Not my day

scrubs-tv.com

I think the universe is getting me back for my Pluto sympathy, so I'm just going to vent for a second.

For those of you who didn't read the header: I am, in fact, a doctor. Specifically, I am a hospitalist (internal medicine, in-patients only) for a liver transplant service. My service exploded over the weekend, so I have been busy as hell all week. But that's not enough to make me spend a blog venting.

By 1200, I had told 3 people they weren't getting liver transplants any time soon. By 1600 today, I was finishing rounds and was almost spent, with only 3 patients to go. At which point one of my patients decided to bitch me out for not seeing her earlier, and for not making a firm diagnosis faster. I took a deep breath, calmed her down, and saw my last 2 patients. Then her husband called to yell at me for half an hour. But that's not enough to make me spend a blog venting.

I finally made it home, had a glass of wine (ironic given my job, but I've gotten over it), and turned on the tube. Scrubs was on, and I hadn't watched it for a while. Scrubs is the only TV show about medicine that I enjoy -- it's funny, and it's the most reflective of real medicine, except that real residents don't get laid that often. As I settled in, the universe bitch-slapped me with an episode about transplant patients. Dying. It's a sad day when watching Scrubs isn't mindless fun. Thus the venting.

Thankfully, I have Friday off. If you're in SF, I'll probably be out with a vengeance tomorrow night. Kel, you better be ready.

Is Pluto Gay?

Have y'all been following this?

When I was in elementary school/high school/college physics, there were always nine planets. I had to memorize them in order from the Sun (Sol) out: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, (asteroid belt), Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto.

Suddenly, based on a a recent meeting, Pluto is no longer a planet. It's a "dwarf planet". Newsweek suggests, through his wife, that its discoverer, Clyde Tombaugh, would have agreed. Apparently it originally filled some mathematics that can be filled otherwise, and it shouldn't be a planet since it invades the orbit of Neptune (simplification).



I feel a certain kinship with Pluto. I thought I knew who I was for 26 years. Then, all of the sudden (or so it seemed), I realized (accepted) that I liked boys. Then all hell broke loose.

I hope Pluto enjoys its new identity as much as I've enjoyed indulging my fairly recent homosexuality. You go dwarf planet! Just because you're not what we thought you were doesn't mean you don't have gravity!

Where's Marin?

This is the view from my deck this evening. A cloud line is nothing new, but it's rare that it so sharply divides Alcatraz and Marin.

This is the zoom from my Sony Ericsson Camera Phone. When I got it, there were no better camera phones out there. Now, I want a new camera and that phone with the MP3 player.



Here are a couple of shots from my deck and my street, from days you can better see the hills of Marin.





Have a great Monday!

Fat --> Thin --> Gay

You will notice that pictures of me are rare on this blog. My profile picture is from the Gay.com bus-ride during Pride 2005 (none of my friends like it), and the more recent one Sue took because of the shirt.

Basically, I have rarely liked a picture of me. I think this is largely because I used to be quite fat -- I weighed about 250 through late high school until my third year of undergraduate. (If you think I don't like my pictures because I'm but-ugly, keep it to yourself). Then I found athletics, kung fu, and got depressed over a woman. Yes, I said woman. A hot red head who had taken ballet and modern dance. When she did a chair dance, you wanted to be the chair. If you didn't, you'd have to be a 12 on the Kinsey scale.



www.kinseyinstitute.com

Keep reading -- this is not a pity party for me. I'm going somewhere.

Background the first:
In my own discussions with the boyz, it seems this is not an uncommon theme. A surprising number of gay men I have met, and friends of friends whom I have not met, were large at some point in their lives. Or, as James Gumm would say, "a great big fat person". Or as my Mom and Sears would say, "Husky".

This is incredibly interesting to me from biological point of view and I'd love to study it. I can already imagine a myriad of reasons why being fat could be related to homosexuality: genetic, environmental, hormonal (fat cells definitely can change hormone levels).

Hold that thought.

Background the second:
There is an obesity epidemic in this country (which Jeff of Well This Is Just It claims to have joined on the affirmative side with this stock choices). It's bad enough that adults are overweight, but what kills me are the children.

I once took care of a 60 kg, 7 year old boy who was already suffering from sleep apnea and pulmonary hypertension. They're both life threatening conditions, but Gramma kept given him the candy. Sleep apnea can also affect the cognitive ability of children -- this has been known for so long we call these children "Pick-wickian" based on the Dickens character.


home.planet.nl

We've been on this since the Gubernator (Ah-Nold) was the head of the President's Council on Fitness, but were losing the battle. Threats of early diabetes, amputation, blindness, and arthritis haven't gotten rid of the twinkies.

A Modest Proposal

We need a new attack. Something parents would really fear...homosexuality. Check out the following map of the epidemic.


www.surgeongeneral.gov

You will note that obesity is centered in some of the traditionally less tolerant parts of the country. Which do you think would work better:

a) "Mr. Hutt, if your son is obese, he is more likely to be diabetic."; or

b) "Mr. Hutt, if your son is obese, he is more likely to be gay."

If you picked "a", you have an attractive optimism about people and I like you. I think "b" is more likely, which puts me in a gut twisting conundrum. Prove that child/teen obesity leads to homosexuality to decrease the incidence of obesity -- through homophobia. How Machiavellian!

Disclaimers (before you send hate mail):
1) Losing weight is difficult, and I still have a few pounds to go.
2) While this is all somewhat true, it is written in the spirit of the satirist below (except that he would have skipped the disclaimers). Read the original Modest Proposal if you haven't -- you'll probably lose your appetite.


www.amazon.com

Smell-o-vision

These arrived at my office yesterday, when I was off work. Since the internet still doesn't carry smells, you'll have to imagine the scent of orchids and roses.

They're from someone I got to know a little at the Gay Softball World Series in Ft. Lauderdale last week. More on that later. It is, of course, a little scary. It's too early in this to be sending flowers. It's WAY too early to be sending roses. And...

Screw it. It just feels good to get flowers from a guy who likes me. No one has ever done that before -- I actually started dropping things when the staff asked who sent them. It beats the hell out of this poster, also in my office, that my colleague thought I should have for some reason.

My admirer also threw my first real surprise birthday party while I was in Ft. Lauderdale. I think he deserves a date.

A Tale of Two Sittings

(www.charles-dickens.org)

This is my first blog on demand. After reading the Red Hot posting, my colleague and #1 fashion consultant begged me to write the foreshadowed post about the person who doesn’t do his research. The person in question is her BOYFRIEND (he is – deal with it, Hon). Since she takes pictures, tells me I’m cute, and plays a starring role, I thought I’d comply. I’m getting bored with calling her my colleague, but she’s not ready to be named directly on a blog. Let’s call her Sue because it’s quick to type.

It was the best of times…

Sue had recently started dating someone. After interrupting many a text conversation, I met him over cosmos at Sue’s place while we were playing hooky from a meeting on our day off. He’s a great guy, and we had a good time.


(www.itsfinished.com)

Sue had already told me that Bob had a gay friend. Since SHE had a gay friend, and HE had a gay friend, they naturally assumed that we would meet and hook up, since any two gay men within 10 feet of each other have to f---.

Actually, Sue and Bob weren’t that bad about it, but it amazes me how many people will set up any two gay people without discussing anything else they might have in common. Have you ever said, “I have a straight male friend you should meet”? OK, this is often said to women in San Francisco, but nowhere else.


As part of this, Sue and Bob wanted to have their first Castro outing. The plan was to meet for dinner at The Sausage Factory and then go out for drinks. The three of us arrived, got a table in the back, and had a drink. My blind date (we’ll call him Chris) showed up before our first drinks were gone, well within the fashionably late range.

He may not actually be the cutest guy in the world (WCB and Wentworth Miller are right there with him), but he was almost exactly my type. Gorgeous smile. At one point he said, “I have the best dentist.”

“Obviously”, I said.

He kept talking for a second, paused, and flashed the pearly whites. Then, with a hint of a blush and awww…shucks head tilt, he said “Thanks”. Joel, you sly devil.

I could have stared at that smile for hours, but then he couldn’t have talked much, and it turns out he’s a GREAT conversationalist. We quickly left the first date approved topics (e.g., weather, entertainment, work) and launched into politics, values, and religion. It turns out he’s also from western PA, so we matched up pretty well. We even shared some of our entrees.

After dinner, we headed out for drinks. We stopped in at the Mix to hang out on the patio (and show off the fact that I have friends). Bob wanted to take Sue dancing, so we got in line at The Café, thinking that Sue wouldn’t be the only woman there. Unfortunately for us, The Café is now Boy Bar on Fridays. We bailed and went for more drinks at Lime.


(www.lime-sf.com)

…It was the worst of times

The level of flirtation rose in proportion to our Blood Alcohol Levels. By drink two, I occasionally found it necessary to grab Chris’s leg at particularly stirring moments in the conversation. He didn’t seem to mind. By drink three we were pretty much in eye-lock -- partially out of interest, and partially to avoid intruding on our straight friends, who were necking. The breeders bought Chris and I one last round and left for home. By now we had joined the mutual admiration society and had the big shovels out:

“You look like you work out.”

“I do, but I’m still too fat.”

“No, you’re not. You’ll hate me, but I can’t ever seem to put on weight.”

“You don’t need to put on weight. You’re gorgeous now.”

Yada. Yada. Yada.

Then a speechless moment and a stare right out of Casablanca…and a brief, sweet kiss with lips barely brushing…and then...CUT!

Suddenly, Chris drew back, and gave me a strange look.

“Conflicted, you appear,” I assessed, doing my best Yoda imitation.

“That’s a good way to put it.”

“Why are you conflicted?” Y’all know what’s coming. I did.

“Ummm…I have a boyfriend.”


(www.tvsquad.com)

This led to a discussion about the man and the relationship that was probably far longer than necessary. Then, despite the above revelation, he took my phone number and gave me his, spying into my display to ensure I spelled his first AND last name right. Then he said he still wanted to get together to take Sue and Bob to El Rio Sunday.

We parted ways after 0200 outside of Lime. By 0202, Sue had a text with the relevant summary and I was on my way home in a cab.

EPILOGUE
Naturally, the events were discussed quite a bit at work the next week. Sue, now known as the Yenta From Hell, took it well. And she did a little digging. Turns out Bob did not know Chris had a boyfriend – he just assumed he didn’t because he hadn’t when they worked together and he hadn’t mentioned anything. Also, it turns out that Chris may not have know it was a set up – apparently Bob just said they would meet for drinks and Sue and I would be there. Then, later, he changed it to dinner. Bob also apparently met the BF, and thinks he a nice guy, and, not surprisingly, a big white guy.

Even I have trouble putting a positive spin on this. Most people say he’s not worth it, because he went on a set up when he had a BF. Even those willing to consider that he didn’t know it was a set up think he probably realized it at some point, should have mentioned the BF much earlier, and probably left with Bob.

Send along you opinion, especially if you can rationalize a way that I can date him should he become single. IOFD, For my part, I’ve chucked logic and texted him a couple of times. He returned the second one, but we haven’t spoken.

People say there’s someone out there for everyone. It’s supposed to be encouraging. No one thinks about how it sounds when you think you’ve met that person, but been a victim of timing. It sucks!

Red Hot

(Editor's Note: If the timing on this seems a little weird, it's because I started it Thursday, but got distracted by Kel and the meme. On with the show...)

One of my colleagues and I keep changing our schedules, so I had an unexpected day off. No reason not to spend some of it blogging. This theme came to mind for at least a triad of reasons, so I thought I’d roll with it.

Red Hot Terror Alert
Unless you were under something this week, you probably know that the terror alert was raised to Red for flights from Britain to the US, and Orange in general. (I’d like to thank my former governor, Tom Ridge, for this high tech nomenclature.) Great job to everyone involved in stopping this threat. It may or may not have had something to do with recent policies, but I’m not going to give President Bush all of the credit. It would be better if we were also working on policies that made people want to attack us less.

It frightens me, though, that the idea of liquids and gels being combined to make an explosive, detonated by wiring from a “personal electronic device”, is some kind of epiphany. Have you ever heard of plastic (plastique) explosive? I guess those little cloths rubbed on some of the carry-ons are supposed to pick it up, but I ain’t buyin’. Liquids are an even less shocking form of combustible given that we apparently busted someone planning to do something similar in 1993.

By the way, I don’t think keeping all liquids out of carry-on bags will end the threat. Planes harbor many items that are inherently combustible. One of my own scary thoughts – oxygen. I fly cheap, and happened to be in the back stowing my carry-on when I noticed a tank of what appeared to be compressed oxygen on the plane. Presumably the very one that supplies the oxygen for your mask “in case of a sudden drop in cabin pressure”. If you are near that with anything with which you can make a spark (say a flint neckless charm and your Fossil STEEL watch) you now have a bomb. I hope the airlines see this and hide/lock that thing before the FBI comes to my door for writing this. Unless, of course, they want me to think of strange dangers – I am a chemistry major with a warped mind. Don’t get me started on the possibilities of presricption nitroglycerine. They’ll serve you the water – someone would just have to get the sulfur/sulfuric acid on the plane.

I’m looking less forward to my flight to Ft. Lauderdale on Sunday, but I’m going. Early. And Delta better not price gouge me for beverages now that I can’t bring them with me (they’ll be in the doghouse with USscare).

For the record, I’d have the government eliminate carry-on baggage before I’d have them tap my phone. “Anyone who trades liberty for security deserves neither…” – Benjamin Franklin.

Red Hot Country
The heat wave continues in some parts of the country (www.accuweather.com). Given the discussion above, I want to point out something. I would bet that heat-related deaths in the past five years are on the same order of magnitude as deaths in the WTC attacks. Which makes global warming as big a threat as global terrorism. Unlike global terrorism, thought, it is a threat we can each do something about. To start, we can save some energy – walk more, turn off lights, and support renewable energy sources. In November, we can speak at the ballot box. I’ll stop here, since I can’t get holier than Thou until I chuck the Mustang for a Prius, which will not happen until the Prius gets a lot better looking.

Let’s take a moment here for those who could do something personal about terrorism and did. To the folks from United 93, the NYPD, and the FDNY, and their families – Thanks, and we forgot you too fast. Once upon a time, there was talk of making September 11 a holiday, possible called Patriot’s Day, to honor the men and women who aren’t in the military (Memorial Day and Veterans’ Day) but who risk their lives for this country. I’m all for it.

Red Hot – Me (and Him)
On a happier note, I went to my new Starbucks this morning to get some work done. I didn’t see WCB at first, but he was in the back room and came out later. He chatted with me for a while, and told me he was recently promoted. He then started introducing me to other staff members – apparently he had “told them about me”, and they kept him up to date when I had been there in his absence. We then tasted some coffee – apparently he has to become familiar with all of the coffees so he can help match customer palates.

When I had to go, I said “I’ll see you this weekend. I’ll come by on my way to work.”

Sadly, he replied, “I have this weekend off. Maybe next week.” At that point, I had to remind him that I would be gone a week for the World Series of Gay Softball. So he said, “Then when you get back. Maybe we could go somewhere.”

“I’d ask you to coffee, but that seems silly." Joel, you old smoothie.

“No, coffee’s a good place to start. I’ll still go for coffee, even on my days off.”

So, I think I have a date pending with the World’s Cutest Barista. By the way, I saw his last name today, and it’s less likely that he’s Brazilian. Besides, that information was only from one source, whose been known to do sketchy background research in the past (a future blog).

Other reasons I feel Red Hot:

I was the MVP of the Cardinal Sins softball team – thanks guys and gals!
My butt and legs were being complimented by a number of hot people Sunday (I am a sucker for compliments about anything involving my physique).
My colleague took this picture of me. I'm not so sure it's so great, but my colleague loved it, and she's my #1 fashion consultant. And yes, the shirt is cheesy, but I loves me some cheese.

From the ashes

After a random day, I just had the best evening,

I was supposed to work today, but because of some last minute schedule changes, I had the day off. Not the end of the world, but I will have to make up the day later (this happened yesterday, too). I had a nice morning, getting some occupational and social work done at Starbucks, and then hitting the gym.

The downer was that I actually made plans to go to wine country with someone, and basically got stood up. So I drank some wine and blogged this afternoon, the meme as well as another post that is almost ready. As part of answering the 50 questions, I talked to Kelly from Whothrewthatham, and we decided to grab dinner at the Sausage Factory.

castrosausagefactory.com

I don't see Kel enough, and I had a great time. I took Muni home, and while waiting in Castro Station, I met two Muni Cops. I asked if this was their normal shift, or if they were there because of the events of the day (the terror save). She said, "We've been on alert since Pakistan, so yes, and yes."

"We're not all heroes, but we keep checking for unattended packages."

Bullshit. I'm going to guess that her salary wouldn't buy a studio where I live, but she's risking her skin. "Heroism is about the right person at the necessary time", I told her. She agreed. Put her, and the MUNI cops, on my hero list -- unappreciated, but keeping us safe. Thanks.

Unfortunately, the MUNI train don't go to North Beach. While walking the rest of the way home, I had a GUY IN NORTH BEACH CHECK ME OUT (and smile). This does NOT happen. Either they're straight, or they are stifled by being in North Beach. So, feeling good, I gave him a wolf whistle. He actually turned, and smiled again. 30 feet later, I made eye contact with another guy, at which point I realized that the actors/singers/dancers from Beach Blanket Babylon had probably just finished. I'm going to have to figure out how to get in on that.


From www.mapwest.com

Good night y'all...I'm going to sleep well.

Tagged -- Sort Of

One of my friends posted this meme on his blog. It seemed fun, and I have never done one, so I thought I'd give it a go.

1. How tall are you barefoot? Five foot eleven AND a 1/2, bitches!

2. Have you ever been cheated on? No to my knowledge, mostly because I haven't had the pleasure of dating anyone that long. My problems usually revolve around (1) telling a friend I like some one and having them later date the person [college/med school] or (2) being the person with whom someone else wants to cheat [lately]. BTW, I remain pure (in actions if not heart) of the latter vice (they'll be a post about this incident soon).

2. Do you own a gun? No. BTW, before the Texas Oil administration came in, the Centers for Disease Control AND PREVENTION were working hard on gun ownership as a preventable cause of morbidity and mortality.

For the record, I noticed that was the second #2, but I'm not going to renumber.

3. If you had a mental disorder, what would it be? Multiple personality. I'm still not sure the guy at work and the guy at Badlands are the same.

4. How many letters are in your crushes name? I'll allude to 4: 14 in the guy I think I'm dating, 11 and 12 in the gentlemen mentioned in #2, and I don't know in WCB.

5. What do you think of hot dogs? They are horrible for you and should be banned. Unfortunately, they taste great and are an icon of American life. Like Twinkies.

5. What is your favorite Christmas song? Santa Claus is Comin' to Town -- the Bruce Springsteen version. Ya better be good for goodness sake.

6. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Champagne.

7. Do you do push-ups? I try to do them before work on the days I won't make the gym. I fail abysmally.

8. Have you ever done ecstasy? Not to my knowledge, but there were a couple of nights those who witnessed my behavior swore I had been slipped something.

8. Do you have a boyfriend? That is a sadly subjective question. Don't you wish this were actually defined by some number of dates? My take -- no conversation, so no boyfriend.

9. Do you like the rain? After warm nights (for margaritas on the deck), a good thunderstorm is the weather event I miss most in San Francisco. Mildly drizzling rain, all day long, just brings me down.

10. Do you own a knife? Many kitchen. Only one Swiss Army since the airlines kept stealing them.

11. What do you smell like? Right now -- brown sugar and vanilla body wash and red wine. If you meet me in the 'Stro, it's Polo Sport of Kenneth Cole Reaction -- hopefully only if you get close; however, I may try Derek Jeter's new scent.

12. Do you have A.D.D.? No, I've made a career of focus to the point of obsession. I try to keep it short of stalking.

13. Full initials? JFVT. (The third is my Catholic confirmation name. I'm giggling with irony.)

14. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment:
A - I need another glass of wine
B - This is taking a really long time
C - I want to have dinner at the Sausage Factory tonight

15. Name the last 3 things you have bought today. Two bottles of wine, a tank of gas, and a lemon scone.

16. Name five drinks you regularly drink. Coffee, Diet Coke, wine, water, random de-caf diet beverage.

17. What time did you wake up today? 0748

18. Can you spell? Placed 6th in the Erie County Spelling Bee in 1984.

19. Current worry? Old job or new job.

20. Current hate? People who have a problem with something you did, and tell their boss, and your boss, instead of you. Also, people who plan to bomb airplanes.

21. Favorite place to be? In my convertible at a winery near Healdsburg.

22. Least favorite place to be? Work. Hence the new job concern.

23. Where would you want to go? Key West.

24. Do you own slippers? Little triangular ones. Most of the women in my mother's family can knit them.

25. Where do you think you'll be in 10 years? Atlanta, GA.

26. Do you burn or tan? Limbs tan, chest/belly/back burn. Unless I'm really slick with the Coppertone #8. Right now, I cover up, 'cause I got waxed for Ft. Lauderdale.

27.Yellow or Blue? Blue. Duh!

28. Would you give up your current life to be a pirate? I'm told I did that when that cop rubbed my leg.

29. Last time your cell rang? 08/09/06 11:22 PM. Thanks, Cingular.

30. What songs do you sing in the shower? Few anymore. I may have to start that up again. Thanks.

31. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a child? Vampires. Wore a scapular, and had the blanket up to my neck year round.

32. What do you have in your pocket right now? Wallet, two pens, car keys, house keys, Cinnamon Listerine Pocket Pals, and $14.40 in cash and change. Lordy, Lordy, we're havin' biscuits tonight. (NB: the cell phone is on the table from #29.)

33. Last thing that made you laugh? The 80 year old couple who ogled my Mustang today.

34. Favorite bed sheets as a child? Superfriends. My mom bought an extra bedspread and made matching curtains. You should have seen the fight with my brother over who got the Superman Underoos.

35.Worst injury you've ever had? Lots of sprained ankles. There may have been a broken one in between, but I never got X-rays.

36. What is your GPA? High School, Undergraduate, Medical School, of Graduate School. 'Nuf said.

37. How many TVs do you have in your house? One broken, two that work.

38. Who is your loudest friend? Gotta go with ChadFox on this one. Sorry, babe.

39. Who is your most silent friend? Ted. Great guy, but his wife does most of the talking.

40. Does someone have a crush on you? I'd like to think so.

41. Do you wish on stars? Not lately, but like the shower singing, a revival might be in order.

42. Do you believe in magic? No, but I believe in the Lovin' Spoonful. And Lovin' Spoonin'.

43. What song represents how you feel at the moment? "Watch Me" -- Lorrie Morgan. See #'s 19 and 22.

44. What song did you last hear? Something Italian at Cafe Divine. "Paradise City" GnR, while I was copy editing this.

45. What song do you want played at your funeral? "Ghost", by the Indigo Girls, by my partner, God-willing. If not, "Don't You Forget About Me", by Simple Minds.

46. What were you doing 12AM last night? Workin on a blog.

47. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? Coffee first, or the gym?

Room for Cream

I'm usually a fairly boring sleeper. I toss and turn, hear pagers real and imaginary, and get the occasional drink of water. I almost never remember dreams, even if I wake up with a start -- or near a finish. I also rarely have true "fantasies". Sure, I have my canned response if asked: "Getting caught in a rundown between Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter", but I don't actually sit around thinking about it and drooling.
I just think they're both gorgeous, and someone in Erie recently told me that he has it on good authority (friend of a friend) that Derek is Bi. It's also ripe for double entendre -- sliding into second, A-ROD, etc.

Since I had to think about dead puppies for a few minutes this morning before I could take a whiz (or tee-tee as they say over at Stop Touching My Food), I thought I'd share. We can argue as to whether I can tell a good story, but I'm sure we'll agree that I can't tell a short one. So here's the backgroud.

I work every other weekend at the hospital. Since I can park in the neighborhood, I give myself the small pleasure of taking the Mustang to work and stopping for coffee (photo from Chad Fox's blog -- he's the best photographer I know). I used to go to the Starbucks on Fillmore and Sacramento, but they tried to ruin my life briefly by ceasing to serve the lemon scone. Having already survived the death of the cinnamon chip scone, this was almost more than I could bear. Fortunately my colleague told me that "her" Starbucks, at Union and Laguna, still made it. On my first trip there, I saw the World's Cutest Barista. 6'3" +, tanned skin, gorgeous black hair (sort of preppie at first, now cut close on the back and sides with a faux/mo hawk on top) and a perfect smile.

He got the 'hawk between my first and second visits (obviously, I went back for the SCONE), and I told him it was cute. We have flirted shamelessly since then. I don't order espresso drinks, so he had to ask my name for no real reason, and then gave me his (but we'll call him WCB for now). This past Saturday, the door was open and I went in, but I was told they weren't serving because of remodelling. I turned to go when I heard "Joel" yelled across the room. He came running up to say "Hi", and we chatted a bit. The next morning he wasn't there, but the other guy (good smile, but not as cute) said "You're Joel, right? I heard [him] yell your name yesterday." A better man would have been embarrassed. I was psyched.

Which brings us to this morning. I arose (so to speak) before my alarm with that haze that seems to be half dreaming and half thinking. I went to Starbucks, saw WCB, and ordered my coffee. Then, and I don't think I was plotting anything, I had to go to the bathroom. So I went in, put my coffee down, and unzipped. Then someone (even I knew who it was going to be) knocked on the door and said my name softly. I opened the door and...

...I woke up. Then the dead puppy thoughts. Then a cold shower and off to work.

It's not quite the mile high club, but I really like the idea of people (especially me and WCB) f***ing in Starbucks' bathrooms. Why? Because Starbucks is how the yuppies gentrified the coffee shop. (Did you get the title yet? I kill me:) And now, on to the rant.

I remember going to coffee shops in Fells Point (Baltimore) 12 years ago. It's where the fun and freaky were. Mohawks. Piercings. Performance art and poetry night (sometimes both at once). Dirty bathrooms. Board games to borrow. White people with afros who smelled like they hadn't showered in a month who turned out to be PhDs. Thanks to the Starbucks model, they've all had to clean up so that soccer moms can bring 3 year olds in to get hot chocolate. A few analogies from your SAT days:

Coffee Shop is to Starbucks as:
A) Rap is to Vanilla Ice
B) Bar is to TGIFridays
C) Country Music is to Shania Twain
D) Pride is to Love Fest

The answer, of course, is all of the above. Entrepeneurs always have to take something edgy, tone it down, and make suitable for the masses. In general, the original edgy places have to tone down to compete. In the end, we have contruction workers grabbing a latte while listening to Vanilla Ice on their way to TGIFridays to grab a virgin daquiri and flat iron steak before hitting the Love Fest -- which they leave early because it's too loud. It's not wrong, but sometimes worthwhile things get squeezed out. And the people who don't fit in loose the place they did.

Let's face it -- pop music is lost, and TGIFriday's is here to stay. Is there a chance to send the gentrified coffee shop the way of Vanilla Ice? Maybe. Could we do it by f***ing in Starbucks bathrooms? Loudly? If it didn't work, at least we'd all have a good time.

IOFD (see last post) I feel a little guilty at Starbucks -- but it's convenient and I like the lemon scone. For those of you who really want to know, the best coffee in town is at Philz on 24th street in the Mission (he hand brews every cup) and the best coffee/atmosphere combo is at Spike's on 19th by Castro. I don't go there much since I moved to North Beach, but the owner still knows me and calls me Doc. They have a fresh raspberry scone that knocks the shit out of the lemon scone, but it's too far to go before work. And they some beautiful ladies behind the counter, but they don't have WCB.