Part of The Weekend Never Dies


It already feels like party town out there.

Things are going to be blowing up this weekend.  I have no idea why.  But it feels like the entire city is on the precipice of crazy pants town.

I actually am rather grooving on the vibe.

It’s not me, it’s the E talking.

I have Soul Wax Nite Version playing on the stereo.  I have my name on the guest list for the Dubtribe show tomorrow night at Public Works.

I am going to go dancing on a school night.

I might be a little cranky on Saturday at work, but fuck it.  I need to get the dance on.

Fingers crossed I will feel this jazzed up tomorrow night.  I find that this is actually the problem most times, I get excited the morning of the show.  I am all energetic, it’s ten a.m. and I’m sliding into my party pants.

Which, are underpants.

My regular pants are always the same pair of jeans.  You can’t have party pants if they are always the same.

But a girl can have party panties.

Oh yeah.

My party panties, yes, fuck you, I am writing about my underwear, get over it and watch So You Think You Can Dance, and we’ll hash out something real serious like later.


As I was saying, my party panties used to be full on briefs in black. Black catches the cocaine the best when you’re doing a bump off a key in the bathroom at the W Hotel.

Fuck my mother, there is nothing worse than doing a bump and spilling that shit into your underwear.  White thong underwear.

Where did it go?

I learned my lesson as I stood up and pulled them up and a little flurry of blow ballooned out the bottom of my underwear and into my jeans.

I don’t even want to let you in on that pair of panties eventual demise.


No, my party pants now a days exist of what can I shake my ass in the hardest and the most comfortable of ways.  I don’t want to be tugging on it, adjusting it, or thinking about it.  I want to get down dirty, sweaty off the hook and drop it down.

I plan on wearing the granny panties tomorrow.

No sexy sexy for me.

Not that I really care.  I have another date with the Mister happening in a few weeks.  The so nice thing about hooking up with some one who is on the same busy ass schedule as myself, I feel absolutely nothing is weird about scheduling out a tryst two weeks out.  We sort of have to.


Busy as fuck.

It was slammed today.

I was slammed today.  The day certainly went fast.  I left the house to head up to Noe Valley for my Thursday pre-work meet up with Carolyn.  I got through some more inventory.  One more session and this bad boy is going to be done.


Thank you Jeebus.

Out the door at 9:15 a.m. back home at 10:15 p.m.


The day is right gone.

No wonder I feel like dancing, I need to blow off some steam.  I got a text inviting me to the show earlier and I did not reply right off the bat.  My first thought was, no, I’m going to be busy at work, I will want my rest, I will want to be fresh.

Then the day unfolded.  And unfolded and unfolded.  There were so many e-mails to be answered.  There were so many packages to open, sort through, set out, re-stock, there were so many bicycles to be boxed, photographed, displayed, ridden, talked about.

The shop was closed for two days and we were not really supposed to be working at the retreat–it was a training retreat.  I had to make a few calls out of the “off the grid” in the Mission staff training, to what, work.

People called my cell phone number when they couldn’t get through to the shop because we were closed.


Please don’t call my cell phone number.

Well, unless you’re cute.

I snuck in a few work e-mails and I balanced the books yesterday while we finished up the training and re-organized the store and put it all back and away.  I tried to get my brain organized, but it was a never-ending onslaught.

Both Kai and I were there after close doing bike designs.  Both of us had been on a dead run the entire day.  I ate my dinner upstairs in the Paxton Gate conference room, after work.

I never wait that long to eat, I have places to go and people to see and recovery to get.  But I had not had a dinner break and I knew I would not get home till ten p.m. and I could certainly not do that.  No way Jose.

I could have stayed.  I debated it for a moment.  Then I thought, no.  Have a sit down dinner, drink a glass of water, enjoying the pretty sky as the sun sets over the Mission and then ride leisurely to Rainbow Grocery before heading up the big hill in Potrero to kick it with my fellows.

So glad I did that instead of letting myself get sucked back into the job.

I try to treat my job like it is just that–a job.  It is not my life.  It is not my career.  It is a means to an ends.

Although, I will admit, over the course of the two-day training there were moments of getting swept up into the company’s vision and I did find myself being retardedly nice to people and really helping out.

Had you come in today you probably would have gotten the best customer service of your entire life.  I was on fire.

I would like to continue burning that brightly as the last two days of my work week approach.  It’s been a long haul week.  Video taping for the St. Regis on Monday, meaning I was in the shop at 8 a.m. instead of 11 a.m.  Two days of training at an off site loft in the Mission.  Putting the shop back together after being renovated.

And heaps of so much else, it’s really not even worth writing about.

I would rather think about what pair of panties are going to take me out dancing tomorrow night.

Probably the black silk ones with lace panels.


Dark purple boy shorts with violet lace.




Let’s get this weekend started.


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