The Laziest Day Ever

That's what I had today.

I started with the best of intentions this morning. I was going to the gym. I was going to shower my apartment with what it desperately needs: a thorough cleaning. I was going to take advantage of the warm, if slightly muggy, weather and take a long walk across the City.

None of that happened, but I did a very good job of polishing my napping skills. They were rusty and demanded my immediate attention.

Not that the day was a total loss. I did manage to go for a run, do a little grocery shopping and strip my couch cushions of their slip covers so I could drop said covers off at the cleaners. My couch is off-white, and a good scrub for the slip covers had become quite necessary. I also wrote my little neighborhood newspaper column, which isn't even due until Friday. But other than that, it was a day to watch time go by while relaxation ran the show. And I'd say it was worth it. The gym will still be there tomorrow, and my apartment will still need to be cleaned. I was even supposed to meet Mollena at Amnesia for a little live music tonight, but I never heard from her, so here I sit in my pajamas, sipping Chimay and watching That Thing You Do!. Amnesia with Mollena would have been fun, but I'll "settle" for one of my favorite movies paired with one of my favorite beers, thanks very much.

I also got a call today from Schleevin, who told me his apartment in New York has been overrun with bed bugs. He said he went to bed one night and awoke the next morning looking like a giant pustule. His words, not mine. He was delivering this bit of news because I am theoretically staying with him when I go to New York next month. Or perhaps not. Poor Schleevin, 2006 simply has not been his year.

I'll make up for my day of sloth later this week. Not only does my work week kick off on Friday, but I have a lot of socializing to do. I believe Helen and I are going out tomorrow night; I'm having drinks with Wendy and going to Jack's photo show Friday night; and Saturday into Sunday is Daryl's 24-hour going away party. Just thinking about all that makes me want to take another nap.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 15

Music for 2 Cellos and 24 Televisions at La Val's Subterranean

Even though this show was produced by the Crowded Fire Theatre Company, and Paul, Gretchen and I saw the performance at La Val's, one of my favorite places to see a play, I wouldn't exactly call it theatre. But it was definitely music. Composer and Crowded Fire company member David Rhodes created the piece which is performed both electronically and, as it would happen, by two cellists. Meantime, video images on no more and no less than 24 televisions accompany the music. The result is engaging, even a little mesmerizing at times. I'd say you should go see it, but we went on closing night, so sadly... you can't.

And we were treated to an opening act as well. Crowded Fire inspires people to sign up for their mailing list with a giveaway before every show, and this time the giveaway was orchestrated by company member Mollena, who happens to be one of the most dynamic, kick-ass people walking the face of the earth. When it came time to award the coveted package of Mentos that was the grand prize, Mollena didn't just hand them over. She pulled them from her bra strap and serenaded the winner with a word perfect, a cappella rendition of the Mentos commercial. You have to know that was some hysterical and fabulous pre-show entertainment.

Add to all that the pizza and beer at La Val's, and I'd call it a perfect night out.

After the show Paul and Gretchen offered Mollena and their other friend Bree a ride back to the City, so we all piled into Paul and Gretchie's new (to them) Golf for the trek over the bridge. The lively in-car conversation ranged from people who walk over the bridge in clown suits to a man who got locked out of his house in a bunny suit to other men who have asked Bree to make bunny suits for them. For the record, she has always said no.

By the way, I can now tell you: Gretchen is pregnant! I've been sitting on this knowledge since late March, but it's okay to talk about it now. If anything in life merits a big fat YAY, it is the imminent arrival of this little guy. I think the gene pool Gretchie and Paul create just might result in a perfect little person. Aside from Nephew Sassy, of course.

Eggs With A Side of Nudity

Today I took advantage of a rare Saturday off work and treated Terry to a glamour afternoon for her birthday. The anniversary of her birth is actually tomorrow, but I can't make the party, so the celebration of Terry begins now. We started with a delicious mimosa brunch at Bia's in the Haight. But as we were finishing our snacks and drinks, we noticed a caravan of about twenty naked bicyclists parading down Haight Street. While many of you who live elsewhere may think naked cyclists ride through San Francisco all the time, I have to say, save Bay To Breakers, I have never seen anything like this. In fact, I used to live in the Haight (okay, Cole Valley), and back then the man I dubbed the Rogue Hugger due to his drug-induced need to embrace strangers was as exciting as it got.

I will also add that what I saw today reminded me that all the penises I've seen by choice are really rather attractive. And clearly that's not always the case. Granted it was about 55 degrees this afternoon, but even so. I guess I have better taste in men than I thought.

After brunch and the freedom-from-clothing parade, Terry and I hit Lavande Nail Spa for luscious pedicures. All in all, an excellent Saturday afternoon, especially since I am usually holed up in a studio on weekends. Tonight I'm going with Gretchen and Paul to see their friend David's play at La Val's in Berkeley. I think the show is kind of an avant-garde music-theatre combination. I'll let you know how it is.

By the way, I know I haven't written about my adventures in almost a week, and for that I can offer no excuse other than laziness. So now let's back up a few days and get a little caught up. On Thursday I caught up with Daryl at Zeitgeist for his penultimate social gathering before the big move to Philly. Always fun, especially when Daryl told me he is teaching his creative writing students in Oakland the dance from "Thriller." Do you even know anyone who has learned the dance from "Thriller?" Frankly, I thought I didn't either, but where Daryl is concerned, I am never surprised. Then last night Emily, Jack and I met at Casanova for a week-ending cocktail. Luckily, I selected all my favorites from Casanova's free jukebox early because about an hour after we arrived the DJ showed up. He was doing well until he decided to spin selections from the likes of Billy Ocean and Loverboy. May I just say, ick. Casanova deserves better. But the bad soundtrack was tolerable for a while because we were delighting in the floor show being performed by the Mission-hipster mating crowd. One gentleman in particular tenaciously hit on two women despite the fact they were having none of it. We could do nothing but admire his persistence... and laugh heartily at him. It was kind of like watching a zoo exhibit: Wanna Be Player in his natural habitat. Once a bachelorette party arrived, however, we knew it was time to go. We have our limits.

Hey, guess what?!? Just seconds ago I found out that my friend Omar got engaged! He's another friend I've known for twenty-five years, and a few years ago he told me he often dated women he wasn't crazy about just to be with someone. But I know he is head over heels for his fiancee, so this is an excellent development. Yay!!!

Goodbye Gata

My friend Daryl, a.k.a. Dr. Rainbow, the Gata and a plethora of other nicknames for which I take no responsibility, is leaving town. This is not good news, as this dude, whom you see on the right of this photo, is one serious partier. Brilliant and creative, Daryl is one of the most fun people I have ever known. He's a musician, DJ and organizer of not-to-be-missed happenings like the Turkey Fry, Chili Off, 24-Hour Babagoo and Pie Off. When I first met him six years ago, I had the honor of being a Pie Off judge. I literally was recognized on the street from my participation in that event for a year afterward. That's right. I actually entered the Pie Off in 2002, but that year was marred by scandal when Daryl won the grand prize himself. An investigation was promised, but I'm not sure if the findings were conclusive.

If you have never met Daryl, you should hope he is moving to your town. Oh, and by the way, the other prince of fabulousness in the picture is my friend Victor. They are flanking me at my last birthday party.

In other news, I have settled back into city life after my trek to the wilds of the Southern California suburbs.

On Saturday I had an intern shadow me at work. It was a little odd just because about two and a half years ago, my career took a bit of a turn. So while I work in the same industry, my current job is somewhat different from the first 15 years of my professional life. But one of my managers told our intern I am fun, and honestly, I think I lived up to the hype. Plus, we got to spend most of our time in the sunshine of Crissy Field. Not bad for a workday.

That night I went with Katie, Steve, Bill and Kim to see Craig Ferguson at Cobb's Comedy Club. Because it's my life, I not only ran into four people I know in the audience, but I also knew one of the warm-up comedians. He is a friend of my friend Wendy. Unfortunately, Craig was not as funny as I wanted him to be. He was good for a few chuckles, but not much more than that. I rarely go to comedy clubs, though, so it was fun to do something a little different.

And now I am resting up before a week of big fun. Oh, and I suppose I should crack that sample ballot and decide whom and what to vote for tomorrow.

Sassy Suburban Heaven

There is no doubt about it; I am a city girl. Give me an urban skyline, a gaggle of live music venues and streets filled with hipsters, and I am a happy denizen. But I have to admit, I am having the loveliest time here in beautiful South Pasadena, residence of the handsome gentleman to the left: Nephew Sassy. As the name would suggest, South Pasadena shares its northern border with the southern border of Pasadena, the suburban paradise I called home until I left for college in the fall of 1988.

Nephew Sassy and I have had quite the time getting to know each other. He is going to be a wonderful co-conspirator when he gets a little older. In the meantime, he allowed me to hang out with him while he had his lunch yesterday afternoon, and he was a very good sport and let me hold him for a much longer time than I would let someone I just met hold me. He even posed for this photo with me without complaining about the paparazzi. My brother Mike and sister-in-law Maki are doing really well, too. They're tired, but happy.

Then at about 6:00 yesterday evening the amazing and talented Schleevin, who is in Southern California from New York, joined the party. Do you have someone in your life for whom you hold such a deep and genuine affection it's almost a little overwhelming? You really should. As I have said in previous posts, for me, that person is Schleevin. Even when we are 100 years old and drooling into cups and he no longer has a prostate, I am convinced we will still be friends. I would do anything for this lad; I love him that much. Anyway, last night Schleevin, Mike, Maki, Nephew Sassy and I took a trip to 1952 by walking down to the corner drugstore and soda fountain for milk shakes. Our dessert already ingested, Schleevin and I put on our best camera-ready faces for the above commemorative photo before taking off for dinner. We ended up at a very delicious restaurant tucked into a converted firehouse where we chowed down on salads and, of all things, meatloaf. It was fancy meatloaf, but meatloaf nonetheless. We then drove into Los Angeles proper and paid a visit to The Bounty, a bar which used to play host to the likes of Walter Winchell and Charlton Heston. We didn't see Charlton there last night, but that's his loss, because it certainly was a fabulous evening.

This morning I took a very long run in the warm San Gabriel Valley air. I headed east through South Pasadena into San Marino and was so distracted by the familiar streets and places (including a diner my friends and I used to frequent on late Friday and Saturday nights in high school) that I didn't realize how far I had gone. I think the whole route was between six and seven miles, but in all honesty, I got tired and walked the last third. After my run, I grabbed a smoothie and some snacks at the independently-owned coffee and ice cream place in Mike and Maki's neighborhood. Anyone who believes, like I know a lot of you do, that Southern California is nothing more than ugly tract houses insulating countless strip malls should take a trip to South Pasadena. Or San Marino. Or Pasadena, although as the largest of the three towns, Pasadena does have a few strip malls. But only a few.

I have several more hours here before I trek back up north to my city life. It's nice to pay a visit to suburbia every once in a while, and it's even nicer when it doesn't scare you.

Friendship Therapy

Have I mentioned lately how much I love my friends? I love them as much as music and good acting, and in my world, that is very high praise.

On Sunday I went to Tom, Chris and Nick's annual Memorial Day barbecue. I have gone to this party every year of its existence, and much like fine wine, it gets better and better with age. These fellows are very popular, so there were about a bazillion people there this year. Above is a photo of myself with Emily, Erin and Jack enjoying the festivities alongside Chris, one of our hosts, who graciously agreed to pose with us. Between the drinks, delicious snacks, Dance-Dance Revolution and seat of your pants good times, this was party not to be missed.

My friend Gry is also in town. I met Gry in an acting class back in 1998, and we have been good friends ever since. She moved to New York in 2001 and then to Denmark in 2003, but that doesn't stop her from paying a visit to her San Francisco stomping ground every once in a while. Back in the day, Gry and I had a standing Wednesday evening happy hour at Casanova, so that's where we met tonight, even though it's Tuesday. Much like many a Wednesday of yore, we fell into a pattern of good drink and even better conversation. It doesn't hurt that Casanova has a free jukebox which I loaded with The Jam, The Beau Brummels and early Who this evening. I will admit that I've been feeling a little low lately, but tonight any feelings of dejection completely melted away in the red light and vinyl couches of the fabulous Casanova. Who needs therapy when you have Gry, a good cocktail and "Beat Surrender" playing in the background?

And if a long weekend barbecue and bonding time with Gry were not enough, tomorrow I will be seeing one of my favorite friends in the whole world. Schleevin and I have known each other for almost 25 years (damn, we're old), and we are going to get together for snacks and cocktails when I jaunt down to Southern California to meet Nephew Sassy. Schleevin is wonderful and talented and super-neat, and I absolutely can't wait to see him!

Honestly, can a girl ask for any more happiness in life?

My American Idol: Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 14

John Doe and various others crooning (and screaming) Replacements tunes at 12 Galaxies

So apparently the season finale of that show was on last night, and I've heard talk that some guy named Taylor or Tyler or Tiny won. I wouldn't actually know for sure because I've never seen that insipid boob tube phenomenon, but last night I got the chance to see one of my own musical idols up close.

Ann Marie, Adam and I started the evening at the Make Out Room to see Pat Johnson, a rather talented musician I know. After Pat's set, we scooched around the corner and met Tom at 12 Galaxies for a Replacements tribute show which featured, among the many performers, none other than John Doe. The extraordinary John Doe in a Replacements tribute show. I actually interviewed Paul Westerberg about 15 years ago, and I wish I had been psychic because it would have been fabulous to ask him how it feels to have John Doe pay homage to him in a small San Francisco club

But I'm not psychic, and Paul Westerberg wasn't there last night, anyway. I can, however, tell you how it felt for me to see a rockstar mainstay of my formative years stand mere feet before me strumming his acoustic guitar. It felt a little bit like auditory heaven. Ann Marie and I were slightly disappointed that John only sang three songs, but the other performers (including the aforementioned Pat Johnson, who also played this show in addition to his Make Out Room gig) were all good, too.

All in all, not a bad way to spend a Wednesday evening.

Best Friends and A Really Good Mood

I had not intended to post today, figuring I would wait to report on the adventures of my work weekend, which begins tonight but won't really get going until tomorrow and Thursday.

But then something glorious happened. I have made a new best friend: my co-worker Patti. I've always liked Patti a lot, but at work today, I had occasion to offer that I am 36 years old. Patti looked right at me with an expression of genuine shock and said, "You're 36? I didn't even think you were 30 yet." I want you to let that sink in: she didn't even think I was 30. I was so thrilled that I hugged her with sincere vigor and proclaimed her my new best friend. I meant it, too. Not that I think 36 is old, but still. As I thought about it later, it occurred to me that maybe she thought I was so young because I bounce around our workplace everyday saying things like "Yay!" and "Yippee!" with my special brand of sassy energy. Plus, I am her go-to girl for bar recommendations (so far I have sent her to Favorite Bar, Anu on 6th Street and 15 Romolo in North Beach). So maybe I come off just a tad immature. Well, you know what? I don't care; if it makes me seem young, I'll take it.

This has put me in a good mood of colossal proportions.

In other friend news, I also found out today that my very, very good friend Jenny is coming to town tomorrow. She and I have spent endless evenings bonding over snacks and cocktails while trying to decipher the confounding behavior of ridiculous boys. But in 2003 she moved to Boston for graduate school and decided to stay. Whatever. I haven't seen her in what feels like forever, so I am very excited. She and I will be getting pedicures on Thursday and catching up on tales of the latest ridiculous boys in our lives. I can't wait!

I always say Sassyland is home to a truly good life, and everyday offers more evidence of that fact.

Books That Are Making Me Happy Today, vol 2

Goats by Mark Jude Poirier and Little Children by Tom Perrotta

I must apologize, gentle readers. While I have kept you in the loop of all the theatre and music that adds joy to my sass, I have been remiss when it comes to books. I have this terrible tendency to procure books much faster than I can read them. It's a good thing I secretly harbor the soul of a technology-phobic old lady and don't trust online shopping. Otherwise, Amazon would be the death of me. But I've made some progress in my backlog, so let's get at least a little bit caught up.

I recently finished Goats, which was recommended to me by Father Sassy when I visited him in Gig Harbor. The family at the center of Goats would make Norman Rockwell roll over in his grave, but these days, all of us recognize it. Teenage Ellis is a freshman at a tony East Coast prep school while his barely functional mother, Wendy, and her stoner boarder known as Goat Man keep the home fires burning in Arizona. Add Ellis' dad, his moronic roommate, Wendy's leech of a boyfriend and yes, some actual goats, and you've got quite the cast of characters. And Poirier's writing is breezy without being pedestrian, making this a very pleasant read. I have since moved on to Little Children, which is lots of fun so far. I'd call this one a really good beach read, even though I am tearing through it in my urban apartment. The action is stuck in a very specific time, but I am enjoying the cultural references. And this tale of thirty-something parents is perfect for anyone, with kids or not, who has woken up and found themselves suddenly and bewilderingly in the midst of adulthood. In other words, it's perfect for me and pretty much all of my friends.

Books definitely make the world happier. And after spending my college years immersed in the greatest hits of the canon, I have no problem reading books that are a little bit fluffy. Of course, the Ivy League literature major in me does have her limits. You will never catch me perusing a copy of The Da Vinci Code. I don't care how many copies it has sold. And after being burned in the late '90's by a couple particularly terrible selections, I now walk right by any contemporary novel bearing Oprah's Book Club seal (she got crafty a few years ago when she began choosing classics). I love that Oprah is getting so many people to read, but in my opinion, Jonathan Franzen was wise to reject membership... or at least that seal.

In other news, several of my co-workers are getting sick, and that fact has me concerned both for their health and, honestly, my own. Viruses rip through my workplace like tornadoes, so once a few of us get sick, we are all susceptible. And I have no time for disease. On Wednesday night Ann Marie and I are going to not one, but two live music shows. And we have corralled Richard, Adam and possibly my co-worker Tom, providing he's not one of the infirm, to come with us. Then Terry and I are reviving our recently dormant margarita Thursday habit. This weekend is Tom, Chris and Nick's annual Memorial Day barbecue. And next week my friend Gry, whom I have not seen or talked to in almost two years, is in town, and I'm taking a small jaunt down to Southern California to meet Nephew Sassy in person. He has no immune system yet, so I can't bring along any germs.

To that end, I am indulging in lots of Airborne and zinc lozenges tonight while I watch the Giants play the Cardinals. My baseball boyfriends Mike Matheny and Omar Vizquel are so far leading the team toward victory, but as we all know, anything can happen.

Birthdays, Baseball and Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 13

A few tidbits from the Land of Sassy this evening:

Yesterday was my friend Tom's 34th birthday, so the troops gathered for cocktails and frivolity to honor the day he was born. Now, Tom is notorious for planning his birthday celebration at the very last minute, but after more than nine years of friendship, I am on to him. Knowing his big day was approaching, I specifically had reserved the evening for whatever he would put together. And wouldn't you know it, Thursday night came along and my in-box was graced with an email from Tom informing me of the plan. Regardless of the late notice, the party sure was fun. And Tom's roommates Chris and Nick (who is also Tom's brother) made him an ooey-gooey birthday cake that tasted like a strawberry milkshake. Not bad for a couple of boys who wear their lack of cooking expertise as a badge of honor.

Do you know what's a good song? "The Happening" by The Supremes. In case you don't know, it was the title track from a 1967 film of the same name. The movie is supposedly horrible, but the song certainly isn't. The songwriting team of Holland-Dozier-Holland crafted quite the perfect little 60's pop tune in this number. If I ever form a girl group, we are definitely going to cover it. You know what else is a good song? "(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher" by the great Jackie Wilson. I just downloaded that one from iTunes. This morning I listened to "The Happening" over and over for the first half of my run, and I imagine "Higher and Higher" will get similar treatment. (For the record, the only song thus far whose repeated playing has propelled me through my entire four-mile endorphin route is "Here Comes Your Man" by the Pixies. I'll let you know if/when that changes.)

Barry Bonds hit his 714th career home run this afternoon and has tied Babe Ruth's tally. I think that's neat. Mike Matheny also hit a home run today and helped the Giants beat the A's 4 to 2. But no one will ever remember that home run. Sorry, Mike.

Tonight I've been invited to Ben's birthday party, Eric's birthday party and another party my friend Wendy, whom I haven't seen in months because she has been in India, is attending. There are also two live music shows I'd like to see. How ever will a girl choose? Well, I won't have to because I have to be at work at 4:00 tomorrow morning. That's right, 4:00 a.m. Eric tried to talk me into going to his party anyway and just staying up all night. Maybe ten years ago I would have considered that, but now this girl needs her rest. So happy birthday, fellows. Wendy, I'll catch up with you another time. And I'll just have faith the bands I want to see tonight will play again soon. And tomorrow morning I'll have to miss Bay to Breakers, San Francisco's most fun street party dressed up like a foot race. But at least I'll get to talk about it a lot at work. Plus, I am greatly consoled by the fact that I am already in my pajamas, and I will soon nestle into my couch while cocooned in a fuzzy blanket.

It's a very good life, believe me.

Theatre That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 6

Moliere's The Miser at Berkeley Rep

Do you want to see some truly astounding acting? As in it-takes-your-breath-away-and-makes-you-want-to-trip-the-light-fantastic-in-a-rainstorm-just-like-Gene-Kelly-did level acting? Well, then drive, BART, swim, walk or do whatever you can to get to Berkeley Rep's Roda Theatre and see The Miser. The story could be streamlined a bit, as some of the scenes are way too long. But this adaptation of the Moliere classic features incredibly clever dialogue (two regional references notwithstanding; I always find those to be hokey) and some just plain brilliant acting. Everyone in the ensemble is absolutely terrific, and if you're anything like me, you'll want to see it just to marvel at the talent onstage before you.

In other words, this show is pretty damn good. The photo is creepy, but honestly, the show is great.

And frankly, Berkeley Rep's whole season this year has been pretty damn good. I didn't love Finn In the Underworld, and Comedy on the Bridge/Brundibar and Zorro in Hell were not perfect while enjoyable. But their productions of Our Town, Nine Parts of Desire, The Glass Menagerie and The Miser have all been top notch. No wonder Berkeley Rep won the Tony for Outstanding Regional Theatre in 1997. Really, do yourself a favor and see this play.

After the show, I ended up spending more energy than I would have ever expected ducking that 70-year old man who hit on me the last time I went to Berkeley Rep. Terry chronicles that part of the evening on her blog, so you should read about it there.

In totally unrelated news, I have discovered a new favorite place in San Francisco. It's a new boutique in North Beach featuring a host of pretty things available for purchase, and the owner, Giulia, is super-duper nice. And the very best part is you can go there with a group of friends and drink champagne and get pedicures while you shop. Champagne, pedicures and shopping all in one location! All of you have to do is give Giulia about a week's notice and agree that you and your friends will actually buy stuff while you're sipping champagne and having your feet attended to. This is my idea of heaven, and I intend to indulge as often as humanly possible.

Glamour Lunch

The glamour lunch is the close, but much more fashionable cousin of the power lunch.

The fog has returned, so this afternoon my friend Katie and I sought out some of the few San Francisco blocks soaked in sunshine and met at Market Bar for lunch. Of course we wanted to dine outside, but even we were surprised to find ourselves seated at a coveted table alongside the promenade in front of the restaurant. Even the most seasoned of socialites yearn for a table like this. There we feasted on burgers and beer (Anchor Steam for Katie, Chimay for me) while chatting and watching the parade of joggers, tourists and dogs pass by. Katie and I work for the same company, so most of our conversation was shop talk. But ours is, overall, a very good professional life, making the shop talk mighty enjoyable.

After lunch, I popped inside the Ferry Building to pick up three of those delicious French macaroons from Miette and then climbed aboard MUNI, which handily took me to the Lower Haight. Once there I perused stacks and stacks of actual vinyl at an incredibly nifty little record store. Macy's was my next destination where I purchased bath rugs and face cleanser. I have finally given in to the great dissatisfaction I have felt for the undersized, ghetto Target bath mats I bought four and a half years ago. It was tremendously liberating to realize I could just buy new ones. And to make a good day even better, while purchasing my face cleanser I got the fine surprise of a gift with purchase at the Lancome counter. The gift even includes sunglasses (!) which look disturbingly like a pair of vintage Dolce and Gabbana glasses I dropped far too much money on a few weeks ago. Had I but held out for the Lancome counter.

And now I have a short respite at home before Terry collects me for another evening of fine theatre in Berkeley. As Calvin so keenly said to Hobbes on their delineated pages more than a decade ago: "The days are just packed."

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol. 12

Matt Nathanson at The Swedish American Hall

Have you ever been to the Swedish American Hall? It's above Cafe du Nord, and it is the strangest venue in the world. Paul, Denise and I walked in last night to behold what looked like a high school assembly. There were folding chairs set up in front of a small stage, and the snack bar offered homemade sandwiches and soda, but no alcohol. None. We drank in the ambiance, got over the shock of the scene and found a piece of wall by the staircase to lean on (we had arrived too late to secure folding chairs for ourselves).

Then the genius that is Matt Nathanson took the stage. I admit, for all that I like his music, I probably wouldn't sit at home and just listen to a Matt Nathanson cd. In fact, I have one, and I don't sit at home and just listen to it. But he is one amazing performer; I have seen him several times, and he never ceases to impress me. Do yourself a favor and get tickets to his next show. Not only does he pour passion into performing his singer-songwriter gems, but through engaging banter with the audience, he showcases his dead brilliant sense of humor. Is it a concert or a comedy show? I imagine no one... Matt included... knows for sure. {Gentlemen callers take note: funny gets me every time.}

During his hour or so onstage, Matt treated us to his vocal styling via original compositions nicely accented with slices of Psychedelic Furs, Cure and Postal Service tunes. He also did a full cover of Elvis Costello's "What's So Funny ('bout Peace, Love and Understanding)" and a campy rendition of Journey's "Don't Stop Believing." And the best part about Matt is that he and his wife live just down the block! Okay, so they may not live down the block, but they do live somewhere in San Francisco. The show last night made me so happy, I didn't know what to do with myself. And Matt tours all the time, so if you don't live in San Francisco, he'll probably stop by your neighborhood soon.

Truly talented musicians make the world a better place.

We'd worn Matt out by about 10:00, so after the show Denise, Paul and I ambled down the block and paid a visit to the Lucky 13 where we discovered what has to be the city's best jukebox... perhaps aside from the one at Casanova. For reasons of luck and timing, we got to put in five free selections, which we chose very carefully. Of course, we never actually heard our songs, but we did enjoy the anticipation while we sipped our drinks. And our own banter easily rivaled that of Matt's. Paul and Denise are super neato people and always fun to hang out with. I adore and cherish all my many friends, but I don't know what I did before these two moved here.

Yes, This IS Heaven

I love city living. My urban-chic existence comes to rest nightly in a hill-top apartment building where about 23 of us share a street number, as well as hallyways and a laundry room. A new gentleman recently moved into our address of distinction. He is all of 23, at the oldest, with the most adorable English accent and very earnest demeanor. Well, upon my return home from the gym this afternoon, something much like a wail stopped me in my tracks on the stairway up to my unit. It took a second to distinguish the sound, but soon I recognized it as singing emanating from my new neighbor's apartment. Loud, off-key singing of the most brilliant of tunes.

Yes, kids, it was the Belinda Carlisle classic, "Heaven Is A Place On Earth."

I am a gargantuan Go-Go's fan, but with the exception of one or two songs (including her cover of Freda Payne's "Band of Gold"), Belinda Carlisle's solo stuff is nothing more than over-produced pop diarrhea. I suppose it's not her fault; she just needed better songwriters and producers. And okay, if she was going to be a solo artiste, as opposed to one fifth of a band who started as scrappy punk rock chicks, she needed to actually learn to sing. But today I bow down and thank Belinda for that awful hit record because hearing a freshly-scrubbed English lad pour his soul into an early afternoon rendition he thought no one else would hear was absolutely priceless. At least it was worth the amount I pay in rent every month.

I soooooo want to be this guy's friend. I like to sing.

Another one of my neighbors is an actual musician, and according to a saxophonist I met last year, he may be one of the best young jazz pianists in the City. I hear him practicing on occasion, but as impressive as his playing is, compared to Mr. Belinda, he's a little... well, ordinary. No offense, Adam. In other news from my building, someone moved out a few weeks ago and left a fishbowl on top of the mail boxes. One inspired denizen wasn't going to settle for that; he turned the empty bowl into a home for a real, live fish, and he let us all participate in naming our community pet. I suggested Sid Fish-ous.

I am never moving.

Theatre That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 5

Honestly... pretty much any play at La Val's Subterranean in Berkeley.

Now, I have seen several shows at La Val's in the past, and they all stank. Every one. But it really didn't matter because the beauty of La Val's is that it is actually a pizza place with a theatre in the basement. So you can eat pizza and drink Bass or Newcastle while you take in the live action. Who wouldn't enjoy that, regardless of the caliber of the play in front of them? That's what Paul, Denise, Ann Marie and I thought when we decided to hit La Val's on Thursday night.

But the good news is that Impact Theatre's Money and Run: Episode 4 is currently running at La Val's, and it is really fun. And I'm not just saying that because my friend Carolyn is in it; believe me, in my day, I've both been in and seen many friends in some really bad plays. I actually did a rather decent show with Impact about 100 years ago (also known as 1998), and now they're the theatre in residence at La Val's. Money and Run is a high caliber, frenzied comedy punctuated by deliciously horrible 80's music. We're talking Journey, Eddie Money, Loverboy, Heart and Bonnie Tyler. I maintain the only reason I recognized any of the songs in the show is that I had to get very cozy with all that music for a job I had in 2001. Trust me, I wasn't listening to that crap twenty years ago. Or today. But it worked for the play, and I have to admit that, thanks to an upbeat remake and another job of mine about ten years ago, I do know all the words to "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Ann Marie and I were singing along with that little ditty during intermission, much to the entertainment of a young gentleman sitting two rows ahead of us. He looked about 19, so we decided he must have been shocked to see anyone old enough to actually know the words.

As we were congratulating Carolyn on her fine performance afterward, who should walk up, but the actress who played Kim Deal in the Pixies play I saw a few weeks ago! I was so thrilled, I immediately gushed and told her how much I had loved the Pixies play (okay, it was really more about the Breeders, but I like the Pixies better). You'd have thought I was talking to the actual Kim Deal. Actress Kim Deal was very polite, but I probably scared her a little bit.

And if last night's pizza dinner wasn't delicious enough, it was a co-worker's birthday today, and we had pizza to celebrate. We put a candle in one of the pies and sang "Happy Birthday" to him, and then I proclaimed we are all really happy he'd been born. This guy embarrasses kind of easily, which made our birthday display even more fun. I'd better be careful though; between last night and today, I've eaten so much that I'm going to look like a pizza soon. Or at least my thighs will.

Given that I've gone out the last two nights in a row, and I'll be going out tomorrow after work, I've decided to stay in tonight and hide from the Cinco de Mayo amateurs. I've curled up with my tv boyfriend Peter Krause, thanks to a "Six Feet Under" double-header on cable. Much more satisfying than stepping over a bunch of drunks who have been sucking down margaritas since 3:00 this afternoon.

Wicked Hung-ovah

I cannot party like I did when I was 25. Hell, I can't even party like I did when I was 30. Oh, who am I kidding? I can't party at all anymore. I can sit quietly and have a few cocktails, but even then I have to be careful.

Since thousands of people were filling the streets all over the country yesterday, we had kind of a busy day at work. So last night I decided to unwind with exactly one drink at Favorite Bar. The end of that last sentence would be what's commonly referred to as famous last words. A friend I hadn't seen in months was also there providing entertainment from his collection of 78 rpm records (yes, 78's), and I ended up chatting extensively with him. So three hours and four beers later, I pulled myself off my barstool and went home.

Everything was fine until today. To my credit, I managed to go running before work. And for the record, I usually find exercise to be an excellent hangover antidote. Not so much this time. At about 2:00 this afternoon I succumbed to my fuzzy-headed fatigue and completely lost focus. Everything began to move in slow motion, making the last four hours of work seem like about four days. It didn't help matters that after work tonight I was committed to participate in a playwriting workshop where I read scenes aloud so the writers could hear their work. I'm sure they all loved how well my hungover self brought their characters to life.

All this because of only four beers over three hours. I become more and more of a lightweight as I get older. But now I'm back home, and all is well. I've been reunited with my couch, and I'm about to have some chocolate chip waffles. Perfect hangover food in my opinion. And since it's now my work weekend, I can sleep as late I want tomorrow. Gotta love that.

Champagne Smoothies

My friend Emily is brilliant. On Saturday I worked a later shift than normal, so she and I met at the Ferry Building for brunch. Over snacks at Market Bar, I regaled her with tales of the recent spate of older men who have been hitting on me. And by older, I mean 60 and above. Cases in point: the 70-year old who chatted me up after Glass Menagerie at Berkeley Rep, and the two members of Freda Payne's band who didn't even pretend they weren't checking me out as they flagrantly stared. Then, on my way to the Ferry Building that morning, I was approached by a gray-haired gentleman who invited me for coffee, saying it didn't matter to him whether or not I had a boyfriend. Yes, old man, I'm sure it doesn't.

Let me remind you, gentle readers, that I am 36 years old. Not exactly super-young, but not yet ready for the geriatric set either.

Well, after hearing these stories, Emily offered me what she called a silver lining. She believes that much older men, as well as their insane and just plain classless counterparts, will often be so bold with women they don't know because they have nothing to lose. But what drives these men to behave this way is that they have noticed how attractive the women are. All men are affected by this attractiveness, according to Emily, but most, including the smart, fun, age-appropriate men we would actually be interested in, aren't quite so forward. But we should take note that those men are thinking the same flattering things about us that the old coots are. I told Emily that if she bottled and sold that thinking, she would be a millionaire.

Her brilliance did not stop there, however. I also happened to mention that if mimosas were non-alcoholic, I would drink them everyday, as they are one of my favorite beverages. The always-thinking Emily suggested that maybe adding protein would cut the alcohol's effects, and she immediately began trying to create a champagne smoothie recipe. Champagne smoothies! I don't know about you, but I can't think of anything more fabulous. At that point I decided that Emily and I should open a spa featuring champagne smoothies and her way of perceiving the unwanted attention of old men. Our spa would become the so popular, even the founders of Canyon Ranch would flock to it. Just wait and see.

Champagne smoothies, aside, I have a little sad news. Generally, I keep this space upbeat and only report my bouncy, entertaining, seat-of-your-pants adventures. But the mother of a dear, dear friend of mine died a couple of months ago, and he was just this weekend able to tell me about it. With all due respect to my other amazing friends, all of whom I am incredibly lucky to know, it's possible I may love this fellow more than anyone I am not related to. So please think of lots of happy thoughts for the incredible and talented Schleevin as he works through his mourning process. And his mom, Susie, was super-neato; so I bet they're all thrilled with her company in heaven.

By the way, I have been hesitant to create any new posts for the last couple of days because I wanted Nephew Sassy's photo to remain front and center. So why not scroll down and have another look at him? You know you want to.

He's Here!

Nephew Baby Sassy made his grand entrance this morning! His full name is Mikey Jet Sassy; doesn't that sound like a superhero? Mikey Jet was born at 6:11 a.m. after 20 hours of labor, which I guess makes my sister-in-law Maki the superhero. To quote my brother Michael's birth announcement: "Mom and baby are just fine. Dad's a wreck." It's a little hard to believe my brother Mike actually has a child, given that he's still, at almost 40 years old, just a big kid himself. I haven't spoken to the new parents yet, but I did hear from my sister, The Fabulous Patti. FP said that she talked to Mike today and promptly told him that Baby Sassy is far cuter than she thought he would be. And that he must get his cuteness from Maki. Ah, family. We Sassys actually do love each other a lot, trust me. FP also told me our brother was considering the names Mikey Boink Sassy and Mikey Pooh Sassy. Seriously. I think everyone is happy they settled on Mikey Jet; he certainly will be when he hits junior high school.

My friend and co-worker Angela also had a baby this week. Her son Luke was born Tuesday morning. This has been a good week for superstar debuts.

Although not producing any new humans, your sassy Gal-Friday About Town had a pretty good couple of days herself. On Wednesday afternoon I met Gretchen and we walked across town to Zeitgeist. You haven't lived if you haven't spent a sunny weekday afternoon sipping Chimay on Zeitgeist's patio. It's a hipster, urban version of heaven. After chatting about work, music and Gretchen's husband (we love you, Paul) for a couple of hours while soaking up the Mission sun, Miss G and I took off to Street on Polk for a delicious dinner of cheeseburgers. Street is a little too high end to actually call them cheeseburgers, but their "ground sirloin" is one of the best cheeseburgers you can find in the City. Delicious.

Today I didn't have any social plans, so I took the opportunity to drop far more money than anticipated on new running shoes and exercise clothes. Endorphin addiction can sometimes be an expensive habit. Then I took another cross-town stroll to the Haight and went record shopping. I love walking across this city; it's actually small enough that I can walk virtually anywhere from home as long as I give myself an hour to an hour and a half.

Tonight I'll be heading to bed early before embarking on another fabulous work week tomorrow. I hope Mikey Jet is having sweet dreams tonight and reveling in his first day on earth.

"Oooh Baby, Band of Gold": Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 11

Freda Payne at the Plush Room

Right about now I bet you're saying, "Uh, Sassy, Freda Payne had... what... two, maybe three hits? Exactly how is she going to fill an entire evening at the Plush Room?" Well, it just so happens Ms. Payne is paying tribute to Ella Fitzgerald with this show, and she does a tremendous job. Pitch perfect renditions of "A Tisket, A Tasket," "Miss Otis Regrets," "You've Changed" and Ella's take on "Mack the Knife" fill the performance. She also satisfies her fans with "Band of Gold" and "Bring the Boys Home" at the end of the night. All in all, this was one of the best shows I've ever seen at the Plush Room (all of Paula West's performances notwithstanding). I even bought a cd afterward and had her sign it. It's something to get a jaded media-type like me to actually ask for an autograph.

Two of Freda's musicians ogled me as I walked through the lobby of the York Hotel on my way out the door. I took the opportunity to tell them how much I enjoyed the show, but really now. I guess it wouldn't be my life if some much older, inappropriate man didn't think he could behave any way he wanted toward me. Ah, well. Such is the burden of being sassy, I suppose.

In other music news, I have officially become addicted to iTunes. Over the past few days I've downloaded everything from the Grass Roots to the Clash to the La's to the Knitters. Soon I will be like Ann Marie who claims to spend $50 per visit to the Apple music site. I already have a decent-sized cd collection, but there's just so much music and so little time.

Yes, Virginia, there really is...

... such a thing as too much chocolate.

I was feeling a little melancholy when I got up this morning, so I decided to make myself some chocolate chip pancakes. Given that my culinary skills are not as well honed as my other many talents, I ended up putting too many chocolate chips in the batter. Of course, that did not stop me from eating the ooey-gooey, chocolately goodness I had created, and my pancakes made me a little bit sick.

To pass the time while my body tried its best to metabolize all that sugar, I loaded a ton of songs into my iPod. Some are from cd's I already own; others I downloaded from iTunes. But all are very fun. I then took my newly fattened iPod to the gym where I ran five miles on the treadmill and walked another mile as a cooldown. That cheered me up far more than my diabetes-inducing breakfast had. I think I'll stick to the anti-depressant effects of endorphins and leave the emotional eating to those who cook better than I do.

Good news! I was finally able to post the photo of myself and Ann Marie from last week's blackout at Favorite Bar 2 and its surrounding neighbors. I think the problem may actually have been my computer and not Blogger, which is a mildly disturbing idea. Regardless, I know you've been on the edge of your seat waiting to see us in all out blackout glory. So scroll down and have a look.

Toes, Tunes and a Blackout

I must say, I certainly made the most of my one day off this week. First I went to the gym yesterday morning and had the most fabulous workout. If you are not a person who indulges in exercise endorphins, you are truly missing out. After that, I took advantage of the warm sunshine and got my first pedicure of the year! I usually get pedicures every few weeks, but it has been so rainy since December that I haven't bothered this year. Why pay for cute toes if you're just going to shove them inside a pair of boots everyday?

After my pedicure, my newly-painted, exposed toes and I hit Amoeba Records where I dropped far too much money on cd's... although, on second thought, is it really possible to spend too much money on music? My first purchase was the brand new Matthew Sweet-Susannah Hoffs album, Under the Covers, vol. 1. Matthew Sweet is a terrifically talented singer-songwriter type whose tune "I've Been Waiting" is one of my favorite jingle jangle alterna-pop songs of the early '90's. And Susannah Hoffs is, of course, from the Bangles, who were, for the record, an extraordinary band before that "Walk Like An Egyptian" nonsense was released. It was all downhill from there, but they have some great early work. Anyway, Sweet and Hoffs have put together a collection of 60's pop covers, and it's super fun. While still in the store I noticed that one of the covers on this record is of Love's "Alone Again Or". In that moment I was reminded that I was introduced to this song in the 80's by the Damned's version (sorry, original artist purists), and I decided I had to have a copy of that one. So I found a rather expensive because it is out of print used Damned cd and added it my purchase list. I had downloaded the Love version of "Alone Again Or" from iTunes weeks ago, but today I own all three renditions I know exist. Because apparently, unbeknownst to even me, this is my favorite song in the world, and I have to acquire as many versions as possible.

After cd shopping and touring several Haight Street vintage clothing stores, I met Ann Marie at Favorite Bar 2. While we were there a short blackout hit the neighborhood, plunging the bar into darkness. Most of the FB2 denizens paid little attention to the lack of lights and calmly continued to sip their cocktails. But Ann Marie and I jumped into action, falling into a fit of giggles and taking photos of ourselves with her cell phone. I have finally been able to post the very attractive shot that you see to your left. Aren't we just lovely? Actually, I think the photo turned out okay, considering we really couldn't see her black cell phone very well in the extinguished light of the bar. Our amusement may sound lame to you, but we enjoyed ourselves. Ann Marie and I have a keen knack for turning an ordinary evening of sitting in a bar into an Olympic event of fabulousness. Add a blackout, and we become gold medal champions of fun.

Plus, the bartender working at FB2 last night displayed her incredible sense of memory and told me she recognized me from seven years ago (!) when I spent a couple of sessions in the acting class she was taking. I had decided her acting teacher's style wasn't for me, so I think I only attended two or three classes... again, seven years ago. She also said she had seen me in a show but couldn't remember which one. Regardless, it was quite likely a play I did at least six years ago, as I only act very occasionally now. That is one impressive memory. I had vaguely recognized her, but I decided it was just because she looks a little like my friend Camilla. Anyway, our bartendress then participated in Ann Marie's and my funathon for a bit, and she and I compared notes on who we know in common from theatre and other arenas (we came up with Morris, Dawson, the folks in the Rough Theatre Company, Pete and Jeff). San Francisco is one tiny city.

I Made It!

I got to the ceremony a little late because I didn't get up until 4:50, but I was, in fact, at Lotta's Fountain at 5:12 this morning, exactly 100 years after the great San Francisco earthquake struck (okay, almost exactly.... technically the ceremony was an hour early because the U.S. didn't set the clocks forward for daylight savings time in 1906). The fountain's surroundings look a little different today than they do in this photo, but I figured an image of what had been was more appropriate.

I had to jog to the fountain to make it in time, so it's a good thing I love to run. And since 5 a.m. is not exactly the ideal time for a woman to be walking the streets, jogging was probably the safer option anyway. The commemoration was super fun; being there kind of felt like being part of history. I had to hold back a stream of tears when a vintage horse-drawn fire truck was driven down Market Street, and the city's emergency warning sirens were sounded after we observed a moment of silence at 5:12. After all the speeches were done, our movie star mayor interviewed the 11 earthquake survivors who were there. Even though I generally like them a little geekier than him, I certainly hope a man as charming as Gavin flirts with me when I'm 100 years old.

And because this is San Francisco, at one point during the ceremony the aroma of marijuana wafted by me. Well, it was a celebration of the city's spirit, and a lot of people who live here love their pot. Also, because it's me, I not only saw two people I work with who were covering the event, but I ran into three other people I know. My friend Grant and his girlfriend told me they had stayed up all night because they didn't think they'd be able to get up for the ceremony. Now, that's intense. And yes, they looked really tired.

By the way, if you don't know, Lotta's Fountain was the location for the commemoration this morning because it not only survived the 1906 quake but served as a meeting place for people in the days following the disaster. There's a survivor ceremony there every year, actually, but it's not usually as big as this one.

After the ceremony I went home and crashed on my couch until I had to get ready for work a few hours later. But tonight my work week is over, although I'm going to have an abbreviated weekend this week. I have to work on Thursday, but I get to do my absolute favorite part of my job that day, so I don't mind. I'm going to have to cram an entire weekend's worth of fun into Wednesday, but I think I'm up for the challenge. If not, I'll just have a Power Bar.

Thanks, Easter Bunny!

Well, Peter Cottontail took his annual trip down the bunny trail yesterday, and we celebrated by metaphorically donning our Easter bonnets and gathering for brunch at the Rex Cafe. An incredible cast of family and friends attended: my sister The Fabulous Patti, my aunt Mary, my uncle David, my little cousin Anna, Denise, Paul, Emily, Brad, Jack and Jim. Mimosas, Bloody Marys, delicious food, brilliant conversation and two treat-filled Easter baskets all made for one marvelous holiday. I took some commemorative photos, which I will post once I get them developed. Knowing me that could take a while, so don't be surprised if you see Easter photos in September.

However much fun we had, though, I think my mother trumped us. Diva Mommy lives in Hawaii and told me that she enjoyed an Easter sunrise service on the beach with Diamond Head in the background and warm, soft winds kissing her cheeks. Now that is an Easter deserving of a diva.

Today I struggled through both fatigue and an Easter candy hangover while at work, but I managed. As I have mentioned before, I work kind of late Sunday nights and have only ten hours before I have to be back at work Monday mornings. Some weeks are better than others, but tonight I am exhausted. So I'm off to bed in just minutes... literally. I may rouse myself at 4 a.m. so I can go to Lotta's Fountain for the centennial celebration of the 1906 earthquake tomorrow. 4 a.m. will come awfully early, and we'll be awash in earthquake stuff all day at work. But then, who knew I'd live here for this anniversary? This may not be something I want to miss. I'll let you know how that goes for me.

Here Comes the Sun

Guess what? Something completely glorious happened today: the sun came out! And it was warm! To celebrate I broke out my flowy vintage spring dress and went to Mario's Cigar Bar to meet Gretchen and Paul for a late lunch. We sat outside and chatted while munching on fabulously satisfying delectables. Gretchen had to work at 7:00, so she and Paul went on their way at about 6:30. But Ann Marie had called me, and she caught up with me at Mario's where we continued to enjoy the early evening sunshine while gazing upon Washington Square Park from our outdoor seating. At about 8:00 we made our way to Favorite Bar where we met Brad and a friend of his. Actually, his friend is a recent ex-girlfriend, and frankly, she's... well, let's just say a handful. Given that she chatted up several other men while Brad was left to hang out with us leads me to believe that perhaps they shouldn't stay friends. I know they've broken up, but her behavior was a little tacky, to say the least.

But this post is not about this woman's strange antics; it's about how spring made a rare and very welcome appearance today. This very coy season may well not stay long; it's supposed to rain on and off all weekend. But the taste we had today was delicious.

Tomorrow it's back to the salt mine to start my work week. Weekends go by so fast.

Theatre That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 4

The Glass Menagerie at Berkeley Rep

Really I should say that the second act of The Glass Menagerie made me happy, as I was a little preoccupied through the first act. You see, Terry and I arrived about 10 minutes late, as we had gotten stuck in hideous traffic approaching the bridge. Now, I have both attended and acted in enough plays to understand that it is really distracting when late-comers grope for their seats in the dark. However, when we arrived, a woman I assume was the house manager instructed an usher that we were with the press, so we needed to be seated immediately, despite our tardiness. The usher griped as he lead us to the appropriate door, but once we walked through that door, he told us we would have to stand in the aisle for the entire first act. And then he walked away.

At first Terry and I just shot each other stunned looks, but then I found the usher again and asked him if he was serious when he told us we would have to stand for an hour and fifteen minutes instead of finding our seats between scenes. He said we could wait for the late seating opportunity, but we would have to sit in the back, and then we could move to our assigned seats at intermission. We took that option. And when the late seating opportunity arrived, he took us, along with six other curtain-missing delinquents, outside into the rain, up some stairs, through the staff break room to a back door. When he opened the back door and let us into the very back of the audience he merely said, "Find any open seat," and, again, walked away. No instructions as to where any open seats may be. I'm sure eight people fumbling for seats as our eyes adjusted to the light was not distracting at all.

So I was still digesting that experience through most of the first act. Not to mention that Tennessee Williams seems to spend the majority of act one establishing the relationships between the characters. But the pay off for all that set up definitely comes in act two, which absolutely sings. If you have ever felt shy, insecure, unworthy or otherwise less than fabulous (and I know you have), you will not be able to help but be affected by the second act of The Glass Menagerie. Rita Moreno stars in Berkeley Rep's production, but the amazing Emily Donahoe, who plays Laura, absolutely owns the show. She is that good.

And if our late seating experience wasn't surreal enough, after the performance a 70-year man flagrantly hit on me at the opening night reception. Welcome to my life.

That was last night, and in just a few minutes I am going to meet Ann Marie for a zinfandel tasting. Fine theatre, fine wine. These are good times, my friends.

So Cool It Almost Hurts: Theatre That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 3

My friend Carolyn makes me cooler.

Last night I met her for an early dinner, and then we went, on her excellent suggestion, to see the new Elastic Future play, The Unauthorized Autobiography of Kim Deal. This show is a one-two punch of music and theatre that are both making me happy today. It features not only actors living out the script, but a live band playing Pixies and Breeders songs to complement the story. Okay, obviously it's a cover band because the actual Kim Deal, Kelley Deal and Frank Black have not been cast in the show. But the songs are still fantastic, and the musicians do a very good job.

I said in an earlier post that you have to appreciate the cool that is Frank Black. Well, the same definitely goes for the amazing Kim Deal; that goes without saying. And this rock and roll theatre extravaganza does justice to that cool. If you're curious, the show is running at Amnesia (yes, a bar... where else?) in the Mission through April 15th. Of course I was the only person among the hipsters in the audience last night wearing pearls, but what can you do? I'd like to believe I give pearls a sort of cool cachet. Anyway, thank you, Carolyn, for making sure I caught this show.

Today a co-worker of mine called in sick, and I was pulled off the job I was supposed to do so I could fill in for her. It was super-fun, and I ended up getting home two hours earlier than I would have otherwise. So I'm now gearing up to take a happy nap before I meet Emily and Brad later tonight. We're going to dinner and Favorite Bar, but I also hope we make it to a film release party featuring Persephone's Bees, creators of yet more music that makes me happy.

Expanding the Clan

There's going to be a new Baby Sassy! As evidenced by the photo to the left, my sister-in-law Maki is pregnant and due this month. Aside from teasing my brother about how his soon-to-be-son will be his own "Mini Me," this hasn't seemed all that real to me. Until now. All of a sudden I'm very excited about the debut of this new person. I may have to trek down to Southern California soon so Baby Sassy can meet his new favorite auntie.

And for those of you keeping score at home, this baby will be Japanese, Caucasian and African-American with a dash of Native American thrown in for good measure. We Sassys are definitely doing our part to realize that whole great American melting pot concept.

In other news, I have found another favorite bar. Chris, Tom and I went to this very fun, retro-chic place last night, and I am in love. While Favorite Bar 2 will never completely trump the original Favorite Bar, I think it will give it a run for its money. I actually used to live near FB2 in 1999 and have been there before, but in my foolish youth I didn't fully appreciate it. Back in those days so many years ago, my interest in bars was solely as a means to meet boys and be part of some scene. I'm still a fan of boys and of going out, but my "bar scene" days are long behind me. Now I'd rather relax and enjoy a place like FB2 without concern for who else may be there. With tactful vintage neon, excellent live music (you know I love that) and a tasty signature cocktail, FB2 is an excellent place to while away an evening with friends. The staff and regulars there will definitely see more of me in the future.

Venus and Mars

My friend Brad always says that men are stupid and women are crazy. Honestly, I tend to agree with his assessment, especially the part about women being crazy. I know we're insane. But one thing I will never understand is the male ego.

Last night Helen and I went to Favorite Bar where we ran into this man who is a regular there. I met said fellow about a year and a half ago when I was in the midst of a gargantuan crush I had on a bartender who used to work there. I know, I know, falling for a bartender is a total rookie move, but that's an entirely different story. Anyway, Regular knew I had a thing for the cute, semi-nerdy man behind the bar; he even commented on it when we met. But that late December night in 2004 Regular and I did talk about our respective New Year's Eve plans, and we exchanged email addresses with the intention of possibly combining plans. I didn't even give him my primary email address; I offered some third-tier email I usually reserve for mailing lists and the like. And I pretty much immediately forgot all about our inebriated exchange until I cleaned out my purse a few weeks later and found the scrap of paper upon which he'd written his email.

I now run into Regular at Favorite Bar probably once every three or four months. He's nice enough, but does have a tendency to be overly touchy. What starts out as a hug usually develops into a mauling session. And he behaves this way toward all the women who frequent Favorite Bar, not just me. He's always seemed harmless, much like another regular who has hit on me for nearly three years with a never-ending tenacity, even though I'm not even nice to him. But sometime around last October or November, I decided I'd had it with being pawed by this dude. So the next time I saw Regular, I rebuffed him when he tried to hug me. Rather rudely, I must admit. But as the months have passed since then, we again chat on the really rather rare occasion we see each other, and he no longer touches me so much. A victory in my book.

Well, last night, Regular and Helen went outside to smoke while I took a call on my cell phone. When they returned, he went to talk to some other people he knew, and Helen proceeded to relate to me the conversation they'd had while smoking. He apparently told her that he and I had exchanged phone numbers (huh? Since when is an email address your phone number?), and that he never called me. According to Regular, I had been really disappointed and upset about that, but he believes everything is okay now. I guess I must feel better about his lack of interest in me.

I'm sorry.... What??!! Aside from handing him an email address during a time in which he knew I was infatuated with someone else, I have never done anything to indicate I was interested in Regular. Not once. So can someone please explain to me how rebuffing the physical attention of a man you barely know is a sign that you have the hots for him and are so disappointed he does not feel the same way about you? This isn't a rhetorical question; I'm actually interested in an explanation. If only I had a strong enough ego to believe a man who rejected my advances did so because he was actually into me.

Good Things About Spring

The first good thing is that I left work tonight at 7 p.m., and it was still light outside. I don't care if we lose an hour of sleep, and the people in Hawaii and Arizona think it's weird, I love daylight savings time. Yes, the days would get longer anyway, but there's something a little magical about that first week or so after we set the clocks forward.

Another good thing is baseball season, and today is opening day! As previously proclaimed on this space, baseball is the only sport that matters to me. I don't see the appeal of other games, nor do I understand how anyone could not love baseball. The world is definitely a happier place when pitchers take the mound, the infield fly rule is invoked and my baseball boyfriends return to play.

Both of these things have put me in a rather good mood this evening. Of course, spring also is supposed to mean the end of the rain in the Bay Area, but no such luck this year. However, that's a complaint for another day.

And finally, I end this missive of whimsy with a cautionary tale for anyone who may feel blue about being single. Earlier tonight I got together with a girl friend of mine. She related to me the story of a guy she recently went on one or two dates with. For various reasons, primarily his inebriated condition, he ended up spending one night at her apartment last week, even though they were not actually on a date that night. While she was able to set a solid boundary where fooling around was concerned (in other words, there would be no nookie for him), she was unable to stop him from urinating in her bed. That's right. Granted, my friend certainly isn't interested in this man now. How could she be? But I just have to say: I'd rather be single.

Media Night at Favorite Bar

Last night the lovely and talented Gretchen and I decided to meet at Favorite Bar for champagne. And earlier in the afternoon my friend Steve happened to call me asking for a bar recommendation, so he came along as well. I used to work with both Steve and Gretchie, although not at the same job. We took three power seats at the bar and were off and running when a TV guy who worked with Steve years ago and currently works for the same company as Gretchie came in. Between the four of us, it was like media night at Favorite Bar.

A fabulous time was had by all. In fact, I had too fabulous a time. I didn't do anything to embarrass myself and honestly didn't even realize how affected I was by the champagne until I got home. But things went downhill quickly from there.

Sometimes I'm a complete amateur.

So tonight I'm staying in to continue recovering from my champagne adventure and to watch my amazing actor friend Assaf on television. He's got a guest spot on that show "Numbers." I've never seen it before, but then I never had a reason to watch until now. They certainly are lucky Assaf has graced an episode.

San Francisco Afternoon

First of all, the Noise Pop show last night was very fun. Ann Marie and I actually missed the first band and most of the second, but the third band was excellent. They're called The Ex-Boyfriends and play quite the fun punk-infused power pop. We were not at all impressed with the headliner, but given that we'd never heard of any of the bands playing, I consider it a success to have found one we enjoyed.

This afternoon I met my friend April (or Lirpa, as I call her) for lunch at the San Francisco Ferry Building. Lirpa and I used to work together, and I remember the day I knew we'd be friends. It was just over four years ago, and I was in some crabby mood about something or another. Lirpa was reading Rolling Stone. At one point I walked out of the studio, and when I returned, I found the lovely Lirpa had cut a photo of Scott Stapp from Creed out of her magazine and posted it right in front of my chair, along with a dialogue bubble reading: "Sassy Hair, I love you. Give me a kiss." Given that Creed is one of my LEAST favorite bands EVER, this visual sent me into hysterics and propelled me out of my stupid bad mood. And the funniest part is that I believe said picture is still posted in that studio, complete with thought bubble, even though I haven't worked there for more than two years.

So Lirpa and I dined at the Slanted Door, where I also had a glass of sparkling wine that reminded me of carbonated, alcoholic fruit punch. It was tasty, but I can't imagine having more than a glass or two of that stuff. And of course Lirpa and I got a chance to catch up about all things in our lives: work, boys, whatever.

After lunch I got some of those delicious French macaroon sandwich cookies at Miette for dessert before I ran a few errands. And to top off a wonderful afternoon, I went to Kate Spade to buy a purse I have been eyeing and found it on sale! Sometimes the little things in life just go my way. Tonight I was thinking of going to see one of the a cappella groups from Brown perform (they're on tour during spring break), but it's so chilly and gloomy outside that I think I'm in for the night. I bought Cadbury Mini Eggs on my way home; what else do I need?

Pop Goes the Noise

It's Noise Pop time again! Noise Pop is an annual independent music festival in San Francisco, and you know what that means: lots of live music! Now, one could go to the Noise Pop website and look for a band he or she may have heard of. But the truly daring among us just pick a venue and show up for the performance. That's what Ann Marie and I are doing tonight. We have heard of none of the bands playing, but that's not stopping us. We'll be making a pit stop at Kate's birthday celebration beforehand, which should also be fun. I believe Kate turned 12 today (okay, 27, but she's still a just a wee babe), so I bet we're in store for quite the fete.

And for the record, this is the third Tuesday night in a row Ann Marie and I have gone out to see live music. Tuesday is the beginning of my weekend, but Ann Marie has a regular work schedule. That girl is quite the rock star, isn't she? Even the guy she's dating remarked on how many music shows she attends. I bet he is giddily overwhelmed by how lucky he is to have her.

In other news, I had an excellent day at work today. I had to cover three stories, but none was terribly stressful, and I got out on time. Gotta love that.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 10

"Crush Story" by Too Much Joy

This song is so cute and so accurately describes what it's like to be crazy about someone ("Everything you've ever said is brilliant... Anything you want to do is fine with me..."). I own this ditty on cd and have heard it a million times. But while driving around for work yesterday, I was listening to Live 105, and the DJ said: "If you were in college in 1991, you were probably singing along with this song" before she played "Crush Story." Not only was she very right, but I don't think I've heard it on the radio since 1991. Well, it may be 2006, but yesterday I sang along with Tim Quirk's lyrics with a gusto that rivaled anything that clown in Pagliacci has mustered. I'm loading this song into my iPod today.

After work last night, I went to Medjool where I met Sheela, her husband Ben, our friend Maya and some other friends of Sheela's. I spend so much time at Favorite Bar, I have completely forgotten what it's like to spend a Saturday night in an overly crowded, trendy nightspot filled with scantily clad women and bug-eyed boys. When I left (before midnight, by the way; I'm getting old) there was a line of potential Saturday-night Medjool denizens outside the door that stretched down the block. Even though I'd just spent two hours there, I had to wonder what all these people were waiting patiently to find inside. Regardless of the trendiness and the crowd, I still had fun with my friends. Sheela and I giggled and devised evil plans all night... just like any good girls would.

Best Friend... Star of Stage and Screen

Or at least stage, in this case.

I was just a little theatre tramp this week. Fresh off my trans-bay voyage to Berkeley Rep for Zorro in Hell, last night I went to the San Francisco Playhouse to see my friend Stephanie in a show. I met Stephanie about a year and a half ago when she and I were in a play called 411. Steph would absolutely crack me up during rehearsals, and at one particular moment of hilarity, she turned to me and said, "You so want to be my best friend, don't you?" In fact, while I have far too many friends to honestly call one the "best," she was pretty much right. And it has so been worth it. In addition to offering sparkling conversation over dinners and friend-discounted singing lessons, Best Friend threw one mean all-girls slumber party last year. The six or so of us sang karaoke, watched Flashdance and Mean Girls, ate tons of snacks, drank cosmos and crank called boys. A better time could not have been had, especially by the boys who received our phone calls.

Anyway, Best Friend is currently in a production of Our Lady of 121st Street, which features many laugh out loud moments along with some excellent acting. And Best Friend was, of course, phenomenal. Afterward, I joined her and some of her castmates for cocktails, which was much fun. And the odd thing was that several of them seemed to recognize me from my days as an actor. Prior to 411, the last time I had graced a stage was in 2001 for two one-day play festivals, and the last full production I had done was in 2000. But I guess I'm memorable in some way. Weird.

And tonight, after going out three nights in a row as well as facing a long work day tomorrow which will be followed by more socializing, I am staying in. Erin, Jack and Helen are all out and invited me to come along, but I am happy as a clam in my pajamas and out of the rainy weather. Plus, I had macaroni and cheese for dinner and found a couple of episodes of Six Feet Under on cable. Sounds like a great Friday night to me.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 9

Belle and Sebastian at the San Francisco Concourse

Remember when Roberto Benigni climbed all over the seats at the Academy Awards and proclaimed during his acceptance speech that he wanted to make love to everyone? Well, I feel a similar enthusiasm for Belle and Sebastian. I might have preferred to see them in a more intimate venue, but this group of Scots filled the Concourse at the San Francisco Design Center with their clever melodies Tuesday night. Imagine the Beautiful South combined with the Flying Machine or the Beau Brummels, and you have Belle and Sebastian.

Ann Marie and I found ourselves an elevated spot against the railing and watched the show above the sea of people that was the incredibly large audience. And of course, I ran into three people I know: Nick, Chris and Joo-Eun. I would say that was because I run into people I know every time I go out, but there were so many people there, it would probably have been hard not to run into someone I know. You were likely there, too, weren't you?

It was truly a fabulous show. Do yourself a favor and go out now and get yourself a Belle and Sebastian cd. Now. Really. Go.

Tonight I went with Terry to Berkeley Rep for opening night of Culture Clash's Zorro in Hell. I have great respect for Culture Clash and wanted to love this play, but alas, I can't say that I did. While it features some very funny lines and excellent cultural references, the show is a little long and seems unfocused at times. Of course, I haven't written even one play, let alone been creating works for the stage since 1984... as Culture Clash has done. So who the heck am I to criticize, really.

Welcome Home

I have made it back home safely, but I thought I'd post one more photo from my jaunt up north. This is me and Father Sassy at the waterfront in Tacoma Friday evening. Father Sassy is not the world's tallest man, is he?

My mini-vacation was fun, but I'm very glad to be home. Last night I celebrated my safe passage from Washington state back to San Francisco over champagne at Favorite Bar. I was joined by my friends Tom and Chris, and we chatted and laughed and watched Tom drink too many Manhattans. I love drunk Tom, so that was a true bonus.

But today it was back to the salt mine. Luckily Sunday is my favorite work day. I have three different jobs at work, and I enjoy the one I do on Sunday best. Plus I worked an earlier shift today, so I'm already home. I have to rest up because I have a big week ahead of me: the Belle and Sebastian show, the Culture Clash show at Berkeley Rep, my friend Stephanie's play and meeting Sheela, her husband and some other friends for cocktails. Oh, and at some point during all that I have to go to work and go over my taxes with my accountant. It's very inconvenient when responsibilities take energy and time away from socializing.

Greetings From Puget Sound

Here I am in at the waterfront in Steilacoom, Washington. Beautiful, isn't it? Yeah, well, it's about 48 degrees, and despite that smile on my face, I am freezing. Even though I checked the Seattle-area weather forecast before I left the Bay Area, I managed to pack nothing warm enough for the climate up here. But aside from the chill, my vacation has been positively joyous. I've gone running every morning, and yesterday Father Sassy took me out for a tour of the towns and beaches near Gig Harbor.

Oooh, and Father Sassy's house features a place as close to heaven as I will ever see while alive. It's a small room with a chair positioned right in front of a stereo and surrounded by shelves and shelves of books. The stereo has this huge amplifier that looks like something out of a 1950's science fiction movie. One of the many careers Father Sassy has had, in addition to personal trainer and poet, involved building speakers and dealing with stereo equipment, so he knows how to enjoy his music. There are also photographs of jazz musicians carefully placed throughout the room. And Father Sassy loves his reading, too. He and I have already talked authors, with him shaking his head in disbelief when I told him I don't like Zadie Smith (White Teeth was one of the most boring books I have ever tried to read). He's given me Goats by Mark Jude Poirier, and so far it is pretty good.

Imagine an entire room devoted to music and books. He is so my father.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 8

Frank Black at Cafe du Nord

I will come right out and admit that I don't know much... well, any, really... of Frank Black's solo music. But I love the Pixies and have much respect for the cool that is Mr. Black Francis. You've got to respect him. And the Pixies. If you don't, I hate to say it, but you're a moron.

Denise, Paul, Ann Marie, Emily and myself asserted our not-moronic status last night by traipsing over to the super-swell Cafe du Nord and taking in the vocal styling of Mr. Black, who just stood before us and sang as he strummed his guitar. At one point he did call up a keyboardist, but basically, the show was all just him. And it was pretty great, whether you knew any of the songs beforehand or not. And just for the record, if you're looking for age-appropriate, seemingly heterosexual men who also happen to be damn hot, a Frank Black show is apparently the place to find a lot of them. Emily, Ann Marie and I certainly enjoyed the floor show as well as the one happening on stage.

That story told, I should let you know that I am talking to you tonight from Seattle. Sort of. I'm actually in Gig Harbor, about an hour outside of Seattle. I've taken a little holiday and am visiting my dad and his wife. I'll only be here a few days, but this is the first paid vacation I've had in years. I was let go from my last fancy full-time job in December, 2003, and then I spent a year and a half freelancing. I've now been at my current job long enough to cash in some vacation time, and I am stoked. I wiled away my first day in Seattle proper where my dad, his wife and I enjoyed cocktails and snacks at a delicious Caribbean restaurant for happy hour. My dad and I then took off to allow me some tourist time. The Experience Music Project was already closed, but Father Sassy and I did go up to the top of the Space Needle. It was fun, but can someone please tell me what the point of that thing is?

I'm not certain what we'll do for the next few days, but what I do know is that I'll be making money while relaxing in the great Pacific Northwest. Gotta love that arrangement. And I'll especially love it when I visit my mother in Hawaii this summer.

When Work Feels Nothing Like Work

When most people have to sit in traffic for more than an hour, they get annoyed. I did it joyfully today because I got paid for it. You read that right: for almost two full hours, I was paid to sit in traffic.

Now, I did have to sing a little bit for my supper. This was not your ordinary Saturday traffic, so I had to talk about the hideous congestion, along with the moods of the other drivers (a bit of a challenge as we were all in our own cars) and the basic atmosphere on the automobile soaked Golden Gate Bridge. The other drivers seemed to be handling the situation with gracious patience, even though we were all being left in the dust by the pedestrians walking across the bridge. And I think the drivers' moods would have soured if they'd known I was being paid to do what they were doing for free. So I kept that to myself.

Once Highway 101 reopened the traffic recovered quickly, and I'm sure everyone was quite happy and relieved. Well, everyone except the actor I met who had missed his audition in Marin because he was stuck in the back-up. And then his car died. Plus, his towing company told him they wouldn't be able to get a truck out to him right away, so he was stranded with a only few hours until he needed to be onstage for his current show. I doubt he was having a particularly good day.

Sometimes my job is almost surreal.

You Know Too Many People When...

Or this post could be titled: "You Go Out Too Much When..."

So this being my "Saturday" night, the Lovely Laino and I went out. First we hit a totally dead bar... at my request. I was doing a little research for a writing project I'm taking on. After one drink at Dead Bar, we went to the Balboa Cafe. There we ran into the Head Boss from work, a guy who works at our sister station, a former trainer at my gym and a former co-worker of ours. All at the Balboa. I would expect this kind of thing at Favorite Bar, but I rarely ever go to the Balboa.

Clearly, I have lived in San Francisco too long. But I love it. By the way, other than running into a bunch of people we knew, the Balboa was boring. Or more accurately, it was full of boring boys we didn't having any interest in meeting. Yawn.

Ah, To Be A Target Demographic

I say this a lot here in Sassy-land, but once again, you know you're old when...There are no fewer than three television commercials currently airing that feature songs by your favorite band.

Yes, the Go-Go's became mainstream pop, but they started as punk rock chicks, for crying out loud. They were an all-girl band who wrote their own songs, played their own instruments and were not controlled by a Berry Gordy or Phil Spector type producer. Belinda can't sing to save her life, but who really cares?

Well, now they're glorified jingle-smiths. A re-recorded version of "Vacation" is being used to promote some travel company or another (it may be Orbitz). "Head Over Heels" now hawks Pantene hair products. And the most offensive... "We Got the Beat" has been changed to "We Got the Meat" for a pizza commercial. "We Got the Beat" may be my least favorite Go-Go's song (the original Stiff Records version notwithstanding), but it didn't deserve that. Now, this is not the first time Go-Go's music has been used to sell products; in 1998 "Our Lips Are Sealed" helped the marketing efforts of AT&T. But three commercials all airing at the same time?

Madness has also recently been featured in a coffee commercial, and Squeeze was co-opted by, I believe, Burger King a few years ago. But those are stories for another day.

So it's official. Any efforts of mine to deny that I'm getting older will be countered by ad agencies' insistence that I am now part of some kind of desirable demographic. I guess I don't blame the Go-Go's members for making a little cash by selling their songs to advertisers, but I never thought I'd see the day when I missed those ridiculous California Raisins commercials. Granted, the genius that was Marvin Gaye didn't deserve jingle status either, and he didn't make any money off those ads because he didn't write "I Heard It Through the Grapevine." Um, and he was already dead. But that's another generation's battle.

Music That's Making Me Happy Today, vol 7

"Catch My Disease" by Ben Lee
I have to give Ben a little love on this space because he is playing tonight at the Great American Music Hall, and I am not there. I could be, as my friends Denise and Paul are going and wanted me to come along. But Monday nights are a bit of a challenge for me since I work a late shift on Sundays and have to be back at work a mere 10 hours later Monday mornings. In other words: I'm pooped and am already in my pajamas, which likely would not be a good look for a concert. Luckily for me, I have seen Ben twice before. In December I caught him at the Independent with the aforementioned Denise and Paul. And about three years ago he captivated a bunch of us Fountains of Wayne fans when he opened for that band at the Fillmore. So I think I'll be okay getting some sleep instead of singing along with cute little Ben's show tonight.

And since the hooky goodness of "Catch My Disease" makes it my favorite little Ben ditty, it gets the specific mention in this volume of music that's making me happy.

In other news, this past weekend I caught up with my college friend Bert's sister Emily (did you follow that?). Emily recently moved to San Francisco for her fancy job, and I had the pleasure of introducing her to Favorite Bar on Friday night. Jack and Helen were there, too, and we all had much fun over many cocktails. Emily even met a gentleman that night. I'm not certain how long their connection will continue, but the magic of Favorite Bar is powerful. Even if only for one night or so.

Theatre That Is Making Me Happy Today, vol 2

The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee at the Post Street Theatre

Well, now isn't this just the cutest little musical I have ever seen.

I must admit, I went into Spelling Bee with fairly low expectations. It looked a little dumb to me, and I have seen some bad musicals in my time. But I had media passes of my own, and I am not one to turn down a theatre opportunity. Well, as it turns out, I was quite pleasantly surprised. Hysterically funny and a little poignant, Spelling Bee had me laughing out loud and at times a little choked up. Yes, I said choked up; any story about kids has the potential to get to me. In fact, when I saw Spellbound, that documentary film about kids in the National Spelling Bee, I didn't just get choked up... I folded like a cheap paper airplane under the pressure of watching kids under so much pressure and cried. Hard.

But back to the musical comedy about spelling. There are shows out there that can be called "better." Nine Parts of Desire, for example, which is running for a couple more days at Berkeley Rep (see February 11th post). And Spelling Bee is unlikely to change anyone's life. But I have learned that it takes talent and artistry to create fun theatre, and the high caliber singing and acting in this show, including what must be some improvised lines, work together to produce an incredibly enjoyable experience. And while I imagine a few of my theatre-snob friends would dismiss this show, I say there is no crime in entertainment for entertainment's sake. Some local references have been infused into the story, and I think at least one of them is a little over the top, but that's my only criticism.

My super-talented actress friend Mary also really enjoyed Spelling Bee. And she recently had free tickets for Cats but hated it so much that she walked out in the middle of the first act. So there you go, Spelling Bee really is better than Cats.

Fat Tuesday

This year Fat Tuesday has been followed by Hangover Wednesday. Well, I'm not actually hung over, but boy did I do my share of Mardi Gras reveling last night. Truth be told, I just think I'm getting old. I had four glasses of champagne over four hours, and I was dee-runk by the end of the night. I can't party like a 25-year old (or even a 30-year old) anymore.

To add to the fun, it was also my sister's birthday yesterday. The Fabulous Patti turned 47, but she looks about 35. At the oldest. Anyway, I met Fabulous Patti and her friend Lisette at the wine bar in the Ferry Building where we toasted the anniversary of FP's birth over glasses of champagne. Then FP and I took off for Favorite Bar to meet my friend Sheela and her friend Scott. More champagne was consumed as we donned Mardi Gras beads and chatted about travel and film-making. Sounds pretentious, I'm sure, but it was really fun.

Not bad for a Tuesday night, I must say.

And I have a very fancy evening planned for tonight. First I'm going to a Commonwealth Club event. Not one of their usual lectures, but some tony cocktail and dinner thing. I have to leave the dinner early, though, as I'll be meeting my super-talented actress friend Mary, along with Terry and our co-worker Patti (not to be confused with FP, although this Patti is pretty fabulous, too) for the opening night performance of a The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. It's very hard being in such demand.