Friday of Magic

Today was rad. Nuff said. But I will say more! Especially since I've finished off most of a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough region by my ding dang self. Emily had her fair share, but I finished it, because I TCOB, yo.

I met Peter for lunch at his law office. He is so cute. How does he get so cute? Years of practice? He was off later that evening for his lost weekend of Vegas debauchery. I hope he does a good job. He deserves it. Because he is such a good man. He took me to lunch at B in Old Oakland. That's where I had the first two of the many glasses of delicious Sauvignon Blanc. Yummers. We had good conversations and cute waitpersons with multiple wrist tattoos. We ate flank steak and chicken salad and cauliflower soup and yummy coffee.

I took some pictures of the outsides of beautiful hometown Oakland on the way out.


I was accosted/admired by multiple scuzbags today, including one in downtown Oakland carrying a boombox blasting bad rap and wearing a marijuana printed sweatshirt who asked me, as I was leaving a message for my brother, if I "had a boyfriend," and then, if he "gave me good dick." I ignored him, when I should have kicked him in the anus. I did have my boots on. Later, I was waved at and the recipient of lewd gestures by a man in a Dreyer's ice cream truck.

On the way back downtown, Elly called, and I was whisked away to SF to consult on flats at a shoestore. The flats were purchased, but not before many other pairs of shoes were placed on feets. Then I tried to buy a pair of turquoise blue suede/blingy Coach heels that Elly rejected: "I guess they're cool if you're a 45-year-old housewife on her Big Night Out," she said. Grrr! I had to return them to their shoebox. Still, she never steers me wrong. Like when she told me that she could see 60% of my boobage in the Valentine's Day Going Out Dress. "It's good for Peter, but not for meeting his sister next week at Olivetto." Thank you Elly. You are full of wisdom.

Emily jetted over from Bernal, and we slummed it at Art Murmur, where Emily observed that I "knew everyone." One of the people I knew was Alex, the sweet boy who left his number in Maggie's tip jar months ago with the note, "Your name is beautiful [Magnolia] and so are you." I hope that they hook up. He is sweetness and hotness personified for a Magnolia.

We were going to go to Tamarindo Antojeria, but Emily insisted we go back to B. At which point, upon entering the host said, "Back again." "That's the way I roll," I told him. Then we got the same waitlady. She was rad! She laughed at my return to the restaurant, and then we ordered a bottle of the Marlborough region deliciousness, game hen, baby carrots, and pork chop yumminess. Taste the Oakland love!

I know this is hard to see, but Emily noticed a crazed Oakland resident collapsed and waggling his appendages is a planter across the street. I jumped up to take a picture. This is as close to legible as that picture got.

After that we zoomed down to the Uptown, where there was good Djing and a Kitchen Sink benefit. We said hello to friends and talked about work and life and loves and it was lovely. The bartenders were still bad, Peter! They are bad bartenders! Not like at the Rickshaw.

Thanks for coming over to the Oaktown side, Emily. I know you felt the lvoe. It's hard not to feel the Oakland love, isn't it?