Rock 'n' Roller Derby and Popfest

I have been remiss, gentle readers. Not only because it has been almost three weeks since I last updated this space, but because I have neglected to tell you about my night at the roller derby.

That's right, roller derby.

Did you have any idea that roller derby still existed? I know I didn't. So when Denise invited me to accompany her and Paul to such a derby a week ago, how could I say no? The idea of seeing a 1970's relic live in the 21st Century was too enticing to pass up.

Well, the idea was far better than the reality.

The best way to describe the San Francisco Bay Bombers roller derby match against... of who even remembers which team?... is as a car wreck you can't look away from. Between the obvious fake fighting and the actors, I mean players, hurling themselves over the sides of the rink to make the action seem more exciting, it was too much. I couldn't decide if I was amused or horrified, and Paul and Denise were merely bored. We left at halftime, or whatever they call the break halfway through the match.

In this case I'd say that what happened in the '70's would best have been left in the '70's.

This weekend saw perhaps the best music event in San Francisco all year: Popfest 2009. Popfest was four days of a couple dozen indie pop bands from all over the world playing, by and large, my favorite type of rock music. Mostly it was guitar pop, although a few synthesizers snuck in here and there. Apparently, Popfest has been around for years, but I came late to the party and just discovered it this year. Between the shows I attended at the Rickshaw Stop Thursday night and House of Shields Saturday afternoon, I saw four of the bands (I'd have seen eight bands, but for one reason or another, I had to leave both shows early). I admit, I liked the Thursday bands better, but it was all good. Next year, I'll have to go to all of the shows. Or at least more than two.

Other weekend activities included my return to Project One, a neato Mission art gallery with a bar and occasional DJ's and live music I'd been to a couple of months ago. Frances, Carla and I went on Saturday night, and it proved to be a very productive outing. Then yesterday was Tom, Chris and Nick's annual Memorial Day party. Which is always held the day before Memorial Day, by the way.

I had been invited to attend a co-workers wedding in Calistoga this weekend, but I didn't go. One of the many reasons I didn't make the trek north is that I hurt myself about a week ago. I pulled muscle jogging, and my left leg has been very angry at me since. How did I pull said muscle? All I can say is that I was jogging while old. So sad, especially since I love to jog and haven't been able to for more than a week (although I've been indulging in alternative exercises and working with my trainer at the gym). So I figured it was best not to be too far from home, should my leg act up.

Ah, the joys of approaching middle age. My mind may think I'm still 28, but my body certainly does not.

Had To Get Away...

It's true, I haven't updated this space for a little while, but that's because I was in Hawaii for ten days looking at sunsets like this one I managed to capture on film (on digital?) in Waikiki last Friday evening.

I go to Hawaii twice a year now, and even that's not often enough. I love the warmth, the sunshine, the beaches, the energy, everything. I returned home last night and basically spent all day today wishing I was still in Honolulu. Well, I'll indulge this wistfulness for a few days before I force myself to shake it off and once again embrace my real life here in the City by the Bay. Luckily, lots of fun things are on the horizon, like Teenage Kicks tomorrow night, the Smuin Ballet opening and Moore Brothers show on Friday and Gina's birthday party on Saturday. Then, in just four short months, I'll be back in Oahu once again.

I used Facebook and Twitter to share real-time tidbits throughout my sojourn, but I'll summarize the whole thing here by offering tips for how to have a really top drawer time while on a beach vacation.

1. Take a jog by the beach every morning. I recommend Ala Moana Beach Park. Since you'll be jogging in slightly humid 85 degree temperatures, as opposed to the 60 degree temperatures you're accustomed to, allow yourself to jog about half a mile and then walk three miles. No, it's not as good a workout as you get at home, but you're on vacation, right? (You'll pay for this when you resume your normal exercise habits, but you can worry about that later.)

2. Drink mimosas everyday in the late morning/early afternoon. Unless, of course, you feel like the chest cold you had the week before you left might be gearing up for a relapse. In that case, take a day or two off from drinking alcohol, and you'll be fine.

3. Take a few more twilight beach photos. They'll all turn out beautifully and might even look like an old fashioned postcard or something.

4. Go to the beach everyday. If you're worried that you might get bored just lying on a beach day in and day out, don't. You won't get bored.

5. Sing songs. You can find karaoke anywhere, including and especially Waikiki, and singing songs never gets old. Now, if you could just find a guitar player and a Hawaiian open mic...

6. If your mother happens to live in Honolulu, and you happen to stay with her, enjoy the fact that she's willing to cook for you, especially if you don't even cook for yourself at home. This is truly an added bonus.

Follow these easy steps, gentle readers, and you're sure to have a wonderful time.

Unfortunately, my vacation included some bad news, as well. Just over a week ago, I was told that a friend of mine from high school (and junior high and grammar school, for that matter) died last month in Berlin. Apparently, he died of liver failure. I'm not sure why this 39-year old man's liver failed, but it did. The good news, I suppose, is that I and many of our other classmates recently had reconnected with him via Facebook, and we'd had lots of little chats about music and our school days and whatnot. There were 73 kids in my high school graduating class, and as far as I am aware, he is the second person to die (the first died on September 11, 2001, in the World Trade Center). That's a loss you feel, even 21 years after graduation. Live each moment and each day, my friends. And if you can swing it, live at least a few of those days in Hawaii.

Recovering Actors

Back in a former life, also known as the 90's and the first year or two of the 00's, I was an actor. I trained; I performed; I felt sooooo dramatic and artistic. And in 1998 and 1999, I studied the highly respected but very tough Meisner acting technique. The technique, itself, is awesome. My teacher for this particular course wasn't the best, but the intensity and duration of the class bonded all of us who studied together through those grueling months.

Last week, my friend and former Meisner classmate Gry was in town from Denmark, the home country she returned to back in 2003 or so. Gry and I had stayed friends long after the class ended. In fact, from mid-2000 until she moved to New York in mid-2001, Gry and I had a standing Wednesday happy hour date at the Casanova Lounge. We'd talk about boys, play pool (Casanova had a pool table back then) and sometimes meet new boys while we played pool and sipped our beverages.

With Gry back in San Francisco for a week or so, our first stop was, of course, Casanova for beverages and chatting. Then last Friday, we got together again with our fellow Meisner survivor Tracy, along with some other friends. We met at the Make Out Room to see Mortified, which is probably the best show ever created. Mortified features real people reading from their old junior high school diaries, journals and whatever else reveals their teenage angst from years gone by. It is positively amazing. You laugh, you cringe, you even get a little choked up as you root for the brave souls who showcase their adolescent selves.

After Mortified, we walked across the street for cocktails at the Latin American Club, where we snapped this little photo. Tracy now is a married high school teacher with two kids; Gry became a radio producer when she moved back to Denmark; I use singing as my primary creative outlet these days; and none of us acts anymore. But ten years later, it was wonderful to get together and remember those halcyon days of our 20's when we held only part time jobs so we could spend six hours a week in class repeating each other (that makes sense if you're familiar with Meisner) and many more hours outside of class rehearsing between auditions for shows.

In other news, I thrust myself into the 21st Century last night by buying a Blackberry Pearl cell phone on a total whim. I'd walked into the wireless store to get a new battery for my perfectly reasonable year and a half old phone, and I walked out with a new toy and a significantly more expensive service contract. All of my friends who have Blackberries, iPhones and similar such gadgets love them, but it remains to be seen if I find this investment to be worth it.

Also, this weekend I'm leaving for a week and a half in Hawaii! I have managed to catch a tiny chest cold now in the days before I go, but I'm currently negotiating with the universe to ensure that I am free of this plague by the time my plane takes off on Saturday evening.

Eat, Sing, Eat

Looking for the recipe for a top notch Easter? Well, start with your favorite brunch place. Add 13 friends and family members, fold in a couple of mimosas and enjoy. Make sure you snap a photo afterward, like the one I have provided you as an example.

Oh, but you're not done yet. Later in the afternoon shake an apple martini or two and sip while singing songs at the Black Magic Voodoo Lounge open mic. Personally, I recommend singing songs by Nick Lowe, The Beatles, The Go-Go's, Blondie, Fairground Attraction, Marshall Crenshaw and The Bangles, but that's just me. You are free to choose any type of music.

And finally, because you didn't eat more than enough at brunch, collect a few more friends and add a dash of Thai curried game hen prepared by a host who likes to cook. With that, you have a delightful Easter dinner and a fabulous end to a wonderful Easter Sunday.

Whether you're religious or regard Easter as a pagan celebration of spring, you're doing something right when you celebrate any holiday by eating, singing and then eating. Trust me, I thoroughly tested this recipe yesterday, and it is delicious.

Making the Band

4,326 years ago (also known as my sophomore year in college), I took the first of what would be many fiction writing classes at my university. Our little writing workshop was taught by a grad student named Dan, who was working on his own Master's degree in fiction. We wrote stories and pored over each other's work in class. We had class on a rooftop deck one sunny afternoon while sipping tequila. Don't worry, we were all over 21; at least that's the story I'm sticking with.

What's significant about this particular class, however, is not the writing, not the instructor and not the tequila. It's that one of my classmates was a quiet guy named Ho, whom I never saw again once that semester ended. That is, until I was reintroduced to him in San Francisco about four years ago through our mutual friend Jack. Jack has since moved to New York, but he was in town last week, and I had dinner with him and Ho at The Grove on Fillmore Street last Tuesday.

And that's when I learned the information that may change my life: Ho plays the bass.

Okay, maybe Ho's musical ability won't change my life, but it is going to change my open mic performances. Yesterday, Ho joined Jackie and myself for rehearsal, and I believe he is going to play with us from now on. Yippee! It's like we're almost a real band. If yesterday's rehearsal is any indication, adding bass to our repertoire will be a very good move. The songs sounded so good, and Ho hasn't even fully learned them yet.

Plus, Ho has recording equipment at home and already has offered us the opportunity to record stuff. And he writes songs... at least a little bit... and has offered to help me translate the original melodies I sometimes wake up singing in the morning into real music.

This could be the beginning of great things for my little music hobby.

Endorphin Rush

Is it possible to exercise everyday and still not be in very good shape?

Well, if it is, that is exactly what I have been doing for the last several years. You see, when I moved across town in October, I had to quit my beloved fancy gym. Okay, I didn't have to quit, but I now live further away from the Fancy Gym, while a nearly-as-fancy facility is mere steps away from my front door. So I traded uber-luxury for convenience, and now I only have to walk two blocks when I want to exercise indoors. When I joined the Just About As Fancy Gym, the membership director managed to sell me three personal training sessions at a special rate. It didn't take much coercion; I was so desolate over leaving the Fancy Gym that I just handed her my credit card. She probably could have sold me a car, and I just would have charged it without thinking.

Anyway. I've had a trainer before. Back in 2003, also known as The Year I Was In the Best Shape of My Life, I had a deal through my job that allowed me free personal training at 24 Hour Fitness. Not at all fancy, but did I mention that the personal training was free? I had training sessions 2 to 3 times a week for nine months. I imagine now you understand why I was in the best shape of my life that year.

But that was then and this is now.

I have been very aware over the last couple of years, especially, that I have gained a little weight (not much; I'm still rather slender) and that my workouts and runs are not what they used to be. However, I had no idea just how out of shape I had become. Once I used those personal training sessions at Just About As Fancy Gym, boy, was I surprised. During our workouts, I found myself telling my trainer about how I used to be so strong and so fit while feeling like I am the fattest person in the joint now. Luckily, my trainer has dealt with my type before. She's very supportive and patient, and when I indignantly wondered aloud how someone could exercise everyday, like I do, and still feel out of shape, she suggested I kick my current exercise routine up a notch. Nothing major, just a few adjustments to what I already do and enjoy.

This woman knows what she's talking about.

One thing she has suggested is for me to do intervals when I run outside. That is to say, jog two or three blocks, then sprint one block, jog two or three more blocks, sprint one block, etc. The first time I did it, I thought I might die, but now, I don't know why I spent all those years jogging at one boring pace. I have fallen into the habit of walking the second half of my morning jog, but now during the second half, I walk two or three blocks and then jog one, walk two or three blocks and jog one. You get the picture. That gives me a nice cool down but keeps my heart rate a little higher. I've been doing these interval jogs for about a two weeks now, and I love them. I have more energy afterward, and the endorphin rush is much more intense. Given that I am an endorphin addict, I've become a big fan.

On top of all that, my personal trainer also managed to sell me more sessions once my introductory three were done with a commitment for me to buy even more in the future. Oh, she is brilliant, that trainer of mine. Brilliant.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday

Remember that catchy but really kind of hideous song written by Prince under the alias "Christopher" and made famous by the Bangles? In one line of that tune, Susannah Hoffs croons that Sunday is her "fun day." I guess as Christopher, Prince was hurting for a rhyme on that one.

Well, bad rhymes from Prince aside, Sunday truly is quite the glorious day. I was supposed to go to a barbecue this afternoon, but the host canceled it yesterday because he feared the weather was going to be bad. A canceled party always is a disappointment, but on what turned out to be a gorgeous sunny day, I have been able to get a lot done. I slept for nine yummy hours before leaving my bed at 10:00 this morning and got all of my housework (or is it apartment work when you're an urban dweller?) out of the way early while Nick Lowe tumbled out of my stereo. Then, after finishing my little newspaper column and watching That Thing You Do! on cable for about the 600th time (I adore that movie), I went for a five-mile run/walk and am still flying on the endorphin rush.

As productive and relaxed as I have been all day, I do need to be at least a little bit social. So in about half an hour, I'm taking off for the Mission to see a friend's band perform. And I suppose my own "Manic Monday" arrives tomorrow. Prince.. er, Christopher... would be proud, I'm sure.

[For the record, the Bangles were an exponentially better band before "Manic Monday" and all their other hit records came out and made them stars. Just so you know.]

No, I'm Not 25 Anymore

So there's good news and bad news to report from my weekend.

The good news is that San Francisco continues to offer countless opportunities for fun. After work on Friday, I met my friend Kurt at a Union Square wine bar in advance of the Paula West show at the Rrazz Room. A cocktail for me and two glasses of wine and a snack for him later, we were on our way to watch Ms. West perform. She was, as always, amazing; singing standard jazz tunes alongside (good) cabaret arrangements of 60's folk/pop songs such as "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and "For No One."

So good.

After Paula, I bid Kurt goodbye and went to the Big Umbrella art studio where another friend, Missy, has become an artist in residence. I took in the art and ran into a guy I recognized from that live Dating Game show I went to back in January. He had been the one and only clever "bachelor" in that game (the others were very scary), and I told him so as we started chatting. Somehow I ended up going to my new favorite bar, Madrone, with said Bachelor and his group of friends. I didn't stay at Madrone long, though. I just passed enough time to have a Chimay and a spin on the dance floor. After that, I was off to put myself to bed.

Now here's the bad news. Even though I was home by 12:30 a.m., the three strong cocktails, two cups of cheap art studio wine and one Chimay I'd imbibed over the course of Friday evening did a complete and total number on me. Back in the day I could have consumed that much alcohol over six hours without issue, but... No, I'm not 25 anymore.

So I spent most of Saturday hungover.

Now, that didn't stop me from meeting Maya and Andrey at the Mint for a little Saturday afternoon karaoke, but I was somewhat the worse for wear. I did manage to take to the stage and belt out "Somewhere Only We Know" and "Kids In America," anyway, though. However, it was an early evening for me. I was home by 8 p.m. and in bed and asleep by 11. On a Saturday night. The twentysomething partier in me was a little horrified, but the nearly 40-year old adult in me was quite content. Especially after that Friday night.

The other bit of bad news this weekend is that I was supposed to sing at an open mic this afternoon, but my guitarist came down with a sinus infection this morning and is in no shape to play. Given that I play no instruments myself and don't have good enough pitch to sing five songs a capella, I stayed home and waded through receipts and did preparation for my upcoming appointment with my tax guy instead. But that's fun, too, right?

I'm making up for the lost open mic by meeting Carla for a Sunday night cocktail in about an hour, but that's not quite the same as singing. My guitarist and I have even worked out some "new" material. Well, it will be coming to an open mic near you (if you're in San Francisco) soon. Soon, my friends.

Flattery Will Get You Everywhere

Today, a former co-worker of mine wrote one of the nicest things anyone has said about me in a long time on my Facebook "wall." Now, this story gets a tad weird in that a few hours later, the flattering comments disappeared, and he was no longer my Facebook "friend." I was confused until I noticed he was no longer connected to any of the friends we had in common, including his wife. So I'm guessing he deactivated his profile.

Regardless, thanks to the beauty of email notifications from social networking websites, I egotistically can share with you of a portion what he wrote. This would make a little more sense if you knew what I do for a living, but... oh, well. This is blog is a specific-job-and-career free zone. Anyway, on to the incredible niceness:

"I've worked 23 years in [this business].... and I think I am a fair judge of talent. You've got it kid. You're smooth, relaxed, and bright. Just remember: Never forget that you were given a great gift. It's a powerful responsibility. Don't take it for granted. You have the opportunity to do some great things. Step out. Be different. Find your voice. This gift isn't free. You are fortunate. This ain't no party. You have to challenge yourself to find a way to inspire. Use your intellect. Honor your gift."

I must say, this note made me feel really, really good. At a time when we're all at least a little afraid of losing our jobs due to the economy (don't deny it; you know you're scared, too), it was lovely to be told that someone admires my talent and ability and wants me to run with it. Thanks, Kevin!!!

Economic Stimulus

I've developed a very bad habit.

For the second year in a row, I've gone to Bloomingdale's to procure a birthday present for my sister Fabulous Patti, and I've ended up buying myself a new dress instead. Not in addition to a gift for FP, instead of one. Last year it was a lavender Rebecca Taylor number I wore both on FP's birthday and to my own birthday celebration in December, and this time, I picked up the Nanette Lepore frock you see pictured here (that is not me modeling it).

Now, I did get Fabulous Patti a gift a couple of days later, and I, once again, was able to wear my new outfit to her birthday dinner and champagne and cupcake party on Saturday. However, I can't exactly afford to buy anything right now. My move last fall kind of knocked the financial wind out of me, and I haven't really recovered yet. If moving costs and buying a bunch of new furniture in September wasn't enough, I seem to find myself constantly facing large expenditures these days, like old dental fillings that need to be replaced and the like. (I have dental insurance, but it's a crappy plan that only covers cleanings, exams and x-rays. Generally, that hasn't been a problem since I take excellent care of my teeth... until my old fillings wore out.)

Anyway, I always have found that in the world of finances, where there is a will, there is a way. I don't believe in carrying credit card debt; so I'm sure I'll find a way to pay for this lovely little gown in full when the bill arrives. Perhaps my savings account can lend a helping hand. Or the income tax refund I anticipate receiving whenever I get around to filing my taxes. The good news is that Bloomingdale's was having a promotion, and I got $75 off my purchase! Of course, these little bits of black and red patterned fabric still cost more money than I have, but the dress is so cute and looks really good on me. Seriously. And besides, we're all supposed be spending money these days, right?

Right. Just call it the Sassy Economic Stimulus Plan.

You Want Something To Do? Sing A Song Or Two...

Gosh, remember when I used to update this little chronicle twice a week without fail? I'm not sure if my life is less interesting now, and as a consequence, I'm not inspired to write, or if perhaps it's more interesting, and I don't have as much time to write.

Actually, I probably can blame Facebook for my lack of blog attention. I am addicted to that silly little website and tend to provide a running record of my activities through status updates and photographs. That, however, is no good excuse for neglecting this sassy space. So this all begs the question: what have I been doing lately? Well.... a bunch of stuff, I suppose. I work, I exercise, I socialize. Last Sunday night I celebrated Carolyn and Dima's birthdays with them and other friends at Doc's Clocks in the Mission. The next night I went to see my musician friend Pat play a mini-set at the 500 Club after I finished work. Last night I saw Souvenir at A.C.T., which was pretty good. Not great, but not bad either.

I've also been singing some songs, myself. I borrowed the title of this post from the band Bette Serveert. The actual lines from their song "Rudder" are: "You want something to do; Make a record or two", but I haven't made any records. A little open mic and karaoke is all I can offer. I've decided, for various reasons, to stop doing the Wednesday night open jam at Blondie's. Believe it or not, the man with no teeth sitting at the bar right in front of the stage the last time I sang there has nothing to do with that decision. For all that I have a history with Blondie's (I deemed it my first favorite bar in the City back in 1997), that open jam isn't the right venue for me. There's still the Black Magic Voodoo Lounge every other Sunday, and I'm on the lookout for more interesting open mic opportunities.

My karaoke habit also continues. On Valentine's Day, I celebrated the day of love with Maya, Ash, Suzanne and Eric at the Mint. We sang a bunch of songs, and I was there for almost six hours. It was jam-packed by the time I left, but I'd gotten to sing four songs by that point, which is damn good for the Mint. There also were some cute (and I believe heterosexual) guys there, but I was so busy choosing songs that I didn't talk to any of them. Have to rectify that next time. A mere four days later, I met Ash at Encore to warble a few more tunes. He's got a great voice, and I suspect he will become a regular karaoke buddy. And Mary Beth and I are talking about doing a little karaoke next week. Yes, karaoke is cheesy, but it's a good way to practice singing, and, frankly, it's fun.

I have a real singing rehearsal with Jackie tomorrow, as we prepare for our return to the Black Magic in a few weeks. Also, tomorrow is, of course, the Academy Awards. I already have snacks stocked and a demi-bottle of Veuve Clicquot chilling for the occasion. I have seen only two nominated films, Slumdog Millionaire and Milk, but I think that gives me plenty to root for.

Just Because...

... I've been such a slacker about keeping this space current, I offer you a quick update. But I must be quick.

I went to see In the Next Room at Berkeley Rep on Wednesday night, and it was nothing like I thought it would be. Not to say that I didn't enjoy it; the script was entertaining, and the acting was first rate. I have seen shows at Berkeley Rep that I've liked more, but this one wasn't bad at all.

My guitarist Jackie and I have been working out some "new" songs to add to our open mic repertoire. I have to put the word new in quotation marks because I don't write music; so none of the songs I sing actually are new. In fact, the tunes we've been working on are anywhere from 25 to 40 years old. Anyway, if you come see us, expect a little Monkees and some Bangles and Go-Go's album tracks. And possibly a Honey Cone song Jackie suggested. I'd never heard that one before, but it could be a lot of fun.

Finally, Teenage Kicks returned to the Attic on Friday, and it was, of course, fabulous. Even without Victor, who decided in December that he didn't want to DJ anymore. I had one too many Chimays, but that didn't ruin the experience... or the music... for me. I merely drank a big bottle of Perrier when I got home, and everything was fine.

Okay, that's the latest from here. I must scoot, as I'm meeting Christine for our bi-weekly cocktail and gossip session. There is a never ending supply of silly boys we must discuss; so I can't be late.

The Dating Game

There is a live action "Dating Game" now playing in San Francisco.

I'm not being ironic or anything like that; I'm being quite literal. A stage version of the old 70's game show happens weekly (or is it monthly?) at a little theatre space South of Market. I happen to think this is a most excellent idea. Their set is not quite as fancy as the set from the TV show, but it's a tough economy right now. We all do what we can. Anyway, the producers of this live action "Dating Game" solicit contestants any way they can, including on Craigslist, and treat the winners of the game to a complimentary round of drinks at the restaurant downstairs from the theatre. No, it's not three days and four nights in Palm Springs, but this is independent theatre and again, the economy.

Kurt and I went to this little show last night after attending an Ivy League alumni mixer (don't ask). We actually met a very nice woman at the mixer who thought the live "Dating Game" sounded fun and came with us. She may have come to regret that decision, however. Not that we did anything, and the producers of the show do a great job, but...

Well, the point of this little journal is most certainly not to disparage or publicly mock anyone, so I'll stick with what I liked about the show. The host was great; he had a ton of energy and was pretty funny. And the bachelor contestant who questioned the panel of bachelorettes in the second half was awesome. His questions were incredibly clever, and he was rather attractive. Actually, I didn't find him particularly attractive until he started asking those well written questions. It's amazing what a little wit can do for a guy. Plus, they sell beer and wine at the box office, so you can drink while you watch. Which may be for the best.

I know I just said that I don't use this space to disparage, but there was one point during the show in which I decided to give up dating, myself. Or sex. Or talking to men. Think what you will about the superficiality of Hollywood, but there is something to be said for the fact that many of the contestants on the original "Dating Game" were aspiring movie stars (like, for example, our current governor). That show was cheesy, but at least those contestants didn't scare you.

Just Another Reason To Love the City

There are a lot of reasons to love living in San Francisco: the culture, the architecture, the landscape, the Mission District, the cute bartenders at every corner. With big city glamour in such a convenient bayside package, it's no wonder Tony Bennett left his heart here.

However, perhaps one of the best things about San Francisco, in my opinion, anyway, is the politics. This city is unabashedly liberal, and I love that. Case in point: in what must have been the wee, wee hours of Inauguration Morning before the sun even rose, someone plastered over every white street sign along the entire four (or so) mile length of Bush Street with the word "Obama." It didn't last long; I believe city crews had the Obama stickers removed by late morning. But I saw most of them at 8:15 a.m., and it was brilliant that my commute to work that morning took me down Obama Street.

Apparently, this is kind of an old joke. Word is that in 1988 the Bush Street signs were plastered with Dukakis stickers. But Dukakis lost that election; so I can't imagine those stickers had quite the same effect. This time it was great, though. A new president and a street temporarily named for him? Good times, my friends.

After the emotion and celebration of President Obama's first hours in office, I headed to Pauline's Pizza for Chris' official birthday dinner. He'd had a bigger birthday party last weekend (see previous post), but Tuesday was the actual anniversary of his birth. I thanked Chris multiple times not only for being born, but for giving us a new president. Pizza was devoured, champagne was imbibed, and when all was said and done, we were quite satisfied, as evidenced by this photo of Nick, myself and Tom. Several of us then took off for an late evening Inauguration party, but I didn't stay long. I was suddenly tired (not to mention very full) and heard my bed calling me in full voice. But I went home happy and awoke the next morning still gleeful that we get say President Obama for the next four years.

Parties, Parties Everywhere

Well, now this has been a bit of a lively weekend.

On Friday night I reconnected with my dear friend Marissa. Marissa and I worked together years ago and had become quite good friends. However, for reasons that I cannot, for the life of me, identify, we drifted apart sometime around mid-2006 and hadn't seen each other since then. Not right at all. So we rectified the situation by meeting for cocktails at Sens and getting caught up. After two rather strong Sens martinis each and some unintended conversation with the genuinely crazy woman who sat down next to us, we went to Tony Nik's for a couple more drinks before calling it a night. Marissa truly is wonderful, and it's great to be back in touch with her.

Then last night I decided to pretend I was back in my twenties when I could easily and handily party hop. And party hop I did. The first affair was for Chris's 34th birthday. A bunch of us gathered at the Orbit Room to celebrate, and that's where this photo of Chris, Valerie and myself was snapped. So much fun. Then Kurt and I took off for his friend Sheila's birthday party. Unfortunately, that soiree was at a very crowded, very scene-y club South of Market, and neither Kurt nor I had very much fun there.

So we bolted and headed to Russian Hill where we joined the aforementioned Marissa, along with Bridget, Shannon and Anne, for fondue in honor of Shannon's birthday. I knew we'd made the right decision as soon as I walked into Bridget's apartment and heard "The Porpoise Song" by the Monkees pouring out of the stereo. They were only playing it because it was on the Vanilla Sky soundtrack, as opposed to spinning an actual Monkees record, but I'll take it. These girls had been partying all day; so Shannon began a little nap almost as soon as Kurt and I arrived. But the rest of us drank wine and bonded in her honor until about 2 a.m. Again, so much fun.

And if the parties this weekend weren't enough, the biggest party in eight years is coming up on Tuesday. Yippee!

The Beauty of Sleep

I, like many of you, I'm sure, am addicted to Facebook. That little social networking phenomenon has reconnected me with college and high school classmates and buddies, old co-workers and even former bosses. Not to mention providing yet another cyber-dimension for me and most of my current friends to play in. So a few days ago, when my Facebook friend and real-life acquaintance Andrew posted on the site that he had learned the value of a good night's sleep, I, of course, had to play along and comment. I not only agreed with him but confessed a bit of jealousy because I spent four days last week getting up at 3:30 a.m. for work.

The first morning I had to rise before the birds came as a surprise to me. You see, my co-worker Susan unexpectedly called in sick Tuesday morning, causing my phone to rudely awaken me at 3:30 and beckon me to my place of employment as soon as I could get there. As it turns out, Susan has fallen rather ill and ended up being out for the rest of the week; meaning every day by the mid-afternoon, I was told that I'd be returning the next morning at 4:00. For the record, I usually arrive at work at 9:45 a.m. That's a little different. Frankly, I don't know how Susan, or any of the early morning staff at work, keeps such a schedule. I couldn't even exercise for most of the week because my body clock was so screwed up.

All of this is to say that 2009 has gotten off to a bit of a slow start, as my temporary early morning work schedule prevented me from doing much. Also, some unexpected stress arose this past week. None of it is that big a deal; many, many people deal with much bigger problems than mine, but stress is stress. I did manage to join a bunch of friends to toast Devon on her last day of bartending at Joey and Eddie's in North Beach Thursday night, but I only stayed until 8:30. Am I a partier or what? On Friday, I met Bill, Kim, Terry and Suzanne for drinks at Tony Nik's, but that ended up being a relatively early evening, as well, even though it began the weekend.

And last night... ah, last night. After a late morning facial, afternoon laundry, grocery shopping, a run/walk and dinner, I had about an hour to lounge before needing to get dressed and head out to my friend Mike's birthday party. Well, that hour of lounging turned into a four hour nap, followed by an actual trip to bed about two and a half hours after that. Good times. I love birthday parties, too, and am sad to have missed the fun, but clearly, I needed the sleep and feel rather fresh this morning. Who wouldn't after a grand total of about eleven hours and a half hours of sleep?

So today I intend to be very productive before meeting Kurt and some of his friends for Sunday evening cocktails. I've become a big fan of the Sunday afternoon/evening cocktails. They're a great way to end the weekend before the grind begins again. Let's just hope I can sleep until my oh, so late, regular weekday waking hour of 6:30 a.m. this week.

Welcome to 2009!

I'm either a total rock star or a total moron.

You see, it's just after noon, and I'm wearing the same clothes and make-up I was wearing last night. Before you make any saucy assumptions, I'll tell you that there were no walks of shame this morning. I had to be at work at 6 a.m., so I slept at said job to accommodate some New Year's Eve celebrating.

Yes, you read that correctly.

When I learned that I'd be working early this morning, it occurred to me that maybe I should just stay in for New Year's. After all, New Year's Eve is always amateur night, anyway. Well, I guess I'm an amateur, too, because out I went... armed with a blanket and toothbrush to stash at work so my sleeping and early waking could be more comfortable. First, I went with Kurt to a house party thrown by a couple of his friends. That was much fun and featured snacks, champagne and a feisty round of Celebrity. But I figured I needed to be close to work as midnight approached; so at about 10:30 I took off for a bar near my place of employment (first dropping off the blanket and toothbrush).

You may be thinking, "Oh, dear lord, a bar on New Year's Eve?", but actually it was okay. I know the owners of this bar, and my friends Helen and Janelle were there, too. So one more glass of champagne and hugs all around helped me ring in twenty-oh-nine. And at 12:20 I was on my way, picking up snacks and caffeinated beverages before heading to work to get a little shut eye.

My co-worker Ted woke me at 6 o'clock this morning, and I was good to go. Again, in the same outfit and make-up I donned last night. But it's a good outfit, so at least I look cute. I'm not sure if I should be proud or embarrassed about my commitment to socializing, but you know, I'll only be sort-of-still-young-and-not-quite-40 once. Right?

Christmas in Los Feliz

I'm becoming either older, wiser or a complete wimp.

I've been spending the holiday weekend in Los Feliz, a little L.A. neighborhood nestled right next to Hollywood, and my partying prowess has not been up to snuff. On one hand, it's no big deal because this weekend has been more about family than nightlife. Plus, I've been getting over a cold that hit the day after my birthday, but still. On Friday night I went to Tiki Ti and was able to finish only one drink before needing to head home. Now, the tropical cocktails at Tiki Ti are very strong, and as I walked out of the bar at...oh, 9:30 or so... I remembered that the friend who introduced me to that place a year and a half ago said a person really should have only two drinks there. And this friend is a boy who can drink a lot more than me. Regardless, it was a poor showing on my part. Then last night I went to the Dresden Room and could finish only two seemingly normal potency cocktails before relinquishing my bar stool. I ended up returning to the Dresden about an hour later, but that was because my brother, sister and I decided that our former professional jazz singer mother absolutely had to see Marty and Elayne. And on my second pass I drank Pellegrino.

I fear that as I age, I becoming an amateur. Although truthfully, that's probably something I should be happy about.

Overall it has been a nice little visit to the Southland. Apparently, it has rained a lot in the City of Angels this month, but not a drop has fallen since my arrival on Christmas evening. I've hit Fred 62, as I always do when I'm here, and as my cold has waned, I've been able to exercise again, taking my famed run/walks down Los Feliz Boulevard.

However, all good things must come to an end, including mini-vacations. I'm heading back to the Bay tonight where a very early morning work schedule for the next four days awaits me, and I fear ants will be parading through my apartment (they've been seeking shelter from San Francisco's own rain). But soon it will be 2009, and the prospect of new projects and adventures, including the most excellent day of January 20th, is very exciting. I'm generally none too thrilled about January, also known as the most painfully boring and depressing month on the calendar, but I'm trying to look ahead. I have noticed during my travels through the Internet that a couple of my friends can't wait for the holidays or December to be over, and I think I agree. Not that I would ever turn my back on Christmas or my birthday month, but much like my friend Terry, I've been experiencing a few too many dramatic ups and downs lately.

So perhaps turning the page on a new year will be good for me, too. I'll just have to figure out a way to temper the January ennui.

Artist: Beatles, Album: White, Disc: Two, Track: One

Oh, yes. I say it's my birthday.

The shortest day and the longest night of the year also happens to be the anniversary of the day I was born deep in the Wisconsin snow. (Okay, I was born in the comfort of a hospital, but December in Green Bay? Surely someone was up to their ears in snow.) However, before I get to rambling about myself, I must apologize to you. I have been a serious slacker when it comes updating this little space, and I have no excuse. I think I've just become a busier person lately, and sadly, the Sassy chronicles have suffered as a consequence. So here's a little summary of what has been going on lately.

Last weekend was jam-packed. I met Carolyn at the Attic for Teenage Kicks on Friday night, and it was spectacular. Unfortunately, it was also Victor's last night as Teenage Kicks co-host. The music will continue, but it won't be the same without Victor's genius. Poop. On Saturday I went wine tasting in Napa with my old friend Bobby and his family. It was cold in Napa that day, but drinking red wine at 10:30 in the morning will take the chill out of the air quite handily.

On Sunday Jackie and I began our open mic holiday tour. All that really means is we wove a couple of Christmas songs into our regular set, but being the huge fan of Christmas music that I am, I was in heaven. I got to do my Darlene Love impersonation (like I could sing anywhere near as well as she does) on "Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)" and her version of "White Christmas." We also were going to do The Waitresses "Christmas Wrapping," but we couldn't work it out in time. You kind of need bass on that song, anyway, and we haven't found a bass player yet. Andrey joined us at the Black Magic open mic, crooning his way through Elvis' "Blue Christmas" and "Last Christmas" by Wham. Yes, Wham. Live with it.

Now, the Sassy Birthday weekend began with me, Andrey, Mary Beth and my sister Fabulous Patti gathering on Friday night to go caroling. After a couple of cocktails at my neighborhood bar (which, by the way, whips up a fantastic chocolate martini), we took to the streets. Even though it was 9:30 and a tad late for caroling, we were very well received and even got free champagne at one house. That, my friends, is caroling 21st century style! Yesterday was all about my friend Laura. Her birthday actually is on Tuesday, but her husband organized an early surprise pub crawl and dinner for her. It was kind of loud, a little rowdy and a lot of fun.

And that brings us to this morning. The weather is rainy, but that will not dampen my spirits. Late this afternoon my friends and I are meeting in the Mission for the Sassy birthday festivities. Cocktails will be included. At the end of the day, though, all I really want for my birthday is attention.

So thanks for reading.

Good Weekend, Bad Day

I'd say any weekend that ends with cookies is a good weekend.

This is me with the Gourmet Group girls at Molly's cookie party on Sunday afternoon. Yum! Unfortunately for me, I'd had a little too much to drink on Saturday night; so I wasn't very hungry on Sunday. Meaning I only ate a fraction of the cookies I would have otherwise, and I didn't take any home.

Lame.

I drank too much on Saturday night because I went to my very fine musician friend Pat Johnson's birthday party at Cafe Royale. It was as much a concert as a party because Pat and some other musicians he knows did a round robin of performing, treating the rest of us to song after song for a good two hours. It was most excellent. As were the glasses of champagne and Chimay that accompanied me at the show. I didn't drink that much, but I'm old. So it had an effect.

Earlier in the day on Saturday, Jackie, Suzanne and I got together to practice for the next open mic. Nothing is more fun than belting Christmas songs on a Saturday afternoon. Well, some things are more fun, but this is a family blog.

So given all that, you may be wondering what bad day the title of this post refers to. Well, that would be today. It's the 28th anniversary of John Lennon's murder, and I think we all can agree that December 8, 1980, was a very, very bad day.