San Francisco, Part I

I spent last weekend in San Francisco.  Friday started with a presentation for work where I learned that a combination of 5mgs of Valium, 15 drops of Rescue Remedy, and a handful of potassium pills make it seem like I invented the Power Point method.  All you haters online that commented that the need to take Valium to get through a public speaking engagement was indicative of a serious problem, can suck it.  Granted, I couldn’t feel my feet throughout the entire presentation, but who cares when you’re sitting down. If someone had whispered in my ear that the world was going to end, I would have very calmly asked, “Do you think I could get an ice-cream cone beforehand?”  In short: Go Valium!

The rest of the weekend was spent celebrating my work success with a few good friends while we listened to music and ate our way through the city.

Friday night we saw a great live performance by a band called Diego’s Umbrella.  I also tried a pale ale that I actually like, and it comes in a can: 21 Amendment.

Saturday I double-orgasmed after seeing Charlotte Gainsborg and taking her picture, and getting to attend a free concert performed by Jonsi, the lead singer of Sigur Ros.  These last two events occurred at Amoeba Record store in the Haight district. We had gone there specifically for Jonsi, and Charlotte was a bonus.

On our way to the record store we stopped in at La Parada 22, a Latin restaurant, and learned that they had only opened one hour before. For only being open an hour the food was tasty and the service (all of the guys behind the counter look like hot Jesus’- long flowy hair and blue eyes) was stellar.

Saturday dinner took place at Gracias Madre.  I had mixed feelings about the food here, mainly because it is organic and vegan and goes against everything I believe Mexican food should be.  When was the last time you met a Mexican vegan?  NEVER.  (Ok. I kid. But, veganism hasn’t exactly spread like wildfire in Hispanic countries).   However, I’m certainly not one to knock trying new things with food even when the original way is clearly superior :).    That said, the food was actually quite good and I liked the communal dining style.  In particular, their oven roasted potatoes with a sauce that was neither cream nor cheese, but looked and tasted like both, were phenomenal.

The other standout of the evening was dessert.  We ordered flan and chocolate cake.  How the chefs at Gracias Madre have managed to make a flan without eggs or milk is nothing short of a miracle.  Healthy desserts that don’t leave you feeling bloated are fine by me. 

They also have a kickass guitar player that goes around the tables who made me want to drown in a bottle of tequila while smoking three packs of cigarettes and crying my eyes out.

Due to the time change, I was up at 6:30 a.m. every morning waiting ever so patiently for D, who was sharing a bed with me, to wake the fuck up so I could start asking her all of the questions I might normally ask the Southerner in the morning:

What do you think it feels like to die?

How come small dogs like to hump arms instead of legs?

Doesn’t a toasted bagel with cream cheese and tomatoes make you want to jump out of bed this instant?

Aren’t you happy your unborn child doesn’t have ears yet?

Sunday morning the supremely talented Cracker-Jack and her wonderful boyfriend led us on a nature walk through Golden Gate Park that consisted of climbing through holes in fences, following a pregnant Alice in Wonderland through a field of poppies, watching people take swing dance lessons and others disco skate, and seeing the Japanese tea gardens.

More to follow.

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