I'm Gonna Do A Lot Of Drinking, Cause It Don't Hurt When I'm Drunk

Last nite, I came home drunk (is there any other way to come home? Oh, right, drunk and with a girl), and went to my computer after I stuffed my burrito in the microwave.

I go on the Facebook. I see an unfamiliar name in my feed: "Rachel Wilkinson." Who the fuck is Rachel Wilkinson? I don't remember meeting anyone recently named Rachel, and the only Rachel I know is... oh wait -- I know who that Rachel is. It's the (former) Rachel Mills, founder of the late, great Loin's Mouth, and my buddy, who I saw just last month at Zeitgeist.

She just married a guy who's nickname is "Pants."

I remember her complaining to me about how there were zero datable men for her in San Francisco, and she was actually thinking about moving away (to Portland) to find a man. And she used to hate on the Mission so badly.

Then she meets Pants, they move in together in the Mission, and now they're married. Life can be funny. Good job, Rachel (and Pants!).

Also: since Jessica and I broke up, I believe everyone* has either gotten engaged or gotten married.

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*"Everyone" does not include gay people in California.

Love Love Love Don't Live Here Anymore

Geary and Jones (I think).

It obviously ain't my corner.

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Ways Dave Is Trying To Conserve Money Number #1:

I'm checking out sites like Redtube and Xtube for free porn, rather than paying for video-on-demand.

I am such a hypocrite. Being poor robs you of your soul! It's like being a racist, but much less fun.

Also: Redtube and Xtube suck.

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You know, the question over whether the use of "nigga" by black folks is ever appropriate or not, whether in music or in person or wherever, is one thing that I think about when I smoke.

But the use of "faggot" is generally accepted to be wrong by most people (exception: gay humor?). Straight people shouldn't refer to anyone, really, as a "faggot," whether as either a homophobic or childishly emasculating putdown. Sure, there are bigots and hill people and some ghetto people and six year-olds out there, but for the rest of us, we kinda know it's bad. If you're local newscaster referred to your local mayor as a "faggot," that'd be a "What the fuck did he/she just say?" kinda moment, and then you'd immediately Twitter/Facebook/Blog/Text Message Your Friends about it, because you are an attention-seeking whore.

Where was I? Oh right, the other "f-word." So in my old age, I still get embarrassingly shocked whenever I hear Dire Straits' Money For Nothing and then this comes along:

See the little faggot with the earring and the makeup
Yeah buddy that's his own hair
That little faggot got his own jet airplane
That little faggot he's a millionaire

I know this song came out in 1984 or whatever, and times and attitudes were different. But still.

Liberal guilt. Harumph.

(Also: Blogger accepts the other "f-word" as a correctly spelled word in its spellcheck.)

Reminiscing, Got Me Feeling Kinda Low, I Broke Out The Everclear and Then I Drunk Some 'Mo

1:56 in the morning of July 4. This is the 4th time I've been drunk in the last 24 hours. There is some fool out on O'Farrell playing a recorder, which is the most incorrectly-named musical instrument of all time. It doesn't record fuckall, it just makes irritating noises that you want to get away from. If I was prone to beating up people on the street, that guy would be all hurty by now.

Last nite I was talking to some guy named "Dean," which I thought was amusing because I was drunk and when was the last time you talked to a guy named "Dean," especially when you're drunk? Anyhow, during our discussion about the neighborhood, I realized that the random street noise in the 'Loin really does aggravate me. It's not people coming home drunk from a bar at 1:00 in the morning that annoy me. It's the people who make loud, unnecessary noise at all hours of the day. Like some guy playing a recorder, f'r instance.

Goddamned depressed. July 3 of last year was my last day of work. July 4 was an awesome BBQ with a ton of friends, followed by karaoke at Encore. July 5, we were on the road to our new life in San Diego. I still miss her so much.

I've also never had a massage.



Also: last nite I suggested that a friend name her new kittehs Mr. and Mrs. Snugglepants.

I was laughed at. Just like Sarah Palin is laughed at every day, by everyone, because she is a clown. God, I always thought she was just a narcissistic egomaniacal weirdo, but her resignation speech is kind of a strange mess, n'est ce pas?

Anyway, Happy Birthday, America. Keep on dancing:

I'm Your Girl, I See The Light, I'm Gonna Walk You Through The Tenderloin Tonight

Oh, hello there, people who might read The Tenderblog who might have clicked on the link to my blog that Tenderblogette posted. Hello especially if I actually know you but you don't know about Squalor and Despair but you do read the Tenderblog and are only now discovering that I have a new journal. (Hi, Friend Don! I was trying to find a way to tell you and Friend Magi last nite in some way other than, "Hey, I have a shitty new blog," without sounding like I a lame-o. So I didn't say anything.)

Obvs, this blog is kind of a mess, as I've been making due with one of the bland templates that Blogger provides instead of making my own (where did my HTML skills go?) It's kinda frustrating to go back and look at some entries and realize that, "Ew, that just doesn't look the way it should." Of course, I say that about myself all the time, so I shrug and forget about it.

But I should do something about.

I really don't know why I started another new blog up. I guess I just miss writing about whatever shit I feel like writing about, putting up funny photos, uselessly promoting things that I like, and occasionally finding someone who reads it and likes it. It doesn't really have a point.

You know, I think I'll use the prior paragraph in Description field for this thing.

Oh, and Happy Belated Canada Day.

And Fuck Chris Daly.

Mental Wounds Not Healing, Who's To Blame?

I like it when people post stuff I send them on their blog or whatever. Orson Swindle did that over at Every Day Should Be Saturday with a picture I took of a ticket ad/personal hygiene PSA at Pac Bell for Stanford football. Come to think of it, Swindle also posted the bit I forwarded him a couple of years ago about a linebacker from Cal going apeshit outside the Lusty Lady.

There was also the photo I snapped of a warning of this city's impending doom, which forwarded to SFist, where Brock made it a Photo du Jour.

There may have been others, but those are the three I remember. Oh! I also came up with rules for the 3 Fast 3 Furious drinking game, which the girls then read on their podcast. (I was very flattered.)

The Tenderblog isn't quite at SFist/EDSBS level of popularity, but it's a handy, pretty portrain of my neighborhood. Anyhow, a while back the Tenderblogette posted a photo of Kahn and Keville's famous marquee sign, where the management or whoever will put up quotes or words of wisdom or something like that. She also asked for readers to send in other quotes they've seen on the sign in the past.

I remembered that there was an Ozzy Osbourne quote a on it a while back, but I couldn't think of either the quote, nor when I saw it. But on Sunday, while cleaning my apartment, I came across it on the back of The Loin's Mouth, issue #6. I scanned in the back and sent it off to The Tenderblog this morning. It was posted soon after. I forwarded the link over to my friend Rachel, who was the editor of the (now-defunct) Loin's Mouth.

I guess the point is that I crave approval, and sending shit into to other peoples' blogs or whatever is one way I can get it, while at work, and without leaving my desk.