Volume 1, episode 1

FEBRUARY 26, 2002

I was on my way to the Death Cab for Cutie show at Bimbos. Caught the 5 Fulton to 3rd and Market and decided to walk the rest of the way. Making my way to that shithole of a yuppie hangout they call North Beach, I hear, Hey, you Indie rocker fuck. Not once, not twice, not three times, but count them folks, four times. Each time turtleneck-wearing-early-30s-Dave-Matthews-loving-self-proclaimed-urba n hipster-white males with their laughing meathead friends proved their superiority by picking on the slant-eyed kid with a hard-on for rock n roll. I did nothing. I was out numbered and speechless for once. For fucks sake, I HAD BEEN INDIE-ROCKER-BASHED!

The sad thing is that I was so used to being called a fag everyday for my entire grade school career, that I was almost pleased, that someone called me an indie rocker rather than a cock-sucking faggot. But either way, the fact that I allowed myself to be taken aback by a bunch of spineless, testosterone gorillas was a kick in the groin especially since I've done nothing but talk shit about that neighborhood and the idiots that frequent it. I just visualized them high-fiving each other and spilling beer on their black leather jackets as they crushed the can with their head. Fuck I hate North Beach. That place gives me diarrhea.

FEBRUARY 14, 2002

Fucking Valentines Day. It seems all your single friends dread it or call it a stupid consumer holiday while those with a working relationship pretend to be doing nothing but have plans made months in advance. To be honest, I've always hated that fucking day. Bad memories of never having a date mixed with cards from friends remind you that you are a cool and rad friend and not someone's significant other. All that adolescent crap really fucks you up as a kid. Everyone wants to be loved, but try asking a friend out (back when I was straight hahahaha) and not only getting turned down, but they never want to speak to you again. Yeah, I was overweight back then and maybe I did wear bolo ties (it was cool back then okay maybe not), but was it really called for to discharge me as a friend. Fuck! And I was only in middle school then. Can you imagine how much that fucked me up? And what the fuck does Have a Happy Valentines Day mean anyway if you're in a relationship then I guess the occasion is a joyous one, but being a equal opportunist day, it also involve those less fortunate (or more fortunate, however you see it) and it only serves as a reminder that you ain't got no one! And that dinner will be spent alone or with all your other single friends for the annual reunion of the socially inept. The night will consist of getting drunk and overdramatically singing Morrissey and/or Cure songs until everyone breaks down and cries. Its the same shit every year, at least for me while I was in high school. For the five years since moving here, I had a boy to spend it with. Our objections to the holiday made us celebrate it with our single friends to support them in the struggle of overthrowing this bullshit holiday from existence. However, this year I was dumped by my boyfriend of 5 years just 2 weeks prior to VD. All my ex-single friends abandoned me for their new boyfriends and I was left at home to pick up the pieces while my ex went out with his new man. And people wonder why I have problems with depression get a fucking clue, people!

MARCH 18, 2002

I was at work and smoking outside with a friend when this black lady approached us asking for change. She was probably in her early 40s and had one of those oversized early 90s hats that TLC used to wear (think early TLC with the Cross Colors outfits) with long blonde braided extensions peering out from under it. It seemed like it was going to be another normal interaction between the homeless and I. She asked and we apologized with an empty hand. However her ploy didn't stop there. She was good. She was cunning. And she won me over. The following is a very rough dialogue of the events that took place in Downtown SF:

Lady: No change? Anything? A penny? How bout we switch jobs? I want wear a badge like you guys.

She inspects the security badges we use to gain entrance to the building. We just smile and continue smoking.

Lady: What nationality are you?

Me: Ummm, Japanese.

Lady: Oooooh child, if I could have another baby Id take you into the alley and make you give me another baby.

At this point, this shit is getting a little too freaky for me. I just laugh but really want to run for it.

Lady: Can you imagine how beautiful he would be with your eyes, your and my skin tone mixed, your hair and my dimples. Shit, it'd be cutest baby. It would definitely be a girl, wait, it would be a boy cause I already got one from you. Points to my friend and laughs her ass off. So you wanna go over there [the alley]? I can already feel it coming out of my cooter. Child, its so beautiful. Look at you, you're blushing. C'mon you can give your future mother of your child a little something

I gave her a dollar for her efforts and went back to work feeling like a million dollars.

FALL 1999

And speaking of the crazies in this city, this happened a few years back but will remain the most haunting experience of my life. So my friend and I for some reason decided to hangout and talk at the corner of McAllister and Fillmore. So were shooting the shit, mind you, I've only met her a few weeks prior in one of my classes, and then out of nowhere we spot this lady. She is a big black woman probably in her late 50s with a hideously dirty pink flowered muumuu. Our first thought is crackhead, but pay her no mind since it is San Francisco. Then my friend starts laughing hysterically and I turn to see what the commotion is. Half a block away and across the street is the woman chasing a plastic Safeway bag being blow around by a miniscule tornado. Round and round she goes like a dog chasing its tale. We watch her stumble barefoot trying to catch it, yet at the same time, trying to not let it touch her. The bitch is fucking insane! At that moment, she stops and the bag continues on its course. She hikes up her muumuu to reveal nothing under it and begins to pee. I am nauseated by the site of her cavernous twat but am intrigued by the swiftness of the trail of piss flowing down the inclined sidewalk. At this point, I am in hysterics and my friend is standing here bright-eyed with her hands over he mouth. But for some fucked up reason we don't leave the scene. So we keep talking. Time passes, maybe an hour, maybe less, but the woman continues to haunt the corner walking aimlessly and talking to herself. Then she drops on all fours. I direct my friends attention to our newfound cracked out entertainment. A 22 Fillmore bus makes its way across the intersection and as it passes her, she flings up her muumuu to reveal her gargantuan ass to the bus. Fortunately for us, her target was pointing opposite of us and we saw nothing but the bottom of her dress over her sagging face and her large cellulite covered thighs dancing in the wind. However, the bus riders weren't so lucky. Faces in the windows peered out followed by a souring of their faces like they had just caught a whiff of fresh cat shit, or any shit for that matter. I'm assuming there were comments made because soon after the window passengers faces mutilated, the rest of the bus stood up in curiosity and were left with the same expression of disgust. The crazy bitch did it again to another bus coming in the opposite direction. Although the second time, I noticed her face was stressing as if she were about to squeeze out a loaf of happiness I did not want to see. At that point, I had about seen enough and fled. My friend went on her way and me on mine. I wasn't about to watch a grown woman turd in public. Fuck that shit, I may be a sick bitch but that is where I draw the line!