Sidewalk politics, pedestrian rules of the road

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Sidewalk politics. As a lifelong pedestrian, the rules of navigating the pavement have been embedded in me, the laws of the footpath an unspoken understanding.

I learned everything from my mom, a defensive walker, just by watching her.

At the crosswalk, pedestrians have the right of way.

Don't walk three abreast down a busy sidewalk.

Stay in single file to work your way past a group of slow pokes.

Be mindful of other people.

If a driver doesn't stop at the cross walk and tries to run you over, accidentally or intentionally, you have every right to yell at him and bang on the hood of his car.

None of those rules ever came out of her mouth, but after walking with my mom every day to and from school and pretty much anywhere we went in the city (you don't really need a car in Philly, you can pretty much walk everywhere. For longer trips, a bike or some SEPTA tokens will do. This is why, at 25 years old, I still don't know how to drive-- I've never lived in a place that required it.), I learned the common courtesies of traveling amongst the public and the appropriate ways to handle any sidewalk situation.

Common courtesy is just the general respect for other people. It's assisting in a quick yet thoughtful way when someone, for example, drops a package or slips on some ice, and getting on with your day. It's moving out of the way when you're on the subway and another person is trying to get off the train. It's holding the door for someone when you're on the train platform and they're running down the stairs trying to get to work on time. It's being aware of your surroundings and not being a tool bag.

Common courtesy and sidewalk politics go hand in hand, the way I'd hold my mom's hand back in my learning years on our morning walk to McCall Elementary. You would think that most adults have learned common courtesy-- that it would be common knowledge. Just like common courtesy, you would expect that everyone knows how to behave in public and how to get from point A to point B without slowing down traffic or causing an inconvenience to other pedestrians. Does the descriptor of "common" not say it all?

No. Apparently, not everyone had a mom like mine who taught them to be courteous and respect the space of strangers. Don't believe me? Try walking in the Union Square district of San Francisco, or any touristy area in any city, on any day in the afternoon and then come talk to me. People are friggin clueless.

When I'm walking somewhere I am conscious of what is going on around me, even with headphones on. I make sure that I stick to one side of the sidewalk to let people pass me and to allow traffic going in the opposite direction. When I'm walking with Ben or with a friend I make sure that we're not taking up the whole sidewalk and that we're not in anyone's way. I'm thoughtful like that.

Is it too much to expect courtesy from other pedestrians and sidewalk users? It shouldn't be, but sometimes it feels like it is, and I'm not the only one who feels that way. The other day, I asked my Twitter followers what they thought about sidewalk politics. Here's what some of them had to say:

@LifeWithKaishon wishes more people would smile on the sidewalk. "You never know when you're going to meet a good friend." I agree: seeing happy people go about their day makes me feel happy. Just don't tell me to smile when you pass me on the street because you're only going to get a grumpy face in response.

@Thank_Q wishes people wouldn't spit on the sidewalk. Me too, that is just nasty. I live in San Francisco and people leave even nastier bodily fluids on the footpath and that is not nice.

@SoCalTJ wrote: "I can't stand the people who walk extra slow so they can text." I agree completely. Remember what I said about being self aware? Step to the side, people. Step to the side.

@melbsonmymind says that people who walk their prams side by side drive her nuts (because you can't pass them without going into the street), as do sidewalk cyclists. I couldn't agree more. If you ride a bike, which is considered a vehicle, then you should really use that bike path that the city painted on the street for you. Seriously.

@SweenySays wrote: "if you wave to your friend behind me and I mistakenly wave back to avoid being rude, please don't give me that EWCREEPER face." HAHAHAHA, yes I believe that I've been on the receiving end of that EWCREEPER look and it's not pleasant.


It's clear that I'm not the only one who has a problem with how some people choose to monopolize the pavement for their own devices. Honestly, I just wish that people could be an iota more aware of what they're doing and realize that there are other people who have lives, jobs, and places to be. Hopefully I have raised some awareness with this post, but what else can be done? Perhaps I should start my own campaign and hang up posters around town, something similar to the "Stay Alert. Stay Awake. Stay Alive." signs you see on the highway. Do you think then people would get a clue?

[Side note: I wrote this as a guest post for someone's blog but it was rejected. I guess what's good for the Tsaritsa sez isn't always good for the gander.]

What do you think of this topic and can you relate? I'm interested to hear other takes on the issue!

Chicken surprise! Rooftop grilling in the spring

We had a little cookout last night with some chicken, corn, asparagus, and a onion. It was a delicious meal and very easy to prepare. Ben bought some mesquite wood chips, soaked them for thirty minutes and then added them to the charcoals. To prepare the asparagus, I just washed the spears, cut the ends off and Ben put them straight on the grill. I cooked some rice and had that to attend to when Ben was on the grill. The preparation of the chicken was also very simple. I love making marinades out of things I have in my kitchen-- it's a fun science experiment in condiment combinations. You can try my recipe for your chicken or create your own with whatever you have laying around.

Get some chicken (it can be on the bone or off, breasts, thighs, whatever you like), rinse it off in cold water, and put it in a bowl. Now it's time to add your condiments. I use a dash of olive oil, spicy mustard, sriyacha sauce, soy sauce, worstershire sauce, balsamic vinegar, cumin, paprika, freshly cracked black pepper, tumeric, and any other spice that I find around the kitchen that seems appropriate. You can use whatever you like, you might want to try honey or maple syrup (I want to note that before editing that word was sysurp) if you want some sweetness or lemon juice for a kick, but the combination of condiments that I use give the meat a juicy, spicy flavor.





Check out Ben, my grill man! Keepin it hot in my Philly Italian Market apron! The chicken was perfect-- you could taste a hint of smokiness from the wood chips but you could also taste a subtle spiciness from my house blend. And it was very juicy.

What do you like to grill? Care to share any tips or recipes?

That one time I slept outside of the Pisa airport - what a way to end a vacation!

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I participated in a writing meme this week with the The Red Dress Club, a writing group for women. The prompt was:


Write a short piece - 600 words max - that begins with the words,"This was absolutely the last time" and ends with "She was wrong." Have fun with it. Think outside the box. Don't go with the obvious.

This is based on a true story.

Remember that "Choose Your Own Adventure" list of post options I made a while back? This was one of the topics some of you voted for. I hope you enjoy.


"This is absolutely the last time I will ever travel without snacks," she thought to herself as she hit her stomach to distract from the hunger. Alexandra sat outside the Pisa airport with her three girlfriends, Talia, Lauren and Vonetta, with whom she had spent the past two weeks exploring the country of Italy.

They had all had a lovely time on their spring break discovering Italian culture and eating as much fine cuisine as their budgets allowed. They took photos, went to museums, shopped in Milan and Venice, visited Vatican City and viewed the preserved corpses of former Popes, there had even been a few wild and drunken evenings spent dancing and laughing and kissing beautiful strong-jawed Italian men, but that was all over now.

Eager to get back to England and prepare for final exams, the four girls cut their trip in Italy a day short, skipping the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and planned on sleeping inside the airport the night before their flight to forgo another hotel bill.

They took the last bus of the evening from Florence and got dropped off at the Pisa Airport parking lot. When they reached the front door of the airport and discovered it was closed, the bus was long gone down the highway.

"Since when do airports close?"

"What the hell?"

"Why would the bus even come out here if the airport isn't open?"

"What are we gonna do now?"

"I guess we're just going to have to wait."

It was April and the sun had already set, the wind had picked up a bit and it was getting chilly. The girls headed over to the outdoor covered cafe area in front of the airport and made it their base. They got comfortable in some plastic chairs in the corner of the beer garden, wrapped their jackets wrapped around them and prepared for the long night ahead.

"I'm glad I brought this with me," Alexandra said as she produced the bottle of gin from her bag that they bought in a Roman convenience store several nights ago. She opened the bottle, took a swig, and passed it around.

It was a desolate scene, there was no noise except for the rumble of the occasional truck on the highway a half mile away. If this were a horror film, the villain would be laying in wait right now, ready to pounce the moment the girls closed their eyes. This thought presently consumed Alexandra as she took another sip of gin and adjusted her makeshift blanket around her.

"I'm probably not going to sleep tonight," she thought and rubbed her stomach, "Why didn't I buy a tomato pie before we left Florence?"

Suddenly, Vonetta piped up by suggesting they play a game of "Never Have I Ever." This idea received a warm chorus of agreement and so the bottle was passed around. Never have I ever kissed a girl. Drink. Never have I ever had sex in public. Drink. Never have I ever been in a fight. Drink. The evening carried on this way until all of the alcohol was consumed.

Alexandra's eyelids got heavy. She didn't think she'd be able to sleep under such strange circumstances, but it was beginning to seem more plausible. As the faint spell of sleep fell over each of the girls they forgot for a moment that they were sitting in polypropene patio ware in a foreign country.

If any girl had said this trip would be forgettable, she was wrong.


The girls in Florence.

Katey Red spits hot fire!

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Thank god for David Simon and his refusal to let television be stupid. Simon co-produced The Wire, one of the best television series to ever hit the airwaves (in my own humble opinion), an honest depiction of cops and drug dealers in Baltimore which proves that there is no such thing as black and white, just gray area.

Simon is back with another great hard-hitting show about the struggles of urban life called Treme, this one set in New Orleans just after Hurricane Katrina. Treme, like The Wire, feels very real, and I think it has something to do with the pacing and the way every character is developed and fleshed out. It's not always a pleasant show to watch because of the subject matter, but there are some happy scenes interspersed so that viewers can take a breath and relax for a moment. The episode from two weeks ago featured a NOLA "bounce" rapper and the tune she spat has been stuck in my head ever since. I decided to record the scene so that I can share its awesomeness with the world. Please enjoy.






"Imma tell ya when I'm ready/When I'm ready Imma tell ya/Imma tell ya when I'm ready/When I'm ready Imma tell ya/You're buggin me/And you're ugly/You're ugly/You're ugly/And you're buggin me."

Dreaming of an internship, and a burglary

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Early this morning I had a dream that my sister and I were returning to my parent's house in South Philly after an event. Bridget opened the front door and I panicked-- the lights were on inside and our opening the door had startled a strange man who was standing in the doorway to the basement. We slammed the door shut and I tried calling the police on an archaic cell phone. The last thing I remember before waking up was running around the corner to Warnock Street. I woke up to go to the bathroom and then went back to sleep, this time to a better dream.

I dreamt that it was my first day working at Mother Jones Magazine and everyone was really nice to me. The office was located in a large building which reminded me of the main branch of the Philadelphia Free Library. I walked down a dusty old hallway and found the magazine headquarters tucked into a corner. There were about six computers in the room and two girls who were busy editing a piece on one side of the room smiled at me as I walked in and told me they were happy that I was there.

I had a nice dream and a nightmare. I guess that's an even trade. The nice dream was a motivator, and the nightmare is just a reflection of the macabre junk food I consume. I heard that Christopher Meloni and Mariska Hargitay of Law & Order Special Victims Unit may be leaving the show soon, so that one less show about murder and crime to plaque up my brain cortex.



Speaking of dreams, the latest issue of Be About It is still available for purchase. For less than three dollars, this literary-labor-of-love can be yours!

Freezing my booty off and watching the Giants!

I've talked about the San Francisco Giants on this blog before-- you may remember me fretting over who to root for when they went against the Phillies (my home team) last year before the World Series, and gushing over my first baseball game in California which I attended with my friend Rebekah and ended up sitting directly behind a man who caught a home run ball, for his son, with his bare hands.


Yesterday I got an email from Rebekah asking if I wanted to go to a Giants game that night. I quickly replied "Yes!" Rebekah is such a diehard fan that she buys season tickets at the start of the season, and I was very grateful that she asked me to join her. At seven o'clock, just as the sun was getting ready to set, I met Rebekah and our friend Diana at the bar, Public House, next to the stadium. We all wormed our way through the crowd to get to our seats.

Our seats last night, the centerfield bleachers, are where a lot of the season-ticket-holders sit. We sat in front of a guy who (though he was kind enough to take our picture) just wouldn't shut up. Every little thing that happened during the game or around our area he had a comment to go along with it. It was like having our own play-by-play announcer, but it was also kind of annoying. He was also the loudest fan in our section and took the lead in chanting "What's a-matter with [insert center fielder of opposing team's name here]?!" The refrain, of course, is "He's a BUM!"

It was a chilly night and we were all bundled up, but it got colder as the sun went down. Next time I go to a night game, I'm definitely bringing a blanket. Or I'll swallow my pride and spring for a Snuggie at Walgreens. We had a good time and got up to dance when they played "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey over the loudspeaker, and even though the Giants lost to the Marlins and we were trying our best to keep our extremities from freezing off it was a lot of fun.



Check out our seats! So close to the field, the fielders were definitely in our earshot. I know you heard us, Chris Coghlan. You're a BUM! SPeaking of bums, check out this butt crack that I accidentally snapped. All I really wanted was to take a photo of my sneakers so you could see how close we were sitting.



Photo of Rebekah and Diana. Huddled together because it was a chilly night.



Check out the goofy face I'm making. THIS is why I usually choose not to smile in pictures!



Another glamour shot. Sitting right in front of the scoreboard and jumbotron.




This has nothing to do with anything, but I thought I would take a photo of some of the weird google searches that are bringing people to my blog. The only very strange keyword is "taste like pizza item 2010 france got talent frog man." What the hell? I don't believe I've ever written about talent shows on here, and I've certainly never spoken of a "frog man," but as long as people are finding my blog I'm okay with the funny search words.

Plastic fantastic? Nostalgia and ByTaj brooches

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Remember those little plastic trays that came in different sizes and shapes that you had when you were a kid? You took small plastic beads and arranged them on the trays in different colors and patterns, then you would ask your mom to iron your creation together so that the beads would melt together and you would be left with the finished product of a singular piece of plastic fantasticness? My friends and I would sit for hours at my kitchen counter making an assortment of butterfly shaped keychains and smiley-face magnets and peace sign brooches, to collect and swap with each other and give out as gifts.




This flashback is courtesy of Nylon Magazine for printing a blurb (which I stumbled on while cutting out images for a collage) about these pins a site called ByTaj is making and selling online. They have brooches, hair barrettes, and "bow ties" (for the guys, I guess) all made from these same plastic beads I used to play with as a child. I'm guessing they're also using a similar mold to what me and my friends used to use to make our designs. It's a cool throwback and ordinarily I would have no problem with anyone trying to market nostalgia for adults who want to relive their youths, but they're selling them for $55. Fifty-five dollars for a piece of melted plastic. Maybe they're making them by hand and there is a high demand for them, and that's why they're so expensive. I really don't know.





If you take a look at the brooch in the shape of a lady you will notice that it's crooked. Fifty-five dollars, really?






Is this something you would buy? Why or why not? I'm considering going to the craft store and making my own brooches, but with better designs that reflect my own personal sense of style.

Style Update: Bright tights, big city! and the Dumpster Queen

Welcome, readers, to yet another update on the ever-changing topic of style. My style, if I had to describe it, would be a cross between the college slacker who lives in their sweats and pajamas, and a homemaker who does her best to stay polished for her man. Did that make as little sense to you as it did to me? Just want to make sure we're on the same page.

I got this sweater for three dollars from Thrift Town in the Mission. It's oversized (it was larger when I bought it, but it shrunk when I washed it) and eighties'ed-out, with two asymmetrical pockets and tinsel sewn into the fabric. I paired it with my electric-purple tights, jean mini skirt (by Abercrombie & Fitch, also thrifted), and flower-print bo-bos from H&M. Perfect for a sunny spring day!






Oooh, sexy close-up!





Here I am, Tsaritsa in Dumpsterland, posing and taking photos in your garbage. Ben and I had just finished lunch at Boogaloos on Valencia and I wanted to document my outfit in a unique, and secluded ( ham as I am, I don't like it when people look at me when my photo is being taken, it makes me feel awkward), setting, so we chose this demolition site which was close to the diner. I'm wearing a sweater my friend Alexis gave me that says "Hearst, Ontario - Moose Capital" along with a paisley skirt I got for six dollars at Crossroads Trading, a polka dot top from H&M, some dark purple (these are eggplant, which is different from electric purple) tights that I picked up in Santa Monica because my legs got cold, a leather "all weather" vintage Dooney & Bourke handbag (a flea market find that only cost me five dollars! when I bought it, it was a little rough around the edges, but I took it to my tailor-friend who works with leather and he spruced it right up for me), and my studded little old lady shoes. Cute, no?











This is my "everyday" look, when I've got places to be and people to see and I don't want too much fuss or muss: skinny jeans, flats, t-shirt, hoodie. The t-shirt is by RVCA and is second-hand (picked up at a thrift store in Los Angeles), the red American Apparel hoodie is one of my wardrobe staples, the army green jeggings are by BDG (from one of my Urban Outfitters splurges), and the shoes are by Sam Edelman (my mom and I have the same pair! we bought them at Marshalls for super cheap). If you ever see me on the street, there's a good chance I'll be wearing something like this.









Wow, I wore shorts? Apparently, it was warm enough one day that I was able to wear these little linen shorts from H&M (which I bought three years ago and have worn approximately five times) along with this lovely red and cream cardigan by Silence & Noise, cap-sleeve button-up blouse that I bought in Israel a few years ago, and this pretty necklace that my friend Evy made for me. She knows I'm a badass so she gave me a hammer!








I wore this outfit on Mother's Day when I went to the Saint Francis Fountain to have lunch with Evy. We both got all dolled up to eat cheeseburgers! It was funny, we looked like we were ready for Easter Sunday sitting at the diner counter. Evy wanted to curl my hair with her curling iron, so I reluctantly let her do it. I don't like putting anything on my hair that much these days after having fried it years ago trying to make it straight with chemical perms. I'm not saying that using a curling iron is akin to putting hazardous toxins on your scalp, but I'm afraid of ruining it again after letting it grow out for years. With the number of bad haircuts I've had in my life I'm allowed to be a little attached to my locks. Anyway, the dress is from H&M and is part of my "summer work" collection. I'm wearing it here with my thrifted hot pink Elizabeth Millen cardigan, white tights, and my thrifted vintage Canadian leather boots.

Style Update: Peachy keen in snakeskin print for spring

Spring is here and I am loving it! The bright colors and fun patterns that everyone is sporting lately can't help but bring a smile to even the most miserly fashionista's face. The photos below were taken on a day when it was warm enough in breezy San Francisco for me to rock bare legs, which is something I hardly ever do in the city that is more suited for stockings, and needless to say I was excited at the rare opportunity.





The snakeskin print turquoise blue skirt and peach oversized cardigan are two recent purchases from H&M (I used to shop there every week, back when I was working in insurance and bringing home the fatback bacon, but times are tough now and this last time was the first time in over six months that I had shopped there) and I feel like I can use these chic and versatile pieces in many different outfits, thus getting more bang for my buck.





The cut-up tank top was rolled up in the back of my closet. Can you tell?



My dear friend Evy made this awesome hammer necklace for me. Stay tuned, because she and I will be joining forces for a very special giveaway on this here blog!





What colors or styles say "spring" to you? Have you done any spring cleaning to your closet? I like to go through my wardrobe every once in a while and pick out items that I can't see myself ever wearing again and donate them to charity shops, or get a whole bag together for a clothing swap. I haven't done one of those in a while, maybe I should plan one?

Did I miss the rapture??

I kept seeing all these signs talking about how May 21st, 2011 is the day of reckoning and warning us to prepare ourselves for the end of the world. Well, today is the 21st of May and I slept in so I want to know if I missed anything. Or should I be ready at some point later in the day for the earth to open up and swallow all of us unlucky sinners? What's the estimated time of arrival? I just want to know. I don't want to be caught off guard.


Photo I took on BART while commuting home one afternoon. Who paid for these things? Transit ad campaigns are not cheap.

Scaryoke -- a different kind of ring of death.

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This started off as a joke. I had forgotten that the regular exhibitionist ring is on sabbatical and made a tweet asking about it. My blog friend, So Cal TJ was quick to correct me, and quick to make a fun suggestion of doing our own karaoke ring together while the larger ring-o-embarrassment was on break.

The trick with this ring is that you can't pick which song you sing-- that is up to your partner. Can you guess why we decided to name it "Scaryoke?" As we passed ideas back and forth through Twitter a few of my other blog friends became interested in joining in the humiliation, and thus the first Scaryoke was created.

Please enjoy TJ's version of "Gangtas Paradise," in the style of Coolio. I chose this song for TJ because it's a hip-hop classic and I just love the song. Major props to TJ for pulling this one off! And don't forget to check me out screeching out "Who Will Save Your Soul?" in the style of Jewel. I even scatted. I'm talking about jazz, fool, get your minds out of the gutter.

And when you're done with that, satiate your appetite for Scaryoke with Jes Getting Started, One Red Wall and Rio at Good Music, Bad Math. I don't know what songs their partners assigned for them, but I'm sure it will be a scary treat for all!








Have a wonderful weekend, everyone!! And if you haven't read my attempt at fiction that I posted yesterday, I suggest you give that a look, too. I describe a time in which I was chosen to be on a reality show on television. Drama and craziness abounds!

The Real Blogger Shore's Amazing Undercover Idol, PART IX

As you may remember, I mentioned on this blog that I was going to be starring in a reality series. An online reality series, that is. It's more of a story-telling circle where nine bloggers get together, start a tale and pass it on to the next person to continue. I would like to remind everyone that what you are about to read is fiction and should in no way be confused with the goings-on in my actual life or in the actual lives of anyone mentioned. My lawyer told me I needed to say that.

To find out what has been happened so far on our adventure, please read up:

Part I from Squatlo Rant!

Part II from Logallot

Part III from Thank Q For Common Sense

Part IV from Mommy Confessions

Part V from Rantings of a Reckmonster

Part VI from Thoughts of a Randomista

Part VII from Colorful Rants of a Fed Up Sista

Part VIII from My Own Private Idaho

What follows is a fictional account of a reality show based upon the lives and interactions of a group of bloggers from around the country who are brought together to share a luxury log home in the mountains of Helena, Montana. Each of these very talented writers has agreed to share part of their time and creativity by advancing the story-line of this fictional reality show in turns, following one another’s lead and taking the story wherever their twisted little minds want it to go. Readers who want to follow along are encouraged to visit each of these blogs frequently to keep up with the tale as it progresses, and comments, suggestions, and snarky remarks are welcome! The following “cast” of misfits will share a beautiful mansion, where they will live together, interact, and try to write while putting up with the annoying people who suddenly clutter up their lives: Sonia from LOGALLOT (full of advice, yet no one ever listens), Quincy from THANK Q FOR COMMON SENSE (the cynical black guy), Michelle W. from MOMMY CONFESSIONS (just wants to go home), Michelle R. from RANTINGS OF THE RECKMONSTER (looking to froth), Lynn from THOUGHTS OF A RANDOMISTA (the resident flirt), Falen from COLORFUL RANTS OF A FED UP SISTA (the drunk, bitter black chick), Brandon from MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO (the edgy one), and Alexandra from THE TSARITSA SEZ (the free spirit). The show’s very reluctant host is Bob from SQUATLO RANT!

The Morning After

I blacked out. No, I'm not referring to Falen's nutty, yet sensual, idea to take shoe polish to my skin to make me appear less melanin deprived, though I'm mildly hinting at it because it was a kinky good time. I wish I had before and after shots of me with the polish all over my body, I'm sure it would have been similar to Beyonce's before and after blackface fashion shoot.



The night before, Brandon had found Bob's secret man cave and we all went a little nuts with the liquor cabinet and wet bar. I had no idea Bob was so rich! The day that I have my own personal bartender who never leaves his post is the day I know I have truly made it in life. Seriously, Bob, how much are you paying this guy to live in your basement just so you can have a perfectly mixed martini whenever you want it? Inquiring minds want to know.

Before we got all good and sloshed someone decided it would be a good idea to take a dip in the hot tub. Well, thanks to my and Michelle's (my Philly sister!) second skin, courtesy of Kiwi, the hot tub looks like the Gulf of Mexico after the BP oil spill. The sides of the tub are stained and slick with shoe polish. Bob's wife is going to be just thrilled about that, I'm sure. The Reckmonster and I bonded last night after I professed my love of go-go bars to her. She tore up the stripper pole and also taught me and the other girls a few moves. I can now proudly say that I am able to climb all the way to the top of the pole with my inner thighs doing most of the work, hang upside down, and slide down while rotating around. Oh yeah. My boyfriend is going to love that trick.

I don't remember much after my seventh glass of champagne. I recall jumping on Falen and Lynn, growling and pretending to be a tiger, and then telling Sonia that I needed her to slap my ass. Still not sure how all of these bite marks ended up on my hips, but I'm sure I'll find out whenever this show hits the airwaves. I always thought that being on television, namely reality television, would be my ticket to a better life. I used to wish for fame, with every blooming dandelion I'd find growing through the sidewalk cracks outside of my house. There's a reason why people tell you to be careful what you wish for. Now the whole world is going to know that I have a biting fetish. Oh well.

This morning I woke up to the smell of shrimp on the barbecue (sheesh, Q! The ocean called and said it's running out of shrimp!) and the sound of Falen singing in the communal shower. I grabbed my towel and headed over to see if I could scrub the rest of this shoe polish out of my pores and wash away my hangover.

I hung my towel up on the hook and got under the shower-head opposite of Falen, where she was busy belting out "A whole new worlddddddddd, a new fantastic point of view! I'll chase them anywhere, with time to spare...."

"You're in a good mood this morning," I said, turning on the hot water and letting it rush over my knotted-up hair. Little flecks of black paint fell off out of my crevices like sand after a day at the beach.

"Sonia and Lynn are planning something fun for us to do later today. It's a surprise!" Falen chirped back, then continued singing a song from another Disney movie."

"I wonder what it could be..." I said out loud. I thought for a while what else could possibly be in store for us and then decided I would share with my roommates a little surprise of my own.

Just then, Michelle appeared in the door and informed us that she was heading into town with Reckmonster and asked if we needed anything.

"Would you pick up a few bars of dark chocolate for me?" I asked, "Any organic variety is fine." Michelle shot me a look that read, "Whatever, you friggin hippie," then smiled, nodded, and exited the bathroom. Satisfied with my state of cleanliness, I turned my water off, stepped out of the shower, and shook my hair out. Operation Delicious Baked Goods was about to commence.

When I was dressed and headache free, thanks to my good friend Al Kaseltzer, I went down into the kitchen where Q and Brandon were sitting at the counter, drinking coffee with two hangers-on from last night's shindig. I greeted them all good morning and felt a little puzzled as I tried to remember the other two's names. All I could remember was one was dressed like the guy from Reno 911. Luckily Q saved me. "You remember Josh and Julio?"

I nodded.

The blonde one giggled and said, "You were teaching us how to crip walk. It was hilarious."

I walked over to the pot of coffee and poured myself a cup, "And educational, I hope?" I said.

"It was. Then Falen made us all do the electric slide," said Reno 911.

"It was epic," said Brandon.

Changing the subject, I asked if the boys knew anything about Sonia and Lynn's big surprise and they both said they had no idea what it could be. I mentioned that I would need the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon and that I would clean up the dishes from their crustacean breakfast if they would give me some privacy. The gigolos took this as their cue to finally leave and go home, which I could tell Q and Brandon weren't too happy about. Ooops, I think I might have squashed a video game date in the man cave.

Later That Evening

I walked down into the living room after my little nap and I see that it has been decorated like a very cozy parlor, with dark drapes covering those huge bare windows and colorful scarves strewn about. Sonia was sitting on the couch with a scarf wrapped around her head, shuffling through a deck of tarot cards.

She looked up at me and smiled, "Are you ready to have your fortune told to you? We're having a psychic party tonight!" [Editor's Note: Yes, I realize that I'm stealing this story line from an episode of Mob Wives, but deal with it.]



Lynn came out of the kitchen with a tray full of party snacks in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other hand, "I was going to make shrimp cocktail, but the guys and the gigolos ate it all this morning, and the Michelles said that there wasn't any fresh seafood at the market. We're gonna have to have a shrimp intervention for Q."

We all laughed at the thought of all the housemates sitting in a conference room at the airport Ramada Inn taking turns reading letters of concern. If that really did take place, I would be sure to use my Seinfeld line.

Michelle and Reck came into the living room and admired the interior stylings of Lynn and Sonia while I slipped into the kitchen to retrieve my special baked goods. As I walked in, Brandon jumped back from the stove and looked at me sheepishly.

"Did you eat one of my brownies? They're for everyone, but I was going to present them on a plate first," I said.

"I was just adding a special ingredient. I heard you talking in your sleep earlier about special brownies and I thought I would make them extra special." I was stunned.

"They're special because I sing a song to them before I put them in the oven and I sprinkle them with a rare type of cinnamon when I take them out. What did you do to them?"

Brandon laughed, took a brownie out of the pan, and said "Don't worry, they're still organic."

I told him whatever, dumped the contents of the tin onto a large plate with a snowman painted on it, and punched Brandon in the arm as we joined the rest of the housemates who had all found their way into the living room and had already started with the tarot card readings.

I put the brownies on the coffee table without saying anything and put my name on the list to have my future spelled out for me. I wanted to find out if doing this reality thing would come back to really bite me in the ass or not. I joined the huddle over Reckmonster, who was having her tarot done by Sonia and palm read by Lynn simultaneously.

"See this card?" Sonia said, holding up a card with a unicorn on it, "This means that you won't have to froth anymore after this experience."

"And this line on your hand," Lynn continued, this means that you're going to be the one who vacuums up after this party's over."

Q picked up a brownie, and before I could warn him, took a big bite and exclaimed how delicious it was. Curious as to what Brandon did with my dessert, I took one off the plate and chomped down. It still tasted good, my special cinnamon kick was still there, and it didn't seem like it was tampered with. Maybe Brandon was trying to creep me out so he could eat all the brownies. Yeah, that must be what he was trying to do. Reck was finished with her reading and everyone got up to take a brownie from the Christmas-themed platter.

And this is the point where my memory gets hazy again. I remember flashes of playing with the ouija board that I brought to the house, of Reck and Michelle building a blanket fort between the two couches in the living room, of playing with a can of red paint with Falen, Sonia and Lynn and all of the housemates ending up being covered in red, of Brandon and Reck wearing Sock-em Boppers and all of us watching them duke it out on top of the dining room table, and finally of waking up in the bathtub in the wine cellar, where Bob makes his bootleg gin, wearing two pairs of pajamas. Wow, I can't wait until this show premiers on television!

Now, we turn back to Q for the first season finale of The Real Blogger Shore's Amazing Undercover Idol!

Creepy clowns and Egyptian Mummy Watchdogs [photo walk]

When the sun is shining and the weather is fine, I like to strap on some walking shoes, take my camera, and go on a photographic adventure. Below are some photos from one of my recent photo walks. Please enjoy!


Sookie had a day out! Ben and I took her to the vet and then went to Dynamo Donuts in Bernal Heights for a quick brekkie and some java. We dined outside so Sookie could enjoy the sunshine and experience some nature up-close.


A Meyer lemon huckleberry donut for me!


Ben loves his maple bacon donuts!


Violent street art near Dolores Park.


Jesus is always watching you.


Creepy!


Street art in the Castro.


This made me do a double-take. Why are there mummies in your window? Are they keeping an eye out for intruders?


When I own my own home one day I really would love to have a porch and some beautiful vines and flowers creeping up the side of my wall. I'm not asking a lot!


Free from fear? They must not watch Fox News...


I wonder if they have frozen yogurt?


I love sidewalk chalk drawings!


Definition of succulent, courtesy of Merriam-Webster Dictionary--
1. a): full of juice: juicy b): moist and tasty: toothsome [a succulent meal] c): having fleshy tissues that conserve moisture (of a plant)
2. rich in interest


Litterbugs are the scum of the earth. Take all the litterbugs, the animal abusers, and violent criminals and dump them in the middle of the ocean. Wait, that's also kind of like littering. Better idea: recycle them for parts.


In memoriam.


Philz Coffee is seriously one of San Francisco's best brews. Forget Blue Bottle, give me a Canopy of Heaven and make it black!


There was something about these purple flowers that screamed, "Take my picture!" So I did.


Ivory Towers of the Mission.


Me too...


Es-car-go!


When you're tired after making your stump speech, take a stump seat!


Are these pretty red and green plants your cup of tea? I'll have my succulents with just one lump of sugar, please, and hold the spider webs.


Tall palms standing over Dolores Park.


Las ventanas. Windows open in the Mission for ventilation.