Parting Shots

I watched a sporting contest last weekend. The contest was between the New York Giants and the Philadelphia Eagles. Naturally, I favored the Giants for betting purposes, and felt the four-point spread was entirely too low. So imagine my chagrin when I turned on the TV and saw that the so-called "Giants" were merely larger-than-average humans! And their opponents, the "Eagles", looked suspiciously like humans instead of birds! I mean, they didn't even have wings like Prince Voltan or anything. To top things off, the Giants weren't any bigger than the Eaglehumans, who were also slightly larger-than-average humans. Why aren't I notified about these things?

Attention, women of Match.com - the terms "slender" and "athletic and toned" do not mean what you think they mean. I'm not saying you need to compare yourself to the women in TV or film when describing your body type, but please compare yourself to the average woman on the street and not to the average woman in a cruise ship buffet line.

It seems I am no longer getting away with cutting my own hair when it strikes my fancy. Specifically, I tried to trim my mullet a bit just before going on a trip with Miss Sunshine. Little did I know that I had basically shaved an asymmetrical hole on the back-right side of my head. So I meet Miss Sunshine, and we proceed to drive for about 3 hours to our destination. Unbeknownst to me, she was staring at the mockery I had made of my hair the whole time, as it was conveniently located in direct view of the front-seat passenger when looking at the driver. Note that we hadn't met in person yet, but in none of my online pictures is there any indication of a clipper accident so I imagine she was quite surprised. Points to her for being too polite to say anything, as I would have brought it up in the first five minutes. However, points taken away from Miss Sunshine for not actually being "athletic and toned" as claimed. I didn't notice anything was amiss until after we'd spent the day together in public and I was showering to go out for the evening - the hotel bathroom had a bunch of mirrors where you could see yourself from every angle, and I noticed it in the middle of my flexing routine. At that point I did my best to gel and comb-over the problem but there really was no fixing things short of extremely fast-acting Rogaine, or shaving the back of my head. Amazing I'm still on the market, eh ladies?

Tales of the City: When I was walking back from my date with The Connector (who got pretty wasted, but that seems to be a common occurrence on these dates - I'm thinking girls might want to think twice about going drink-for-drink with me, regardless of how "athetic and toned" they aren't), I witnessed a fight between a Muni driver and his tweaking passenger. At first I thought they were both tweaking, but when I realized the bus driver was just trying to get dude off his bus so he could continue his route, I went ahead and called the cops as requested by the Muni driver. About five minutes go by, then the pigs start arriving. And we're not talking one patrol car, but four or five. I was pretty much expecting a SWAT team and a helicopter to arrive at some point, all to slap some plastic zip ties on a skinny tweaker and drive him back south of Market where they'd probably just kick him out of the car. Must have been a slow Sunday night in the Marina.

Speaking of tweakers, I've been heading to various libraries around San Francisco to do some work during the day. Hastings Law Library is a good facility, but it is lacking something that the public libraries have. Two things, actually - free internet WiFi, and tweaking homeless people. And it doesn't seem to matter which library: the Main library downtown, the Presidio branch and the Marina branch all have an astounding array of sleeveless t-shirts, Zubaz pants worn chest-high and trash bag ponchos. I may work up the courage to photograph some of these folks to share here, but at the moment I'm not terribly excited about getting stabbed in the knee with a rusty syringe if I get too close.

It was revealed during the first round of the NFL playoffs in an inane in-game mini-feature that Atlanta Falcons rookie quarterback Matt Ryan's nickname is "Matty Ice". He acquired this nickname in college, and now his pro teammates apparently use it all the time. The reporter intimated that Ryan earned this nickname because of an ability to remain calm when under duress. Do they think we're stupid or something? Clearly the nickname refers instead to Ryan's ability to drink beer and is a play on Natural Ice, or "Natty Ice", a cheap beer with a higher-than-normal alcohol content that is commonly consumed on college campuses. I mean, dude did attend Boston College, a "drink till she's cute" school if there ever was one.

When signing a lease in the Marina/Cow Hollow area, you are required to cover 85% of your hardwood floors with rugs. When signing a lease in Haight-Ashbury area of San Francisco, you are apparently required to cover 85% of your hardwood floor with drugs. Which is probably a wash, cost-wise.

Here's my Five Word Review of Gran Torino: Overrated pile of monkey poop.

Apparently the Presidio Bowl isn't shut down yet, despite the best efforts of the city and the Fisher family. However, last night was a league night, so I was forced to go all the way down to the Yerba Buena Center to go bowling with the Life-Giver. It was awfully inconvenient, and if the Presidio Bowl closes I might be inconvenienced on a regular basis (unless ya'll chip in and buy me a Wii and that bowling game for it) and that is just unacceptable. So get involved - the last thing this city needs is another billion-dollar art museum.