There are certain reasons why I only visit SF maybe twice a year. This last weekend I had excellent control of myself, but the events that transpired rocked my world.
Mike, my neighbor/roommate from across the patio, had his 24th birthday in SF. I arrived via foot, as I walked from my apartment to light rail, to amtrak, and then to BART. I walked from the Powell Station and there I was. I would have liked to have brought my bike but on Sunday we had planned on visiting the Folsom Street Fair. FYI- I had no clue what the testicle festival was to be about. I asked, and the group responded in unison "Bondage". I like to party, so who cares. Wow. What a penis parade. My personal highlight was getting to handle a porn star's gigantic penis. It high-fived me. I also showed my tits to a woman with a corset and fishnet stockings. That was it. Where the hell was GaGa? This was like her Tuesday night. Lots of drinking, dancing, laughing, spanking, and slapping (asses, not faces). Mike and I finished the festival with some Jack in the Box and then he drove out of SF and I took over on the freeways. It was my first time drivig on the freeway for like 9 months, and I was on no sleep, a little hungover, and without glasses. I made Mike blast the radio and we sang all the songs on the way home.
But dang, life. Just when I had yet another amazing and lovely weekend (Emphasis on the love, Ben from Santa Cruz made me leave my heart in San Francisco....)I come home to check email and the likes. My good friend Clay's little sister, who I played water polo and swimming with in high school, had passed away over the weekend. I don't want to fucking be at work right now. Morgan Strong, loved by so many and I alsways thought she was so gorgeous that she was the model for how Cameron Diaz should have turned out.
Love you girl, no more suffering...
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