Little Cable Cars Or Whatever

Have you ever run away from your old life in pursuit of something more satisfying, only to find that your new life is comprised totally of sleeping in uncomfortable places, trying to dodge disgusting blobs of god knows what on every conceivable surface, and trying to arrange free rides back to where you used to live... or free rides in general?

I am trying to learn to like San Francisco, because I live there now. It has been difficult, as it feels like I've arrived here less by choice and more because it was the only thing available. Also, everyone is either a really hot young woman or a sinister troll covered in boils, and I can't tell which is more personally threatening to my sense of security. Perhaps eventually I'll see the avoidance of human fecal matter every three feet on the sidewalk as a fun strategy game, and remember the romantic regard in which I held San Francisco for years before I knew how gross it is.

I plan to make future posts citing examples of ways I've learned to like it here. So far, I really like Philz Coffee, as it was instrumental in ending that month long bout of constipation that many of you know of via facebook. Stay tuned for more poor taste and big city adventures!


Glamour, Romance and Food Stamps

I understand people are lonely. I understand the desire to reach out to other people and pull them into your life. What I don't understand is trying to pick up on girls in line for government aid.

I spent 5 hours in line at the Sacramento County Office not long ago, waiting to receive food stamp benefits. During this time I received, in addition to $200 dollars monthly, unwarranted male attention. I was looking kind of raggedy and asexual and feeling kind of ashamed and financially downtrodden, and was expecting everyone else to feel the same. Evidently, having no money, job, or prospects whatsoever does not diminish confidence or deter the spirit of sexual adventure for some. After being aggressively ogled by a young man who resembled in every way a real-life Bobby Hill, I finally walked outside to discourage him from taking a suddenly empty seat within gripping distance of my bare thigh. I was gone no longer than 30 seconds when Bobby Hill appears, obviously having followed me. "I don't blame you for leaving," he said. "What?" I stammered. Could it be that he knew how creepy he has been and is coming out to apologize? "I said I don't blame you for leaving to stretch your legs," he said, practically right on top of me. Then, without any perfunctory getting-to-know-you smalltalk, he offers to give me a ride home. I declined politely but vehemently, imagining him making 3am slow drives past my address, or worse! While I pretended to be fascinated by anything that took my gaze miles away from the spot he was standing, he tried to charm me by referencing times he "blew stuff up" in the army, probably in hopes that I would get some sense of the roiling testosterone and rugged masculinity seething just below the surface, the surface being, of course, shaved completely bald and very, very doughy. Fortunately, my name was called over the loudspeaker before we could get to know each other any better. Following shortly afterword, a man maybe 20 years my senior with speech patterns reminiscent of drug use asked me if I wanted to go grab a beer when the process was over. I wondered, briefly, where he got his beer money, realized I was probably going to end up buying it, and declined the offer.

So ladies, take a lesson from ol' Mama Rach. Don't feel ashamed if you are down on your luck and in between jobs. If you are lacking in confidence, just march on down to your local human services department. Even if you aren't eligible for aid, if you look even 3% better than an obese person, gender indeterminate, wearing a stained t-shirt of Tweety Bird looking pissed in a backwards cap you could get hit on a ton!