OK, first, I've been alerted to some inaccuracies in my previous post:
1. The second party was Sylvester (New Years), and I wasn't able to bring the canned champagne (they'd stopped carrying it), so I brought these little chocolate mouse cups from TJs instead.
2. Dolly, the world's first cloned mammal, was not run over by a tractor, but died prematurely of natural causes.
3. I was an inch off on the height of Someone Else.
4. The organic Spinach had no E. Coli at all. It was persecution. By a bunch of Popeye haters and Anti-Spinites.
A question was raised as to whether anyone had actually died from the tainted inorganic spinach. The matter was researched, and it was concluded that the spinach had indeed killed at least one person. But a tractor idled suspiciously nearby.
Back to your regularly scheduled program.
Saturday's ride was breathtakingly beautiful. It was a brilliantly sunny early morning, after almost 24 hours of rain (the first rain of the season, and my first rain as a cyclist). Fog hovered in the valleys we passed, and everything was a lush green (after only one rain!), interspersed with a tiny bit of some east coast orange/yellow (Yay! Fall!). Wooded areas treated us to the fragrance of eucalyptus mixed with pine.
The ride went up Wildwood, across to Park Blvd. via St. James, to Joaquin Miller via the frontage road, up Butters to Skyline to Redwood, to South Pinehurst to Moraga, where some broke off to do Morgan Territory, one of my personal favorites, but that's 120 miles all told, and it caught me unprepared, so after a wistful moment I continued with Mel to Lafayette via St. Mary's (pit stop at Peet's), then half-Happy Valley to Orinda via Sunset Blvd, then up Wildcat Canyon, then down Euclid for some puttering at The Missing Link in north Berkeley (throw in some separation anxiety over my bike, which sat oh-so-vulnerably alone and untethered near the store's entrance), then back home to Lake Merritt in the flats.
Don't I sound so smart?!?! Well, the above was pretty much cut/pasted from the ride leader's emailed description of the planned route. Unfortunately, I'm way too preoccupied with things like not falling too far behind after catching a red light (or unexpected hill) (or both) in the highest possible gear (again) to pay enough attention to road signs. And on this particular day, there were really wet leaves on really wet roads, really unresponsive brakes, and really foggy sunglasses. It was a frightening Redwood Rd. descent. Yikes.
When I got home, I had a nice nap, and then went into San Francisco with my friend Nneka, who had a Samba performance at this Brazilian restaurant. She's really good, and the food was phenomenal.
Nneka likes to stay up all night. Her philosophy: "Sleep? You can sleep when you're dead." A bunch of us went to Puerta Vallarta for 4 days once, and we slept an average of 2 or 3 hours a night. I was hoping I'd die, so that I could get some sleep. But instead, we spent the wee hours clubbing and getting felt up by other women and whatnot (while being fed shots of tequila, I don't know, apparently it's customary). Oh, and I got pinched on the ass by a transvestite at a gay dance club (not my idea!) who was much prettier than I. He had just performed onstage as Madonna. I was too tired and confused to be offended.
On this comparatively mundane Saturday night, I couldn't stop yawning, even though I'd had a nap, so I got yelled at a few times. But in all fairness, I yawn a lot regardless as to whether I'm tired (I just feel like I need the oxygen). I've heard that Tiger Woods does the same.
After the restaurant, we ended up at Medjool, where it was "lame pick-up lines" night...
Random Guy (coming downstairs as we're heading upstairs to cool off on the rooftop deck, interrupting his cell phone conversation to block my path): "Hey, how's it looking downstairs? Is it hot?"
Me: "Yeah, it's pretty warm."
RG: "No, I mean are the women as hot as you? Because if not, I'm turning right around to follow you back up."
Random Guy #2, walking up to the heat lamp under which we were huddled on the roof (we'd cooled off pretty quickly) and saying to Nneka: "Hey, is it the lamp making this area so hot, or is it you?"
And then to me: "You've probably heard this before, but you remind me of Bette Midler."
Me: "Ugh! I have heard that before! And it's a very unflattering comparison!"
RG#2: "What! The Bette Midler of 20 years ago was quite an attractive woman!"
Me: "TWENTY years ago?!"
RG#2: "OK, OK! 30 years ago!"
Hmph.
I'd made plans with a friend for Sunday morning. We were going to call each other when we woke up. She called at 9. Normally, I'd be up, but this was right after a Nneka night. My head was smarting (I'd only had 2 drinks all night, so I realized it was from having cooked my brains under that heat lamp). I'd wanted to go to Bakesale Betty's but it turns out it's closed on Sunday. So we went to Fat Apples! I'd never been. It was yummy.
10 years ago
6 comments:
OMG, those lines are tres lame! But lame lines don't nesa make the guy who said it lame. At a place like "Med-drool," which is pick-up central for the Marina precinct of the Mission district, there are a lot of hotties who won't give the opposite sex the time of day (this goes both ways, not in a bisexual way, but in terms of male hotties snubbing flirting women, and vice versa), so when it comes to your average Joe, he figures he needs some kind of a hook to stand out and get a woman's attention..these lame lines are the result. They prolly are lame being at a place like that and using a line like that, but you could give them a chance, and see if they might be (a) up to the goofball challenge, because that's how you roll, or (b) see how they react when you tell them, "God was that a lame line. So besides your ___ (see if there's anything about the dude's appearance that you like), what do you have going for you?"
I do NOT believe you are my existential detectivette! Not even a tiny bit! You sound a lot like someone else (not Someone Else, though) that I know!
After the obligatory eye-rolling, we (mostly Nneka) ended up talking to RG#2 until last call, and gave him her digits. He actually WAS funny, and in a goofy way! Unfortunately, his friend, a deadly combination of boring and self-absorbed, was the one talking to ME. I almost threw myself off the roof. Oh and RG#1 did not meet minimum height requirements.
Oh: "Med-drool" and "Marina precinct of the Mission district"! HAHAHA!
I know how frustrating this is for you dealing with these lame lines from totally inappropriate suitors. I recommend to you the same thing I recommend to Someone Else, spend 5 minutes in nature, sitting, communing, and hitting yourself in the face with an inflatable soft rubber ball doing the "pure being" exercise I teach. Don't call it "the ball thing," as it IS pure being. Namaste.
"You sound a lot like someone else (not Someone Else, though) that I know!"
Who's someone else, and who's Someone Else?
Oh, FWIW, you look like what Bette Midler WISHED she looked like when she was 25. Although she might've worn a different lipstick shade. ;-)
Wouldn't you like to know!
Thanks for the compliment. That's very sweet. It almost made me choke on my Tofolly (imitation cloned sheep) sandwich!
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