There was some urine found on the toilet at my apartment. Yes, urine on the toilet! Couldn't you just die! And there was hair in the sink. I just can't imagine who could have done that. Heinous crimes! Heinous crimes! While trying to find the culprit, I received this email:
I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been sneaking in your apartment when you’re not there – single white female style – and using your bathroom. I thought you wouldn’t mind but apparently you do, and I apologize.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “You’re a girl. How do you get so much urine everywhere?” Well, first of all, I’m a croucher (don’t like cheek-to-porcelain contact) and second of all, there are two things in the world that make me wish I was a man, and one of them is peeing standing up – so I like to practice (obviously I need to practice more!).
So, now that we’ve all been honest and open I will totally respect your property and wipe up after myself. I will also be sure to rinse my pubes from the sink after shaving my hoo-hoo-dilly.* By they way, hoo-hoo-dilly is my cute little synonym for vagina. Though gay, I’m sure you all know what a vagina is, even if the last one you saw was your mom’s when you were coming out of it.
Okay well, let me know if you have any other problems. Now that I’ve “come out” as the secret bathroom user, maybe now it’s cool if I keep a small stash of tampons under the sink?
Name Withheld Pending Investigation
Name Withheld Pending Investigation
* Also refered to as a cha-cha.
Also refered to as a cha-cha.
Out at lunch I'm walking on Capp Street. Up ahead are three people sitting. One got up and stands in my way.
"Hey man you got any change?" barks the man.
I pop back "nope."
"I can hear it rattling in your pockets."
I jingle my jacket pocket, "What you hear are housekeys. But you don't know that sound because you're homeless."
Stunned, they just look at me while I pass.
Here I go again, another insomniac post. I'm listening to Guns 'n' Roses' "Patience", the mockingbird outside my window is even drowning out Axel. Little bugger, I hope his singing doesn't last until the Fall. Yesterday I took more sidewalk graffiti pictures in one day than I normally do. A few were latent images on the sidewalk that don't show up unless it rains. One more reason for me to cheer the downpours. My favorite type of graffiti, when the artist embellishes what's already on the sidewalk. This is reflective crosswalk paint and what Trickybrit's coworker would call "Sharpie."
I love reading The San Francisco Bay Guardian, probably because it's free. But it also features columnist like the coolest writer in SF, Michelle Tea (and if you haven't picked up any of her books or attended the RADAR reading series held monthly at the main branch of the Public Library, you're missing out. Seriously click on the link and quit reading this post.) But I digress, as I always do, probably because I'm an insomniac and this is really the Nyquil I took writing, anyway-- now that I'm on a tangent have you noticed how long this sentence is, good lord I need to stop it but feel powerless. Yay! That did it. Anyhoot, where was I? Oh yes. I love reading The San Francisco Bay Guardian. I love their ads. But what's up with this one? Is it saying that Asian women don't know how to work a penis? Sheesh, I'd be confused by that diagram. I thought it was some weird butterfly.
City construction crew at 18th and Castro
Guy #1: I found out what that is in the window.
Guy #2: You mean that paperweight?
Guy #3: Yeah, it's a paper weight, right?
Guy #1: Nah. (Lowers his voice) It's a butt plug.
Guy #3: A what?
Guy #2: A plug for your ass.
Guy #3: Not for my ass-- asshole!