In true fag hag form, we usually meet at the Rainbow Flag, Zoe running there from her pied a terre in Cole Valley and me leisurely strolling on up from my shithole in the Mission. Up and down the hills we trekked, giggling and gossipping while chugging Evian.
We bitched about work and woes, boys and bitches, the food we were both desperate to devour yet deny ourselves for no apparent reason, other than knocking my 47 chins down to 46. (Zoe's employed Tim the Trainer and you should too.)
After taking photos of our journey, much deserved shopping at Under One Roof and a fun run-in with the ba-reath-taking John volunteering on the sidewalk with elderly dogs, we sweat-hugged goodbye and I embarked on my mile and a half back home.
What a morning, what a friend, what a city!