Thursday, September 1, 2011

Skidmarks, Bros and Corporate Sponsored Holidays


So this is my week...

On Monday I went ape shit in my apartment cleaning because my dear gal pal Estrella actually followed through with her plan and was due to arrive in SF late afternoon. My version of cleaning is pretty much picking up the many pounds of clothing throughout my little shit shack and shoving them in to less noticeable places, cleaning up surfaces (legitimate housework), throwing soap on dishes and shifting them around under the water and lighting incense. 

Just a personal theory.


On this particular day I did laundry so my house guest would have clean sheets to slumber on. I thought I had planned things out and timed it to have all 4 of the washers to myself but alas no, some other jerk had to come down and wash at the same time. I was willing to share but one of the washers was sitting open with a dry blanket inside of it, not being claimed by any other tenant. I was annoyed so I went to take it out and use the washer for myself but as soon as I grabbed an edge of the blanket a pair of SHIT STAINED briefs fell out, I mean the most extreme skid mark you've ever seen. I almost fucking puked. Instead I kept my gag reflexes in check and enlisted the help of the poor building manager (he had rubber gloves...). His solution to the problem was to remove it from the washer and set it on a nearby table where people put things they want to donate on. God bless the poor people who thought they might get a nice new throw blanket.

Eventually Estrella showed up with her cute little red suitcases in tow at my lovely Tenderloin abode. We spent the afternoon doing super San Francisco things that you can't do anywhere else in the U.S. aka went to H&M and Chipotle. We went buck wild buying cheaply made trend items and topped off our joyful gallivanting with burrito bowls. We were having a lovely time catching up, giggling like school girls until we were rudely interrupted by the angriest woman Chipotle had ever seen...this old white bitch got extremely frustrated with the poor dear putting together her burrito and pounded on the glass in fury because she didn't listen to what kind of salsa she wanted!!! Yes I said pounded on the glass and then stormed out burritoless. Now I can get serious about my Chipotle being prepared but you will never find me pounding on the partition because they didn't give me enough corn salsa. It was truly an outrageous moment. That bitch either needs to take Spanish classes or anger management or a combination of both so she can learn to order fast food in a more rational way.

The evening was topped off at home with Estrella working her magic on my dull strands, turning them into a blonde bombshell, vixen do. I really wish I could get her to wash and style my hair every day. It would definitely increase my attraciveness by at least 5% (and I'll take any increase I can get).

On Wednesday I attended a final Spanish class and with much scholarly shame decided to throw in the towel. There was no fucking way I was going to pass that crazy old coot's class....simply nada (a word I know from being a white person who picks up simple Spanish words and throws them randomly into English conversations for kicks). It really didn't feel worth my time or money for that matter to sit in a classroom for 4 hours a week and attempt to translate complex sentences written in cursive, in a foreign language off a middle school classroom board. So I said fuck it and went home to ease my troubles with two good friends: Estrella and Carlo Rossi.


On Friday Estrella's boyfriend had made it into town and it was my first time inspecting her new love interest. I have a lesbian warrior like loyalty and love of my gal pals and expect their mates to be top notch. He's a bro without knowing what a bro is...although I'm not sure how he's unfamiliar with this terminology because he lives in Denver.



 But he's the kind of bro you can laugh at for not knowing what it means and laugh with because he just has a childlike enthusiasm for life, brew, true religion jeans, kickin back and having fun. He's not a douche, he's actually a sweetheart. He ended up getting the stamp of approval. Especially because he didn't reveal any Ed Hardy or Affliction. The BFs and us gals headed up to Polk St for the night and got a little wonky at Vertigo. The after party was back at home where the BF's engaged in a spontaneous flow sesh which caused Estrella such embarrassment she took it upon herself to finish off the jug of Rossi. My boyfriend is black so I didn't have anything to blush about. I think that qualified him to win by default (and probably some skill).

Saturday: I spent the evening at work where my department's floor had been rented out to corporate sponsors of the Chinese New Year parade. The sponsors basically get to get trashed off an open bar, have asian delicacies catered to their tables and watch some little Chinese children light off fire crackers around giant McDonalds, Wells Fargo and Verizon floats that have some vague cultural decor on them. It was our job to stand around patiently and wait for the women to get trashed and want to shop. I'd say about 60% + got trashed and about 10% shopped. Of course my micro-manager had to be there, trotting around the floor making sure we weren't eating anything off the cater waiter's trays (and god forbid we drink anything), BUT they offered it and we obliged (when she wasn't hovering). We couldn't be rude! Nor could we resist steak skewers and goat cheese filled won tons.
Some of the floats are truly magical.
Happy New Year to all the rabbits!
(If you don't know where you are
go check out a Chinese restaurant
menu)

I'm a dragon FYI. Fierce.

After a ridiculously long day it was girls and gays play time in the Castro! Estrella had to see the joys of dancing your ass off amongst sweaty men who have real moves and getting drinks paid for without someone expecting you to suck their dick in gratitude. Gay bars are fantasy play lands for straight girls. We tossed back the Vodka tonics and gave it our best Lady Gaga, Beyonce moves. I am friends with some very expressive, dramatic dancers. It was a fabulous night that came to a close with me taking a pee out on the street, balancing against someones Hummer in my stripper heels. 




And so my week of re-emerging into the world with a healthy, rejuvenated spirit like Gaga from her egg has come to a close. 

No comments:

Post a Comment