I'm Not the Only Soul Who's Accused of Hit and Run

And on the seventh day we did not rest. In fact, we probably spent more time in the city than any other day. The girls took their first streetcar to Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf and all those other touristy places you never go to when you actually live in San Francisco, and they loved, loved , loved all the cheesy goodness/badness of it.


Coadster found her first left-handed store. Yes, to most folks it's a joke, but Coadster had finally discovered her people.

Both girls wanted to go the NFL store. Stinky is a Steelers fan, Coadster is a Bears fan and I actually like both teams.

Let it stand documented, that I suffered through the Hard Rock Cafe and store, so that Stinky could impress all the other entering high school freshmen with her sparkly lettered new t-shirt.

Here is one of those annoying silver mime type people who stand on boxes waiting for someone to try and take their picture so they can harass that fool for money. Yeah, well. Lick me on the face and call me sucker.

I almost forgot to mention that we met my aunt and uncle and one of my cousins in their suburb for dinner the night before. Then while we were at Pier 39, my uncle called to tell my that my other cousin would be free for lunch the next day and would we like to join them for lunch at a Brazilian restaurant in Palo Alto. Hell fuckin' yes we would.

So, on the eighth day, we met for an early lunch and some of the best food I've ever eaten. It was a buffet, but then there was a coaster in the middle of the table. If you put the green side up, hundreds of waiters (or so it seemed) would come to your table and offer you any kind of meat you could imagine. I was in heaven.

After lunch, Stinky was exhausted, so she stayed at the motel while Coadster and I went to Haight Street. Coadster has wanted to go to Haight Street since she was a young girl and became obsessed with Jimi Hendrix. I tried to warn her that it really wasn't at all like traveling back in time to the sixties. It was really just a bunch of vintage and record stores and rich kids pretending to be poor for the Summer. But she didn't care. She still wanted to see it.

So, we went and she was thrilled just to be there. She tried on dresses at some of the hippie stores. While I was waiting for her, I got a text from Mr Hitandrun guy. He was at our friend C.'s bar in Fort Madison and he told me he was reminiscing (that's where we met on Thanksgiving weekend). I might have to change Mr Hitandrun guy's name again, because he has been WAY less flaky since that one time we spoke. We shot texts back and forth and he made me laugh like he always does. I know I sound like a broken record, but it's true. If we never become anything but friends, I'd still be happy, because I've never met anyone else who I can talk about all the weirdness of being a single parent with and then move into a conversation about TJ Hooker and then devolve into talk about David Lee Roth's assless pants and then next time talk about how annoying our kids' picky eating habits are. I really love that about him, and it also kept me from whining while we had to shop yet again.


I finally got Coadster out of the stores, and we decided to walk to Golden Gate Park. Unfortunately, the fog was starting to roll in and all the kids in their gigantic pants all looked like they were wandering around trying to score drugs for their Friday nights and Coadster was uncomfortable and I was bored by it all, so we cut our quaint little walk in the park short.


As we reached our bus stop, man did I smell bacon. The cops were all over Haight Street messing with the cool kids. I'm not really sure what the deal was, but the pigs were out in full force and Coadster and I couldn't be happier to be heading away from all the drama...Or so we thought.