And that bright light you will see will be the light reflected off the skin of my legs

Yesterday I had a conversation with my mother. I know, big news. Yesterday, I had a conversation with my mother about how long it takes to get rid of the San Francisco suntan. For this (and for anyone who has never graced the vaunted streets on the tip of the peninsula), this will need some context: apart from the rest of california -- what with it's sun-drenched vistas, playas, etc., san francisco is a city that was kidnapped by fog at some point. The sun is non-existent for save maybe three hours a day, and even when it is visible, it's typically wrapped around such a chilly day that carrying around a jacket is probably a very good idea. Shorts are not an option, and layers upon layers are what typically provide the SPF one would need throughout the day.

Well, I'm no longer in that. I'm back east, walking around, and lo and behold my legs are doubling as traffic reflectors. I've gotten by with wearing jeans as much as I can so as not to be a public or traffic menace, but frankly they're hot and feel ungainly inappropriate for the weather. Cue the conversation with my mother, a 33-year SF veteran before moving who also has twice the Latin blood I do:

Female Parent: So have you started getting any sun yet?
Me: No way, Ma. I'm still trying to get that skin tone that I lost in Frisco.
F: [laughs] It took me about three years, you know. Three years of looking sickly and no skintone before I started getting some color.

Well, at least the feeling's mutual, but now I have to wonder if it's something to even attempt to remedy, or should I just go back to the pale? This is a false problem, really, but kind of funny that the two of us went through it.

The Coffee-fueled blog: now solar-powered.

another goody from the spam folder

The subject from a message in my spam folder:

Cunnilingus - Powermful Technique, Exercise and Position to Maake Her Orgasm

You have to like the double-a.

I will have you know this is probably the reason why I got strep the last three times. It's an incredibly power(m)ful technique.

from a little bird on the interwireds

Great quote from the Rescue Me hulu page:

"Arguing on the internet is like running in the Special Olympics. Even if you win your [sic] still retarted."

And yeah, I'm hooked on the show. Deal with it.

Cue the Alanis quote

At least I can sleep soundly knowing that no Vegetarians were hurt in the creation of my pasta sauce.

raindrops are falling on my head

So I used to think that there was a time of night when, typically, the bar next door or one of the many vietnamese restaurants would drain whatever cold ice chest they were using to keep things frigid. It was almost a nightly sound, peering out my window, and with such Old-Faithful predictability it couldn't be just random street chaos.

Nope. 

It was somebody pissing. Probably every time.

The questionnaire

So I'm not sending this out about anyone, mainly as a rumination of my dating life in SF. Because it's sucked, and partially it's my fault, partially it's because of the calibre of women I've met. Which ultimately gets back to me.

This is a joking questionnaire that came up awhile back, talking about my terrible luck with women. About how I seem to meet the crazies. Now, I'm not going to say they're all crazy, but essentially that's the pattern I've been in and probably promote. 

Without further ado, here's the questionnaire, to see if you're suitable for dating. The Geoffery Metz. This might be long.

1) Have we ever gotten along on a superficial level when first meeting? (+1 pt)

1a) Was it in a bar? (+5 pts.)

1b) Did we meet online? (-1 pt.)

2) Has your need for travel ever superseded plans for musical or dramatic performance? (+3 pts.)

2a) Was the performer your friend? (+5 pts)

3) Are you a fan of David Sedaris? (+5 pts.)

4) Have you ever seen Brick? (+1 pt.)

4a) Without me forcing you? (+5 pts.)

4b) Stood me up when I suggested we see it in the theater? (+10 pts.)

5) Are you a fan of David Lynch? (-1 pt.)

6) Have you ever engaged regular in one of the following drugs (+1 pt. each answer):

a) Cocaine

b) Anti-depressant

c) Tobacco

d) Crystal Meth

e) Beer Breakfast

[Note: add two points if you engaged in any of (a)-(d) on a regular basis. For (e), only add a point if this was before work.]

7) Which one of these regions strikes you as the best region for wine:

a) Napa (+5 pts.)

b) Sonoma (+2 pts.)

c) Spain (+2 pts.)

d) France (+3 pts., but really, who drinks French wine?)

e) Italy (+1 pt.)

f) Australia (+3 pts.)

8) Are you a Capricorn or Aries? (5 pts. for either)

9) Are we separated by more than a subway trip (i.e., a trip on a plane, train, automobile)

a) Yes (-10 pts)

b) No (+2 pts.)

10) Have I ever called you when you're drunk?

a) Yes (+5 pts.)

b) No (-2 pts.)

Bonus question: Have you ever been a cheerleader? (+2 pts.)

Add up the score. The closer to 52 means I've probably dated you and it was a short affair with a lot of chemistry at the top. The farther away, we'd probably be awesome together but will never meet.

Remnants

Well, this is exciting. I've been picking up my apartment in anticipation of liquidating much of it and giving me more organizaiton in the process. And the shit I've unearthed:

• A note from old college friend Shana (which I've subsequently misplaced).
• My old teamster card. Yes, I'm a box dragger.
• My high school hockey jersey. This wasn't a complete loss, but I hadn't seen the damned thing in years.
• A tarot set I'd thought I'd lost. I do not know how to read tarot, but the damned thing was humorous enough to keep around and made me enjoy my esotericism. 

So, what to do except pick up some more, see what else I can find. Go figure. Ugh, I smell right now, but think I'll have hockey to watch in a little bit. Before I head to work. 

Speaking of puck, I was hanging out with friend Matt at Kilowatt. To watch the Sharks put up a stinker to the Ducks, but that's neither here nor there. However, in the corner there was  of the bar there was a group of Blackhawks fans, watching the Hawks take on the Flames. And they were yelling, carrying on, going freaking ballistic over the game. And I loved it. Every hit, every shot, cheers, jeers, really going at it. Like hockey should be watched.

I'm not going to say too much about my hockey experience here, but I've gotten the impression over the years that Bay Area sports fans basically watch their sports like they're in a library. I'd actually gotten bored with the sport because nobody knew how to watch it. And seeing them (and nearly getting into a fight with one of them), was awesome. 

T-minus two months and counting. Time to fetch my laundry.