her screaming throughout the store.

When your quality of life is constantly being lowered living near these stupid junkies, it can really put a smile on your face to see them being dragged off to jail. I had the most lovely walk home, and I almost felt like I was skipping through the sunny meadow. Except by "sunny" I mean schadenfreude and by "meadow" I mean a sidewalk full of passed out bums and dog feces.
Skippedy Do Da!

Big Fun

This holiday week is great. I still have a bunch of deadlines to meet, but things are a little calmer than usual and there are two Mondays off. That means I can sit around the apartment in my underwear and not feel guilty about it. Yesterday I only left the house to go for a run, and I wouldn't even have done that but I'm going to Florida in a month and need to get into swimsuit condition.

My friend CJ recently called me an introvert, which offended me greatly. I see no reason why you can't stay in the house all day and still consider yourself an extrovert. With blogs, you're putting yourself out there even if you never go out there. And with my five blogs, I'm practically a gadabout.

So trying to prove CJ wrong, we met and went into the Castro. I guess it had been a while since I was there because I forgot how much it depresses me. We were only in two bars and I was bitching and moaning and aching to leave. I don't like it over there.

I still claim my extrovert status. I just don't want to spend time in bad bars.

Who are the junkies in your neighborhood?

In my travels about San Francisco, I don't get over to the nice parts of town very often. The nicest it gets for me is when I go downtown, and usually I'm on my way to a bar in the Tenderloin anyway.

I was thinking that lately everyone I have to deal with in my daily life is a drug addict, crazy, retarded, or some combination of the three. The other day I was in line at the post office between a homeless guy in a wheelchair and a crazy Tourette's old lady. Neither of them was particularly obnoxious, though the homeless person was pretty stanky.

Today at the Lavateria, the whole place reeked like wet dog, which means that a homeless junkie had been in earlier. That's when you check the machines before you throw your clothes in. Washing machines used by homeless people still smell after they're done, and are often full of disintegrated scraps of those free blankets they give out to street people.

Then a retarded man started a conversation with me. He was nice enough; much better than Bothersome Crazy and only trying to make conversation rather than complain about things that don't exist.

Fans, you know I don't leave my house all that often, and when I do I'd just like to have an interaction with the part of humanity other than its dregs.