October 16th, 2002


Half way there. . .

Thanks to all who helped my celebrate my birthday!

It started on a down note. At 10 AM yesterday they started showing the house I live in to brokers. The asking price? $1.2 million. "Great place to move in!" (And kick out the tenants). I didn’t think it would piss me off as much as it did but I really wanted to start hitting the fucks double parked in their SUVs waiting for the showing to start. The showing only went for an hour and a half so I made sure to be back at that time exactly. I walked up to the realtor grabbed a flyer and asked, "What time is it?"

"11:30," she replied, smiley and hopeful.

"So I guess you’re done then."

"Oh, you live here?"

Good thing I did, because overdressed brokers were still parking in the middle of the street trying to get a glimpse of our home. I was standing there and made sure she had to tell them they couldn’t go in.

Then I had to go to a meeting at work where co-workers gave me a mini chocolate cake with a candle. Awwww. I managed to avoid some needy regulars standing by the cheese counter. Not on my b-day!

My ex took me to the Liberty Café, a neighborhoody American food meets California cuisine place that I had never been too. What keeps the Liberty from being too precious or snotty is that it’s tiny so they worked out a deal with the neighborhood/dyke bar next door. If you have to wait you go there and they call and tell you when your table’s ready. That bar is one of my favorites in the city. Maybe when I’m evicted I’ll get to live closer to it.

The meal was great. I’ll spare my more sensitive readers the details, but it involved pigs.

I was actually feeling sick* and exhausted more or less all day so I was a little worried that I had told my friends to meet me at a bar last night. But it worked out. As soon as I started drinking I felt better. Loyal readers will scoff when I write that I had my party at Lucky 13, but it was a Tuesday night and L13 is the emptiest bar around when the bridge and tunnel crowd isn’t there. When I got there I was surrounded by the remnants of my teen punk scene. As I shoved dollar bills into the jukebox, I realized that I’ll be the last one left. One was only in town from Alaska, another is working in a photo lab and planing to leave the area,. The other two, a married couple (with kids 12** and 14!) are moving to Eastern Pennsylvania in a couple of months.

The rest of the night was the usual birthday drinking and schmoozing. I got wonderful presents including a leather bear vest (Which I need to exchange because unfortunately was just a little too small. I think it should just barely cover my nipples), a 49ers cook book from the early ‘70s ("Steve Spurrier Lasagna, directions: heat one pack frozen Stouffer’s lasagna") and a "Lower Haight, 94117" shirt.

I stumbled home around 1am because I have to work this morning. Thanks again to my wonderful friends for making a great birthday possible after such a shitty start.


*Last year I was very sick on the day of my party. After every swig of beer, I had a coughing fit. I ended up lying on my bed with a bunch of queers and fags watching "Miss Hawaiian Tropic 1983" which one of them found for me at a thrift store. "I thought you’d like this. You’re. . . you know. . . Heterosexual." Oh, the hair was truly amazing.

**I heard about her birth on the middle of Market St. near Valencia during a Gulf War protest.
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