Speaking of babies, my picture was added to the web babies project over at wannabegirl.org.

My dream baby. "Yo ass don't match yo bitch."

Bitch, you are funny! It's like...a little bit das krack haus, a little bit rock and roll.

Mom: What did you do this weekend?



TJ: Uh...a lot of drinking, I guess.



Ben and I went into the Mission with Beth and a couple of her friends on Friday night to bar hop. My night-long quest for a Buttery Nipple finally ended at our final bar, the Lexington, total lesbian bar. It was so insane, to the point where this guy who was macking on Ben while he waited for our drinks actually said, "Are you a guy or a girl?" Because you just could not tell there.



Saturday night was a birthday party at 111 Minna, immediately followed by Looq Hard. More drinking, mostly gross things like foreign beers and ... wine. But I succeeded in getting thoroughly drunk, drunk enough to dance for a good long while with Ben and even, after much begging, to jump up on the stage with him.



Brought it down a couple of levels yesterday, doing the domesticated thing. We bought glasses and a blender before hitting the supermarket (Safeway sucks ass). Then we had a picnic at the beach. Aren't you jealous? Well, don't be. It was really cold, really foggy and we forgot to bring towels. But, still, it could be 30 degrees and snowing and I'd still love being at the beach.



What's up for this week? More of this. Laying around, that is. I hear about one job tomorrow. No biggie either way. Also, Terri is flying in today to spend the summer in Palo Alto. I guess my departure was too much for her to handle... :) So, that's great. I'll have a little partner in crime this week while Ben's slaving away for the man.

I was standing on the corner of Mission and 6th, talking to Lauren on my cell because I was about 15 minutes early for my interview. As I chatted, I noticed a young, dark-haired girl without all her teeth saunter out of a nearby motel in shorts and a halter top. She saw me in my black suit, lingering on a sketchy street corner and assumed I wanted some play. So I had a prostitute circling me for about five minutes while I talked to a friend. I didn't leave right away because I thought it was hysterical, but when she passed by and whispered something inaudibly, it was time to tear ass across the street.

Sometimes you just wanna send a big fuck you out into the cosmos.



So... Fuck you, asshole. Maybe I mean you.

On Saturday, when I left, the temperature was 95. When I landed at Oakland Airport, a billion hours later, it was in the 60s.



Despite leaving an inferno for weather paradise, I was pretty emotional. Seeing, hearing and feeling my mom cry as we said goodbye was tough. I sort of laughed at her as it was happening, as I'm apt to do, but when I was walking down the ranp toward the plane I teared up - just a bit.



But ... I am happy.