You have a beautiful egg

Here, read this Slate story "Did Human Pregnancy Evolve Because of an Infection?". You're not gonna read it, so I'll tell you what it's about:

HOW COME PEOPLE HAVE LIVE BABIES AND DON'T LAY MOTHERFUCKING EGGS.

Holy shit. MIND BLOWN. Can you fucking IMAGINE if people laid eggs? So, you'd like have labor and birth after a few months of being pregnant and then PLOP, "OK!! Here's your egg!" and then you'd leave the hospital with a pamphlet called "Caring for Your Egg" and it would have stuff like "It's best to wrap your egg in an electric blanket at night, especially if you live in a cold climate." No, even better, people would sell EGG COZIES on Etsy and you could get one with your baby's name on it.

For some reason, I'm picturing them about a foot-and-half tall and maybe 15, 20 pounds. Don't ask me about how that gets out, biologically. Gross.

There would totally be anti-abortion groups called, like, Don't Crack That Egg and Americans for Egg Integrity (AEI). And a whole underground of people who would like dispose of your egg if you didn't want it. There would, naturally, be a snuff film black market underground of people who ate human eggs and said they were "delicious, if a little gamey."

Custom shell-painting. Nuf said.

People would bitch about mothers who carried their eggs with them everywhere and they gave them an extra seat at the movie theater because they just couldn't stand to be away from their egg for a second. They'd be called "Penguin Parents" because they never leave their eggs alone. Other parents are happy to sometimes leave their eggs at the Egg Watchery at the mall while they go shop for hatching supplies, but not Penguin Parents.

Southwest, however, makes you buy an extra seat on the plane for your egg.

Don't even get me started on the people who hatch at home. SO UNSAFE.

Trouble

Apropos of nothing, I was thinking about bar fights the other day.

Maybe I'm just lucky, but I've managed to mostly avoid bar fights (or fights in general) during my many dissolute years of bar-going. Honestly, that shit is stupid and I fail to understand why someone looking at your girl would provoke a violent outrage, but I guess some assholes just want to get into fights and need an excuse.

I can only think of a handful of times when I've even been close to getting in a fight, like:

- A couple of weeks after I made the catastrophically bad decision to move to Santa Cruz, one of the Worst Places on Earth, I was playing pool in this dive called the 1007 Club. I hadn't noticed that more people had come in and someone had written his name on the chalkboard to play next game. I started to put quarters in and the guy totally got in my face and was screaming about how he was next and I was like "Fine, whatever, you're next." Looking back now, I realize that he was probably tweaked out of his fucking gourd on meth, like 90% of everyone between the ages of 19 and 29 in that Godforsaken shithole.

- One weekend afternoon I was hanging out at the Columbus Cafe with my ex-wife and drinking and playing the jukebox and shit and this little angry Scotsman started hitting on her right in front of me. He offered to buy her a drink and I said "It's cool, I've got her drinks" and he FUCKING FLIPPED OUT and told me to come outside to settle this and I was like "No, I think I'll pass" and then the bartender kicked him out. The bartender told us the guy works on a ship and comes in whenever they dock in SF and gets into fights.

(Knowing what I know now, I should have let him buy her the drink, then jumped up and pointed and said "A-HA!!! NOW SHE'S YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM!!!" and run out.)

Other times I've been on the periphery of big fights that have started and spilled out into the street. Whatever, that shit is boring.

UPDATE: Humorously, between the time when I first wrote this and now, when I'm about to post it, I have learned that Famous Teen Mom Bristol Palin almost got herself into a bar fight recently:

Bristol Palin was riding the mechanical bull at a Hollywood bar in front of a throng of paparazzi and reality TV cameras, when a rude drunk yelled, "Your mother's a whore!" Bristol marched up to the man, jutted out her new chin, and got into a heated confrontation:

Man: She [your mother] is evil.
Bristol: You want her dead?
Man: You know what, if there is a hell, and I don't think there is one, she will be there.
Bristol: OK, why is that?
Man: She's evil. She's evil.
Bristol: Is it because you're a homosexual?
Man: Pretty much!
Bristol: And that's why you hate her?
Man: And why do you say I'm a homosexual?
Bristol: Because I can tell you are.

On the way out she gets into a fight with another pair of angry drunks, including one who yells, "White trash Wasilla!" and "You fucking bitch!" as Bristol and friends storm out of the bar.

"Is it because you're a homosexual"? Who the fuck talks like that? Although, I gotta say, it's probably a drag when you're out for your usual night on the town being followed by a camera crew and wearing an ugly sweatshirt that says "Empowered" on the front with a Lightning Bolt Cross and some stranger says "Your mother's evil." I guess that would suck.

(This all happened at Saddle Ranch, right? That place blows.)

This is a non-exclusive list of TV shows I've never seen a single episode of

1. My So-Called Life

I know it's like an iconic show and all, but I was a guy in his 20's when it was on. I mean, come on, that would be kinda weird if I watched it. It would still be kinda weird. Claire Danes was super hot in Igby Goes Down, though.

2. Bones

Come on. I think I saw 5 or 6 minutes once and I was like "What the fuck?"

3. The Beverly Hillbillies

Even when I was like 6 years old I could tell this was dumber than a box of rocks and not funny at all.

4. Battlestar Galactica

The remake, not the original. I was a kid when the original was on and I think I was pretty into it. It was pretty much straight-up scif-fi. The remake is all Very Serious Allegory, right?

5. Criminal Minds

I don't even know what this is supposed to be about. I was just looking at a list of top rated TV shows and this was on it and I was like "What's that?"

6. Saved by the Bell

I don't think I even knew this show existed until it started seeping into the cultural group consciousness (there's a word for that, right? Something Jungian? I forget) and it was on during a time when I didn't watch much TV and I probably wouldn't have watched it anyway.

7. Dr. Who

This is like some serious sci-fi fanboy shit, right? Never saw it. Don't know the first thing about it. Does it involve time travel in some way?

8. Any show that starts "Real Housewives of"

Just doesn't seem like my thing.

9. Grey's Anatomy

How many medical dramas will there be? Haven't we played out every possible angle? (NB: If you want to see a GREAT hour of medical drama, check out the episode of ER that Quentin Tarantino directed. It's awesome. It's probably streaming on Netflix or some shit.)

10. Two and a Half Men

Kutcher's not sweetening the deal, either.

Lyric Deconstruction: "American Ride"

Toby Keith, 2009



Winter gettin' colder, summer gettin' warmer.

Tidal wave comin' 'cross the Mexican border.

Why buy a gallon, it's cheaper by the barrel.

Just dont get busted singin' Christmas carols.



By this point, about 24 seconds into the song, you're probably thinking "Oh no, here's some more Toby Keith retarded bullshit," and you're partially right. It's difficult to put a charitable spin on "Tidal wave comin' cross the Mexican border." And if you have any reports of anyone being arrested for singing Christmas carols, do forward them.



That's us, that's right

Gotta love this American ride.

Both ends of the ozone burnin.

Funny how the world keeps turnin.

Look ma, no hands.

I love this American ride.

Gotta love this American ride.



I feel like I really don't have to explain that ozone degradation and the rotation of the Earth are two widely disconnected phenomena. I mean, we could lose the entire ozone layer - indeed, the entire atmosphere - and the world would keep turnin, for billions of years. It's angular momentum, a widely-understood property of physics. So it's really not that funny that the world keeps turnin. IT'S NOT FUNNY AT ALL.



But wait! You have to see the video to appreciate this song. I mean, it's a terrible video, but it makes clear that this song is an equal opportunity hater.







There's a fascinating scene that begins around :40. We see the classic American Gothic couple, only they're getting foreclosed on! And what's replacing the family farm? Big box stores!



Now wait a minute. Isn't the guiding principle of unfettered capitalism that you should be free to do whatever you want with your money? So if you're Best Buy or whatever and you want to buy a farm and put up a store there, you should be able to, right? So what's the problem, Toby Keith? What are you, some kind of socialist?



Momma gets her rocks off watchin' Desperate Housewives.

Daddy works his ass off payin' for the good life.

Kids on the YouTube learnin how to be cool.

Livin in a cruel world, pays to be a mean girl.



I guess this is more or less the standard kind of workin-hard-to-make-a-buck-my-wife-don't-understand country music stuff. Hard to have any problem with that.



Chorus



At this stage in the video, we are presented with two interesting animated images. The first is Pat Robertson riding George W. Bush like a horse. Let's set aside the extremely disturbing aspects of this tableau and try to divine what's implied here - that Bush was a tool of the Religious Right? Meh, he certainly had that potential, and God knows what would have happened, but 9/11 kind of took the focus off those nutbags.



The second image is Obama being carried aloft by Wall Street bankers. Hard to argue with that. In fact, that's probably the most straightforward and accurate political commentary in the whole thing.



Poor little infamous, America's town.

She gained five pounds and lost her crown.

Quick fix plastic surgical antidote.

Got herself a record deal, can't even sing a note.



Hmmmm. Well, Dominique Ramirez, Miss San Antonio, did, in fact, lose accuse pageant officials of taking her crown when she gained weight. But I have no information that she got herself a record deal.



(I initially thought this was a backhanded slap at Carrie Underwood, another former pageant contestant who got herself a record deal. But I think the consensus is that she's a perfectly fine singer, although, I confess, I'm not really down with the Nashville gossip.)



Plasma gettin bigger, Jesus gettin smaller.

Spill a cup of coffee, make a million dollars.

Customs caught a thug with an aerosol can.

If the shoe don't fit, fits gonna hit the shan.



I have to confess, when I first heard this, I thought "I, for one, am glad that plasma is widely available! It's a valuable life-saving tool that doctors in emergency situations use every day!" Oh, wait, he's not talking about that, is he. Oh, he means TVs.



Well, so what if TVs are getting bigger! That's progress!



I won't even bother with the frivolous lawsuits thing. Yawn.



The last line is completely impenetrable, and I assume the songwriters just ran out of gas at the end. Just as I have here.



Chorus

August 5, 1977: Giants at Mets

Giants lost, 3-2. Let's take a look at the Giants box:


Let's see. Bill Madlock had a nice day, 2 for 4 with a run scored. McCovey walked but was otherwise not a factor. Couple of other hits sprinkled around. Not a lot of offense. Reminds me of some other Giants team I could name!

15,747 showed up at Shea for a 2 hour 35 minute game. Probably a nice night out at the yard.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, in a medium-sized town in Ireland, The Wife was busy being born. She was successful in this endeavor, so I guess she had a better night than the Giants.

Happy Birthday, The Wife! We'll be seeing the 2011 Giants tonight. Hopefully they can do better than their counterparts 34 years ago.

(Also, Mark Mulder was born on the same day, so there's another baseball thing. Happy Birthday Mark Mulder.)

(Also, I know, 2 blog posts in one day. I have the day off, cut me some slack.)

TK's Better Tour of San Francisco

Got some of the Wife's relatives in town! It's her brother, who grew up in Ireland and now lives in New Zealand, and his New Zealander kids. They're all super-nice and awesome and everything. I volunteered to show 'em around SF this afternoon. Now, anyone could go see the sea lions at Pier 39 and whatnot, but where's the fun in that? I have my own tour of SF that beats the shit out of that:

Portsmouth Square

Kearny and Clay Streets

"The Sydney Ducks were this Australian gang, duh, that pretty much owned the waterfront around Broadway and Pacific. On May 3, 1851, one of the Ducks was seen running out of a shop on the southern side of Portsmouth Square just before the building started burning. The fire destroyed something like 2000 buildings, and was so bright you could see it in Monterey. They apparently set the fire so they could loot shit when people fled. A few Aussies were lynched a couple of months later and that seemed to have the desired effect."

Erno Tattoo

252 Fillmore

"That's where I got my first tattoo. I was drinking with my friend Jim at 13% on Haight, which was this bar where the Underground SF is now, and I stood up and said 'I guess I'm gonna go get a tattoo,' and I walked up there and sat down and got one. I was pretty lit. The less said about the tattoo, the better. Erno's is long gone now. So is 13%."

Church of Satan

6114 California Street



Wiki can tell the story better than me:

The Black House is a building that formerly stood at 6114 California St. in San Francisco, California, in the United States. Though the building is sometimes referred to as a mansion, photographs of the building taken just before its destruction show that it was a moderately sized single family home, considerably smaller than the two small apartment buildings on either side of the property. According to public records, it was listed at 2,205 square feet and constructed in the year 1905.

The house was used by Anton LaVey as the headquarters of his Church of Satan from 1966 until his death in 1997. LaVey conducted Satanic seminars and rituals at the house; one of the most notorious such rituals was the Satanic baptism of his daughter Zeena Schreck in 1967, punctuated by LaVey speaking the words "Hail Satan!" over the nude body of a female acting as the 'Satanic Altar'.

Public ceremonies were performed at the house until 1972. LaVey lost ownership of the house in 1991 as the result of a court settlement resulting from his separation from Diane Hegarty, but LaVey was allowed to reside at the Black House until his death.

Following LaVey's death, members of the Church of Satan unsuccessfully attempted to raise funds to repurchase the house, and it was demolished on October 17, 2001. A duplex now stands in its place.

A duplex! Man, Satan, that fucking SUCKS.

Imperial Palace restaurant

816 Washington Street

"Two and a half stars on Yelp. Tammie W. says that 'the selection was rather heavy on pork and shrimp and gone were the forays into vegetarian choices,' whatever the fucks that means. But we don't care about the food. This used to be the Golden Dragon, site of the Golden Dragon Massacre, a shootout between the Joe Boys and Wah Ching on September 4, 1977. 5 people got killed and 11 injured. Even more tragic was James Woods' hair in the 1989 film True Believer, which was loosely based on the incident."



Nightmarish.

The Furniture Mart

1355 Market St.

"This is the future home of Twitter. Twitter may be cool and all, but I bet you anything they will never, ever have a party like Jack Davis had on his 50th birthday at the Furniture Mart penthouse. Here's how Cintra Wilson described it:

In a nutshell, for those of you from points elsewhere, this Jack Davis guy, an openly gay and notoriously "outrageous" political consultant who is generally believed to have gotten the last two S.F. mayors elected and whose current client is the 49ers, who are trying to get the voters to approve a bond initiative to finance their new stadium, had his friends throw him a 50th birthday party that was attended by a slurry of big polyurethane-headed politicos in smart little suits and ties. The party, replete with multi-sexual go-go sluts and a glory hole wall, climaxed with a guy named Steve Leyba getting a pentagram carved on his back and being pissed on and sodomized with a bottle of Jack Daniel's by my old friend, vampire/lesbian/dominatrix/Satanist/junkie/poet/performance-artist Danielle Willis.

Top that, Twitter. Also, more Satanists! Yay!"

Corner of Haight and Stanyan

Haight and Stanyan Streets

"Let's stop here for some weed."

Corner of Golden Gate and Hyde

Golden Gate and Hyde Streets

"That's the Post Office where the homeless guys pick up their SSI checks. Luckily, they have multiple opportunities to spend them directly outside."

Pier 39

Embarcadero and Beach Streets

"I gotta stop at Krazy Kaps and We Be Knives and then OF COURSE we can look at the sea lions. I'm not heartless. Also, Red Jack Saloon is like 4 blocks away and it's probably been long enough that they wouldn't remember last time I was there and I could go in for a pint."

That's it. I'm beat. KMAGYOYO.

Trip Report: Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum

I just got back from visiting my Dad in Tennessee for his birthday (Happy Birthday, Dad! Please stop working harder than me, you're making me look bad!) and I went to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum for the first time in my life and you know what? Old-time country music stars were gangsta as fuck.

Oh, before we get to that, here's the sign on the front door:

No, those aren't my sandals reflected in the front door. I don't wear fucking sandals. Those are my adidas Samoas, though. Anyway, NO WEAPONS. First museum I've ever been to where you had to be told not to bring weapons in. It sure as fuck doesn't say NO WEAPONS on the front door of the Louvre! TAKE THAT YOU PUSSY-ASS FRENCH MUSEUM!!!

Anyway, these country music guys used to booze harder and take more drugs and do more chicks than anyone else. They were basically the Motley Crue of their day.

Check out Gram Parsons' sweet Nudie suit with the marijuana leaf embroidery:



This next thing, though, blew my mind. Hank Williams shot some squirrels and then had them mounted by a taxidermist to look like they were playing in a little squirrel band and then displayed this gross little tableau in his house. My picture of it didn't turn out well, but I found this one online:



Welcome these fellas to your nightmares for the next few weeks. Anyway, Hank Williams took painkillers by the fistful and was a full-time drunk and still was one of the most most influential songwriters for both country and rock of all time.

And how about George Jones? Here, he tells it best:

Once, when I had been drunk for several days, Shirley decided she would make it physically impossible for me to buy liquor. I lived about eight miles from Beaumont and the nearest liquor store. She knew I wouldn't walk that far to get booze, so she hid the keys to every car we owned and left. But she forgot about the lawn mower. I can vaguely remember my anger at not being able to find keys to anything that moved and looking longingly out a window at a light that shone over our property. There, gleaming in the glow, was that ten-horsepower rotary engine under a seat. A key glistening in the ignition.

I imagine the top speed for that old mower was five miles per hour. It might have taken an hour and a half or more for me to get to the liquor store, but get there I did.

I fucking love George Jones. Here's some for you right now:

The Bachelorette: Anybody got a Dad they can spare?

Like Ashley Chipmunk, I am also currently on a Hometown Date, except that mine consists of drinking on my Dad's back patio until 1 a.m. in 80-degree heat and hanging out with the extended family, while Ashley's consists of a painful road trip across America where she is confronted by Greek ladies asking how soon can she drop everything and move to Atlanta because they need a waitress stat.

Anyway, I knew I said I probably couldn't do the recap but last night all of us were burnt out on boozing and so we gathered around the family TV and watched Ashley make a series of semi-awkward to outright painful visits to these losers' families. Up first is Constantine, who I was really hoping lived in a tenement in Greek Town somewhere but who sadly hails from a McMansion in a featureless suburb of Atlanta. It seems that his family runs Giorgio's but that's cool because ethnic food is ethnic food, right? Pumpkinhead and Chipmunk visit the restaurant and pretend to make food and I don't think that kitchen crew is Greek unless Greece has relocated to Oaxaca. Then we get on to the Family Portion and Mom immediately puts the screws on Chipmunk to relocate and then Dad offers that she has a "gorgeous personality" which is Greek for "I'd hit it" and then clearly at the urging of the producers they have a My Big Fat Greek Reality Show moment and do that circular dance around the dining room and then Dad makes it rain and throws money in the air like he's some old Greek 50 Cent and the whole thing is just sort of sad.

Next we're going to visit the factory where Ames was assembled! Oh, I mean Chadd's Ford, Pennsylvania, which is so white it makes "Leave It to Beaver" look like "The Wire." Ames's "family" look like leftovers from an 80's movie about preppies and his sister has a sixhead just like him and tells Chipmunk how "romantic" he is and, what, did you two used to date? Where's Dad, anyway? Oh, we find out Dad died. Then Stepdad died. This is very sad but also I hope someone looked at Ames for the Dad Murders of Chadd's Ford. Ames needs to prove that he's not gay, so natch he takes Ashley to the "most beautiful garden I know," GREAT JOB AMES just like any old straight guy would say and they have a picnic and he tries to romance her by lowering his robot head onto her face for Lip Engagement Sequence Number 47B and I think it's safe to say that Ames will be parked back in the garage at the end of this episode.

OK, off to Sonoma to meet Early Man Ben F.'s family. They tromp off to his winery to have the now-oblig. picnic and Chipmunk wants to know if there's anything she should know. "Well, actually," Ben says, "my father was a silverback gorilla," oh, no, wait, his Dad is dead too. All these dead Dads are bumming me out. OK, let's meet the fam. Well, his sister sure is a handsome lady! She assures Chipmunk that Ben is in touch with his emotions. Good thing, because Mom isn't exactly a waterfall of feeling. Something else may have happened but I kinda zoned out a little at this point and I was also playing Words With Friends at the same time. It's a good thing that whoever named Words With Friends didn't name other games too or checkers would be called Moving Discs Across a Flat Surface. But I digress.

Last stop: Long Island, to meet JP's fam. They start out with a little roller skating to "I Can't Fight This Feeling," and I guess the rights to that song are so cheap now that even "The Bachelorette" can afford them and why are we even doing this? Let's meet this family. Oh, thank God, Mom has the Classic Long Island accent. Look, JP has a Live Dad! Now we're getting somewhere. He sure doesn't say much, but at least he's still up and mobile. Everyone talks darkly about JP's last relationship and how much it fucked him up and by the way they're talking it sounded like he needed electroshock to get over this bitch and what the hell did she do? Ohhhhh, maybe that's why Dad's so quiet! Anyway, we all chow down on some lasagna and Mom hauls out the Embarrassing Photo and that's about it.

Back in LA, Chipmunk sits down with Chris Harrison and God save our fucking souls, we are going to rehash the Bentley thing one more fucking time. They recap the dates a little and it's clear that Ames is already her Gay Best Friend and they're totally going to have slumber parties and watch Audrey Hepburn movies and talk about boys.

Time for the cuts Yes, no surprise. Ames is let go and he talks about how "poetic" the whole thing has been like he could get any gayer. So the final three is Pumpkinhead and Early Man and GI Joe. Good luck with that.

This short anecdote is illustrative of the way The Wife thinks

We were recently walking near Union Square, by where all the hotels are, and passed by the back door/loading area for some hotel, and there were 4 or 5 guys loading a series of Igloo-type coolers into a car. They were all wearing like hotel uniforms or something.

She asked me what I thought was in them and I said I had no idea.

She said she thought it was probably organs stolen from hotel guests who are now lying in their bathtubs packed in ice, still sedated, and the organs in the coolers were being loaded for transport to wealthy foreigners who bought them.

Could be.

Have a great weekend.

(P.S. You know what one of the hazards is with following ballplayers on Twitter? You find out that they have opinions that differ from your own and then you don't like them as much, even when they play for a team you like. Just today Jeremy Affeldt, a relief pitcher for the Giants who I basically liked despite his ridiculous chin beard thing, retweeted Rick Warren saying something about "Planned Parenthood's Scandal" with a link to some anti-choice group's website. Oh great. Now every time Jeremy Affeldt pitches I'm going to think about how he's all anti-Planned Parenthood, which basically means that you're anti-health care for poor and middle-class women, who might not get it any other way. I'm sure Jeremy Affeldt's wife can afford all the top-notch healthcare she wants, but a lot of people can't.)

(True story, when I was younger and poorer, my ex got her health care through Planned Parenthood and I don't know how we would have afforded it otherwise. So all you people trying to defund Planned Parenthood, go fuck yourself. God, that makes me angry.)

The sad inevitability of change in the modern world and whatever

There is no way I'm going to be able to do this without sounding like an asshole. Luckily, I'm used to that.

We have learned that the Red Vic movie theater on Haight is closing.

Later this month, 31 years to the day after it became an instant landmark in the Haight-Ashbury, the Red Vic Movie House will close.

"Our closure is 100 percent certain at this point," co-owner Claudia Lehan said. "On July 25, our birthday screening of 'Harold and Maude' will be our last, I'm sad to say."

Now, of course it is always sad when a business closes down, whether it be the Red Vic or any other business. (Speaking of Haight Street, does anyone remember Crescent City Cafe on Haight, where Best of Thai Noodle is now? Wow, Crescent City continues to have a lively online presence, despite the fact that it's been closed for years. That place was good. But I digress.)



I hate to sound like a dick about it, but that's commerce. You have a good idea, you run with it, it works for a while, but if people stop showing up, it's time to pack it up or come up with a new idea. Now, the Red Vic was a non-profit, so I guess having fundraisers to save it is cool and whatever, but in the end, if people don't want to pay for the product any more, it's not going to be viable any more.

I think it's sad and regrettable that San Francisco has lost most of its neighborhood theaters over the last 20 to 30 years, but that's life. I wonder if people had benefits to save the last remaining neighborhood blacksmiths in 1911 or the last neighborhood tanneries or whatever. Point being that change is inevitable and nothing lasts forever and even though it's sad, that's just the way it is. Let's all have fond memories and move on.

(Full disclosure: I used to live around the corner in the 90's and saw a fair amount of movies there and always found it slightly annoying, but patronized it nonetheless.)

(Also, I don't remember anyone being especially heartbroken when the Full Moon Saloon - where the Red Vic moved into - closed down. I have this vague memory of going into that place once. But NFI, as the cops say.)

(That's police talk for "No Further Information." I'm rambling now. I was at a ballgame last night until 11:00 and didn't get home until midnight, so you'll have to give me a break.)

Dispatches from an increasingly desperate situation

As I have noted on Twitter, The Sister is currently visiting Moms in Arizona. I, thankfully, am not. Here is a series of text messages I have received so far today from what appears to be a rapidly declining situation:

9:56 am Good morning! For breakfast I was presented with moldy raspberries and a broken spatula w/ no handle to make frittatas.

10:03 am Can't make this shit up.

10:04 am Why do you keep a broken fucking spatula? It's splintered and has NO HANDLE. Fuck.

10:27 am Today we are also featuring a Facebook tutorial.

1:12 pm Tutorial did NOT go well.

1:13 pm She is on FB but doesn't want to use it ever.

1:15 pm She doesn't understand it and doesn't want to figure it out.

1:26 pm Now trying to explain youtube. Sigh.

1:46 pm Every item of food in this house is revolting. I'm not having a good time.

1:56 pm She got mad and was like "You always say everything I have is rotten!" BECAUSE IT IS.

2:02 pm Then she opened her cookie tin where she stores cookies and kale chips together bc she only has one tin.

2:02 pm I said, these kale chips taste like oatmeal cookies. That was why.


2:05 pm Also as you may have guessed the cookies are stale.

The Sort-of New Bar Night edition

Ladies and gentlemen, on the off-chance you haven't seen him, let me introduce you to Celebration Guy, who will now be my go-to guy whenever anything really great happens:



Like I mentioned, I feel somewhat conflicted about celebrating someone's death, so let's forget that's what's going on here for a second and instead focus on the batshit insane, crazy Yosemite Sam-level nuttery on display. How can you not love a guy riding an ATV with an American flag, whooping and firing a pistol into the air? GENIUS. I love you, Celebration Guy.

Hey, I know I haven't had an official New Bar Night in a while, but I have been to a couple of new places that I should catch you up on.

(This actually leads to kind of an existential question - what differentiates "going to a bar I've never been to before" from "New Bar Night"? I think it's a question of intent and quality. I'm already bored by this parenthetical, though, so email me if you want more detail on this.)

(Can you imagine if I did PRIVATE BLOG POSTS for people? Like you could write me and tell me what you wanted to hear about and I'd send you back a blog post about it? I would have to charge for that. If you want a Private Blog Post, email me and we'll work something out. I'm totally kidding. I don't want to do this.)

So I met The Wife at Buck Tavern for happy hour and to watch the end of the Giants game last Friday. A little backstory, if you're not familiar: BT used to be Just Another Bar (apparently - I'd never been there) and the it was bought by former SF Supervisor/Professional Annoyer Chris Daly to, I guess, give him something to do now that he's not pissing people off in SF politics any more. Sure enough, there he was, behind the bar.

Two things about Chris Daly: (1) he is a perfectly friendly, if somewhat slow, bartender, and (2) he is VERY LOUD. This is probably not a surprise. He was conducting various conversations with people around the bar by YELLING AT THEM. This is somewhat disconcerting if you're me and you dislike yelling because it reminds you of your broken childhood home.

Also, and this is also probably not a surprise, the conversations largely concerned San Francisco politics, which makes sense, I guess, but is also so amusing and predictable it's like the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World except it's the Pirates of District Six ride and it's really, really boring and instead of ARRRR MATEY it's all WHO'S RUNNING DAVID CHIU'S CAMPAIGN like I give a shit.

He clearly loves it. More power to the guy! I don't begrudge him his thing at all. It's just not for me.

Where else did I go? Oh yeah, the EXACT POLAR OPPOSITE of Buck Tavern, 620 Jones, an elaborate nightclubby kind of place. I usually avoid this kind of scene like it's a leper colony full of fundamentalists, but we have a friend who works there and we went there for happy hour and it was just fine. They have a HUGE fucking porch too that I'm sure is great when it's warm out, like today. But you can close your eyes and just hear the thumpa thumpa music and picture the Affliction and Drakkar Noir around you. Shudder.

(I don't know, maybe it's not that bad. I probably will never find out, though.)

(Definitely check it out for HH, though. And the food looked good. That patio!)

P.S. If you have suggestions for places I should go on New Bar Nights in the future, please leave them in the comments or email them to me or just visualize them REALLY HARD and maybe I'll pick up your vibe with my chakras or something.

40goingon28 PSA: Benefit for Mission Neighborhood Center GED program

This Saturday, the Mission Community Center is doing a fundraiser for its GED program. The money they make is going towards their students' testing fees. I'm basically a smug asshole with a Blogger account but once in a while I try to do something good to make up for it, and this is one of those times.



Here's more info. Support your local kids. They're going to be paying for your Social Security one day, so it's in your best interest that they be smart and get good jobs. That Rascal scooter isn't gonna pay for itself.

(It just occurred to me that in 30 years, Pops will once again be an old man bar if all the same people keep going there. There'll be a whole line of tricked-out Rascals and Larks parked in front with bumper stickers that say "SCOOT OR DIE" and "FUCK THE YOUTH" and stuff like that. Looking forward to trading oxygen tank tips w/ you guys!)

Today in Privacy Invasion News

In today's Chron, "Stanford's top scorer suspended":

(04-06) 22:16 PDT -- Jeremy Green, Stanford's leading scorer last basketball season, has been suspended from school for academic reasons, a school spokesman said Wednesday.

Green's status for next season would not be affected, and the first-team All-Pac-10 selectee is expected to take part in the Cardinal's preseason trip to Spain in September, school spokesman Brian Risso said.

It's possible that the 6-foot-4 junior from Austin, Texas - who has exceptional shooting range - could apply for early entry in the June 23 NBA draft. An NBA spokesman would not say whether Green has applied. A list of the early-entry candidates would not be issued until the April 24 deadline has passed.

"My sense is that he will be back," coach Johnny Dawkins said.

Green could not be reached for comment. A phone message left at his parents' home in Texas was not immediately returned.

Oh Jesus Christ. Thank God they only publish this wildly intrusive information for ATHLETES and not regular kids, or else you could have opened your morning paper to read:

TK, the school's leading gravity bong user last season, has been suspended from school for academic reasons. And also for carrying an open beer into class. And also for driving his car into a ditch next to U Lot. And also for not paying the Activities Fee. And also for saying "I told you I don't do any fucking activities so why should I pay the Activities Fee." And also for maybe being the person who took Leslie's sliding door off its track and put it in her bathtub.

It's possible that the 6-foot-4 junior - who has exceptional sarcasm range - could apply for early entry into the Togo's immediately adjacent to campus. A Togo's spokesman would not say whether TK has applied. A list of the sandwiches Togo's offers was observed next to his phone, however.

"My sense is that we kinda hope he doesn't come back," the Dean of Academics said.

TK could not be reached for comments. "What the fuck - are you fucking kidding me?" a man who identified himself as TK's father said when reached at home. "Is this some kind of fucking joke? This better be some kind of sick joke. Is he there? Is he standing right there? You can tell him I have better things to do than to listen to this shit."

Happy AFD. A Story.

On the occasion of this April Fools' Day, allow me to recount my favorite - and maybe the only - AFD joke I ever did.

Back in Ye Olde Mid 90's, The Sister was graduating from All-Girl Preppy Prep School and looking at colleges. She had expressed an interest in New York University, which alarmed Dad to no end, as the thought of his daughter wandering around New York basically scared the shit out of him. Little did he know, but that's another story and I also promised The Sister I wouldn't say too much about her on this blog. The Sister applied to NYU but Dad basically let it be known that the whole thing was a nonstarter and she would not be going to NYU.

SO ANYWAY on April 1, 19__, I got my friend David, who sounds like a New York Jew because he is a New York Jew, to call my Dad up.

"Good morning, Sir!" David said. "I'm with the Admissions Office at New York University. I'm calling to tell you that we have decided to award your daughter a full scholarship here at NYU, including room and board."

There was no pause at all, "SHE'LL TAKE IT!!!" Dad said.

After about an hour we finally stopped laughing. Dad still cracks up about it to this day.

The Sister did not go to NYU.

Have a good weekend.

I am going to Arizona

I should be there around 10:30 tonight.

"Are you going to spring training, TK? That's totally rad!!!!"

No. I am not going to spring training. Yes, that would be totally rad, but that is not why I'm going to Arizona. Normally I would be loath to contribute financially in any way to that Godforsaken Tea Party paradise, but unfortunately my Mom lives there and I ran out of reasons why I couldn't come visit her. So off we go. That lunatic already has our days planned out to the minute and I assure you that little or no relaxation is on the sched.

ANYWAY. At least it's in the 70's during the day and NOT FUCKING RAINING. I don't know whether or not I'll be blogging, but I'm sure I'll be dropping my usual bon mots via Twitter. Have a good weekend.

The Bachelor: Look at this fucking family

We have finally arrived at the Family Visit Episode, which, for the uninitiated, involves the Bachelor (or ‘Rette, as the case may be) visiting the 4 finalists at home. Usually their parents’ homes. Awkwardness and, if we’re lucky, weirdness ensue.

First it’s off to Seattle to meet Chantal’s family. They meet up in a park and Chantal better not get near any open flame because that Forever 21 100% poly shirt would go up like a Molotov cocktail. They drop by Chantal’s house and, as The Wife asked, “How is it this 25-year-old bitch lives in her own huge fully-furnished house?” Worth asking, even if the furnishings are not exactly what I’d pick. Soon we find out when we go to her parents’ HOLY SHIT GINORMOUS FUCKING FAUX ITALIAN MANSION. Jesus Christ, this is what happens when people with zero taste get rich. Dad, who’s clearly had some work done and has a shiny smooth sheen, and Brad go off to Dad’s wing or whatever and Dad shows him his massive “Self-Made Man” sculpture that looks like something you’d get from the SkyMall catalog. Oh God, now Brad’s gotta go on about his Absent Father. Dad says he would approve of their TV Marriage. The only thing missing was a cash register CHA-CHING sound when Brad hears this. Fuck owning a bar, I’mma be on E-Z STREET MOTHAFUCKA.

Hey, in this commercial for L’Oreal “Youth Code,” we are advised that this is a “fantasy scene” and “You can’t actually grow younger.” Fuck you, L’Oreal!

OK, now we travel to Mackahawkamonaka, Maine to see Ashley. This part of Maine is apparently in Canada and everyone’s speaking French and eating poutine, no joke. Hey, they keep calling it “poo-TAN,” but I always heard it was “poo-TEEN.” Which one is right, French speakers? Anyway, poutine is french fries covered with cheese and gravy and obviously was invented by a HUGE STONER. Ashley’s parents live in a normal house and not an Italian-themed casino. Her sister’s all tatted up like a Suicide Girl which I was not expecting. Everyone talks about how Ashley’s almost done with her schooling but WTF? I thought she was already a dentist! Is she going to be some kind of Super Dentist or something? Brad leaves with a paper bag full of household items he’s stolen.

Following what appears to be an actual ad for Shawntel’s Family Mortuary, we arrive in Chico ready to Get Our Dead On. Brad arrives and gets a nice tour of the mausoleum but Shawntel just wants to get him on the prep table and pretend to embalm him. This is making someone in America very hot, I guarantee you. We are fucked as a society. ANYWAY, Shawntel finishes her Faux Embalming and they leave after a quick peek at the crematorium! That’s where they burn up the dead people, Brad!



Shawntel has a couple of blonde sisters who are kinda hot and are named Destiny and Vanessa, so they don’t even have to pick different stripper names! They’re all set. Dad brings up how the plan is for Shawntel to be the Chief Dead Person Dealer-With. Awkward! He lays a serious guilt trip on her but then says it’s cool if she leaves. Maybe Destiny and Vanessa can run the funeral home! It’ll be a Sexy Funeral Home! Ugh, can’t believe I typed that.

Next up: Charlotte, NC, where Lifetime Emily reunites with Lil Rickie. Here comes Brad. Uh-oh, Lil Rickie doesn’t want to meet Brad! “I hate New Daddy! Hate him!” Brad gives her a kite. “Tell him what you want to be when you grow up,” Lifetime says and Brad looks confused but she’s talking to the kid. A racecar driver, I hope! Oh, no, an animal doctor. You and every other girl in the US. Lil Rickie is generally moping and being sullen and is actually kind of a cockblock, if you want to get real. She also kind of sucks at kite flying. They head back to the House That Insurance Money Built and play some Candyland and then Lil Rickie goes to sleep. Brad and Lifetime are sitting downstairs and he gets all weird and won’t kiss her because the kid’s upstairs. WTF? Even Lifetime can’t figure this bullshit out. She finally breaks him down and they have a little front door makeout party. Also, I guess Lifetime doesn't have parents.

Back to NYC. Chris Harrison recaps a little to fill out the 2 hours. Then it’s time to hand out the hardware. Ashley first, then Lifetime, so it’s down to Chantal and Shawntel. SHOW ME THE MONEY. Later, Morticia. She actually takes it pretty well! She’s “never been treated like that in a relationship,” so I guess her past boyfriends have never been on a major network. Oh well. Back to the stiffs with ye.

Iconic Movies I Have Never Seen

"The Karate Kid" was on TV Saturday and The Wife and I were both hanging out and idly watching it and I mentioned I've never seen it before. She was sort of shocked, because I guess it's one of those iconic movies that you just think everybody's seen. I mean, she's not from this country and she's seen pretty much all the iconic movies. You know, the ones that are part of the cultural lexicon and that people refer to all the time. Like, when someone says "Go ahead, make my day," you know they're referencing "Dirty Harry," right?

[SIDE NOTE: A couple of weeks ago, I did a blog post about movie quotes that I use in real life, based on a similar piece Zoe Stagg wrote on her blog. Then on Friday, the Chronicle did a story about movie lines. This is not the first time that I have written about something and then it shows up in the Chronicle a few days later. STOP STEALING MY IDEAS, SF CHRONICLE. I KNOW YOU'RE READING THIS. CALL ME AND WE'LL WORK SOMETHING OUT.]

Anyway. I had to go to band practice about halfway through "Karate Kid" so I still haven't seen it. Based on what I saw, it's a movie about an eccentric Japanese gardener who gets a kid to clean his house for free.

But for whatever reason, I've missed a lot of what I guess are the iconic films. I don't know why! I didn't use to go to the movies much; maybe that's it. But here's some of what I've never seen that I THINK everyone else in America has seen.

- Most Will Ferrell movies. I can't stand Will Ferrell. I did watch "Elf" all the way through and laughed once. So I've never seen "Old School" or "Anchorman" and is there one where he's a racecar driver? And a figure skater? There was a dodgeball one, too, right? None of those.

- Any "Mission: Impossible" movie.

- I saw the first half of the first "Pirates of the Caribbean" but I thought it was so boring I turned it off.

- Most Ben Stiller movies. I don't think Ben Stiller's been in anything I've wanted to see since "The Royal Tenenbaums." No "Zoolander" or any of those Focker movies.

- Oh, wait, I thought "Tropic Thunder" was funny. He was in that, I guess.

- Most later Tarantino. Never saw the "Kill Bill" movies.

- "The Sound of Music."

- I've never seen "Blade Runner." I know, I know. Peeps is gonna FREAK OUT.

- Almost any musical. I've never seen "Singin' in the Rain" or "The King and I" or any of that shit.

- Any of the "Matrix" movies.

- Until recently, I'd never seen "Point Break" all the way through. I find it hilarious that "Point Break" is on The Times of London's list of The 100 Greatest Films of All Time. It was OK if you like terrible dialogue and laughable plots.

- Never seen "Schindler's List."

I'm sure there are a lot more big ones I can't think of right now. Crazy, huh?

The Bachelor: We're all facing a lot of inner demons today

Just when I thought I was going to give up on a season that features extended segments of the Main Character getting therapy, the Bachelor delivers this week with the awesome spectacle of shoving death in the face of an emotionally fragile girl. AWESOME.

Chris Harrison arrives to kick things off and tells everyone we’re going to Vegas now. Specifically, we’re going to this week’s sponsor, the Aria Hotel, which looks like a waterfall threw up on Logan’s Run and has a website that AUTOPLAYS MUSIC FUCK YOU ARIA. The girls get settled in the Larry Flynt Suite and Shawntel the Mortician goes on her solo date, wearing an outfit that looks like she pulled it out of someone’s dirty clothes pile. But we’ll fix that by going on a shopping spree at Fendi and Prada and whatnot and ABC just bought this chick a $5,000 purse. Too bad ABC’s not a guy or ABC would be getting laid for sure. Then Morticia brings it all back to rub it in the faces of those other bitches! Michelle tries to shoot cancer into Shawntel with her eyes.

Then Morticia gets another date! You get one guess what it’s going to be. If you did not guess “Rooftop Dinner,” you are sentenced to watch “Castle” without taking opiates. YOU’LL TRY HARDER NEXT TIME WON’T YOU. Morticia comes out to him as a funeral director. Brad is scarily too interested. She gives him a little talk about embalming in which she uses the words “leakage,” “orifices,” and “insert,” but even worse, bitch chews with her mouth open. GROSS. Just because your Corpse Friends don’t care doesn’t mean we don’t. Fireworks go off and Dead People Time is over.

Back at the Aria Las Vegas, the chicks are told the Group Date theme is “Let’s Go Speed Dating.” Sadly, this will not involve unlimited meth and wild animals. It’s actually at the NASCAR racetrack! Just when I doubted you, ABC, you pull out the stops and take the chick whose baby daddy was a racecar driver and died on his way to a race out to the track for the “NASCAR Experience”!!!! LOVE IT, ABC!!! Not only that, Dead Racecar Driver crashed at this very track and that ended his racing career. Not his flying to races career, obviously! But the whole thing is so perfectly twisted you have to love it. Did you mate die in a horrible boating accident? TIME FOR WATER SKIING!!!! Fell off a cliff? RAPELLING IS FUN!!!!

Amazingly, SHE IS GOING TO DRIVE THE RACECAR. Little Rickie is very nervous! Lifetime Emily is the last parent she’s got! Luckily, Emily never gets over 35 mph. Then it’s off to the inevitable pool party. It’s basically the Emily Party and chicks is PISSED because Brad’s spending all his time with her. Crazy Michelle takes him aside and tells him there are “a lot of immature girls here.” Chantal cries. I secretly hope Emily made up the whole Ricky story.

HEAD TO HEAD CAGE MATCH DEATH DATE with the Ashleys. Two will go on a date, but only one will return. The sad part is that one will return. The whole thing involves this Super Fucking Retarded Elvis Cirque du Soleil show that oldsters probably cream over but looks like the dumbest fucking thing in the history of theater. Nanny Ashley says she “is going to be fighting a lot of inner demons today.” What, did your boyfriend die in a circus accident? She keeps talking about how she’ll never find love but CHRIST LADY YOU’RE 22 FUCKING YEARS OLD and you live in NYC and you’re reasonably attractive. Fuck finding love, you should be finding the VIP rooms of clubs with professional athletes and mounds of cocaine. Love isn’t going anywhere, sweetie, but you’re only 22 in New York once. Anyway, she gets cut and she and her Silly Bandz are headed back to the Upper West Side. “I feel like someone punched me in the stomach. And the heart,” she says. Ugh, I feel like someone punched me in the head, so we’re even.

Brad places a call to his TV Therapist who’s hanging out on some patio furniture and waiting for the call to get his own syndicated show. TV Therapist makes up some bullshit about trusting your inner voice or something, I don’t know. It’s so boring I kind of blacked out.

Finally, we get to the Cocktail Party and can start wrapping this shit up. He shines on Marissa with some champagne and dessert but she has Dead Chick Walking written all over her. Crazy Michelle takes him in the backroom and, I don’t know, threatens to disembowel his family if he doesn’t pick her. No surprises, Marissa and some chick named Lisa who I don’t think I’ve ever seen before get cut. Onward and upward.

TK's Sober Movie Reviews

Let me get this out front first: As I alluded to on Twitter, I fucked up Sober January. Actually, I fucked it up repeatedly, but last weekend (when I posted about it on Twitter), it was totally and completely The Wife’s fault. We were at this art show thing and I was sulking around with my Sparkling Water and The Wife finally browbeat me into having wine so we could have Fun. Which then did ensue and ended up in a lengthy, late-night dinner for 5 at Foreign Cinema with lots more wine and booze and then the Smoking of the Cigarettes and the Hailing of the Cabs and then the Further Unnecessary Drinking.

And then, once it’s ruined, why not just carry on the rest of the weekend? Hey, Miss America’s on!

(I only watched – LITERALLY – like 10 minutes of it and could totally tell that Miss Texas was going to win. Also, I saw a little bit of the talent competition and some chick did a Double Ventriloquist thing with 2 dummies that was mindblowing and immensely sad at the same time. It almost made me cry.)

What was my point? Oh yeah, anyway, back on Sober January again and you know what happens during Sober January? You watch a lot of movies. So here are my uninformed bullshit takes on what we’ve seen, in roughly reverse chronological order:

Three Kings: I guess David O. Russell’s original vision for this film, which concerns the Gulf War for Oil and came out in 1999, will forever be tainted by, um, subsequent events. I found it impossible to not think about what was coming 10+ years after this film is set. Anyway, it’s pretty good. Ice Cube actually does a serviceable job with the acting. The ending’s a little too pat, but that’s Hollywood. (Humorously, David O. Russell is known in Hollywood as “David O. Asshole.” No point; I just think that’s funny.) George Clooney plays Major George Clooney.

Please Give: Yes, it’s another film about whiny, navel-gazing, self-involved Manhattanites, but I actually really liked it and I don’t know why. Maybe Amanda Peet. Amanda Peet rules. Also, there’s a kid who turns in a great performance. The message of the film seems to be that joy comes from material things, which is refreshingly honest. Or maybe that’s not the message, I don’t know. Anyway, there’s not a lot of story but the dialogue is pretty great and Amanda Peet is in it.


Amanda Peet is startled while looking for something to wear in her next low-budget, character-driven indie.

Catfish: This was awesome. It’s a documentary about meeting people on the Internet and GASP maybe everyone is not what they seem. It’s hard to say too much without giving the whole thing away. There is one scene of incredible tension that rivals anything in some retarded Michael Bay action thriller, and there aren’t even any explosions in it. Anyway, if you use the Internet, you will enjoy this film.

Heathers: I hadn’t seen it in a long time, and The Wife had never seen it. I was anticipating a fun-filled romp through the past, but The Wife fell asleep and I found out that this movie really doesn’t hold up well at all.

The Ghost Writer: Now, this was pretty great. It’s sort of a political suspense thriller which may not sound that exciting but it really is. Reappearance of the teacher from “Rushmore”! Anyway, totally worth watching.

Monsoon Wedding: Pretty much exactly what I expected. It’s a chick flick from India. It was fine. Better than some chick flicks, I’ll tell you that much. It was better than “Love and Other Drugs.” That’s a chick flick, right? It wasn't very good.