Happy America's birthday, gentle readers! I trust you had a lovely 4th of July. My holiday festivities began a day early this year, as did many others' celebrating, I imagine. I actually didn't have Friday off, but I worked early and was on the patio at Zeitgeist with a Downtown Brown ale in my hand by 3:00 that afternoon. Given that most everyone else had the day free, as well, it was far more crowded than a regular Friday at 3 p.m., but I didn't mind. Nor did Kevin, Kurt, Paul, Denise, Tom or Chris, all of whom joined me. At about 6:00 I left with Paul and Denise to indulge in gourmet deep dish pizza at Little Star, and then I headed home and went to bed early.
That early bedtime, you soon will see, was necessary, as I had a jam-packed Independence Day ahead of me. After a lazy morning followed by a nice workout at the gym, I cleaned up and was ready for action.
The first stop on my 4th of July Tour of Fun was Berkeley, where my friend Christina was hosting a barbecue. There was good food, excellent company, live chickens in a coop (don't worry we ate none of them) and a couple of women in tank tops and shorts or skirts who didn't shave their legs or underarms. I must say, it's been years since I've seen that very stereotypically Berkeley phenomenon. On an intellectual level, I'm appalled by the way women in this country are expected to be virtually devoid of body hair. However, I also am a product of my culture and keep myself well shorn and waxed. Within reason, anyway. (Perhaps this is too much information, but I've never traveled to Brazil and have no intention of doing so.)
After a delicious meal, I had to leave the barbecue and BART back into the City for a Margarita Club meeting at Cava 22 in the Mission. While there, Berto and I spied a gentleman roaming the street wearing just a top hat, spats and a barrel while waving an American flag. I assume he also was wearing underpants, but I really don't know for certain. What a San Francisco way to celebrate the nation's birthday, no?
An hour later I was off again and headed to North Beach for Helen's 40th birthday party. I got to see the City's fireworks display on the way there, which was a lovely surprise, since I had been certain the display would be eaten by the fog this year. 4th of July fireworks are always hit and miss in San Francisco. Anyway, Helen's party was much fun. We chatted, drank a couple of cocktails, and I learned that her neighbor apparently works in pornography. The very nice gentleman in question says he's neither an actor nor a fluffer, but he wouldn't say just what it is that he does do. And it is just his day job; he's actually a musician and would like to compose and produce film soundtracks someday. Anyway, that also seems very stereotypically San Francisco. While I believe the San Fernando Valley to be the heart of the adult film industry, I've never met anyone who works in porn in L.A., and Helen's neighbor is not the first person I've met here who works in some form of adult entertainment. I didn't even bat an eye while talking to him last night. Well, I didn't bat an eye once I was convinced he wasn't lying about his job, and the mild shock wore off.
All in all, I'd call it a very successful Independence Day. I hope the rest of America had as fun a birthday as I did.