Saturday, December 22, 2012


Here it is, Saturday night, and you are alone in the house. Your snooty roommates have decided to go to a show, followed by dinner, and dancing at two different clubs south of Market Street. You, on the other hand, have just finished laundry, and are wondering what to do next. It seems such a pity to waste a perfectly good evening when you don't have to be at work tomorrow.....

A good book? Sonnets, by Jean-Pierre Rawie?
The collected letters of Vladimir Vladimirovich?

Oh the hell with it. Go wild.
You always wanted to rub yourself all over with warm apple pie and pretend that you were the quintessential American mom.
Bitch gone bad, at long last.
Done snapped.
Do it.

Don't forget to thoroughly rinse the bath tub afterwards. Buttery crumbs.
Then go down to the shopping district and spring for some thoroughly naughty stuff, a new bra and panty set from Victoria's Secret in Union Square.
Even if you're a man.

ESPECIALLY if you're a man.

Really, you need a new set. Those undies you stole from your older sister do not suit you. And, given that that was back during the sixties, they're quite out of style now.
You should never have repaired them with duct tape.
Honestly, what were you thinking?!?

I'm sure there's some hip gay boutique that caters to elderly cross-dressers on Polk Street. And it's bound to be open late during the Christmas season.
They've probably got a Mansiere with your name on it.
Perfect gift for a pudgy sixty-year old.
Demi-cup or full plunge.

At this point I'm rather wondering what kind of roommates you have.
If they're not like you, you may be living with the wrong crowd.

If, on the other hand, you are a young lady, you already know that brassieres should NEVER be repaired with duct tape. It's a style statement that just doesn't work. Even at Halloween parties. The skin in that area is soft and rather sensitive, and ripping slipped tape loose there hurts like holy hell.

I hope that your aren't rooming with that pudgy sixty-year old.....
He's bad news, sweetheart.

Whatever you end up doing tonight, be yourself. Ditch the outmoded attitudes, and explore a bit. You can also simply go to the top of Russian Hill and admire the lights of the waterfront down below. A thick warm coat, a thermos of hot coffee, and that pack of cigarettes you've been hoarding. It's a little brisk outside, so the trails of smoke will look and smell pleasantly autumnal. And there will be no earthmoms lurking around at this hour, not outside. No one will object if you sit there with your coffee and Camel Filter Kings.
Afterwards, go down Vallejo Street toward North Beach for some people watching. It's Saturday night, so the Eurotrash will be out in force, as well as the morons from the East Bay. With a bit of luck, some of them will brawl.

Even in this weather, the Oakland bootie is showing an awful lot of leg.
Several bootie, and several leg.

Really, if they're going to dress like that, they need to buy some better underwear. No wonder the trash and the morons are in fighting mode.

*      *      *      *      *      *

In case you're wondering, I myself am not in North Beach at this hour.
Instead, there's a comfortable place where pipe-smokers are welcomed, and where the badly behaved young men who are out on Broadway tonight will probably not be seen. A safe haven, as it were. An environment of calmness and good cheer, inhabited by individuals who act more mature than that. 

No trash, no morons. Nor objectionable earth-moms.
Feel free to bring a book, it's not unusual.
Sonnets, by Jean-Pierre Rawie.
Perhaps Nabokov.


PS.Seeing as the Mayan Zombie Apocalypse did NOT happen, many weak-minded individuals will presently be exerting themselves in paroxysms of savage post-non-end-of-the-world disappointment and drunkenness. What went wrong? Why are all those evil rationalists and sceptics still around? Earthmother-Jesus was supposed to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah (again), and take the anti-pope into the pit of fiery nuclear wastes out in Nevada, where the n.w.o. United Nations Police (or the Masons) are perfecting a death-ray device that will kill all the Hobbits and usher in the New Age!
Ajaw Janaab Pacal (no. 2) will return to Palenque! Woe!

Given that San Francisco is ground-zero for weakminded individuals, it seems odd that they would predict the re-destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.
Maybe they meant New York?

Oh well. Better luck next time, dudes.

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