The 6 Week Phenomenon

I'm not a complainer (cough cough yes I am) but there's something I have to get off my chest.  Why is it that I'm always falling for some older, charming guy that starts acting all batty after 6 weeks together? What are these people looking for and why the hell isn't it me?  Dammit. I can screw all the 25 year olds I want and walk away completely unscathed emotionally, but get me near somebody over 30 and I'm a complete basketcase. SERIOUSLY. Its like some kind of voodoo magic spell that these supposed "successful" "men" put on me. Maybe my focus on the guy's accolades blinds me to his relative disinterest in my needs and wants.  Or maybe I'm dating out of my league. I don't know, but let me just say that having sex for fun is really up my alley so don't even think about asking me for a date. Unless you're older than me. But then be prepared that I'll most likely fall in love with you and you'll be forced to either a) drop me cold turkey or b) let me down easy by saying how much you like me and then never calling again, or c) tell me that you're just crazy, as if that would make me go away.  Apparently, as long as you do it about 6 weeks after you meet me, it's perfectly acceptable to break my heart.

My mom advises me to become celebate for the next year.

Where has all the bohemia gone?

Last night was first Thursday in my neighborhood, meaning that the local businesses display artwork made by local artists, while selling booze and food at discounted prices. This is really cool if you are a local artist, or a local resident looking to cash in on some fun. Now, I went down the block with my date to the cafe on the corner that I frequent during the week. The place was JUMPIN. The was a line out the door (mind you this place sells pints of beer for $1.75). Everyone standing in the line was gorgeous in the "I-didn't-wash-today-because-I-have-such-a-delicious-natural-scent" kind of way. Artists were painting outside on giant canvasses, leaving the intoxicating smell of spray paint all around. A few feet away, between my fav cafe and the other one on the block was an acoustic blues band! Does it get anymore bohemian than young folks doing their thing and making a ruckus on a Thursday night?
So I thought.
Turns out no matter how hard this city tries, it just cannot unclench the sphincter long enough to have a truly good time. I'm not going to say I didn't have any fun because for being nearly sober I thought the scene was pretty cool. I just got a little perturbed when one of the members of the band (the tenor clarinet player from Cafe International) asked someone not to dance in front of the band. WHAT? It was an immense buzzkill for me, and trust me, I earned that natural high. Then a few minutes later, some random guy faked like he was going to tip the band and instead stole 2 dollars out of the case! My friend who witnessed this wasn't manning up to stop the guy so he made a clean steal. But seriously? That is karmic death.
I'm willing to say that the artists and cafes are pretty awesome for starting up a first Thursday that far exceeds the scene on Geary Street by the same name. But next month I refuse to bring my manners to an event that is clearly a nod to the bohemia of 19th century France, or even 1960's San Francisco. Besides, if I have to hear one more person talk about how many thousands of dollars their "fine art" is worth, you can bet the fighter in me is coming out.
Here's some advice San Francisco: put down the weed, get a job, and quit complaining that you can't collect unemployment because you don't pay taxes. Ughhhh.
Trixie

Cell Phone Insurance?

For fucks sake, people. Come on. Cell phone insurance? Really? (Feel free to pause here and shout that with all the rancor and disgust it deserves.) Not only did it cost you $250.00 to buy the damn piece of plastic, but now you're supposed to pay the fuckers five extra dollars a month just so if you lose it at a club (or god forbid a taxi) you will now only have to give att or verizon or whatever other douchebag company you have $50.00 for a new phone as opposed to the original $250.00. I kid you not, these people told me the cheapest deductible is $50.00. REALLY? It's a fucking phone people! We used to buy landline phones for twenty bucks a pop, or those of us really crafty would just get an old clunker from the goodwill!
Honestly, I get why some people (johnny) need the insurance because they can't stop losing shit and these phones are motherfuckin' expensive. It seems worth it if you consider that being without a cellphone is akin to being without oxygen. You can live that way for about 5 illuminatory minutes before you suffocate and die, realizing that this whole time the joke was on you. So there's that option, there's the insurance option, or there's the don't lose your shit option, retard. All I'm saying is that the more of you assholes who give into this scheme, the more power you give to the other assholes that want to charge $250.00 for something that a small child was only paid 2 cents to make. Think about it... that's all I'll ever ask of you.
Thanks for tuning in to my first blog ever.