BETH SPOTSWOOD

the brenner girl? Her name's susan...

2012-02-19T19:24:00.000-08:00

My art teacher, the wonderful Katie Wolf, taught me that 'art gives form to feeling.' I always thought that was such a great description of 'art.'

I am so amazed that my very good friends saw this live. I think this is amazing. I think this gives a form to some feelings. I think this is art:

as long as he/she went to heaven...

2012-02-19T06:28:00.000-08:00

I'm up in Bodega Bay spending some quality time with my very good friends, Brian and Brian.

On the way back from lunch yesterday, the Brians spotted some signs.

"Estate Sale."

When the Brians argued over when to stop, before or after lunch, I thought they were kidding. Nope. They stop at estate sales.

The toilet seat thing had some masking tape on it that said, "FREE." I wasn't able to capture that AND the tennis balls. I made a call.

Once we got home and looked through the photos, the Brians and I were laughing. $1350 for a stuffed animal. Haha. This was obviously mis-tagged. But then, Brian pointed out, "Even $13.50 is ridiculous for this!"

Everything else in the house, literally, was like, a dollar. Why, you guys, is the monkey $13?

For example, all the stuff on this bed was $0.50. At this point, in this bedroom, Brian D. walked outside and waited for us to finish. He was DONE.

These two (on the left) were taking photos of themselves outside. It was so interesting to me that such a dark, drab 'estate sale' home could sit in such a beautiful area. There are lots of homes in Bodega Bay that kinda suck; they're dusty and sad and have saloon doors in the kitchen, like the house today.

The Brians' home here isn't like that at all. It's big and weird, but open. It has appliances that have 14 different pasta settings. (We had bucatini tonight.) The Brians managed to find a funky house that they could fix up and slowly evolve into a warm, snuggly, sprawling beach house. As opposed to today's 'estate sale' house, which proclaimed on masking tape, "Pillow cases: 50 cents."

Brian D. stood outside muttering, "Let's go. This is gross."

"Oh!" I said. "I need pillow cases."

Brian L. looked at me and deadpanned, "This is dead people's stuff."

I stared back at him. So?

He screamed it, "I will call your mother and say, 'Joanne, Beth is about to spend two quarters on the pillow cases of a dead person.'"

Brian looked at me as if my mother would run to Restoration Hardware, throw her credit card at the staff and scream "Pillow cases! My daughter needs pillow cases!"

But Brian doesn't know.

I am my mother's daughter. My mother is my grandmother's daughter. And a 50 cent pillow case is a 50 cent pillow case. Even if someone died on it...

or maybe not checking it at all...

2012-02-18T17:41:00.000-08:00

I am spending this weekend in Bodega Bay at the Brians' beach house, watching Brian D. test his new dim sum recipes and watching Popeye the elderly pug go even more blind.

It's pretty fun.

In the midst of our lunch at some very fancy Bodega Bay Golf and Country Club, I excused myself to the ladies room.

Politely, I inquired as to the facilities. "There's a unisex bathroom on the middle floor," The polo-shirted waitress advised. "And then down two floors, there are men's and women's rooms."

This was a Sea Ranch-esque clubhouse, a lodge amidst a golf course sitting in the bluffs of the Pacific Ocean. Each floor was really half a floor, and each landing had huge, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the ocean. Waves crashed in the background.

It was all very picturesque.

I spotted the unisex bathroom and, futzing with my purse, opened the door.

The unisex bathroom was one of those big, handicapped-accessible rooms. There, sitting on the toilet was (celebrity equivalent) Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. He was in a red polo shirt, khakis and, no joke, sitting on the toilet.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry. My fault!" I screamed, looking right at him.

"No, no." He said. "That's okay."

He sat there. We both looked at each other. For like, 5 seconds. He was just sitting, his khakis halfway down his thighs.

Smiling.

"I'm really sorry." I said, door still open, still looking at him.

Like he was sitting by the fire, reading a book, Carlton replied, "That's okay. No problem."

I closed the door and ran downstairs.

As soon as I was done, I raced up the stairwell t0 tell the Brians. Suddenly walking up the stairs with me was Carlton.

"Hi." I said. "I'm so so sorry! (uncomfortable laugh)."

"That is okay!" He smiled, wanting to talk. "It's a good thing you didn't use that restroom. The lock doesn't work."

No kidding.

He kept looking at me, he kept starting sentences, he wanted to chat.

The whole thing freaked me out. I had just walked in on this guy taking a shit.

Cutting him off, I smiled. "Have a great day!"

I got back to the table. "We have to go, we have to go, we have to go."

The Brians looked up at me from their fish tacos. "What? Okay. Why?"

"I walked... I walked in on someone going number two."

"WHO?!?!" They screamed this.

Carlton stood there, in the doorway of the Bodega Bay Golf and Country Club.

I hissed it under my breath. "That guy. There."

The Brians saw him watching us, nodded, and ushered me out. Carlton left at the same time we did, getting into a BMW and pulling up towards us.

Brian L. grabbed my arm.

"Goodbye." Carlton said right to me, eye to eye.

In unison, Brian and I said, "Goodbye."

And with that he drove off, probably to go home and lock his bathroom door.

Checking to twice...

i'm cast myself as the wacky neighbor...

2012-02-17T07:50:00.001-08:00

As per yesterday's post, this morning I made my first iMovie. I am INDESCRIBABLY amazed at my own genius. Or the genius of this incredibly easy computer program. Either really...

also, stand by for my endless series of trailers...

2012-02-16T10:24:00.000-08:00

Eve and I met at the Apple Store at 8am this morning to take an Introduction to iMovie class. We share both an interest in making movies with all of the free software that comes with our Macs, and an interest in the weird experience a class at the Apple store was sure to be.

The service at Apple Stores is ridiculously wonderful. You might pay double for a laptop, but they make you feel so good about yourself! And also, you can take all kinds of free classes. Apple probably offers free cooking classes and Italian lessons ...just because.

I got there early because my juice cleanse officially ended last night and I woke up to eat a gluten-free vegan muffin at 6am. While waiting, I grabbed a cup of coffee and returned to the Apple Store to find Eve being turned away from the front door.

Oddly, we had to enter from some weird side door, where security had us waiting in a backroom hallway. All of the 500 people who cheerfully work there arrived for the day, excusing themselves past us. Finally, the woman who was in front of me at Starbucks walked in and was like, "You're customers?!? Why are you waiting? Come with me! I'm so sorry! Oh my God! You both are so attractive and funny! How mature of you to take an 8am class on bettering your understanding of your investment in technology!"

Or something like that.

We walked through the Apple Store where staff was cleaning up with big smiles on their faces, wearing snappy t-shirts that proclaimed, "Cleaning Crew" on the back. Upstairs, we sat in the lovely red velvet theater chairs, joining the class which had just begun. The only other classmate was an elderly man who was apparently a teacher, and wanted to learn iMovie so he could teach it to kids. Maybe even inner city kids who will go on to become great American filmmakers.

The Apple Store is like utopia. Steve Jobs' version of heaven is probably an Apple Store, just with him just hanging out, nodding approvingly. Mini-Jake Gyllenhaal taught us all about how to get started on iMovie while downstairs, it sounded like the staff was getting their pep talk for the day. Every 10 minutes or so, they'd break into applause.

I noticed that Mini-Jake was wearing a royal blue fleece with a little Mac logo embroidered on it. I want one of those. I want a pep talk. I want to be in a fantastic mood all fucking day long. I want to know all the fun little tools that come with my MacBook Pro. This morning, I learned how to make movie trailers OF MY OWN MOVIES! With credits and music and voiceovers.

You don't even need a Mac to take these classes. Anyone can take them. You just register online and they never checked us in anyway. You should take a class just to bask in the ridiculous glory of the Apple Store, which feels like getting a massage ON YOUR FEELINGS...

crashing the miss chinatown coronation ball...

2012-02-15T09:47:00.000-08:00

Today's Culture Blog attends the Miss Chinatown USA Coronation Ball. Yep, you heard right. The Miss Chinatown Coronation Ball. Needless to say, my escort for this occasion was Brock.
Ball it up, over at SFGate:

i could go for some burger juice right about now...

2012-02-13T09:39:00.000-08:00

And so begins my 3-day juice cleanse. This was delivered to my door at 7:30 this morning, and this is all I get until tomorrow. 15 minutes ago, I decided this wasn't so bad. Currently, I'm starting to reconsider. I keep instinctively looking around for a bagel.

I'm going to post this experience on the Culture Blog, because torturing oneself with a juice fast is now part of the cultural lexicon. Thank you Gwyneth Paltrow...

it's not right, but it's okay...

2012-02-12T09:34:00.000-08:00

Brock was over yesterday helping me get ready for Melissa's birthday party, which as per her request, was a little dinner soiree. As Brock was lighting every single votive and candle this side of Pier 1, he suddenly screamed. Running towards me, he shoved his phone in my face and announced breathlessly, "Whitney! Dead!"

All breaking news is on Twitter first, and AP announced it right away. I think Whitney was pronounced dead at 3:55 and we knew by 5. Having Brock in my house and lighting candles because because he deemed it "appropriate under the circumstances" was sadly amusing. Brock's reaction to a diva's passing is wonderfully diva-esque. "I need you to download her entire oeuvre."

Brock texted Melissa, "Whitney Houston just died. But tonight is all about you."

We put on every Whitney song ever, made a sign for the guests arriving at the front door and went about our party.

During dinner, Brock jokingly took a moment and asked everyone to share a personal memory of how Whitney Houston impacted their life. "Max, let's start with you."

Max looked at Brock like he was nuts, so Melissa began. When she was in 4th Grade, she auditioned for her school's talent show (Georgia's Got Talent, apparently) with a Whitney song. And then in high school, she really wanted to get into this traveling singing group, so she auditioned again with Whitney. Both times she got in. Naturally.

In the background of all of this, of course, is Whitney. All of a sudden, the dance remix of "Your Love Is My Love" came on and I realized it.

"Oh, you guys." I said. "I actually have a way Whitney impacted my life."

I was going to college in Philadelphia and spending the weekend at my friend Amy's parents' house on the outskirts of Allentown, PA. I had just turned 21 and Amy was my badass friend, who have pink streaks in her hair and tattoos. I, on the other hand, wore lots of Old Navy. Her friends in Allentown were older and homosexual and they invited us to join them at a gay bar.

I had never been to a gay bar before, and thus, while hailing from San Francisco, my first gay bar experience was in Allentown. It was a slightly dumpier yet bigger version of Badlands, if you will, with lots of flashing lights and a huge, packed dance floor in the middle.

Amy had long since disappeared somewhere, so I stood on the fringes for a while, talking to the other loser in our group, an gay man in his 40's who just didn't want to be there. I had no idea if I wanted to be there or not. I just didn't really know what to do.

After a couple of drinks, someone sassy in a tank top came over and screamed, "Girl, let's get you out there!"

I think I was wearing a brown barn coat and tapered jeans. I just didn't know what I was doing at all. But all of that was about to change.

At gay bars, as I'm sure you know, everyone just dances. You don't really dance with anyone in particular, you dance with everyone. And at this gay bar, they had placed mirrors along the wall at the ceiling, which were tilted towards the dance floor. So there I stood in the middle of the dance floor at a gay bar in Allentown, Pennsylvania. And I started to dance, surrounded by enthusiastic dancers who would occasionally grind up against me. It began to get fun, and I started dancing. Like, really dancing. I was in Allentown, for chrissakes. Fuck it.

As White Houston's dance version of "Your Love Is My Love" was blaring, lights were flashing everywhere, beams of color shot out over the crowd and I looked up.

I could see myself in the mirrors at the top of the wall. It looked like a fucking video. I was beaming at myself in a sea of hundreds of gay men, my arms were in the air, my hair was flying and I could see the whole scene from above.

That was my introduction of a homosexual watering hole. And I pretty much never looked back.

Up next at our birthday party/wake, Wilson started playing us scenes from Whitney's reality show, and the time she told Diane Sawyer that she's too rich to do crack because "Crack is whack."

Which obviously, under the circumstances, it is.

Tonight's Grammy Awards just got way more interesting. Every single red carpet interview must mention her, and every acceptance speech obviously will. Will people still wear gowns, or will it be like the post-9/11 Emmys when everyone wore business suits? I have no idea, but I'll be tuning into CBS at 8pm.

RIP Whitney...

the tv-movie of a lifetime...

2012-02-07T21:35:00.000-08:00

I like things designed a very specific target of people. The Lifetime Channel for Women does this best. Or maybe that's just what I watch the most because I'm their target demographic. Lifetime, after all, does partner their advertisements (sometimes) with Fancy Feast CAT food.

Anyway, after I finished my viewing of BBC's Sherlock Season Two (I know, are you DYING?), I watched "Chance of a Lifetime." Basically this movie is like "Last Holiday" only from the 1991 and for elderly people. Betty White starts as Evelyn, a workaholic widow in Cleveland (take a second right there) who is the fast paced CEO of a (wait for it) drapery company. Her disapproving best friend is Elaine Stritch and her son Daryl, who is the cool guy at the drapery company, is played by Ed Begley Jr. Evelyn finds out she has six months to live from her doctor, Amos, who is the guy that plays the doctor on Murder She Wrote.

That is not all! Finally, ask yourself who is officially regarded as the sexiest and most suave old man of 1991?

Yes. Leslie Nielsen plays the Mexican-vacation love interest, Lloyd.

Do you not love this highly specific casting? This is like Oceans 11 for people who are so old, they think I am talking about the original.

Needless to say, Evelyn (in an 80's business suit) casually talks to her husband's grave while trimming the flowers she's planted there. And because she thinks she's going to die, Evelyn tells her dead husband's grave, "Ready or not, here I come."

(This is when I decided to commit to watching the whole thing.)

Highlights include Fred, the sleazy guy from church calling up Evelyn and asking "for a date." She declines and when he says, "Oh, off the market, eh? I sure do hate to miss a good thing! Well, if anything changes DEAR, you give ole' Fred a call."

Cue big eye roll from Evelyn. She's off to spend her last days cutting loose south of the border.

How does she book her trip to Mexico? Through the very shady sounding, "A-1 Travel."

As this is a made-for-TV movie streamed on Netflix, there are built-in commercial-break blackouts, which make me feel like I'm skipping commercials.

In Mexico, Evelyn talks to a framed photo of her (hot) dead husband. I decided is intended to imply that while Evelyn might get a little hand-holdy with Lloyd, she's not a slut.

Evelyn does solo senior calisthenics in the hotel pool (wearing clip on earrings and a kerchief in her hair) and goes to the hotel restaurant to blow her diet on a cheeseburger. In Mexico. But this works (amazingly enough) because Lloyd blows off some Dutch tramp in a bikini and stroll over to Evelyn where he proceeds to ask her on a date. He is attracted to her joie de vivre, you see.

I missed most of the romantic date at the Mexican (thank you, Lloyd) restaurant because I was hiding underneath a blanket.Evelyn's got a real bee in her bonnet because she thinks Lloyd is a player, but since she's going to die anyway, she says "what the hell?" when Lloyd asks her to go sailing the next day.

Then they go for a sexual tension-packed bike-ride on Day 3, culminating in a dinner where Lloyd tells the restaurant it's Evelyn's birthday. It's not Evelyn's birthday. (This once happened to me on a date!) He gives her a lace scarf and they dance, eventually incorporating the scarf into a very awkward, old folks sex dance. Evelyn and Lloyd start making out on the dancefloor.

The next scene is Evelyn waking up in Lloyd'd bed, a bed which has parrots painted on it.

I noted here that Lloyd was topless but Evelyn was wearing a men's pajama top. She got dressed right after sex! Evelyn, I love that about you!

Lo and behold, the doctor (again, Amos from Murder She Wrote) gets a "fax from Europe" and it turns out, Evelyn's not dying after all. She immediately packs her bags and without saying goodbye to Lloyd, who in the interim has procured a bouquet of red roses, and hops a plane back to the drapery company in Cleveland.

Lloyd will not be deterred, doing my favorite thing that only occurs in movies, showing up unannounced to declare his undying love. As long as any movie has someone showing up outside an office building or waiting on a stoop unexpectedly to say, "I am in love with you, and I won't take no for an answer even though I am hot and rich!", I am on board. My secret expectation that this will one day happen to me is the main reason I put mascara on everyday.

But Evelyn, busy with a drapery meeting with four Japanese businessmen, is none too pleased to find Lloyd. She pushes him into a janitor's closet and tells him to get lost. Making this movie 100% perfect is the includion of Evelyn's gay assistant opening the door and saying, "I thought I was the only one in the closet. (whispering to Evelyn) He's gorgeous!"

Evelyn, convinced that Lloyd only likes the 'probably-dying Evelyn', lies to Lloyd and says she's dating creepy Fred, thus forcing herself to sit through dinner with Fred (the boss from Being John Malkovitch), who gets cheese on his chin. What a dolt! That would never happen to Lloyd. Lloyd is spying on them from the bar, sees Evelyn dab off the cheese, and decides to go see Evelyn's son Daryl and talk it all out.

I felt like this was another nod to the old lady viewers who might be worried that Evelyn is kinda whorey. Don't worry, ladies. Daryl loves Lloyd!

So naturally, Daryl talks his mom into flying to Chicago (!!! I want to fly to Chicago!!!) to surprise Lloyd, and when he's driving her to the airport, they swing by the cemetary to check in with the dead husband.

Lloyd, meanwhile, is on a date with a short chick whom he does not like. Personally, I very much appreciated that the diminutive height of Lloyd's blind date being a deal-breaker. Evelyn then appears in Lloyd's bangin' downtown office, she lists all of the shit that is wrong with her, and Lloyd is naturally fine with all of this. He's laid back! He doesn't own a watch!

The grand finale is a final geniatric make-out scene. Then credits in an italicized font.

In closing, I was having lunch with my friend Tom yesterday who said, "Your life is so fabulous right now." Then I went home and watched "Chance of a Lifetime" until midnight, and it's pretty much been the highlight of my week...

and also, what is IN those pants...

2012-02-06T12:46:00.000-08:00

There is a brief part I omitted from today's Tourist Trapped at the ballet. Alice and I needed to wait in line to pick up our tickets at Will Call. The Will Call line is also the Purchase Tickets line and the broad behind us was having none of it. So she starts berating the elderly Usher who was just trying to be helpful. Also, he looked exactly like Carson on Downton Abbey.
"Why do we have to wait in the ticket line if we're just going to Will Call? I mean, really. This is ridiculous. There should be two lines. Don't you think it's unfair that I'm just picking up tickets and some of these people are going to buy tickets?"
She went on and on and the line moved swiftly forward. So much to Alice's horror, I turned around and said, "I bet if you give him a hard enough time, they will change the entire ticket protocol at the Opera House right now."
I was hoping she'd have some moment of reflection and noticeably feel bad, but that didn't really happen. Instead I just made everyone even more uncomfortable. But then I fell in love with a firefighter tending to an old dude. That and more, including thoughts on the actual performance are up now, on SFGate...

not at flour + water, of all sacred places...

2012-02-02T10:51:00.001-08:00

Big Chris took me (and Brittney) to flour + water for my birthday, where we sat at the communal table next to two broads having dinner. Suddenly, they were being very flirty with my burrito buddy, Big C.
Before I could yell, "Have at him, ladies. He pees with the door open" one of them pulled out her cell phone and started showing him (and begrudgingly Brittney and me) wacky Facebook photos of internet memes. We're talking surprised kitten stuff. It was all very 2004.
Again, fine. Whatever. I was being nice. Chris loves to regale people with the ONE time I got jealous, like 7,000 years ago. But this was not one of those times.
It wasn't until they displayed one Facebook wall photo in particular that I became a total, blatant, leave-us-alone bitch.
The photo was of a little Asian boy. And across his forehead were the letters, "HERRO."
Big Chris, who is half-Asian, politely laughed. He doesn't give a shit. And Brittney, who was the farthest away, couldn't really even see. But I did not politely laugh. I said, "I never thought I'd see someone show a stranger a racist photo at flour + water!"
One of the women said, "It's okay, I'm half Korean!"
Be that as it may, it's not okay. In private, I say dumb stuff to Chris all the time. When Chris calls my phone, a photo of the Far East Restaurant pops up. And he refers to all of my problems as "white lady shit." Between friends, we all probably say politically incorrect nonsense all the time, and quite frankly, I LOVE it.
But I'm not nudging strangers next to me, flashing some STUPID and offensive photo of a KID and being all, "Hey, check this out. Real funny stuff."
Since I'm such a big buzzhill, those broads paid their bill and left, managing to flash Chris a look that basically said, "That chick you're with is super uptight."
Big Chris was thrilled. "Oh my God, you are so jealous right now."
Please.
Anyway, I'll probably be a lot less 'jealous' when those 'ladies' are charged with a hate crime...

i asked my mom to send me photos of me in sf...

2012-02-01T08:06:00.000-08:00

People often ask me if I am ever offended by comments on my blog posts and usually my answer is no. There is something far worse than a nasty comment, and that is NO comment.

But there is one comment that always gets under my skin.

"Beth is probably a 23-year old transplant from Michigan." -510native4life

While yes, I am 23 years old, I was born in San Francisco. It doesn't bother me when I'm called dumb, or a shitty writer, or even the painful "pretenshus." But saying that I am obviously not from San Francisco and therefore not allowed to express an opinion about something in San Francisco is basically a challenge to a duel in my book.

Why is that? How San Franciscan does one need to be before they can fucking relax in this town and enjoy it? What makes a real native?

So instead of challenging an anonymous commenter to a duel, I called up some San Franciscans and asked them. You know, like the Mayor.

Also chiming in are talented sons of famous San Franciscans, Jon Moscone and Christopher Caen, my cousins Kate and Ryan, Supervisor David Campos, Commissioner Anna Conda, the hilarious Eve Batey, die-hard San Franciscan Kate Horton (who was born in Hawaii?!?) and of course Brock ...who managed to use the word "suck."

Will they kill me in the comments today? God, I hope so. As long as they call me a fucking native.

UP NOW SF! On SFGate...

tourist trapped: mayhem at the farmers' market...

2012-01-30T09:23:00.000-08:00

When I was writing today's Tourist Trapped, comparing the Ferry Building Farmer's Market to the Costa Concordia cruise ship disaster, only not as relaxing, I thought, "Hey, I wonder if the commenters are going to lose their shit over this one!"
Take a guess.
Up now, on SFGate:

how was this event free from occupy protesters...

2012-01-27T13:45:00.001-08:00

I am heartbroken that I did not sneak into the Junior League of San Francisco Fashion Show Model Auditions yesterday. Based on the Facebook photos I'm seeing, it appeared to be held in a fancy hotel ballroom, and involved a women strutting across the carpet surrounded by fellow Junior Leaguers.
I knew, as everyone does, that getting to model in the Junior League Fashion Show is the PINNACLE of life. (I am not kidding.) But when hearing about this, I stupidly assumed that like most charity fashion shows, the models were simply invited to participate. Oh no! These broads make each other do Next Top Model-style runway walks.
Several women I know and one of my very good friends are in Junior League. I am afraid to reveal which good friend this is as I don't want her to get in trouble. I don't know what getting in trouble with Junior League entails, but I am sure it involves being made to bus tables at a homeless outreach luncheon for NO POINTS.
Yep, they have a points system.
I was with her at a cocktail party once and we ran into several of her Junior League 'friends' one of whom was wearing an actual sweater set, unironically. I didn't want to be rude by pointing out to my beloved and awesome friend that some of her JL friends were LESS THAN COOL, but as soon as we left the party, she grabbed my arm and said, "I don't really like those girls."
That's another JL thing. They call each other girls, like we're all backstage at Fashion Week. Needless to say, the Junior League's existence scares the shit out of me mainly because they aren't like the girls that were mean to me in high school. They actually are the girls. Like, literally. Oddly, each of the women I know who are active in Junior League are kind of badass, beautiful, funny broads. So maybe I should change my perception. I think they do raise a ton of money for worthy causes, like recycling late-90's "Return To Tiffany" necklaces.
But fashion show model auditions? Can you imagine anything more terrifying than women in their 20s and 30s in actual sweater sets watching you try to be a runway model?
"Oh, Susan's trying out? That's funny."
That said, I want the Junior League of San Francisco Limited Edition Centennial Scarf in 'Fall'...

and also my great-grandfather died on my birthday...

2012-01-27T11:00:00.000-08:00

I once forgot a friend's birthday and he got all mad and me, pointing out that he never forgot my birthday. Well, unlike SOME people, I do not humbly and quietly test friendships by making people remember an arbitrary date no one cares about but me. I fucking announce my birthday in advance. (It's tomorrow!)
I share my birthday with a certain local blogger, who's taken to the internet to announce the occasion, updating the Wikipedia Page of the national disaster that falls on our birthday.

Anyway, I'm still way, way younger than Brock!
When Eve introduced me to Brock, he mentioned that he was an Aquarius, and I said, "Oh, I'm an Aquarius." And he said, "When's your birthday?"
"January 28th."
"MINE TOO!" He screamed across the bar of the Hotel Nikko. And then, in unison, forever binding our friendship, we both yelled, "The day the Challenger blew up!"

they forgot, 'i left a really kickass comment...'

2012-01-26T10:59:00.000-08:00

Naturally, and I think rather cleverly, some funny folks made a 'Shit San Franciscans Say' video and it's going around, like videos do. Up on SFist, it's getting the fairly standard comment treatment. Because someone made a 3-minute video about San Francisco and now everyone's all like, "Dolores Park!" or whatever.
If someone could just grab a video camera and run over to my house later, I would like to make a "Shit Internet Commenters Say" video. Don't worry. The first one can be, "This was funny in like, 2011."
Other ideas, not that this nonsense drives me fucking insane or anything:

Fail.
Yawn.
Zzzzzzzz.
Pawned (or whatever that word is.)
Is this what passes for journalism these days?
I normally think you're amazing and talented, but you really missed the mark on this one you stupid whore.
Christ, it's like ANYONE can get a blog these days.
You're ugly.
Go back to Kansas, you 23-year old Marina bitch.
Ever herd of spellcheck?
I am writer/blogger/journalist/comedian. You are the reason people hate writers/bloggers/journalists/comedians and here is a link to my MySpace.
Native San Franciscan (New York, etc.), blah, blah, blah.
This was already on SNL and it was better.

Anyway, I found their video funny. You GO, Shit San Franciscans Say!

the military supermodel could not care less...

2012-01-26T09:47:00.000-08:00

This is me in twenty years, only it won't be the State of the Union. It'll be at a nerdy, regional convention awards ceremony and I'll be pissed about my table assignment.
None the less, I just LOVE this broad...

i'm not wild about his first and last tho...

2012-01-25T11:25:00.000-08:00

Today, the Culture Blog reviews a Sketchfest Event. And by reviews, I mean I spent 2 hours screaming at Melissa, Matt and Alex, "Holy Shit, Paul Rudd! Oh my heavens, Paul Rudd! What are those, dimples? Paul Rudd!"
I know. Only ladies care. But for the angry gents? David Cross was there.
Up now on SFGate...

trust the gorton's fisherman? think again...

2012-01-23T10:49:00.000-08:00

Today's Tourist Trapped heads to Candlestick for last night's tragic football game. I have to admit, I thought I knew of every conceivable way to sneak booze into an event, but Ahab over here is pretty impressive.
Up now on SFGate...

why don't you take off your windbreaker and stay awhile...

2012-01-22T09:36:00.000-08:00

As evidenced by my proudly wearing oversize, colorful blazers, comedy is my life. Which is why last night, Melissa, Matt and I went to a late show at Cobb's Comedy Club for SF Sketchfest. (Sketchfest is going on right now and you should go. I want to go to like, 5692 events.)

We had an extra ticket, so I asked my brother if he wanted to join us. Indeed he did, so we all agreed to meet at LaRocca's Corner at 9, for drinks before the 10:30 show.

I think I'm going to write about the show for Wednesday's Culture Blog because, and I'll try to type this as calmly as I can, PaUl RuDD performed his adorableness in person.

Anyway, we were sitting in the bar talking about movies, at which point someone mentions Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and my brother says, "Oh yeah, I saw that. It has that guy you like in it...(mumbling, looking down)..um, Bumberland Coomberbum."

"You mean Benedict Cumberbatch."

"Yeah, yeah." Alex rolled his eyes. "Benedict. Like eggs."

Bumberland Coomberbum was, in that moment, the funniest thing I had ever heard. In a huge english accent, I kept announcing, "Bumberland Coomberbum! SIR Bumberland Coomberbum!"

"His name is ridiculous, Beth."

"Indeed it is, my good man. Bumbletops Capricorn!"

We had to wait in line on the sidewalk for half an hour, and every few minutes or so, it would just escape me. "Bumberland Coomberbum!" I couldn't help myself. "Barbbleby Cobblestone!"

Pretty soon, everyone was doing it. And I woke up this morning to a text from Matt.

"Bumberland Fancyfielde."

It just went on from there:

"Breeledee Garismuche."

"Dumbledore Tipseyhatt." (That is one of mine. I'm... pretty proud of it.)

"Cecilmean Fancypants."

"Nevillylln Googletyme."

"Langythme Oystersauce."

"Beauregard Basiltwitch."

You should try it. It's got to work in a posh British accent and it's got to sound more ridiculous than Benedict Cumberbatch. (Good luck.)

While my brother is right, and his name is a doozy, you've got to admit, there is something about that Bumberland Coomberbum:

no captain, no problem...

2012-01-17T14:02:00.000-08:00

My brother, as a means of making me feel better because I have THE FLU AND AM DYING, started IMing me.
"I am all over this Italian cruise ship disaster!"
Oh yes, the tragic and bizarre Italian cruise ship disaster.
He sent me the link to the audio file of the Italian Coast Guard screaming angrily at the captain, who had jumped ship. The recording will also make you fall in love with Italian Coast Guard Capt. Gregorio De Falco. It's pretty amazing, and like me, my brother always imagines how he would handle himself in this situation. As he and I have been stuck on several cruises together, we are both confident that we'd be fine.
This was a very survivable accident, if seems. You just needed to be smart and fast. In these types of situations, you can't be all touristy and stand around wondering what to do. I just finished reading In The Heart of the Sea. Shipwrecks are no joke. I'd get myself off that ship, INCLUDING MY LUGGAGE.
Alex went so far as to say, "I'd be running around 'I cant believe this is actually happening!' We'd be leading people to shore. No captain? No problem!"
This horrible accident has me wondering several things:
1. In this day and age, how are 29 people still missing. This happened three days ago.
2. Do the survivors get their money back?
3. Normally ships take a long time to sink. How did so many people get trapped, unable to escape when basically this ship ran aground? From the looks of things, one could swim to shore. (But also I know that during crises, shit happens fast and the geography in the photos could be deceiving.)
I now join my brother in being "all over this" Italian cruise ship disaster.

In other international news, I was on TV in Japan!
Well, LitCrawl was on the news in Japan, but you can see and hear me reading onstage at 1:15. And then the last half of it is all the awesome organizer Amanda (and Julie!) and the other readers being amazing in the wind. With me, it's like a big zoom in from far away, kind of like what I can only assume is my impending popularity in Asia...

UPDATE: Oh Anderson. You're too much:

more like bronze globes...

2012-01-16T06:29:00.000-08:00

What did you think of the Golden Globes? It was kind of 'eh', right? Let's not forget this is the very awards show that once featured Jack Nicholson talking out of his butt. I had high hopes. I even got a new shag rug for the occasion. It cost $71 at Target. Please admire.

Anyway, I was underwhelmed by last night's telecast.

Joining me in first-world disappointment was Sally, Mel, Christopher and of course, Big Chris. Big Chris knows more about show business than most CAA agents. His knowledge of what is going on in the industry is bizarre.

One of the Globe highlights for me was dwarf activism. As a huge fan of The Station Agent, I want to love Peter Dinklage. And I do. It's just hard for me to love him as much as I want because he seems like the most humorless person in the world. He is a famous dwarf whose last name is Dinklage and ... in no way is anything funny to him ever. (I just spent an hour watching Peter Dinklage clips on YouTube. I kind of take this back. Kind of.)

That said, it is very nice that Peter Dinklage used his "Oh, I won another fucking award? Whatever" speech to raise awareness about dwarf tossing. It is a very real issue.

Another highlight, and I know I will be talking about this a lot because IT IS A BIG DEAL TO ME, was all of the Second City people there. How amazing is Tina Fey in general? So amazing. When she snuck into Amy Poehler's shot as they announced the nominees, Melissa said, "I'm going to do that to you one day?"

And is Steve Carrell Jesus? His child-like, t-shirt-clad Second City headshot was on the wall outside my classroom and everyone would just smile back at him and high-five Steve Carrell's photo. Anyway, my friends got very sick of my screaming, "Oh! Second City!" during the Golden Globes.

Finally, Downton Abbey won. Since Bridesmaids was totally snubbed, I'm thrilled that at least Downton won in their antiquated, weird, miniseries category. Melissa and Christopher JUST started watching Downton, thank God, because it is the most important show in the history of the world. And BBC/PBS Masterpiece is amazing. Did you read that Vanity Fair article about the American woman who basically rules the BBC's Masterpiece productions, including Sherlock? (Of course you did, you're very sophisticated.) I will now devour anything labeled Masterpiece, including all of their BBQ sauces, as I am so convinced of the genius behind it all.

In closing, you should all come over to my house for awards shows, for numerous reasons including that since Melissa never shops for food, if I tell her to bring snack, it's like she's a celebrity bringing food to poor people. 100 mini-salamis and Ritz crackers? Don't mind if I do!

In other news, today's Tourist Trapped is up! It features my favorite SkyMall catalog items, photographed on my flight from Chicago much to the dismay of my seatmate. It's up now on SFGate...

there must be a self-help book for this...

2012-01-13T10:52:00.000-08:00

Eve loves sending me the weirdest stories she sees on the wire first thing in the morning. Generally, I wake up to a sick mix of weird deaths and curious crimes. The one that's sticking with me this morning is THE BITER:
A 46-year old woman in a Mountain View bookstore bit two children, actually drawing blood, and then ran out of the store only to be captured at Starbucks (naturally.)
All I can think of (other than the poor children) is this woman who felt so compelled to bite kids (on their cheeks!) that she hovered around some suburban bookstore, probably trying to talk herself out of it. But she just can't help herself. She's a 46-year old biter. What can her life be like? Does she have friends? Is this the huge secret of an otherwise successful person?
Sadly, this is one of those things where I'm telling myself, I might not be perfect, but at least I'm not biting kids on the face in a bookstore...

"susan" is still going to kill me...

2012-01-11T12:14:00.000-08:00

My editor referred to this post (lovingly) as "depressing". For some reason, I kinda love my "single spinster NYE sucked" post. Maybe I'm still so glowing from my week at Second City that the fact that we were the most hated women in Absinthe on New Year's Eve seems like a distant memory. But it's true. The HATED us.
Up now on SFGate...

the totally upsetting history of the tea garden...

2012-01-09T11:47:00.000-08:00

Tourist Trapped is back, kicking off 2012 with a reflective trip to the Japanese Tea Garden. There, I discovered scandal, sadness, loud people ruining my meditations on life-stuff and tea sandwiches. Drink it in over at SFGate...

and then we all met oprah...

2012-01-08T18:06:00.000-08:00

I’m trying to figure out how (and where) to best write about my experience at the Second City Training Center. It was very literally a life-changing experience. I’m struggling to find the words to express just how terrifying/wonderful this past week has been.

So stay tuned for that emotional bullshit.

In the meantime, I need to tell you about my last night in Chicago.

I’d made plans the night before to meet back up with Jordan, the comedic genius 21-year old from my afternoon comedy writing class. He wears a baseball hat 100% of the time and parts of it are held together with a safety pin. I kinda love him.

And I also wanted to meet up with Lynn, the friend from class who took me to a taping of Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, which is a story for another post. Trust me.

I then decided to text Justin, a comedian from Pittsburg who was also at the Training Center. And Jordan had texted Geoff, a Gosling-esque hipster from Scottsdale in our writing class. Geoff was staying in his girlfriend’s mom’s apartment two blocks from my hotel. So Jordan and I met them there. And we figured people would just show up as the night progressed.

Which is how I found myself hanging out with three 21-year olds whispering because someone’s mom was sleeping, while we tried to figure out where to go. I felt really old.

We decided on a weird Mexican place next door, where Justin finally arrived, bringing along Shelley. Shelley is also in the other class, and I have no idea where she is from but she is very funny. And with them, they had Ben.

Ben was in my improv class. He’s from Wisconsin and exceptionally weird. Like Andy Kauffman weird. I loved to watch him, but I was terrified of doing improv with Ben, because he calmly deadpans every line and says shit TO ME like, “Steve, why is there an magical alligator coming out of your penis?”

I cannot 'yes, and' that.

(Yes, and is the number one rule of improv. If someone throws something out there, you have to go with it, say yes to it, and then add to their idea. Yes, and is very big at Second City. It’s on the t-shirts.)

Anyway, the 7 of us are hanging out and someone made a joke about Tracy Chapman. Shelley pulled out a notebook and wrote it down. Then Ben slowly took the notebook and wrote a Tracy Chapman joke. I was next. We all just instantly started passing around a notebook and when it came to you, you just knew to write down a Tracy Chapman joke.

By the time the notebook made it to Jordan, Justin cocked his head, listened to the music and screamed, “Holy shit you guys, they’re playing a Tracy Chapman song!”

Cue hysteria.

“This is a sign!” Justin screamed. “There is a midnight open mic at Second City tonight. It’s 11:55. Let’s go!”

There is no way that in my San Francisco world that I would ever be hanging out in what I regard as the middle of the night with people who know when the open mics are, much less want to arrive to one LATE and then actually perform.

“Oh, you guys.” I said, being old again. “I have a flight tomorrow.”

“Beth!” Jordan screamed across the table. “I thought we agreed you are my date tonight! You’re going. We’re all going.”

In that case then yes. Obviously. I am going.

Six of us went racing through the halls, up the escalators of Second City. People, amazing people, spend decades studying at Second City, and we’d spent one measly week there. But we ran though that place like we owned it.

“Where’s the open mic? Which theater?” Justin was screaming at random people standing around.

We pushed open the doors to the little black box theater on the 4th Floor to find 15 people watching a guy do his set on stage.

All 6 of us awkwardly “excuse me’d” our way to the front. Ben marched right over to the sign up sheet. It was 12:15.

After a a couple of men did short sets, Ben, our comedic representative, was announced as the final act of the night. As he walked on stage with a notebook full of our Tracy Chapman jokes, the rest of us went nuts.

Our jokes were stupid. Our jokes were offensive. But Ben deadpanned them all, and just kind of stared at the audience. “Tracy Chapman is so tough, she can rip apart a phone book with her bare testicles. (pause.) You don’t like that one? Okay.”

I was laughing so hard, I still ache.

With that, the show was over. Once again, Justin rallied us. “A triumph! We’re going across the street to celebrate!”

Directly across the street from Second City is Corcoran’s, or as Geoff started calling it, Johnny Cochran’s. We piled into the perfect wooden booth in the window. And then we played, “Make Me Smile.” Someone had written “Make Me Smile” on a cocktail napkin and passed it down to Geoff and me, sitting across from each other in the window. We’d slam it up against the window and the COOL people on the sidewalk did funny stuff for us.

We were there for AWHILE, and we had an exciting array of responses to ‘make me smile" mainly due to all the comedy shows getting out and drunk people getting taken away in ambulances. It was all very thrilling to me. There was a smattering of moonings, kissing through the glass, one guy did an entire improv scene. Delighted, we gave him a standing ovation, and he came and joined us. He studies at iO, another improv mecca in Chicago.

At this point, it was really the middle of the night, I was in a bar across the street from Second Fucking City with my classmates who felt like my dear, close friends. Everyone was doing voices, and routines and jokes. Geoff performed an entire scene from Good Will Hunting. Jordan can do every movie, ever. In character. Ben sat hunched over at the end, silently drinking a pina colada covered in whipped cream. I have a lot of versions of heaven, but this was up there.

Was this an incredibly challenging experience? Am I glad I came? Did it change everything?

Yes. Yes, and…

why don't they just make the whole plane out of the black box...

2011-12-28T13:03:00.000-08:00

Following the comedic rule of threes:

1. I pulled into that weird gas station/Starbucks/Burger King across from Asia SF last night. You know the one. Immediately, I was approached by a panhandler who had two (2) guns tucked into the waist of his pants. He was wearing a t-shirt, huge, baggy khakis and had a sweatshirt tied around his waist. It was from that sweatshirt-belt I could clearly see two gun handles emerging, one on each side. He was stumbling, kinda out of it. This guy was your basic sidewalk hobo, not what I imagine a gun-wielding criminal to act like. (I have never experienced a gun-wielding criminal myself, thank God, but I imagine them not to be swaying from side to side.) I told myself the guns were fake, but I would be lying if I said I did not feel a tear creep into my left eye. I thought, "Here we go" and waited to wet my pants, because that's what happened in Red Dragon. I also couldn't imagine this guy would shoot me in a well-lit gas station at 8pm on a Tuesday, but we live in a crazy world. He asked for money and I said no, because FUCK HIM. Okay, I actually said no because I was afraid he would come closer, and he didn't seem lucid enough to get mad. If a real person with a gun demanded money, I would give them everything on Earth ever. But I just said, "No, sorry" and he said okay and walked away. In closing, they were fake right? I mean, I considered calling the cops and reporting this terrifying moment, but I was ready to get the hell home.

2. I wrote this whole dumb complaint for my #2 and then said. "I know, I know. No one else in the world cares." That could be said for most of my posts really, but anyway, #2 was dumb. So I deleted it. Moving on!

3. Finally, on New Year's Day I am flying to Chicago to take a comedy writing class at Second City. It's only for a week and it's a present from my parents, because they don't think I'm funny. (I'm kidding. That was just one of my many zingers.) Anyway, because I'll be in the building and my writing class is in the afternoon, I decided to take an improv class in the morning. I am perfectly comfortable sitting in a writing class and knocking out jokes. But the thought of showing up at Second City in 5 days, walking into a classroom and doing "warm-up exercises" so I can perform impromptu skits with strangers terrifies me. I'm worried the other students will all be 19 year-old comedy geniuses making jokes I'm too old to get, or 57 year-old insurance salesmen who are the wackiest guys in their office. But it's only for 5 days, and I'll be there a whole week, staying in a fancy hotel because the weather is so bad, it costs a dollar to go to Chicago in January. I have seven different versions of my Tina Fey costume, one for each day. I will wear scarves and knit hats and make friends with the hotel doorman, and when I return to the fancy lobby after a day of smart, timely humor creation, he'll say, "Well, look who's back. Tell me a joke, beautiful!" AND I WILL.

Anyway, that's what up with me. What's up with you...

merry christmas and i love you...

2011-12-25T11:41:00.000-08:00

So...I'm having a pretty great Christmas and I hope you are too. I am so warm and cozy in my childhood home, with my array of gifts, including the apparent hint from Santa, "Organizing for Dummies." We also had Meetinghouse Biscuits. Have you ever had those? I know!
I'm about to go enjoy "Sibling Bonding Afternoon" with Alex, which involves a PG movie and co-creation of a fancy hors-d'oeuvres for tonight's dinner at Kate's family's house in the Marina.
Speaking of the Marina...

You fine folks are weird and wonderful for reading and watching. The above is just about vintage, and I hope you like it. I also hope that you are enjoying a fun and feast-filled holiday with the ones you like. I think we're all pretty fucking lucky.
Love, Bethy

necessary conversation: the dickens fair

2011-12-23T09:36:00.000-08:00

I know they hated my Tourist Trapped on it, but I still love the Great Dickens Christmas Fair. I really do! Which is why we also filmed our holiday episode of Necessary Conversation there! We've been on NC hiatus for awhile: Mel's been traveling for work, I went to New York. We lost a little momentum, but we're back. Because it's Christmas. And we love you.

Happy holidays, my gorgeous friends. And check back in on Christmas morning where I will have a nostalgic, mostly never before seen video present for you...

not for nothing, but he is really talented...

2011-12-21T10:50:00.000-08:00

Today's Culture Blog looks back on itself, reflecting on 2011 in posts. It's all touching and Christmassy and up on SFGate.
Speaking of Christmassy, I arrived at work to find a present from my co-worker Bill. He and his wife were at Kohl's (?) and saw this:

When I was in 6th Grade, my teacher Mrs. Hendricks had a thing for hippos. People were always giving her hippo figurines, ornaments and stuffed animals. And my dad's thing is trains. Whenever his friends see some sort of amazing train treasure, they get it for my dad. I've spent my whole life wondering what my "thing" will be. And now that I know, I kinda feel bad for myself...

my favorite christmas music...

2011-12-20T09:49:00.000-08:00

First of all, I forgot to post yesterday's Tourist Trapped, which features the City Hall Holiday Open House and was described to me as "bitchy."
So enjoy.
Unrelated, I heard this song on the radio yesterday and it's been stuck in my head ever since. I'm walking around work singing, "Mary, Did you Know" by Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd. People are getting mad at me. This is not the Kenny/Wynonna version (It's Reba!), but I like this video.

There are all kinds of fan-videos created with this song and they're all made from clips from something called "The Jesus Film." Anyway, I keep listening to this song, which goes on and on asking Mary if she knew her baby would be "ruler of the nation", etc. And I just want to scream at Kenny Rogers, "Yes! She knew. Hello? She was a pregnant virgin. The angel Gabriel appeared and explained all of this to her. Has Wynonna never seen "A Charlie Brown Christmas"?
While the Spotswood Family never listened to country-western holiday music, every year we listen to the Roger Whittaker Christmas Album. And every Christmas, I perform this for my entire family. I know every single word, and my mom chimes in for "Oh, lament." I am very, very excited to do this on Christmas Eve. Please come over.

Following my opening act, my brother takes a seat by the fire, gazes out the window and does this. It's fucking amazing:

We have been listening to this album for 30 years. And only recently, have I realized how bizarre this is. Please tell me your family has weird holiday traditions too, preferably involving Wynonna Judd...

omg, let's talk about last night...

2011-12-18T17:52:00.000-08:00

One of life's joys that I learned from my mother is the post-party gossip. And as I'm sure you know, because you are very cool and have lots of friends, everyone was having parties this past weekend.

The above was taken Saturday night. My perfect friend Catherine is dancing in the middle, holding a Coors Lite. Catherine and her fiance, Brian had just hosted us all at a fabulous cocktail soiree in their flawless apartment, so at midnight I dragged them to a house party in Nob Hill.

To the left (Catherine's right) is my friend Christine, the host of the (2nd) party. All night long, she was banging on a pot with a wooden spoon, in time with the music.

I started talking to this guy and eventually asked, "How do you know Christine?"

"I work at Trader Joe's." He said. "She was buying stuff for the party today and invited me."

Which is when I noticed he was still in his Trader Joe's outfit.

Anyway, I spent most of Sunday on the phone with all of these people. And for me, it was just as much fun talking about the parties as it was attending them. Catherine, Alice, Tara and Matt were all there, so I need their in-depth thoughts on everything that happened. And Melissa was at another party, and I was delighted to listen to all of her gossip from that. From now on, I will throw parties with next-day post-party discussion groups. It's like a book club, but for dumb people...

maybe you've never heard of me? more like probably...

2011-12-14T10:46:00.000-08:00

Oh boy, ScoutMob San Francisco is obviously being paid by my friends to put me in a good mood. But it worked! THIS is very nice and very awesome. Everyone please now subscribe to ScoutMob...

jason, stop ruining my life-changing moments...

2011-12-13T20:18:00.000-08:00

PS: how many times do you think that guitar player has seen 'Drive'? Seven times. He's seen it seven times...

this is literally the most accurate youtube video ever..

2011-12-13T11:13:00.000-08:00

Melissa posted this on Facebook, because once a week she remembers about Facebook and puts all the good stuff she's been hoarding there.

My friend Matt called last night to ask how my New York trip went and I said 50% of this. Another 25% I said to my coworker Bill this morning. The remaining 25%, I've texted Alice.
Chicks!
On the other hand, I just gave my brother some advice and he responded, "This is why sisters are great." Heart warmed...

starring the understudy cast of glee...

2011-12-12T11:47:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Necessary Conversation headed to the Dickens Fair to film our Christmas episode, so stay tuned for that nonsense. But first, I did double duty and now offer you today's SFGate Tourist Trapped, the Great Dickens Christmas Fair.
Cheerios...

new york in photos...

2011-12-09T09:08:00.000-08:00

I know. I'm still in New York. I'll be back tomorrow night, having spent an entire week looking up at brownstones and lofts and shitty apartments and dreaming of living here. The first half of the week, I stayed with my friend Dan and his girlfriend Mika. Above in Dan, waiting for me at the bar of Del Frisco's. Dan has lunch here FREQUENTLY and it's the kind of place were lots of men were having serious meetings. I found it all very exciting, my business lunch with Dan.

After crashing with Dan and Mika in Brooklyn, I'm now up in Washington Heights with Corinne, a friend of Melissa's who has a huge and fabulous apartment in what she describes as "the ghetto." Anyway, Corinne already had dinner plans on Wednesday night, and I wanted to wander the Upper West Side by myself. It was pouring rain and I had a book and at 9:30, I walked into Cafe Luxembourg and had cheese for dinner and made all sorts of friends at the bar.

Phil, the guy next to me, just got back from Yemen and when I asked him to watch my coat while I powdered my nose, he said, "You're with me, Beth. You won't have any problems." New York!
This guy was selling puppets at the Union Square Craft Fair. I'm pretty sure he's the greatest guy in the world, mainly because when I asked to take a picture of his sign, he posed in character for me.

Sunday, Mika and I walked from Brooklyn to Manhattan across the Williamsburg Bridge. It was fabulous and interesting. Coming towards us, if you zoom in, is a Hasidic couple. The woman was wearing a wig, because apparently they can't show their real hair to anyone but their husbands. This actually seems like a pretty good idea to me, as you would very rarely have to style your hair. Wigs = convenience.

My mother, a New Yorker trapped in the body of someone from Burlingame, got me tickets to see The Moth, a storytelling series. Last night's performance was held at The Player's Club, a private club for theatah-types ON Gramercy Park. I love Gramercy Park deeply, and walking into this huge brick mansion to find a low lit, magical, private club was THE highlight of my week.
Corinne and I wandered upstairs and discovered three stories of walls covered with paintings of actors and directors. Morgan Freeman, Christopher Plumber, Angela Lansbury...it was awesome. And such a special, amazing place. We peeked in one door upstairs to discover a roundtable discussion on high drama or similar. By the fireside. In leather chairs. While a big event was going on downstairs. New York!

This is the back-half of the room in which we watched 5 people tell stories about Family Holiday Gatherings and Ungatherings. Serena Altschul was in the audience in amazing shoes. And one of the stories involved a perfectly lovely woman revealing how she was a fugitive from the law, mother of 3, prison escapee. You could hear a pin drop, it was so intense. Another storyteller was a regular contributor to This American Life (named Shalom) who talked about his first visit to a concentration camp. It was surprisingly hilarious.

Afterwards, Corinne and I went to a very fancy and chic Lebanese place called Ilili for a late dinner, where we bonded. I am now off to meet Dan in Little Italy, where I plan to reenact several scenes from Godfather II.

New York!

you think you're a hipster? please. i'm in brooklyn...

2011-12-04T07:12:00.000-08:00

I probably seem like the kind of person who listens to 'Empire State of Mind' when in a plane circling Manhattan. And I seem like that because I TOTALLY AM.

I am in New York!

And specifically, I am in Brooklyn because my friend Dan lives here and I am staying with him and his hilarious girlfriend, Mika. They have packed their 3-story loft with Diet Coke. So, you know.

Last night, we went to dinner at Marlow & Sons. And I have learned that for as cool as Mission hipsters think they are, they are suburban posers compared to the people that walk around Brooklyn like they're in a Sophia Coppola movie.

A few stylistic notes on what the trendiest of hipsters are doing right now:
1. They're not even hipsters. They're artistically wealthy people who dress in whatever is cool which just happens to be modern-ish, hipster clothes.
2. Messy hair! Do anything to your hair! Frumpy, flat, cut your own bangs. Be very whatever about your hair.
3. Men are wearing fedoras with super small brims (seemingly unaware that to me, they look like Justin Timberlake), fitted dress shirts and vests, with the sleeves rolled to show a smattering to tasteful tattoos. But make no mistake. This isn't a Walnut Creek, Structures for Men attempt at hipsterdom. It's like, the original leather-bracelet guys. They all look like single, straight guys who own galleries.
4. Women are wearing huge tops or big flax jumpers. They're dressed like Dutch peasants. It must be all Vince.
5. In sartorial closing, this whole place looks like that party scene from Tootsie, where Bill Murray is talking about his play.

Please run with this San Francisco.

I am also seeing as many Hasidim as I am seeing hipsters. I cannot help but think of the (wonderful) Melanie Griffith movie, "A Stranger Among Us" whenever they briskly walk past us, and I feel guilty about that. But also, it's just SO Brooklyn.

We walked back from the restaurant last night, which was a long walk but so fun because of all the shit that is going on at 1am. There was one brightly lit storefront that was filled with people playing ping pong. No bar, no DJ. Just people playing ping pong.

We walked into Momofuku and got crack pie. Every restaurant we passed was like perfect, cool, ambient awesomeness. In San Francisco, we have those low-lit, trendy/rustic joints like Commonwealth, Cotogna, Locanda, Baker & Banker sort of splashed around the city. There was all of that twice on one block in Brooklyn.

Then a line emerged from an alley, where it was explained to me that at the end was expensive food said to be, "like, amazing barbeque."

As Dan observed, "This is like Disneyland for 20-somethings."

Tonight, Amy Poehler is apparently showing up at Upright Citizens Brigade, and we're going with Mike Farrah.

Amy Poehler and Mike Farrah in the same room? Bring Gilda Radner back from the dead, and it'd be my favorite people EVER ALL AT ONCE...

also, lord grantham is bernie from notting hill...

2011-12-01T21:33:00.000-08:00

When I was a little girl (go with this), my parents took me on a trip to England and we toured all sorts of castles and country estates. At every single one, even at 5, I assumed that the minute I walked inside, they staff would gasp in delight. The missing heir, identified by my resemblance to a gilded portrait in the East lie-bree, had finally arrived.

As far as I'm concerned, I should be knee-deep in getting the downstairs gossip from my Lady's maid right now. Alas, no one at Balmoral ever figured out THE TRUTH. So I am stuck drooling over Downton Abbey like every other nerd.

Brock told be about Downton Abbey ages ago and I ignored him. On and on, he went, explaining to me how I'd never understand the complexities. Like Brock knows television. Please. He texts me once a week with some alert as to what's happening on Judge Joe Brown.

Also, I thought he was saying DownTOWN Abbey. I thought it all had something to do with The Beatles.

Finally, due to sheer boredom, I started in on Season 1, Episode 1 of Downton Abbey on Netflix.

Three days later, I emerged.

"You know what I've been watching?" I announced at Thanksgiving, "Downton Abbey."

"OH!" My mother screamed across the stuffing. "I LOVE DOWNTON ABBEY!"

"ME TOO!" Dori's fork of green beans hovered mid-air. "It's SO good."

Screw the 49ers. (forced sports reference.) I am on the Downton Abbey bandwagon. And because I am an internet nerd, and I communicate on the internet with fellow internet nerds, I have the SECRET LINK TO SEASON TWO.

Season Two has, thus far, been unavailable in the United States because British people think they're better than us. I think we'll all agree that they are. But should you so wish, you can watch it in 10-minute increments on YouTube, which I have been doing.

As Brock is the one who first told me about Downton Abbey, he is very, "That's MY show" about the whole thing. And of course he is. Brock is such an O'Brien, sometimes. He is very upset that I won't send him the secret link to Downton Abbey Season 2.

But if YOU, my fellow classy American, have watched the first season of Downton Abbey and share my affection for Mr. Bates, Matthew Crawley, Lady Sybil and Anna the maid, not to mention the groundbreaking comedic work of Dame Maggie Smith, then do I have something for you...

a post and a confession...

2011-11-30T11:20:00.000-08:00

Today's Culture Blog explores more of the genius of photographer Bill Wilson. How Bill makes it to every random political event is beyond me, but thank God he does. It's all up now over at SFGate.

Unrelated, last week I was walking back from the Embarcadero Gap (where I spend most of my daily lunch hour) and I passed this man parked in a very old station wagon which was filled with garbage. He honked at me, and kinda banged on the window, yelling, "Come here! Come here!"
Within a second, I imagined myself walking over to him to see what he needed, him pulling out a gun and shooting me in the face. He was pretty old, but still. I watch enough true crime programming to know that...you never know.
I've felt guilty about this ever since.
But what could he possibly have needed? Was he trapped in the car somehow? That was the impression I got. I suspect the handle wouldn't work, or similar. It certainly looked like the kind of car with has handles that don't work.
And I made eye contact with him. He saw me see him, consider getting involved, and then decide against it. As I walked away, I felt horrible. I thought of all of the helpful yet safe options I could've chosen, like getting a security guard from the nearby bank involved, or asking a bystander to help figure this out.
Did I feel guilty because I was worried about the old man in the garbage car? No. I felt guilty because I was worried I was on one of those news shows where they hide video cameras, hire an actor to appear in distress and then watch in horror as people like me are like, "Oh God, don't make eye contact. Don't make eye contact."
If I knew cameras were on me, I would've lept into compassionate action. Perhaps the lesson here is to always pretend you're on a secret Good Samaritan show, just in case. Plus, you might actually end up helping someone! Or getting shot in the face...

celebrity equivalents of creamed spinach...

2011-11-28T09:51:00.000-08:00

On today's Tourist Trapped, Andrew and I get all dolled up and go to Morton's Steakhouse, where we discover lots of manly men, 90's artwork and what some might consider lobster abuse. We also ate the way oil billionaires eat, as evidenced by our before and after.
Eat it up now, on SFGate...

i'm on my way straight to heaven...

2011-11-23T11:27:00.000-08:00

Today, because tomorrow is Thanksgiving and also, I am so pious, the Culture Blog recaps my very fun visits to La Cocina, an incubator kitchen in the Mission where Christine and I took a bread-making class, and De Marillac Academy, a non-profit middle school in the Tenderloin, where I sat in on an economics class and then dragged my friends to their "Trivioke Fundraiser."

Read all about them both, over at SFGate...

this is all because brock was unavailable...

2011-11-22T10:35:00.000-08:00

Last night, Melissa and I got on stage at the Verdi Club and told the story of the Lesbian Cruise for the Porchlight Storytelling Series. We were last minute fill-ins, and very nervous about hopping on stage to tell a weird story without any notes or memorization. We begged our friends and family to show up, and as we stood around the Verdi Club before it began, Melissa looked around and said, "This isn't our usual demographic."
For example, one of the other storytellers was Matt Gonzalez.
I had never met Matt before, but he marched right up to us before the show started and said, "I watch your show. It's very funny."
So immediately, I thought, "Oh, I love Matt Gonzalez. Who knew?"
Anyway, Melissa and I spent the previous hour practicing or story in my living room, but I was still very nervous. I am generally always very nervous before getting on stage, mainly because I am worried I will fall over. I realize this fear makes no sense, but in my head, I just see myself keeling over.
So we were up after intermission, and Porchlight co-founder Beth Lisick introduced us by first announcing that the original people scheduled to perform couldn't make it.
The audience reacted with gasps, sighs, and palpable disappointment. At which point, Big Chris looked over at me and mouthed, "Awesome."
And with that, we walked onstage.
I have found that all I need to feel comfortable on stage is one laugher. If I can get one laugher, I play the whole thing to them. On stage behind us was a piano player, there to play the storytellers off stage after they hit 10 minutes. And the first guffaw we got was from the piano player.
Getting the piano player to laugh is kinda like getting the crew to laugh. It's validation. And I could just tell, 20 seconds into the story, "Oh. We've got this."
All day long, I was nervous. And I got nervous again after getting of stage. But for 8 minutes, under the lights and with a microphone, I was INSANELY comfortable. I can't exlain it. It also helped that people seemed to have incredibly low expectations of us.
So anyway, if I say so myself, we kinda nailed it. And then after us, Matt Gonzalez and his law partner, Whitney Leigh told a story of traveling together in Guatemala.
They. Were. Hilarious.
I want to re-register as a member of the Green Party, they were so funny. I want to make a collage representative of my feelings about their performance, it was so entertaining. My father sent me an email last night, congratulating me on a great performance and then detailing the various nuances of Matt Gonzalez and Whitney Leigh's story. He used the phrase "laconic comedic timing."
I thought all of the storytellers were great, and I was honored to be among them, even if we were last minute additions to the initial great disappointment of the audience. As a woman said to Melissa and me afterwards, "I was all set to hate you two, but you were really fucking funny."
I have a whole Julia Sugerbaker rant about that hipster bullshit, but I will keep it positive and merely report that if you ever need someone to show up and the last minute and tell a story involving Betty Degeneres, an 80-year old lesbian couple and Schindler's List, you know who to call.
That's right. Matt Gonzalez...

what's in here? oh, water? what is it, sleeping?

2011-11-21T13:18:00.000-08:00

Today's Tourist Trapped involves Brock, Paolo and me wandering through the Marriott Marquis on 4th and Mission for hours and hours on a Tuesday night. Which, as I think I may have mentioned, is an incredibly fun way to spend an evening.

Up now, on SFGate...

what are you doing tonight?

2011-11-21T03:58:00.000-08:00

I have wanted to tell a story at Porchlight, the award-winning story-telling series, for ages. It has always seemed way too classy and legit for the likes of me. And it remains so.

But I have finally wormed my way into being a third choice last minute cancellation back-up story-teller, and THANK GOD FOR FLAKES! Because tonight I get to tell a story at Porchlight.

Actually, I get to tell a co-story. Tonight is duos telling stories together.

Okay, someone didn't flake. I think they had a baby or some excuse equally worthy. Porchlight co-founder (and all around literary superstar) Beth Lisick sent Brock and me and e-mail, having met us at a party and thought we might have a funny story to tell together and be available at the last minute.

Brock, unsurprisingly, is very popular and has plans. So I e-mailed Beth L. back and said, "Brock is booked, of course. But I really want to do this. If you haven't already asked someone way better, I bet I can get someone to tell a story with me."

I was all honored and excited that Beth thought of us at all. Apparently, she thought of Lemony Snicket first, but that's okay. I would have too. I can't believe we're the people you go to when Lemony Snicket isn't available at a moment's notice.

Because I am definitely available at a moment's notice.

You know who else is? Melissa Griffin.

Which is why tonight, Mel and I will be co-telling the story of how we ended up on a lesbian cruise to Alaska in 2009. At least, I think that's what we'll be telling. It's 4am, and I am pouring over my blog posts and videos from our Alaska cruise, trying to find a way for us to co-tell this story in an entertaining way. We're supposed to just tell a story, without a script, without notes.

I said, "Okay, well I think we should tell the story of how we won a lesbian cruise at Pride and ended up in Alaska with 1500 lesbians."

And Beth said, "Awesome. There will be lots of lesbians in the audience."

Please come to force laughs, meet my very excited parents and watch Big Chris nervously stand against the back wall, asking, "What is this supposed to be? Art?"

Doors at 7. Show at 8. Verdi Club...

not so serious! not so serious!

2011-11-20T11:19:00.000-08:00

My old pal Adam and I went to go see Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy at a special screening last week. The British Consul General hosted a cocktail party at the InterContinental and then along with a bunch of people who are really into England, we walked over to Westfield to see an early screening of this British spy thriller.

This is exclusively how I see movies now. I need dignitaries and free Vittel.

The movie is fantastic, although very complicated. One really needs to pay attention the whole time, a challenge for me because Adam has really funny movie commentary.

I found the main attraction in 'Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy' to be the casting of Benedict Cumberbatch, who cool people will know best as Sherlock Holmes on the BBC's ridiculously short 3-episode 'Sherlock.'

Benedict Cumberbatch makes me imagine things like engraved invitations that say, "Benedict and Beth Cumberbatch invite you to their annual Boxing Day Party at their hunting lodge in Hampsted-upon-Thames-upon-Locksley. Please bring a parlor game or celebrity impression to share."

And as we learned after the movie during the Q&A, there's a lot of low-key homosexuality in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. So, big thumbs up on that. And now, onto the Q&A.

The director, Tomas Alfredson and actor Gary Oldman answered questions from the flawless Liam Mayclem. Not that anyone should be surprised, but Gary Oldman is really weird.

Gary Oldman is a very serious British actor, so he mumbled, and thought about every question for 20 minutes before answering it. When one is a very serious thespian, one can no longer be enthusiastic about anything in real life. One can not rapidly respond or appear engaged. When sitting in a director's chair in front of a movie screen and asked, "How did you get into character for this role?", a serious actor will:

1. Look annoyed and/or pained by the question.

2. Stare at the wall, ceiling or floor silently for a really long time, while the audience grows uncomfortable.

3. Provide an inaudible answer.

A not-so-serious actor will clap his hands together and say, "Oh, I just pretended I was that guy and read some books about it and wore a cool costume. Then I said my lines and took direction. And the whole time, I concentrated really hard on being a 1970's British spy. It was awesome."

Guess which kind of answer Gary Oldman gave...

i'd rather do this than anything else...

2011-11-16T14:39:00.000-08:00

Last night, in the interest of helping me explore a Tourist Trap, Brock, Paolo and I wandered around the Marriot Marquis for 4 hours. We stumbled upon a 'load-in' (industry term) for an Evangelical Convention, snooped through a schwag-bag set-up, crashed a party and cock-blocked an awkward convention hook-up in the elevator. I will save most of it for next Monday's Tourist Trap, but if you ever need something to do, please go wander around the Marriot Marquis. And if you don't want to go alone, I WILL GO WITH YOU.

our first contest...

2011-11-15T10:43:00.001-08:00

I decided to take this week off from the Culture Blog. Just a week. Just two posts. At first, the load off was glorious (heh.) But now I feel like I have eight hundred things to say and I can't get onto the internet fast enough.

But first: A Blog Contest for Free Shit!

I've never had a contest on here before because the only other company that has approached me to offer a reader give-away was some bubble bath with cats on it. And I just thought was too much of a premonition of my future. But I met this very fun gal from 'Google Places' at a party and she said, "You know, we could do a contest with your readers. With prizes."

PRIZES?!?! Including Google schwag? Okay!

Here's the catch: Google Places is the new personalized local recommendation engine powered by the reviews of users and their friends. So basically, you guys write a review, good or bad about any local business, and you get entered to win an array of exciting prizes. They need their site to be populated with reviews, obviously. The best review from this little contest (I think I help get to decide) gets a $100 gift certificate to one of my favorite new restaurants, Park Tavern. Lemme know when you're going, winner, and I will even get the owner to come over and make a big deal about you, so bring a hot new date. We will make you look so cool. (Also, if you can't find a date, I will gladly go with you. We will talk to strangers at the bar.)

Here's the deal:

1. Follow @GoogleSF
2. Go to Google.com/Places and select “Start Rating” (you’ll need to create a Google account if you haven’t already).
3. Fill out this form: http://goo.gl/nQj75
4. Review as many SF places as you like by 11:59 P.M. on Sunday, November 27th. Each review you write will be judged as a new entry.
5. We’ll go through all the reviews you write during the contest period and give them points. The winner will receive $100 gift card to Park Tavern, with the second and third place winners receiving some awesome Google Places surprises! (Please let it be a Google commuter mug. Please let it be a Google commuter mug.)
6. The winner will be notified via email and may collect their prize on Monday, November 28th via this very blog
Even if you don't win the contest, there will be lots of fun to be had with Google Places (reviewing and swag!) We will reward other cool Google swag for people who come close to winning! (Again, fingers crossed for anything that says Google on it, because I love free corporate junk.)

The rules:
- 18 and up only (Who am I kidding. No one under 35 reads this.)
- Full contest rules here.

Basically, I find blog contests a little cheesy. Or a lot cheesy. Whatever. I feel like I never give you folks anything tangible for reading this nonsense. Now, should you so wish, Ima try and get you to provide a corporation with free online content so you might be able to get some free deviled eggs. And God-willing, a commuter mug...

companies that start with g = golden gate gardening guys...

2011-11-12T14:46:00.000-08:00

I am housesitting for my parents while they're away. And by housesitting, I mean I've moved into their home while they are not here, watching "premium" cable and marvelling at the virtual Costco in the basement. The supplies down there are ridiculous.
Do you need 300 rolls of toilet paper, 4 cases of Diet Coke and a gallon of gin? I can hook you up. There are things down there marked, "BETH", the contents of which remain unknown to me.
For some reason, when my folks go out of town, my brother and I flock here. It's a cozy house in the woods, a familar and safe place that we both always really liked, if it weren't for the two narcs telling us to do our homework and making us write thank you notes.
Anyway, last night Alex and I had some friends over for dinner. I have to admit, there is something INCREDIBLY FULFILLING about creating a giant meal from scratch and watching people enjoy it. My cheeks were all rosy from the fire and I wore plaid and Catherine created two huge centerpieces made from pumpkins filled with roses.
It was raining. We made a huge fire. We played Scattegories.
I was in heaven.

And now that everyone is gone and I'm cleaning up the house today, I keep thinking about how fun that was. How much I loved making food and making people feel good and getting the cold people extra fleece jackets embroidered with hotel logos from upstairs. And it occurs to me: Oh shit. Is that my biological clock? Is this when I'm supposed to adopt? Am I the Pioneer Woman?
Gross...

justin timberlake nailed it, by the way...

2011-11-09T08:13:00.000-08:00

I had every intention of hopping to at least three election night parties last night, but I ended up staying at Willie Brown's Bash at the Palace Hotel until midnight.

I attended with my friend Matt, assuming we wouldn't know that many people there and could stand against a wall monitoring Rose Pak's movements.

Turned out, everyone in local politics (or at least those who aren't morally opposed to things like Willie Brown parties at the Palace Hotel) rolled in as the night wore on. Thus, my recap is up now, featuring MC Hammer, Sean Parker and an unfortunate wedge of brie...

tourist trapped: important art and dumb photos...

2011-11-07T09:46:00.000-08:00

Today's Tourist Trapped visits the After Dark Party at the Museum of the African Diaspora. Because we're artsy like that. It's up now, on SFGate.
And now, a word on photo booths at parties.
I love them! In a moment of profound self-awareness, Brock once said, "If we ever committed a crime, all the police would have to do to catch us would be to post our photos on a billboard. Because we'd just come there to stare at it."
So the perfect party activity for Brock and me (and really anyone unhealthily self-involved) is a photo booth, preferably with wacky props or fun backgrounds. This is different (and more fun) from having one's picture taken by a society photographer because 1) looking funny/serious/artsy/weird is encouraged and 2) it's less douchey as a Facebook profile picture.
(I will knock over elderly people to pose for both.)
As I type this, it occurs to me I am 33 years old, many of my friends have important things to do, like raise children, and I am focused on which parties have the best photo booths so I can constantly change my social media profile photo. This isn't really a life well-lived.
Deborah and Justin has us over yesterday afternoon and apologized for not having a 'step and repeat.'
How awesome would that be? Arriving in someone's home to briefly pose before a well-lit series of vodka logos?!? Yes please.
Anyway, in addition to the incredibly fabulous party at MoAD, which Brock awkwardly described as "sexy", they also had a really great photo booth. The night was thus a huge success...

necessary conversation: writing jokes is hard, as evidenced by this video...

2011-11-04T09:44:00.000-07:00

This week's Necessary Conversation checks out all of the awesome parodies, drama, humor and snark in the Mayor's Race, which I am thrilled is almost over. I can only imagine how f***ing exhausted campaign staff, volunteers and candidates are. Jesus Christ, these people are everywhere, working far harder than any of us. Or at least me.

Episode 50: It's Not Easy Being Green from Necessary Conversation on Vimeo.

We filmed this episode at the break of dawn on Sunday so Mel could go to the Niners game. I feel like we were too cranky in it. Although I just got a cranky email from someone from an (unnamed) campaign who feels like we made the whole episode about Ed Lee vs. Leland Yee and that's really unfair to other candidates.
Like I said, I'm ready for this shit to be over.
Anyway, have a spectacular weekend, don't forget to vote on Tuesday and you know what? You're doing a really good job...

Hey! I was sitting on a conference call today when my friend Joe showed up and was like, "Can you say, 'This is a test, this is only a test' on camera?" A reporter willing to put me on the local news? I didn't even ask why. I kept talking after saying my line. That's the part Joe used, by the way. Because he is an artisté:

i wish this were as exciting as the amazing race...

2011-11-02T09:59:00.000-07:00

It is exciting to have my dumb words paired with awesome illustrations! I did a piece for The Bold Italic featuring my thoughts on each of the Mayoral Candidates. I know, I know. Who gives a shit. But check out my hipster street cred. The BAY Bridge!
Anyway, the post is up now over at The Bold Italic.
Citizens and art lovers, please check it out.

And I know. This week of Culture Blogs are a day late. But I like to think a dollar extra...

and yeah. willie brown was there...

2011-11-01T12:07:00.000-07:00

This week's Tourist Trapped came about due to sad circumstances. I was at a funeral with a bunch of folks from high school. And for my friend Dan's last night in San Francisco, we decided to head to The House of Prime Rib for Sunday dinner.
My take-away from that dinner, other than the fact that people I never spoke to in high school turned out to be hilarious and fun dining companions 15 years later, is that the House of Prime Rib is fucking fabulous. The next time I feel like sitting at a bar and making friends?
HOPR. No question.
It's up now, on SFGate...

midnight in the garden of floral skirts and area rugs...

2011-10-31T11:23:00.000-07:00

Today's Tourist Trapped will be up tomorrow. My apologies.
Are you doing anything fun tonight? I am speaking to Linda Yee's journalism class at City College. So the jokes is on you, students! I am neither a journalist, nor classy.
Anyway, I am constantly, pretend-ly considering of moving to Savannah, Georgia. If I was willing to give up my "career" and go have some anonymous job in Savannah, I would do it tomorrow.
I have this fantasy where I work at a bookstore/cafe/open-mic type establishment. Everyone I work with is kinda crazy and lovable. We all hang out together, and I date a guy that drives a truck and has a yellow lab named Triscut. I don't have tons of money, but I have enough to drive a cute car, go to Europe on museum tours and wear lots of 90's style clothes, like colorful tights and bucket hats with fake sunflowers on them. And my little wooden house, where I live by myself paying $300 a month like Julia Roberts in "Sleeping With The Enemy", is decorated with funky art my friends made and colorful pillows. All of my lightbulbs are 30 watts and I listen to this when I drive through the bayou to go visit my wrongly-convicted prison pen pal.
I will have a casual respect for voodoo and go to a very friendly, vaguely-Christian church on Sundays, mostly for the gossip and picnic-based occasions.
I will listen to Tuck and Patti, Shawn Colvin, Eva Cassidy and anything approved by the Lilith Faire. Much of this fantasy is based upon the film versions of women of John Grisham novels.
It's also based on Tuck and Patti, who I have loved for a decade. When I live in Savannah, I will be friends with couples like Tuck and Patti. Actually, I just figured out Tuck and Patti are married. Something that never occured to me when watching this video (repeatedly). Again, this is very much what my life in Savannah will be like:

You're surprised they're married too, aren't you. Isn't love amazing? Anyway, Tuck and Patti will be at Yoshi's on Fillmore on December 14th & 15th. None of my friends will go with me. I'm afraid to even ask. But I am going, and I will pretend it's my one night off from my gig assistant-managering "Quills & Croissants." If you attend, look for the chick with the colorful tights and the ex-con...

a real friend would have signed it, 'your secret admirer...'

2011-10-30T18:42:00.000-07:00

One of my girlfriends recently said, "When I was in my 20's, I thought Sex and the City was totally unrealistic. In my 30's, I'm finding it pretty accurate."
I agree for lots of different reasons. One of them is that in my 20's, when I had a weekend like the weekend I'm having this weekend, my best friends had neither the money nor the inclination to have flowers delivered to me. Both of those things have changed.
Unrelated, I am watching lots of "It Gets Better" videos. They're not just for bullied LGBTQ teens anymore! Or maybe they are, but I'm sneaking in...like the time I went to a crystal meth anonymous meeting by mistake. These are totally making me feel better about myself. This one is my favorites.

Speaking of it gets better, I am now on my way to have dinner with a bunch of men with whom I attended high school. Two of them inspired this post. And none of them I spoke to from 1992-1996. So if nothing else, it only took fifteen years but I finally got invited to sit at the cool kids table. Only now the table is at the House of Prime Rib...

duke silver, however, would be all for it...

2011-10-28T08:21:00.000-07:00

Today's Necessary Conversation is our Ballot Proposition Voter Guide. The upcoming election (in two Tuesdays) isn't just for Mayor, DA and Sheriff (did you know you were voting for DA and Sheriff?), there are also a bunch of ballot propositions on things like pensions and sales tax and the future of the city. So you better get on it.

And watching this episode of NC doesn't count as getting on it.

As usual, your homework for this weekend is to make a new friend...

some very literary links for you brainiacs...

2011-10-26T12:08:00.000-07:00

Thank God I have all the free time in the world to read, "The Ed Lee Story: An Unexpected Mayor" and pull the 5 weirdest quotes from the "book" for your (okay, my) amusement on SFGate. It's up on the Culture Blog now.

Also, while you may have READ the story or been one of the "lucky" few to have BEEN there in person, there's a very awesome video of LitCrawl up on YouTube. It's 20 minutes long, but there's an edited version of my story up at 12:36. Check it out! And while you're at it, check out LitQuake next year because it will make you both smarter and cooler...

tourist trapped: buca di beppo...

2011-10-24T10:58:00.000-07:00

Historically, when I meet Melissa's friends from college or back home, they are instantly my favorite people in the world. I just love them! Still, I generally try way too hard to impress them as evidenced by this photo:

As Melissa's friend Corinne pointed out, "It's the jazz hands that really sell it."
So true.
Anyway, for reasons I still don't understand, we had dinner at Buca di Beppo, thus resulting in today's Tourist Trapped. Corinne, far better at being unintentionally impressive than me, asked for extra caramel sauce for our bizarre dessert. "Diego" brought it to us in a coffee mug.

The guy sitting next to Melissa is her boyfriend, Christopher Caen. Yep, that Caen. I'm just waiting for another commenter to make some jab about how much Christopher's dad would HATE what I write so Christopher can swoop in and be all, "Wrong!"
I will make him say that, of course. He's dating my best friend, after all. I get to make him do stuff, right?
Anyway, manga it all up over at SFGate...

no cowbell shout-out?

2011-10-21T08:38:00.000-07:00

You should never display any nerdy talent around either Melissa or me. Because we will automatically scream across a bar, "Oh my God, you need to do that on Necessary Conversation!"

Which is why, today we bring you Ed Lee's sweater vest, a hot dog gun guy, and "Christopher Walken."

Matt also does an amazing DeNiro and a very creepy Sean Connery, so stay tuned. And have a great weekend!

detective? DETTTTECTIIIIIIVE!?!?

2011-10-20T13:34:00.000-07:00

1. I went to see Kevin Spacey in Richard III last night. Act 1 was 2 hours long. I repeat, Act 1 was 2 hours long. The first hour was pretty exciting because we were in the 4th row and Kevin Spacey was ALMOST SWEATING ON US. But the thrill was gone into hour two. Also, there was no synopsis in the program. I'm a dumbass. With Shakespeare, I need a little dumbass version, so I can follow along. The only part I started to get was the two young princes, because that is a spooky Tower of London Murder Mystery, and I've been all over that for years. If you plan on going and are dumb like me, have an espresso and read a synopsis first.

Sidenote about Richard III with Kevin Spacey. In the 2-hour Act 1, there is a scene with a head in a box (I'm not giving anything away. At least I think I'm not. I really have no idea.) Anyway, Kevin Spacey (as a disabled person) is making a big speech over a head in a box and I just about exploded! I wanted to stand up in the theater and scream, "Is anyone appreciating this? Anyone?"

2. I am fascinated with this San Francisco Magazine slideshow of an Ann Taylor party in Menlo Park. What, I'm dying to know, is Menlo Park? I can't get enough of these photos, because it's so exciting to see what appears to be the suburban retail store celebrated so seriously! I would have driven (or flown? I'm not sure) to "Menlo Park" to drink water out of a wine glass in Robin Hood boots and statement jewelry. Is there an #OccupyMP movement and did they protest? Or celebrate, as Ann Taylor is affordable careerwear? I've got to know...

the longest domestic flight of my life...

2011-10-19T10:00:00.000-07:00

On today's Culture Blog, I posted the story I read at LitCrawl this past weekend. My mother had already read the story but my dad, who was in the audience, hadn't. There are a million things my father has given me over the past 33 years, but my favorite is the email he sent me when he got home on Saturday night. Dads are the best.
Up now, on SFGate...

this would be an amazing nora ephron film...

2011-10-18T12:57:00.000-07:00

Did you read this weekend's New York Times Magazine "A Death-Row Love Story"? I am generally and immediately attracted to any information about women who fall in love with men in jail. Plus, this story is extra-weird. For example, “I knew you were going to say your favorite color is blue,” he wrote. “It belongs to you. My favorite colors are black and crimson. I love deep, dark red things made of red velvet.”
In 'A Death Row Love Story,' a 33-year old (!) successful, Manhattan-based landscape architect falls in love with the 21-year old goth member of the West Memphis Three after seeing a documentary, which because the internet is awesome, you can watch right here.
The West Memphis Three are three young men who were (if you believe common sense and various celebrities) wrongly convicted of the brutal rape, torture and murder of three little boys. Essentially, the three guys they arrested were convicted of liking heavy metal and wearing black in rural Arkansas. One of the West Memphis Three confessed to the crimes, implicating his friends, because he was scared, confused and "borderline intellectual functioning." But really, all three of them had been in trouble, listened to Metallica and into the same dumb goth shit my weird friend in high school demanded we all be into.
The trials and tribulations of the (now free, kinda) West Memphis Three is a whole other story. I'm particularly riled up about the love story of this 33-year old writing gushing love letters back and forth with this 21-year old on death row in Arkansas.
"Soon enough, an envelope from the penitentiary appeared in her mailbox. The handwriting was styled like old Gothic print, the kind you’d find on a Halloween greeting card. Before she opened the envelope, Davis made sure she was alone."
On an excited scale of 1-10, this has me at about a 8.5.
In the movie that made Lorri from Manhattan fall in love with Damien from West Memphis, he is interviewed in jail, slowly chain-smoking and looking exactly like Robert Smith. And now, due to legal maneuvering that involves a guilty plea but-they-still-got-out-2-months-ago, Damien and Lorri are married and living together in the Big Apple.
After reading this NYT Magazine piece, I read and watched as much as I could about the West Memphis Three. I think it's great they got out (and celebrated on Eddie Vedder's jet) and hope the yokle, unsophisticated system that convicted these men is wildly regretful.
But far more importantly, who the hell killed the three little boys and are they going to get away with it forever. Please call me to discuss...

i was holding my breath because it smelled...

2011-10-18T10:48:00.000-07:00

This week's Tourist Trapped heads to that weird aquarium at Pier 39 and discovers that much like the Wax Museum, everything at Fisherman's Wharf is just a crappier version of the real thing.
Up now, on SFGate...

there was a sign in the front that said, basically, no happy endings...

2011-10-15T09:25:00.001-07:00

My apologies for my shitty lack of posting. It's been a weird week, and I've had a lot of homework. I also met MC Hammer on Tuesday and Chelsea Handler on Thursday. I hang out with celebrities on days of the week that start with T. It's kinda my thing.

Tonight, I'll be joining real writers and reading a story (that I still need to work on) for LitCrawl. We'll be in Clarion Alley at 6pm. There are lots of amazing LitCrawl events tonight, and you can check them out here. Because who doesn't love spending their Saturday night listening to poets talk about their feelings?

Yesterday, I cashed in a Bloomspot deal for a Thai Massage. I had never had a Thai Massage before. In fact, my previous professional massage experience was limited to hotel spas, where one's ass is gently swathed in lavender.

Last night, I got the shit kicked out of me.

I was given little Thai pajamas to wear, which were basically cropped scrubs, and then I lay on a mat. All of the massage mats are right next to each other, divided by heavy velvet curtains. There is a bar hanging overhead, and a piece of fabric hanging off the bar. And it's all very deep brown and low-lit and you have to whisper.

So I lay there in my little unisex Thai pajamas on a mat in between two other people on mats, and a very nice woman held onto that piece of fabric and walked up and down my back.

It was like a Cirque de Soleil massage. She was really dancing around up there, pushing herself off the back wall, moving me around, hanging off the bar. It was a little awkward, due to the language barrier and my inexperience, because all of a sudden she started hugging me. I had no idea what was going on, but finally I realized I was supposed to grab her hands. So sitting cross-legged, I cross my arms, she grabs my hands from behind, sticks both of her feet against my back and pulls really, really hard.

All kinds of things moved around in my insides.

Then she hops up in front of me, sticks her foot against my shoulder, grabs onto my thigh and dramatically pushes my torso in different directions.

At one point, she stood on my neck and my face pressed all the way down through the face donut pillow to the mat. It occurred to me that this broad could kill me, but I figured she'd done this before. I wonder, though, if I did die that way, would someone try and spin my death into a weird happy-ending-gone-wrong story?

The whole thing was really quite something. And while there were definitely SEVERAL painful moments, I felt fabulous walking out of there. I also felt very open-minded and self-congratulatory for having a new experience. Hotel spa massages are for wimps. My Thai massage felt like I was having surgery performed, like I was in that Michael Keaton movie where he's dying of cancer and Nicole Kidman makes him try Eastern Medicine.

When I left, I whispered, "Thank you so much." So she said, "Thank you." And I said, "So wonderful, thank you." And she bowed and said, "Thank you."

This went on for 10 minutes...

no white limos...

2011-10-12T09:20:00.000-07:00

If the Mayoral Candidates submitted riders of their backstage demands to debate organizers, what would those demands be? I have to admit, Tony Hall's was the most fun to write.

It's up now, on SFGate...

treat yo self...

2011-10-08T10:31:00.000-07:00

While most of you are listening to NPR on Saturday mornings, or at least claiming you do at cocktail parties, I catch up on my Parks & Recreation (Thursdays, 8:30 PST). And since I watch this on Hulu, I watch all of the bonus material provided therein. Like this, which made my Saturday!

Have a great weekend, lovahs...

"there is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women.” - madeleine albright

2011-10-07T10:15:00.000-07:00

There is no Necessary Conversation today. I'm so sorry. We have good excuses, tho. Anyway, get this.
Last night, Melissa moderated a debate at the Commonwealth Club for INFORUM, which is the cool kids club within the Commonweath. (You should join. It is wonderful.) I was the Mistress of Ceremonies, which basically meant I had to warm up the audience before it all started. I gave like, a seven-minute speech on dumb mayoral stuff and then Mel took the stage along with all sixteen candidates.
Sixteen candidates? Yeah, sixteen candidates.
For a myriad of reasons, mainly because she was so honored to be moderating an esteemed Commonwealth Club event, Melissa busted her ass even more than usual on this debate. She's been working on this for over a month. And you know, everyone's style is different. It takes all kinds. And I am biased. But she nailed it.
So after the official debate, there was a video presentation. Several people (and some candidates) snuck out to the lobby, including Melissa and me. She had to get back on stage, and we needed like, 20 seconds to confer on her wrap up. All of these people kept coming up to say, "Oh hello, I'm so and so and wasn't that great."
To which we smiled and said, "Oh, thank you so much."
This middle-aged woman in faded black and burgundy waited her turn and then said directly to Melissa, "Excuse me. I think you did a really good job. You really did. but I found your tone condescending. You were really very rude, AND MANY PEOPLE THOUGHT SO."
Melissa just looked at her and said, "Okay. Thanks for your feedback. Thanks."
"I think you did a good job, but it was really rude to several of the candidates."
"Okay. Thank you. Thank you."
I was speechless. In retrospect, I would've said, "We don't come to your job and tell you how to weave artisan wall tapestries. Send a psychotic email like everyone else."
But I just stood there, silent and amazed this woman was willing to tell Melissa she was basically a bitch while the event was still going on. Mel had to get back on stage after this shit.
So Melissa runs off to go back onstage, and I stood in the lobby people watching and shooting the dreamweaver dirty looks. She had the audacity to smile at me! She looked right at me and smiled! And I just stared her down.
With that, another two middle-aged women walked up to me and said, "I just want you to know, this part that's going on right now is really boring. You shouldn't have done this."
"Oh." I said. "Okay, well I don't work here."
"I know." One of them said. "I just think you should know."
First of all, since when do we walk up to perfect strangers and complain about shit. I really hate that The Gap still sells capri pants. Am I shouting this from the sidewalk? And this "many people thought so" thing really chaps my hide. If you're going to tell someone they blow, speak for yourself.
Second of all, I am still reeling from the fact that the Condescending Lady who thought Melissa was condescending got away with it. I have seen Melissa dress people down and there is still a crater left in the Earth at the scenes of those tirades. Mel just took it from this broad and went back to work.
Melissa just didn't have time to, how shall I put this, make her regret her words.
In closing, I think it is incredibly lame that three middle-aged WOMEN came to a political event produced and moderated by young WOMEN and chose to criticize. I am guessing that none of them would have approached Phil Matier with these thoughts.
Although I would've liked to have seen that.
Anyway, chicks man...

PS: Truth be told, I met two really wonderful women last night who came to the forum just to meet me and Mel. So Tina and Jamie, you balanced out the mean broads. And then some!

no one picked 'firework'?

2011-10-05T13:34:00.000-07:00

Today's Culture Blog covers my visit to Monday's Mayoral forum at The Fillmore, in which each of the candidates came out to a song they felt represented their campaign. I wonder why folks think will.i.am is good campaign music?
Oh yeah.
Anyway, it's up now on SFGate!

In local and selfish news, I'll be MCing the Commonwealth Club's INFORUM Mayoral Event tomorrow night. Melissa is moderating because she is the smart one. I am the mistress of ceremonies because I am smart enough to know it's way more fun to get to make the jokes...

sure. flashing plastic penises are totally appropriate...

2011-10-03T11:48:00.000-07:00

Today's Tourist Trapped goes to San Jose (yep) and visits the Winchester Mystery House. Eve and I hit up the opening of Fright Night and went on a tour of a historic mansion with a woman wearing flashing plastic penises.
Which I can only assume is normal to wear in San Jose. SCARY!
Up now on SFGate...

necessary conversation: mayoral car wash...

2011-09-30T07:29:00.000-07:00

Hopefully, this was worth the wait! Mel and I both agree, this is one of our favorite episodes we've done. Have a great weekend, make a new friend and take good care of yourself...

the civil war and pineapple...

2011-09-29T21:17:00.000-07:00

I think my wonderful co-worker Bill sensed that I was really down today, thinking about my friend Andre. So he distracted me by asking, all of a sudden and out of the blue, "If you could be in any war in history, which one would you choose?"

I love these kind of questions!

At first, I said, "The Gulf War of the early '90s."

My reasoning was that it was a short war, very few people died and they had anesthesia. I would forgo the great wars of history for a pain-free experience. I think it would have been amazing to be at Gettysburg, but I have seen that documentary. I am a selfish and wimpy person. I'd rather be comfy and experience another Christmas. If I have to be in a war, I want something brief. Like Grenada.

But Bill was displeased. "Let's say that you survive, unharmed."

"Am I soldier, like in the infantry? Or can I be the Queen of England in this scenario?"

"You're in the infantry. You cannot be Churchill."

"But I walk out of it, without a scratch?"

"Physically, yes. But you can still factor in sights and smells, which would stay with you forever."

I chose the Civil War (on the side of the Union), with the Revolutionary War as my runner up. They both completely shaped America. If either had gone the other way, we would not be sitting where we are sitting right now. And I was raised with a particular reverence for US History.

"Yeah. The Civil War is good. Yet gross." Said Bill. "I think it would have been pretty amazing to liberate Europe."

Oooooh, that's good. We both agreed we'd take a solid pass on Vietnam. And I think we all can agree that I've really lucked out in the co-worker questions department. Years before Bill, I worked with Ben who decided to ask one afternoon, "If you could only have one fruit for the rest of your life, what would that fruit be..."

kicking ass and wearing track suits...

2011-09-28T10:44:00.000-07:00

I don't know why there hasn't been a federal investigation into Rose Pak and her sprained ankle, but today, I try and get to the bottom of the story. It's up now, on SFGate...

pulitzers, cookie plates and andre...

2011-09-28T07:40:00.000-07:00

Last month, Melissa and I went, for the third year in a row, to our friend Rich's fancy wine dinner in Sonoma. And for the third year in a row, I wore silk in a vineyard under the stars and drank a case of Pellegrino. I would guess 60 or so of us had dinner. It was all very lovely and catered, with lanterns hanging over us and soft breezes. It looked like a scene from "It's Complicated."

After dinner, people started getting up from their assigned seats and moving around to talk to different people. I ended up sitting at an empty table with my new friend Natalie and my old friend Andre. I wouldn't say Andre is really an old friend. I've known him for four years and Melissa will agree with me when I tell you he is easily one of the best, most charming and wonderful people either of us have ever met.

Everytime I go to a party and see Andre, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Anyway, it late and night and Andre, Natalie and I are sitting at one of the many dinner tables. Candles are lit, we keep asking the caterer for more cookies and coffee, everyone else is mingling by the fire pit or drinking wine inside. And Andre asked me what I was reading.

"Oh God, I hate it when people ask me that because I will feel dumb."

"You are not dumb. So you're not reading anything."

"No. I'm reading a book about horrible crimes."

"What book?"

"Popular Crime by Bill James."

"Oh! I love Bill James. I'm a pollster. Statistics are my thing. Bill James is awesome. Tell me about the book."

And during this, people are occasionally coming up to Andre because he is a political genius. He was very nice, but kinda like, "Whatever, I'm talking to Natalie and Beth."

So I tell Andre and Natalie all about the book (which was awesome) and then Andre pulls out his phone and starts reciting all of these words he has obviously noted. Apparently, he's read a book by Bill James and, considering himself a pretty smart guy, Andre was surprised by the number of words used that he didn't know.

Lo these years later, Andre was asking people at a dinner party if THEY knew the words.

We didn't.

"I know, right!" Andre said. "And, it's not like we're idiots."

So then Andre tells this story of when he was living in New York, and he went to a lecture at the New York Public Library, apparently on a blind date. The author giving the lecture, I forget who, was taking questions at the end. And a woman near Andre stood up and said, "I've won a Pulitzer. (pause) And there were several words in your book I'd never seen before."

"I just thought it was interesting." Andre said, "That's her qualifier. SHE has a Pulitzer, so what kind of book is this guy writing if SHE doesn't know the words."

"Right." Said Natalie. "She might as well have stood up and said, 'I'm not retarded.'"

"I wonder how often she starts conversations that way?" I asked. "I have a Pulitzer. And I'd like half a pound of the smoked turkey."

We sat around that table for hours, just us. We laughed and laughed and laughed so hard that at one point Natalie screamed, "Stop talking! Stop talking! I need to catch my breath!"

I just remember looking at Andre and thinking how he made me feel so comfortable and accepted and pretty and smart. He always made me feel that way, he was always so enthusiastic about Necessary Conversation and our blogs and campaigning for the 7x7 thing. But that night, just a month ago, just sitting around that table after dinner, it was magical. It's not just special in retrospect. It felt special at the time.

And it will be my last memory of Andre. Very unexpectedly, he passed away yesterday.

As heartbroken and shocked and confused as I feel, I am so grateful that the last time I spent with Andre was particularly wonderful. In the realm of last nights with someone, Andre and I had a pretty spectacular one...

that's right. i'm a naval aviator...

2011-09-26T12:50:00.000-07:00

Watching Top Gun with 1500 strangers in a public park allows one to see things they may have missed in previous viewings. Like why the hell does Kelly McGillis have a parrot? It makes no sense to me that someone on the set was like, "You know Charlie would have? A pet parrot. Can someone call a parrot wrangler?"
Also, I can't tell you what a great time we had watching Top Gun in Saturday night. My friends are really like-able and great chefs/snack-bringers, the weather was perfect, the crowd was behaved. It was lovely! I've turned it into a Tourist Trapped and it's up on SFGate right now.

Also, in case you missed it because my father has snatched up every issue in town, here is a link to the 7x7 Hot 20 article on yours truly. Did I thank you for voting for me? My high school put this on Facebook, so now more than ever, THANK YOU FOR VOTING FOR ME...

Oh, wait. Hold on. While I have you, my friend Christian made an AWESOME documentary, covering a fascinating family mystery. It's 45-minutes long, called 'The Death of Danny the King' and I've watched it twice. Watch it RIGHT HERE.You might recognize Christian from the PBS documentary series 'Carrier' which you should also watch. It's like The Real World: Aircraft Carrier. I love that Christian is making his own films!

necessary conversation: short and sweet...

2011-09-23T12:24:00.000-07:00

Weekend, weekend, weekend, weekend, weekend...

7x7= the number of people i brought with me to this party...

2011-09-22T07:51:00.000-07:00

Last night was the 7x7 Magazine Party at AT&T Park. I feel that since I relentlessly bugged you to vote for me, I owe you full reports on what it's like to end up in the Hot 20 Under 40 Issue.

The answer? It is both awesome and weird.

I assumed I could only bring one guest to this thing, so I invited my friend Max to come with me. Max was my 7x7 Reader's Choice "campaign manager", and literally spent a week e-blasting the country in an attempt to help me win this thing. Plus, I thought I'd break stereotype by showing up to a party with a straight guy.

But then I got an email from Robin, the chic editor of 7x7 who said I could basically bring my entire entourage. So along for the ride with Max and me were Eve, Brock, my brother and my parents. Poor Melissa couldn't change a flight and was stuck in Cleveland. OR SO SHE CLAIMS. Then Catherine, Tara and Christine all bought tickets on Gilt City. I don't know if any of the other folks on the Hot 20 list rolled in like a hip hop entourage, but I had like, 10 people with me. I was also wearing a t-shirt that said, "This is a really big deal to me."

I would never admit this to anyone, but in my imaginary slickly-edited video montage of us walking into AT&T Park, the soundtrack is Peter Gabriel's "Big Time."

Basically, we stood around and chatted. I ran into my friend Sally, who was party hopping. And then my friend Nish very sweetly talked to my mom about the internet. Nish was off to go mingle, so he said goodbye to my mom and then to me, said, "What are you doing after this?"

"I don't know, we might get dinner? Is there a party somewhere?"

"Um, I don't know. Let's hang out, tho. I'll text you."

"Okay, cool."

Nish walked away and my mother looked at me. "Well," she said. "That was very interesting."

"What?" I braced myself.

"How all of this works. 'I'll text you' and 'What's next?' and parties after a party."

I chatted with Broke Ass Stuart, also on the list. Stuart's got a really cool photo in the magazine. He is also at every party in San Francisco. Ever. Ross Mirkarimi was there, although it was one of five events he had to attend last night. He mentioned feeling a little old to be on the list (agreed, Ross!) and that his photoshoot was really fun.

I also had an awesome conversation with List-ee Matthew Zapruder. He's the poet stepping into oncoming traffic in the magazine, if you've got a copy, and it turns out I had the wrong impression of poets. You'd think, "Who wants to talk to a poet?" right?

I love this guy! He's hilarious and irreverent and watches Necessary Conversation! Rather disappointingly, he does not wear a beret.

So towards the end of the party, Catherine, Tara, Max and I were figuring out where to go next. Catherine was walking around, checking out who else was in the magazine and, much like my publicist, introducing me to them. I think she just thought we should all meet each other, and isn't this exciting and fun. Catherine is very sweet and sincere about these things. So she introduces herself to one of the Instagram guys and then says, "This is Beth. She's on..."

Before she finishes, famous app guy very sweetly shakes my hand like Tom Cruise benevolently greeting a fan in the crowds at an overseas film premiere.

He really wanted to talk to this hot chick standing next to me, and I didn't have the time to explain to him that I am valid in my own ways. Also, there was a mass of people trying to talk to him. Apps! Who knew?

I should point out, I shook about 50 hands exactly the same way last night.

Oh! And then they announced all of the Hot 20, but it was hard to hear. My father, none the less, monitored the proceedings and when they got to Reader's Choice, came running over. "Beth! Beth! You're up!"

So I had to walk up to the little announcement stage. I gave a shout-out to my parents, because I didn't know what to say, and then I was handed a bottle of Johnnie Walker Green Label, which I had to pose with. Like, there will be pictures of me posing with a bottle of alcohol. And because I am AN IDIOT, I said to the woman that handed it to me, "Oh, this is so funny. I'm in recovery!"

She just stared at me, just trying to do her job in the middle of this huge party and I'm laying on her my entire struggle with addiction. So she says, "Wow! Good for you!"

And someone took a picture of this.

Alex got the bottle of booze, by the way. Although Max and Nish were both like, "So, the Johnnie Walker is...where?"

Easily the most exciting part was seeing my name and photo up on the big screen at AT&T. It said, "The Funny Girl" and my family was just...blown away. I walked out onto the Club Level seating area and one section over was my mother all by herself, taking photos of me on the big screen. I feel a little bad for not having popped out husbands or grandkids to entertain my folks. But if I'm on the big screen at the baseball field once every 33 years, they're pretty fucking psyched.

Thanks again for voting so I could crash this magazine, my friends. Thank you to 7x7 for being filled with very nice people who dress better than me but don't mention it. And thanks for suffering through my exhaustive excitement. The Amazing Race starts on Sunday, so we can all get on with our lives...

page 76, page 76, page 76...

2011-09-21T10:04:00.000-07:00

Last night, my brother stopped at Barnes & Noble and bought the latest issue of 7x7. Why? I THINK YOU KNOW WHY.
Lucky for him, I sucked all of the obnoxiousness out of my mother's baby maker and as a result, my brother Alex is the most mellow fellow ever. So very casually, he walked up to the Barnes & Noble cashier to pay.
"7x7?" The cashier said, "What's that?"
"It means 7 miles by 7 miles, which is the size of San Francisco." My brother responded. Then, in a very uncharacteristic move he said, "Actually, my sister is in here!"
He opened up the magazine and displayed my photo. Alex was telling me all about this as he drove home from work.
"Alex!" I gushed. "That's so nice. You're such a good brother. Was the cashier excited?"
"No."
"Did he say anything?"
"Not really. He just kinda looked at it and looked away."

This makes me indescribably happy.
You guys! It's out! The magazine is out! Please go steal one from your gentrified neighbor. It's kind of a goofy photo, but as my brother reminded me, "That's your schtick." Also, the one quote I'm a little nervous about is my saying, "Gavin's personal tragedy was my professional triumph." Preceding that quote was the story of how Eve asked me to write a weekly blog about Gavin Newsom three weeks before his big and vaguely forgotten scandal. My point was the miraculous timing, not the, you know, shitty thing that happened to someone's family. That being said, I think karma kicked me in the ass pretty good for being amused at addiction, so whatever. Water under the bridge. The Golden Gate Bridge, which my brother called me while driving across. Because he just bought a magazine with a picture of me in it...

"Tara is WAY off-base here, and shame on you, Beth..."

2011-09-19T11:03:00.000-07:00

At dinner the other night, Tara pointed out that from henceforth, I would need to make our OpenTable reservations. "I'm so embarrassed." She laughed. "OpenTabled dumped me!"
To which I immediately made a note, "OpenTable dumps Tara blog post."
It's up now, on today's Culture Blog. And Tara is ready to kill me.
It should come as no surprise to you that today's commenters fail to see the humor in OpenTable's canceling one's membership over a missed reservation. Not only do they fail to see the humor, they have apparently finally found their cause...

this all happened in novato, of course...

2011-09-14T14:51:00.000-07:00

All four members of the Spotswood Family are riled up about this article in which it would appear a woman buried her husband underneath a barbeque and we're all just supposed to act like it's no big deal. If I may:

"The body of Dale Smith, 74, was found Feb. 23 buried at least 4 feet beneath the patio of the home he shared with his wife, Evelyn Smith, 55, investigators said."

The article goes on to say, "Evelyn Smith never reported her husband missing. A neighbor alerted police that he was missing and then Evelyn Smith's attorneys gave the FBI permission to search the backyard."

Evelyn's attorney, a Mr. Hugh Levine, said his client "has been under the microscope for many months now, and I think it would be - without trying to be flippant about it - just good to bury this whole episode."

I like how the lawyer's like, "All joking aside folks, give Evelyn a break. So what, her husband ended up buried in the backyard. Don't worry about it." That is one hell of a lawyer. "Relax, everyone. Chill out. Calm down. What's the big deal? He was old. Weird shit happens. Anyway..."

My mother, calling to discuss SEVERAL local crimes she's choosing to follow, noted that if she goes missing and my father's very blasse about the whole thing, "Oh mom? She went away for the weekend with Irene. I don't know when she's coming back. How about those Giants?" then I am to further investigate. Which obviously I would. Not only do I love my mother very much, but I would really like to be a citizen vigilante, hounding the local cops and getting to the bottom of a mystery with my gumption....

Also, today's Culture Blog is up! Wacky political photos by Bill Wilson with goofy captions from yours truly. Happy Hump Day.

trust me. i've been a lot of candles...

2011-09-13T20:15:00.000-07:00

Last week for our movie and dinner night, Tara and I saw "Our Idiot Brother" at the Sundance Kabuki Theater. The Sundance Kabuki, where I will never get used to picking my seats in advance, has the most wonderful couches in their upstairs lobby. Everytime I pass them, I make a mental note to come back and sit there.

Someday. Sigh.

"Our Idiot Brother" was not what I was expecting, but I liked it in much the way I like any movie that makes me want to move to New York, wear grey wool scarves and have complicated relationships with artsy people. Also, "Ben" from Parks and Recreation is in "Our Idiot Brother" and Tara and I both agreed that we like him very much. I'd watch Ben be blasse about anything.

Also in "Our Idiot Brother" was Steve Coogan. After seeing "The Trip" and having read that he had (according to Courtney Love) something to do with Owen Wilson trying to kill himself, we hate Steve Coogan. He wants so desperately to be a star in America that now I wish to deny him that honor. Let's all agree to halt the Coogan momentum.

Wrapping this review up, I laughed out loud in "Our Idiot Brother" and got some new accessory ideas, thus making the show worth my $10.

Tara and I headed across the street to Dosa Fillmore for a late dinner. We both considered then opted against the fixed price menu and ordered a la carte, not that we knew what we were ordering. Dosa, as I'm sure you know because you probably read glossy local magazines, is Southern Indian cuisine and much cooler than boring old tikka masala. All of our food was very lovely and we felt much chicer for having ate it. My only complaint about this experience, which involved walking into a packed restaurant without a reservation and being miraculously seated immediately, was that our server spoke to us while simultaneously gazing off into the distance. It was as if she could see a tropical sunset somewhere past the walls of the building, walls which uptight people like myself can't see through.

I asked her using a sentence every San Francisco has uttered a thousand times, "Can you tell me about the watermelon and paneer salad?"

"Well," She sighed, her gaze fixed on her home planet, "it has watermelon, and paneer. Which is cheese."

Mmmm. That sounds good. I'll have that...

*TK of 40goingon28 also saw "Our Idiot Brother." His thoughts here.

also: the lounge band in 'lost in translation'...

2011-09-12T11:04:00.000-07:00

On today's Tourist Trapped, I toss Sausalito under a bus. Turns out, it's the middle-aged mom capital of the world. Middle-aged moms, Beth? What do you mean?
Things middle-aged moms like:

Chinese chicken salads
Eye-glass chains
The Buena Vista Social Club
Chardonnay
Book clubs
Talking about where their kids go to college
Handbags/scarves purchased at Wine and Art Festivals
Anything related to Tuscany
Loud bracelets
Women-friends
Ordering appetizers as their entree

And of course, Aha Moments. Which I talk about in an interview. Enjoy.

Anyway, it's all up over at SFGate. And no, mom. You are way cooler than this...

either get busy living or get busy ripping off shawshank redemption...

2011-09-07T12:20:00.000-07:00

Tourist Trapped is up today, because Monday was Labor Day and I assume that you all have interesting things to do with your lives, unlike me who stares at sick people in Target. Anyway, last night I went to a screening of Escape from Alcatraz at the Top of the Mark. Needless to say, the prison movie/fancy bar combo was right up my alley.
I was also very happy that Melissa and Sally came along. They had never met, and Sally is a new friend of mine that Eve introduced me to who I just LOVE. So I really wanted them to hit it off and lo and behold, Mel and Sally were fast friends. They were whispering and giggling during the movie, as I was congratulating myself for bringing wonderful people together in friendship.
Unlike these broads, who didn't let sitting front and center keep them from chatting away the entire Escape from Alcatraz. I took the following picture to demonstrate that not even the ACTUAL ESCAPE in the movie "Escape From Alcatraz" could keep these two quiet.

Up now, on SFGate...

i ended up with coffee filters and a nice scented candle...

2011-09-06T09:56:00.000-07:00

My master Labor Day plan involved going to the Serramonte Target as early as possible. The ideal Target gameplan involves 1) getting a shopping cart, 2) trying on clothing and 3) shopping for everything else after clothes. Why? Because you don't want a cart of shit sitting like prey unattended by the fitting rooms.
Now that most retail clothing establishments have their fall shipments in, I had a lot of crap to explore in the Target ladies clothing section. With 17 items, I made my way to the fitting room. The woman counted out the maximum 6 items from my shopping cart, and as she handed me the little "#6" sign, we heard a huge crash.
Directly behind her, not 5 feet from where we were standing, a Target employee had collapsed to the ground and was having a seizure. Dressing room lady and I were the closest people to the collapsee, and neither of us knew what to do. So the dressing room lady selected the obvious reaction, and started screaming.
I have to admit, it took me a second to figure out what was going on. It all happened so quickly, there in the middle of the Serramonte Target. This poor woman who had fallen and was shaking on the ground was kind of stuck in between two clothing racks, her face pressed against a metal bar. And my first instict was to kind of move her away from the clothing rack. But someone else came running forward screaming, "Don't touch her!"
So I pulled out my phone, but some mom had come over and was already on the horn with 911. It seemed to take forever, but Target employees started to come over, one by one. The dressing room lady knelt by this poor woman, and everyone else kind of stood around. The woman who was first to call 911 announced the scene before us to the 911 operator on the phone.
I was stumped by the protocol of what to do. I had been so close to this medical event, yet had been entirely unhelpful. And now, 10 or so people stood around staring while our fellow human had a seizure on the floor of Target. Staring seemed not only unhelpful, but rude.
Finally, a security guard came over and very dramatically and with great authority, told us all to get lost. I had to leave my shopping cart and 17 items of clothing over by the dressing rooms and awkwardly walk away.
At this point, I was faced with another quandry. Do I continue to shop?
Paramedics had yet to arrive, this whole scene was transpiring in the turtleneck section and it felt wrong to shrug it off and head over to beauty products. But what was I supposed to do? What are the rules when someone has a medical event in Target?
I did a lap.
When I came back around again, the paramedics had arrived and were moving her onto a stretcher. It still didn't seem appropriate to shimmy in and grab the 17 articles of clothing I planned to try on. And even though the security guard had told everyone to scram, a group of spectators stayed to observe the action.
I eventually left Target feeling horrible that I had no idea what happened to the woman with the seizure, and feeling like I had done everything wrong. I never lept into action, I didn't even call 911. I stood around like a goober while others seemed to know what to do. And I realized that if it were me on the floor of Target having a seizue underneath a rack of pleat-front khakis, I would have hated the woman staring at me with the terrified look in her eyes and her phone in her hand doing nothing but wonder if this means she can't try on her clothes...

overheard at the castro theater...

2011-09-02T10:22:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you've heard, the Castro Theater is currently on Day Three of Cary Grant Week. Last night, I went to see "Arsenic and Old Lace" with Lisa and her mom. Sitting directly in front of Lisa's mom were two men in their 80s. They were old. Really old. There was lots of dramatics with them trying to sit down and get situated. And I thought, "Oh, isn't that sweet. Old people seeing old movies in an old theater."
At one point in the movie, Cary Grant does this big pratfall and kind of hangs over a toppled armchair. To which one of the old men in front of Lisa's mom announces in regular, non-whisper speaking voice, "He's got a great ass."

necessary conversation: sexual hypocrisy...

2011-09-02T09:58:00.000-07:00

Today's Necessary Conversation is here to welcome you into the long weekend. Enjoy it, then leave work. Seriously. You have my permission...

Necessary Conversation: Sexual Hypocrisy from Necessary Conversation on Vimeo.

anita, by the way, isn't the only one who needs to get over it....

2011-08-31T16:26:00.000-07:00

On today's Culture Blog, Melissa and I spend a Saturday at the California Young Republicans Convention and hear media sensation Andrew Breitbart's thoughts on "sexual obsessives", Ted Kennedy and who, exactly, is evil.
It was really quite a two hours. Up now on SFGate...

also, the theme song* is badass...

2011-08-30T15:40:00.000-07:00

Over dinner with my brother last week, Alex recommended I watch the BBC's 'Sherlock' on Netflix on Demand. "Trust me." He said. "You'll really, really like it."
Turns out, I fucking love it. The first five minutes of the first episode kind of plodded along and I instantly decided that my brother hardly even knows me.
But then Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes meet. I was suddenly riveted, slowly backing away from the screen and realizing that I was having a historic television moment. Maybe it's one of those things you have to be in the right mood for, but as I watched 'Sherlock' on my laptop in the middle of the night, I was in the right mood.
Each episode is an hour and a half long. Dr. Watson is played by Martin Freeman, Tim from the original British 'The Office" and Sherlock is played by, wait for it, Benedict Cumberbatch.
You will not be surprised to learn that I now love this Benedict Cumberbatch.
Before you roll your eyes like some nerdy Sherlock Holmes purist, allow me to inform you that this show, which is a year or so old in the UK, won the BAFTA, everyone who knows about it already loves it and it's universally regarded as marvelous.
But here's the thing. There are only three episodes.
And now I've got to wait until next year to find out what happens with Moriarty. Next year! Which is the only thing wrong with the British.
"Oh yes, we'll make this marvelous show and have a fabulous cliff-hanger three episodes in. But then we'll make you wait two Christmases before they next three. We're a two-thousand year old country. We've got all the time in the world."

*It is apparently not the Opening song but "Sherlock's Theme" that I love.

also, a perfect setting for a sitcom...

2011-08-29T14:18:00.000-07:00

In today's Tourist Trapped, I spent this past weekend at the InterContinental Hotel in SoMa. My takeaway is basically that I would prefer to live in a hotel permanently. Which is how I came up with my Top 5 Best Things About Staying In A Hotel. Up now on SFGate...

please gavin, don't hurt him...

2011-08-28T18:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I'll file through Bill Wilson's site just in case I stumble upon something like, oh, I don't know. Maybe "Hands Across California MC Hammer Newsom"?
Yeah, something like that.

We're all in agreement that Gavin probably attempted to stray from the confines of a traditional handshake in the above greeting and screwed it up, yes?

Um, excuse me. MC Fucking Hammer is trying to hold your hand. Pay attention!

The high point of Gavin Newsom's career, apparently. And the low point of Hammer's.

"Hammer? Hammer? Can I get a photo real quick? Awesome, thanks."

The LG rocking the classic "over-laugh" in the presence of a celebrity, the low-key and off camera, MC Hammer.

From henceforth: If Master of Ceremonies Hammer stands at attention, everyone stands at attention.

"Believe it or not, when the chips are down and the going gets tough, I actually remind myself that I, too, am too legit to quit."

"That wasn't about you."

necessary conversation: throwing shade...

2011-08-26T13:01:00.001-07:00

While I have always thought he was a very nice guy, mayoral candidate Bevan Dufty has recently and very publicly taken issue with the way Melissa moderates a debate. In fact, he is specifically calling her out for asking questions he doesn't feel add substance to the discourse of the election. As someone who is always nagging Melissa to make debates more entertaining to regular people who might not follow local politics as closely as say, a local politician, I feel slightly responsible for her being thrown under a bus by again, someone I've always thought was a pretty nice guy. I'm sure he still is.

None the less, we apologize to the Dufty for Mayor campaign in today's episode. I hope they like it!

upsetting movie warning: there is talking with food in mouth...

2011-08-25T15:54:00.000-07:00

Tara and I decided to go see The Trip at the Opera Plaza theater. As far as San Francisco movie theaters go, this is not one of our favorites. But they show artsy-fartsy movies and it's very close to a good bookstore.
I know what you're thinking. We might as well adopt orphans off the television and start knitting afghans. But sometimes it's just nice to go to movie and dinner with your friend and get in bed at a reasonable hour.
Anyway, we sat down in the theater, which seats like 12 people, and all of a sudden, this young lady movie usher comes forward and like one of those poetry beggars on a subway, says, "Hi, my name is Lisa and I'll be starting the movie really soon. Please let me know if you need anything, or if the movie is blurry. I'll be in several times to check on everything, but don't hesitate to come get me if anything is wrong."
And with that, Tara beams and screams, "Thanks Lisa!"
I didn't know what was weirder: the announcement or Tara reminding me of my grandmother in church. (When the priest would say, 'Peace be with you' my grandmother would always scream, 'And also with YOU, Father!' as if that would get guarantee her entry into heaven.)
The Trip involves two British comedians, one of whom we'd heard of, driving around the UK eating at amazing restaurants and talking. I have never seen "My Dinner With Andre" but based upon a lifetime of cultural references, I suspect it is very similar.
They also do about an hour of Michael Caine impressions. Hey, I like Michael Caine. And I am mildly amused by a discussion on the nuances of his speech patterns over food porn. But after a while, I wanted to scream, "Do Walken!"
Opera Plaza Cinemas attract an older crowd of recent retirees who speak in their regular voices during the movie. The Trip involves lots of very high-concept dining restaurants. Now, it's not like I'm kicking my feet up on the table at Manresa every Wednesday, but let's all agree that 'foam' is no longer a big deal. There is no need to audibly react everytime something arrives at the table with foam on it. Half of the audience had clearly seen an episode of Top Chef Season 1 and felt they were in the know on the foam fad.
It drove me fucking nuts.
Afterwards, we went to dinner at The Boxing Room which everyone is talking about and I had never been to. It's Lousianna food, so lots of crawfish and gumbo in low lighting with lots of charming skillets and chalkboards. If Forrest Gump was looking for a slightly upscale dining experience, he'd go to The Boxing Room.
Tara and I ate at the bar and spent as much time complaining about the movie's Michael Caine impressions as actually appeared in the movie. By the end of our entrees at like, 11-ish, Tara announced the same thing she always announces towards the end of our post-movie dinners.
"Honestly, and I know I always say this, I can't wait to crawl into bed with my book."
A year ago, I'd have silently congratulated myself for having an 'older' friend. But now, I couldn't agree more. Having a weird (and thus entertaining) artsy movie and dinner night with my friend Tara and crawling into my adult, clean-sheeted and already-made bed by midnight with 2 chapters left of my awesome book is...well, wonderful.

"politician" is not an occupation...

2011-08-24T11:32:00.000-07:00

On today's Culture Blog, we re-visit our old stand-by of checking out candidate Facebook Pages, and note that in a perfect and honest world, Ed Lee would change his relationship status to "It's Complicated" with Rose Pak.
Up now on SFGate...

i was there for the dachshund races, obviously...

2011-08-22T11:26:00.000-07:00

Let's ignore the fact that I took BART by myself to the East Bay and didn't get myself (too) lost. I spent Saturday afternoon at the track (!) and discovered my new favorite place on Earth. Why are we not all hanging out at the track all the time? I felt like bringing a good book, some sweatpants and making myself at home. That place is magical.
I was kind of terrified to make this trek solo, but I met up with some friends already there, and really, you haven't lived until you've been elbowed by an elderly man who insists upon his "regular" seat on the mildly confusing Golden Gate Fields Free Shuttle To BART.
I was sitting by myself on that shuttle driving from a horsetrack to a BART station with a dozen old dudes, thinking, "This is a weird life, right?"
My adventure is up now on today's Tourist Trapped, over at SFGate...

all that was missing was a wind machine...

2011-08-19T23:37:00.000-07:00

Friday was the photoshoot for 7x7 Magazine. To say I was excitedly terrified would be putting it mildly. But I had three weeks to prepare for one photo. If I looked bad in this, it was no one's fault but my own.

I was up and off to Dry Bar for a blow-out by 10am. I decided to have my hair blown out because even though a hair and make-up person was coming, I thought I'd be helpful.

I should not have been helpful.

I emerged looking like Shirley Temple on hormones. I have no idea why my hair was curled into such tight and dramatic ringlets, but I was too polite to say anything. Instead, I'm bitching about it on the internet.

I then raced over to Melissa's because her apartment is very cool. It is certainly cooler than my apartment, and where we'd decided to do the shoot.

It also gave us what Melissa called, "home court advantage."

Also along for the photoshoot were Tara and Catherine. In fact, my three girlfriends had all taken the day off work to spend an afternoon watching me pose. When the (gorgeous) photographer, his assistant and the hair/make-up artist arrived, we already had a full house.

I sat nervously while my three suddenly wildly protective friends stood behind me, arms folded.

"Beth is very funny." They announced. "Beth looks best from certain angles."

Catherine stepped in. "Not to be a stage mom, but Beth is best when she's natural."

I think when Alex the photographer used the word "glamour shot" we all calmed down a little. He was, after all, speaking my language.

None the less, I was starting to regret having the cast of Sex and the City trying to control the situation. I wanted this guy to like me. But we pressed on, I tried on some dresses as the very cool Veronica started to fix my hair.

In my first dress, Alex sat me down at the dining room table. Fake eyelashes and lipgloss and big hair and lights and props and Melissa in the background muttering, "Think Tina Fey!"

And then, the perfectly styled and charming Alex, with his eyes like the waters of a tropical beach, started clicking away. And we all started laughing and having fun. And Melissa snuck behind him and saw some of the shots he was taking and screamed, "Oh my God."

We all stopped.

Melissa looked at me, kind of clutched her chest and said, "Bethy. It's...it's awesome."

As I gushed to my mother later, "It looked so different! I couldn't believe it was me! It looked like a real magazine photo!"

We did three dresses in three hours. And there was one moment, with Veronica tweaking my hair and Alex moving lights around and my girlfriends picking out earrings where I just sat there, looked around and thought, "I should probably appreciate this moment."

So like a huge nerd, I took a mental picture of the scene before me, which was a very glamorous magazine shoot. And even if nothing else cool ever happens to me for the rest of my life, I should never complain about anything because I got a whole afternoon of getting to pretend I'm a star and IT WAS SO MUCH FUN I CAN HARDLY STAND THAT IT HAPPENED.

Any fantasy I've ever had about being in my very own photo shoot was fulfilled and then some. I'm sure the other 19 members of this list have far bigger fish to fry than getting their photo taken. But I don't!

As Alex sweetly showed me a few of the photos he's taken, I looked at myself smirking on his little digital camera screen all made-up and thought, "Shit. I better start writing some good blog posts..."

*I have tons of photos of behind the scenes but I don't know if I'm allowed to show you until the issue comes out. And it's killing me...

necessary conversation: extraneous bullshit...

2011-08-18T10:05:00.000-07:00

Oh, how we've made you wait! Hopefully you are now starving for some Necessary Conversation. Today's episode takes you to SF Chefs 2011, where we interview Gary Danko, Joanne Weir, Hubert Keller, Chris Cosentino of Incanto, Tablehopper and Brock Keeling, who tells us which "restaurant" gave him the runs.
Bon appetit!

how about we 'err' on the side of photoshop...

2011-08-16T09:49:00.000-07:00

Please forgive my lack of posting this week. I have lots of excuses. But I also have lots to talk about, so let's catch up and we'll get back on track.
1. This 7x7 photo shoot is supposed to happen on Friday. I don't know where. I don't know when. All I know is I'm supposed to bring "several" outfits and "err on the side of hot." Seriously. I have an email that says that. As I have never ended up on that side on purpose much less by accident, I am gravely concerned I will ruin my shoot with my desperate grinning. Catherine came over last night to examine my clothing and pose me standing, sitting and leaning, noting that I have trouble "acting natural." I insist on utilizing props. Like serial killer coffee table books.
2. I am taking a weeklong break from the Culture Blog. I need to catch up on my shit and there are only so many posts people are willing to read about Mayoral debates. It's only August and I'm starting to get sick of these candidates. Apparently, the feeling is mutual. We also need to catch up on Necessary Conversation. I think in our attempt to produce an episode every week, we burned ourselves out and got sick of it. We'll be up and running Friday with our take on SFChefs. Look for interviews with Gary Danko, Hubert Keller and Brock Keeling!
3. After practice-posing, Catherine and her fiance Brian took me to dinner at Slow Club to celebrate the photo shoot. (I am really milking this magazine thing.) Anyway, Brian recommended a New Yorker article which I then went home and read. If you are at all interested in bad-ass Navy Seal types killing Osama Bin Laden and a month behind on your New Yorker reading (and by a month, I mean a year) then you will dig this article.
4. I hate to say it, but I am fucking over the Jersey Shore.
5. Tomorrow, I go back to the gym. If you thought I was nervous going to the dentist, I am almost crying at the thought of re-joining a gym. But I'm just getting vainer and older. So here we go. I will keep you posted on any World Gym antics.
6. San Francisco drag sensation (and my awesome friend) Pollo Del Mar has a new YouTube webshow called Name Dropping. I get a shout-out in Episode One! And also, Pollo is a really great person. I'm all about promoting Pollo. Watch Name Dropping, please. Pollo and I attempted to do commentary on last Thursday's debate, where I've since gotten a lot of shit for saying that Leland Yee was funny. What? He was! Leland Yee is the only candidate I've never really met and also, he's got the best crazy past for blog fodder. But if the guy makes a funny joke, he should get credit for making a funny joke.
7. Finally, and speaking of everyone losing their shit over the Mayor's race, check this email one of the non-leading candidates, David Villa-Lobos just sent out. Apparently, he had trouble filing for Mayor 12 seconds before the deadline, "My wife crying, and distraught, went to the city hall bathroom and collapsed. Candidate Flips-Out: It was at that point that I went crazy, I phoned the DOE and gave them "HELL"; with the salty-distasteful superlatives flying. After all, my wife and I had already exhausted our entire savings, our daughters college fund on this campaign thus far, and borrowed money to pay the fee." I guess he's not on the ballot. As someone who has collasped in a public bathroom before, that shit isn't cool. As a voter, however, I'm not really reassured that this guy is blowing his daughter's college fund on what I would have generously called a long-shot...

i'll just pretend i'm winking...

2011-08-11T10:03:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or is this the longest week in the history of the world. How is it not October already? I feel like I've been through so much! Anyway, tonight is Mayor Ed Lee's second mayoral debate ever. I suspect there will be a big crowd of people who thought to themselves, "Wait. Shit hit the crazy fan at Monday's debate? Oh, I'm going!"
If you're coming in person (insert joke), you can RSVP here.
If you're watching online (advised) you get the added bonus of web-only commentary from Pollo Del Mar and me. We'll be Joan and Melissa-ing the debate, as Melissa moderates. Pollo and I will be off in a side room offering snide and entertaining observations before, after and during the breaks to keep you basement nerds from changing the channel.
Tune in Here to watch LIVE.
Please be warned, Tony Hall is not participating in this debate. I know. I'm bummed too.

Since you were all so kind in voting in that 7x7 thing, here's an update: I have completely changed my entire lifestyle after scheduling my first professional photo shoot ever. Yesterday, I had my eyebrows re-designed. Naturally, this has resulted in disaster. I woke up this morning looking like Sloth from Goonies, one eyelid "completely" swollen.
I already did my interview, none of which I remember. Actually, that's not true. At one point, I heard the words "Gavin Newsom" and "our relationship" escape my mouth. I also went on a long embarrassing rant about how I'm a late bloomer.
All I know is that someone is taking my picture sometime and somewhere next Friday. I have no idea what I'm supposed to wear or if I need to arrive fully made-up. Obviously, I would love to discuss my high-production-value photo concepts with the photographer, but I'm trying to play it cool. They might just shove me in front of a mugshot height-chart and click.
Which, now that I think about it, sounds pretty awesome...

smarties. get it?

2011-08-10T09:31:00.000-07:00

Today's SFGate post, my 5-point recap of Monday's Mayoral Debate is up! This is me with Green Party candidate Terry Jean Baum, who is a badass and was delighted to accept the Smarties (TM) that Bill Hemenger passed out to the audience. We thought it would be funny to bring everyone candy, which all of the old/cool people (including David Chiu's parents) liked but all of the young/paranoid people were like, "What are you campaigning for?"

I'm campaigning for you to lighten up, how about that?

Also, you can watch Melissa moderate tomorrow's debate on the Huffington Post SF at 5:55, with live web-commentary from Pollo Del Mar and yours truly. This is the exact opposite of the founding father's vision of American democracy...

this took me from a three to like, a seven...

2011-08-10T04:12:00.000-07:00

In case you've ever wondered, it's the whole "wisdom to know the difference" part that's the hardest. I do not have the wisdom to know the difference. I do have the wisdom to know that this will always perk me right up.

So, you know, go with what you know: