So, I Pussied Out

by

Sometimes its going to happen.

Ack.

I saw the guy, the guy who I said, hey, let’s hang out, when you get back from being in Europe, tonight, and nope, didn’t pull the trigger.

Then again.

Neither did he.

So, maybe I don’t have to beat myself up.

Besides, there’s always tomorrow.

Not that I plan on doing it tomorrow either.

I don’t believe I will see him.

I suppose I could call.

I suppose I could.

Don’t want to, but I hear those things that we don’t want to do are good for us.

Like eating kale and running and stuff.

Speaking of running.

Bay to Breakers is tomorrow.

I sort of knew this and sort of was not paying it any attention.  I have seen the aftermath of a lot of Bay to Breakers and it’s generally a lot of wasted people wandering around the city after having run a race from the Embarcadero, in costume, to Ocean Beach.

What I wasn’t realizing was the Ocean Beach part.

Uh.

Hello.

I live out by Ocean Beach.

And worse yet, probably the only time I would not care to be this close to public transportation, I live a block from the N-Judah stop at 46th Avenue.

The mode of transportation that I am assuming the vast hordes will be riding home from the running.

I suppose I could get into it and sit out front of the house and watch the drunken revellers stumble past, but really, I have better things to do on a Sunday.

I mean I managed to survive the unexpected down time today quite well.

I slept in.

I showered.

I grocery shopped.

I made an awesome lunch–savory oatmeal with roasted white corn, sautéed chicken breast, onions, garlic, and kale–I got stuff to make home-made refried beans, and I made a big pot of brown rice.

I got a manicure and pedicure.

I had coffee with a dear heart.

I did my commitment in Noe Valley.

I also ordered a new phone.

Yes, I am getting a pink Iphone.

Fuck off.

I like pink.

I also am getting it really cheap, even upgraded to extra storage space.

I renewed my contract and in addition, I am selling back my current Iphone 4, and I got a huge discount.

HUGE.

I basically am paying $132 for a new Iphone 5.

Thank you and you and, yes, thank you.

I have been thinking about getting one since I had some problems with my Iphone after Burning Man last year.  But I got the charging system fixed at a Fix My Phone place in Cole Valley, and it’s gotten me through for another nine months.

Thing is, I dropped it last week and the back shattered.

My bad.

The case is keeping it all together and it still works, but it’s time, so I got online and did that.

Felt like a nice little accomplishment to have taken care of.

I caught up with my housemate, too, who I haven’t seen in some time, busy schedules, and we made a tentative coffee date to go to Trouble tomorrow and laugh at the Bay to Breakers.

I will probably have two cups of coffee at the house before venturing out, to yes, get another cup of coffee.

That way if the line at Trouble, which is typically out the door anyhow, is untenable, I will have already caffeinated.

I should bring my camera.

I bet there will be many hilarious folks to take photographs of.

That’s the thing too, if you are not from San Francisco and don’t know what this merry mayhem is that’s about to attack the city, the race is notorious, aside from drinking and getting high, for being run in costume.

It’s San Francisco.

It doesn’t matter what the event is.

It’s always better if done in costume.

Folsom Street Fair.

Leather.

Halloween.

Your sexy alter-ego witch/nurse/doctor/Fräulein/superhero.

The Too Weird Street Fair.

Your wackiest dayglo.

Decompression.

Your best Burning Man flair–Steampunk meets dance tights and glitter with a hula hoop.

Christmas.

Santa Con.

Easter.

Hunky Jesus in the park.

So, of course, a foot race through the city should be done in costume.

Or naked.

You know, whatever floats your boat.

From what I understand and have seen, but not witnessed, this is my first year being anywhere near as close to the event since I have lived in the city, it’s rather like a big drunken frat party.

I don’t get the impression, though, I could be wrong, that many native San Franciscans run the race.

They wait for the real deal and do the San Francisco Marathon in July.

Bay to Breakers is a Bridge and Tunnel crowd, and a new to San Francisco transplant from the Midwest, let’s go see what the city has to offer newly arrived college graduate who likes to party scene.

Again, in costume.

I like the costume bit.

But the party’ing at 7a.m or 8 a.m. or any a.m. is just not my thing anymore.

It never was.

Unless I was up from the night before and if I was, I wasn’t going to go out for a jog in the morning, I was going to go excuse myself to the bathroom for the nth time to privately do my own drugs so I wouldn’t have to share any with you.

The closest I have gotten to Bay to Breakers is being pissed off at the bartender at the fine dining restaurant I worked at when I first moved here, Hawthorne Lane, who went and was still so fucked up from the event at 5 in the evening that she couldn’t barely mix a drink for herself let alone for the bar orders the wait staff were putting through.

I guess I will get to see what the mayhem looks like from a new perspective tomorrow.

OR not.

I could just stay in the house and hang out in the back yard and read a book.

Or I could dress up like the woman who punked out on asking the guy on a date.

Oops.

Already dressed up like that tonight.

I will have to a costume change.

Guess I will be doing laundry tomorrow.

I need to wash my big girl pants.

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