After much dickiní around with an old donated-from-my-sister but new-to-me hard drive, a sketchy renegade internal modem, downloading drivers even though I had no idea what that really meant and a few beers to wash it all down, Iíve ditched my former computer Old Bessie and now bide my time cruising along the internet at 56k!
Letís say it all together, people: welcome to 1998, ann-frank!
Yes, I know. I would probably die of whiplash or some sort of warp-speed disease if I ever got DSL at my house.
Also, I am back from San Francisco. Could you tell?
Probably not because I have not been a good friend to diaryland lately. And I think I have pinpointed the cause.
The Fireman Has Left the Building.
Ever since my landlord not so secretly replaced the rowdy and controversial Fireman across the hall with the docile and and teeth-achingly complacent Coupling, there hasnít been much to write about. I have lost a valuable source of Good Fodder, people!
Gone are the days where I could come here to diaryland.com to mock the fake orgasmic screams coming from the Girl In Titty Tee of the week. Gone are the days where Wu Tang revenge is best served up at 6am.
Yeah, so I bitched about it Ė but at least there was something to bitch about. So far, the only thing controversial coming from that place now is the fact they leave their freaking shoes in the hallway right outside their door on the mat and oooh boy oh boy look out, someone could trip over that!
Whooah - scandal!
So, yes, San Francisco was absolutely beautiful and I had a wonderful time despite the fact I was actually there for work purposes and only for a grand total of only 48 hours Ė thirteen of which were spent running around after our camera guy with a 20 pound back pack filled with lumpy video camera batteries and extra beta tapes.
But yeah, that San Francisco is great stuff.
∑ Anchor Steam beer
∑ crashing at my friend Bertís downtown and getting to hang with him and his incredibly cool girlfriend Jo instead of having to go back to the icky hotel out in the boonie industrial park area the company sprang for
∑ throwing my hands up in the air screaming like I was on a 6 Flags Great America roller coaster every time my friend Mel & I drove down one of those steep-ass hills. A real treat for the midwestern flatlanders!
∑ Also, apartment and car windows open in January!
∑ Severe quarter sized blisters on the ball of each foot from chasing around aforementioned camera guys in improper footwear for thirteen hours.
∑ Intestinal sickness from being dragged to kitschy restaurant in tourist ghetto on the wharf even though I knew damn better
∑ 6am flight from warm and breezy SFO to cold and blistery OíHare Sunday morning
∑ company sent the stretch limo * to pick me & Mel up, which, I swear to god, is the epitome of over the top cheesiness - having to jump into one of those things makes me feel like a Nouveau Beverly Hill Billy. That or a 1991 Beverly Hills 9-0-2-1-0 Prom Date.
Still On The Fence-lights:
∑ Alcatraz. Címon - the swim didnít look that bad! Those prisoners just lacked initiative!
∑ Trolleys Ė on a daily basis, it would be way too tempting to leap into the mess of wires that hover above the streets and go out in an electrical blaze of glory. I do not know how you people do it.
∑ Golden Gate/Bay Bridge Ė I know itís necessary, but I canít believe you people drive on those things. My blood pressure rose just looking at them.
∑ The Wharf Ė yíall have the wharf, weíve got Navy Pier. Same pig, different shade of lipstick. Only, I have never run into a Very Public Park Bench Blow Job moment between a man and a woman out on Navy Pier. I cannot say the same about the wharf.
Now if you will excuse me, I will have to leave you to your own devices regarding a witty and snappy conclusion to this mess I call an entry, because quite frankly, Iíve got cramps the size of Texas and Iíve gotta go see if I can score an Advil somewhere around these parts.
Arenít you glad you stuck around to the very end to read this?
Have a good weekend, starshine.
* I mean, as opposed to a regular Lincoln town car they usually send for two people, which is still kinda conspicuous and makes me feel like enough of a tool, but at least then I can just pretend Grandpa swung by to pick me up, because those cars are a Grandpa-mobile and stuff.