It's Been Fun Interwebbers

As of this past Thursday morning,, I have no internet connection at home. AT&T thinks it is sending someone out to fix the problem on September 6th between (wait for it) 8am and 8pm. Silly company. They don't realize they'll be here much sooner than that.

Meanwhile, I can only access the internets during the 9-5 shift. Thank goodness I'm temping next week. This will be a long weekend. A long weekend where all magazine-reading will get caught up on, NetFlix movies will be watched, and lots of phone calls will be made.

An apology in advance to my friends, who I will be calling to say, "Hey, can you look up ________" for me?" Apologies to a certain LA couple who I will not be "seeing" this Saturday.

If you need to reach me this weekend, cell phone is the way to go. Granted, only two of you nine readers have the number, but ...

Even Worse Than the Holiday Season

Tourist season. I wish it were hunting season, so I could shoot tourists. I can overlook your bright white sneakers that you clearly bought special for this exciting trip to San Francisco. I can keep my snickers to a minimum at your fag bag. That overpriced sweatshirt that says San Francisco? The one I *know* you bought at Fisherman's Wharf that you're proudly prancing around wearing? That can also be overlooked.

Some things, however, can not be overlooked. Arriving at the top of the escalator and abruptly stopping? Not okay. Yes, I understand that you are disoriented and are not sure where you are and need to look around and figure that out. However, there are people (like me) who've gotten stuck behind you, and need to get somewhere. Step to the side.

When you need to whip out your handy dandy free map of the city you took from the overpriced hotel and turn in a slow circle? That's okay. Just step over to the side, so you're not blocking the entire sidewalk.

The buses? There are signs on the sides of them as well as on the front. So please stop stepping into the street in front of oncoming traffic to see what bus is approaching. While we're on the topic of public transportation, they don't give change. Let me say that again. HEY TOURISTS! THE PUBLIC BUSES, TROLLEYS and TRAINS DO NOT GIVE CHANGE!

Moving on. Of all people, I understand about being lost. I get lost all the time. Hell, I got on the wrong train just last week going to Golden Boy's house. Asking for directions is a smart thing to do sometimes. It'd be a shame to wind up far from where you meant to be and in a bad neighborhood. I ask for directions when I go to new places too.

However. When I ask someone for directions, it strikes me the same as asking for a favor. And when one wants someone to do them a favor, what is the proper protocol? That's right! Manners! I'm polite. Excuse me, please, and thank you. I use all three when asking for directions.

Do you? No. No you do not. And this is a problem. For you. Know why? Because I am a bitch. Can you guess why these two things are your problem? Because when you ask me for directions and do not say "Excuse me" or "please" I am not inclined to help you. In fact, quite the opposite. I am tempted to do to you what the seniors at my high school did to the freshman when they needed directions, and direct you to the wrong place.

The City of San Francisco would not come to a grinding halt without your little visits. You are not so special and precious that I am inspired by your mere presence to bend over backwards to help you get to your special tourist-trap destination. You can get your damn See's Candies at the freaking airport.

It's not any one specific group of people that lack manners. It's everyone. Everyone seems to have forgotten please and thank you. I'm not a particularly nice person (you may have noticed) but even I have manners and use them. You should too.

I can't remember which book it was, but as a child I read a book where a dad was talking to a child about going to a new place. He explained that the child represented the place they came from, so they should be on their best behavior. Tourists of San Francisco, you are NOT making your hometowns look good. Tourists of San Francisco, you are on thin ice with me.

If You Were Heading to Los Angeles

What would you do there? If you had three free days. And a rental car. If you were me. Who burns easily. And does not drink. And probably can't get into any club where you have to look cool. And has a tendency to do inappropriate things like laugh at people who say, "Don't you know who I am?!" Yet digs people watching. And irony.

It's not definite. But it almost is. Really almost positive. I'll know for sure this week.

And, if anyone knew anyone whose uncle's friend's coworker's gay roommate's cousin worked at a television studio and wanted to give me an unofficial tour to show me the stuff regular tourists don't get to see, I'd LOVE to be hooked up. I'll even bring you some ummm.... unique-to-SF-stuff, once I figure out what that is.

In My Perfect World

I need a vacation. Not a long weekend in LA, or flying across the country to spend time with the 'rental unit and whatever grandparents aren't dead or lost. A real vacation.

In my perfect world, I lay outside on a hammock that faces the Atlantic Ocean, a bottle of Poland Spring by my side, a magazine on my stomach, book in my hands, a soft, thin blanket thrown over me. It doesn't need to be green.

It's one of those books that's the tiniest bit beyond me. Not completely out of my mental reach, but one that pushes me to stretch my brain. All the people I admire are behind me somewhere, in a house, drinking or listening to obscure music I've never heard of before that I will come to love. When I don't understand something in my book I call one of them out to my hammock.

"Do you think I'm like Ann in my friendships?"
"What's your stance on mandatory counseling before being given a marriage licence?"

And my friends will tell me their thoughts, and explain them. They will explain all the big words I don't know. We will argue and disagree and eventually agree to disagree. I will have them write down their deep thoughts in a notebook for me to look at later. They will never get frustrated with me for not knowing so much, and I will not be too ashamed to ask all my many questions, even when I have to ask four times what the same word means.

When I'm tired of all the reading, I will oh-so-gracefully slide off the hammock and walk along the water. When I'm just plain tired I will sit in the sand and watch the ocean, thinking more deep thoughts, and letting all the negative float away into the waves.

And when I'm tired of drinking only Poland Spring .... just kidding, we all know that's not even possible!

At night I will fall asleep to the sound of people telling me stories from their life. How they met their spouses, when they called the operator as a toddler to see what would happen, how they broke their arm, anything. I hate hearing people read out loud - it makes me want to punch someone in the face. But true stories told by real people? I love falling asleep to someone telling me their real stories.

This is what I need. When I go home, and return to reality, I will be a calmer person due to all my new insights, and secure in my knowledge. I will know that this day-to-day crap is all bullshit.

The real reality though, is that all this bullshit is my life. And right now life is kicking my ass.