So old news, old news. Last weekend we paid a visit to my old college friend Jonathan Fischoff, dorky computer guy and hilarious, wonderful human-being extraordinaire. He lives in an absolutely gorgeous house two blocks from the (in)famous Haight Street, downtown San Francisco. We spent the afternoon and evening sampling espresso from some of the country's most famous indy coffee shops and drinks from the Mission's hipster bars. Jonathan took us on a fun (and exhausting) walking tour (shouldn't have worn my cowboy boots). We road in a totally functional, absolutely fabulous street car made in Milan for the city of SF almost 150 years ago. We tromped through the flower festival in Chinatown (Chinese buy blooming plants to decorate their homes around the lunar new year) which was fun and crazy and crowded. We glimpsed the flashing lights of S.F. strip of adult entertainment strip (it was right where Chinatown ends- give us a break y'all). We ate greasy Thai food. We went to a house party full of unicorns and wizards (nobody told us it was a costume party dammit).
Jonathan's house, shared by three other late-twenties working professionals, is a beautiful house built in Victorian times or maybe a minute later. It's really quite beautiful and absolutely humongous. The ceilings are 13 ft tall to accomodate all of the smoke from the oil heat used in the house when it was built. Apparently that extra 6 ft of air above your head was supposed to enable the San Franciscan of average height to walk about with their heads just below the clouds (of black oil smoke). But today the soaring heights just make the heating the house a waste of money. But on the bright side, the kitchen's got about 2 miles of counter space! And a gentle spiral in the staircase, so that's somethiing to be happy about, eh? Especially if you own a few sweaters.
The part of this trip that some of you have already heard about- that Rob and I have just now recovered from emotionally speaking- is the fact that our dear Lil' Blue got broken into that night on Jonathan's street. The rear window got smashed and a long list of prized possessions were extracted from our little car. Including, but not limited to, the car stereo, Rob's iPod, GPS system, our freakin' library books (!!!), Rob's journal, and the little Acer laptop (bout the size of a calculator- hidden under the seat with the books). In our NC naivety we thought that you would not break into a car to steal what can't been seen through the window. But apparently, S.F. drug addicts are wise to the 'in the glove box' and 'under the seat' lines of defense. The cop we spoke to afterwards said that sometimes when he parks the car he leaves his glove box open... just so nobody breaks in on the off chance that there's anything besides his proof of insurance in there.
But don't be shocked our worried cuz at least Rob and I are fine... And having your car broken into sucks but it is slightly better than being mugged or something. And don't feel angry cuz our lives are DEFINITELY, beyond the shadow of a doubt, better than the desperate existence of the jerk who decided to rob us. Maybe this will be the iPod that changes his life... Ok, we both know that that was weak but we're trying to think positive here.
On a humorous note... bastard dropped, missed, misjudged, or forgot to take my glamorous, movie star sun glasses. HA! Just one of life's mysteries . . .
Is our neighborhood tweaker just bereft of style? behind the times? how could he neglect to steal my spectacular specs? I mean, one could almost guess that the reason he chose to break that glass in the first place was to nick my sultry shades.
So maybe my sunglasses love me as much as I love them and leapt from the grasping, desperate clutches of the thief in question. I mean he stole Rob's sunglasses which were maybe $5 from some gas station in TX or somewhere.
Rob says mine were just to ugly to steal.
Pfft. What does that guy know?
Rob has to understand that just because your shades are not his style doesn't make the unworthy of worship. He either hasn't been married long enough--or you still have same training to do.
ReplyDeleteGlad only stuff suffered.
i am sending the thief mind bullets now. really annoying mind bullets; all he will hear is grandma chewing and talking about uncle bill for the next 48 hours because of my intense mind power. its like a laser beam.
ReplyDeletelasers....
okay i'm done.
Ha! He'll be enlightened because of your music. That is if he doesn't pawn it before he listens to it. I sympathize. But from the look of Califroggy, I really thought that nobody would want to steal it or vandalize it. Really.
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