Incident of Idiocy #1

Where is my passport? So many piles, so many bags and boxes went out of my apartment. So many went down the garbage shute. What if my passport got put in the wrong pile? What if I get to the Canadian border and they don't yet know they're just a territory of the US. It says so on the box of my new GPS: "Covers the US including Hawaii, Puerto Rico and Canada."
What if I didn't put my social security card, birth certificate and passport all in the same envelope and then loose it? I wouldn't be me, that's what.

Speaking of the move, check out the stairs that kicked my ass for five years. That's four flights people. Song of the day: Baby Got Back. The ex, we'll call him Ironman, used to climb 240 ft into the tops of windmills everyday and he still hated my stairs. But he was like, 100, so maybe not the best illustration. That's 50 stairs down and 50 stairs back up for every damn thing we moved out of there. As Elder Brother said; "Give it up for never having to do those fucking stairs again." It really lightened the mood as I drove away from my beloved neighborhood for the last time and yes, we say things like "Give it up" Woot. Woot.

There Goes the Neighborhood

Maybe it's a good thing I'm moving out since these evil things seem to be moving in. They track my movements through the windows and stare at me, plotting the take over. Creepy.
Tonight I finally went to Cordon Bleu (must read with irritating French accent) with my Filipino life-partner and am seriously angry at myself for putting it off so long. A heaping plate of delicious food cooked for you by your favorite Auntie (if you're favorite Auntie is Vietnamese) for 7 bucks. Some of the preparation practices might be questionable but who cares when it tastes that good. Speaking of questionable, Pappi said he'd take custody of Fishy and skipped out of here fishless. Damn it! The streets of SF are a magical resource when dealing with unwanted items. You put stuff out and they disappear in a matter of minutes. Today I recycled a vaccuum and a kitchen trash can. The other night someone actually claimed Younger Sister's ugly ass, terarium constructed out of wood, wire mesh, and enough jagged staples to seriously injure anyone within 2 feet of the thing. But, I have a feeling it I set a fish out there, it wouldn't be long before a pitch-fork weilding mob showed up. Animal rights blah blah, cruelty to living creatures blah blah blah.
Holy crap! Epiphany! Peace offering to the creepy pigeons. Problem solved.

Polk St.

Moving to Alaska wouldn't be cool enough if I went the easy way, so I bought a 4WD and am ready to tackle the Alcan. In the meantime, having a car in The City is a bitch.Even being a sneaky sneaky and getting your sister's extra handicap placard to avoid feeding the meter doesn't make it hassle free. Technically I'm handicapped in all sorts of ways so don't start whining to me about how that's illegal.
Last night I got to move the car at 1am in my pajamas, half asleep. Made friends with a street gentleman who spotted me as I groggily parallel parked my SUV. Thank you, sir. Witnessed a top notch freak out between a seemingly clean cut guy and the air around him "I HATE YOU MOTHERFUCKER! I FUCKING HATE YOU! I HOPE YOU CURDLE IN BLOOD!! I"M SPIRITUAL!!! SPIRITUAAAAAALLLLL!!" Congrats on your spirituality dude, what does it mean to curdle in blood, anyway? Participated in another spiritual awakening, this time a tweaked out hipster reading propaganda from the Christian Science Cult gathering place to me as I walked by. Got to waive to the friendly counter girl at Bob's Donuts, a la Cosmo Kramer. She's witnessed many a tipsy, late night donut splurge from this carb lover, that's for sure. Mind you, this was all in the span of two blocks. I love my neighborhood.
Picture above: Rockstar parking snagged when I had to move AGAIN at 7:30 AM and the caboose of Shopping Cart Train Man. Not to be confused with Suitcase Man, Shopping Cart Tranny, Boombox Guy or Wheelchair Man. More on all that later if you wish. Picture below: Solid evidence that someone had a much rougher night in the 'hood. It's a bra, vodka bottle and straw seen in the gutter by the bus shelter.

Destined to be a star

The first post should be sort of an explanation, right? Here goes:



'nuff said. If , in the future, you have any questions about my attitude, sense of humor, place in life, etc., please just refer to this post. Thanks.