Burn, Burn, Burn!

It was a really nice, warm (HOT!) weekend. Friday, Chris and I spent the evening hanging out at Dolores Park with a bottle of wine and some beer. Saturday, I didn’t know what to do with myself because of the heat. Went shopping for some summer clothes, knowing full well that they would probably be worn three days max. But I was dying! That night, my friend Omer was visiting from Phoenix and celebrating his birthday “back home”- since he used to live in the Mission. Drinks and snacks at Parea, the wine bar, and then some dancing at Little Baobab. I didn’t stay long for the dancing since I still have stitches on my shoulder and Little Baobab can get thumping! ;o)

Sunday, we all went to Stern Grove. Now here’s where the decision was made: Chris and I are 90% sure we’re going to Burning Man this year. Wow. Finally, after 5 years here in SF, I’ve made up my mind to go. We’ve got enough wigs. Now we just need to get at least three more people and an RV. We’ve already half-recruited Sascha (sans wife). Yo Playa! Here we come!

"The Narcissist"

Hey there copycat! I just hope that poetry isn’t meant to be for me. I can’t think of one ex-boyfriend who would do that.

P.S.- Oh yeah, let me know if you need some pointers on your poetry.

Psycho Stalker

So I have a copycat blogger:
fleeting-muses.blogspot.com

And I know the guy...

Back to Normalcy

The Mothers are gone.
The Surgery is over.
Chris is back.
I want a drink.
Two.

"Going under the knife"

Did I mention my surgery is tomorrow?

Bye bye, Favorite Birth Mark.

The Mothers have descended!

Last Monday, my roommate Sabba's mother arrived from Ohio, for Sabba's cataract surgery. Friday, my mother arrived from Boston, for my surgery on Monday. There has been good food, chai galore, and lots of Urdu spoken around the house. We've hidden the booze, our miniskirts and "gypsy dresses", banished our boyfriends from our beds, tucked away their undershirts and boxers and socks. Out came the jahnamaaz (prayer rugs) and prayer books. The lotah (don't ask).

We took them for a tour of the city yesterday, and then had them make biryani and raita. I bought some gulab jamun (in a can) from the Indian store- where the owner swore it was some of the best ever. It was awful. Shannon made some Shannon's Fruit Surprise, which was surprisingly yummy- in fact, it was the best of all three desserts. We had sparkling pomegranate juice in our pretty new wine glasses from Ikea. And on top of all that, my mom met Chris for the first time. She approved.

She asked me a ton of questions about him before she met him, she sat and talked to him for a while after he arrived, and she's still giving me the third degree. She calls him what translates more or less into "a very sweet boy" or "good boy". I find it very amusing, but the point is she approves. This is the very first guy I have EVER introduced to her. This is a big deal. We even had brunch with him this morning. Later, she joked about feeling like the third wheel, between us... There's a lot of background stuff that's a bit complicated, but for now, she approves.

And while I just really want a drink and I can't wait to get into bed with Chris and laugh about anything and everything, for now, it is really nice to have my mom around. It's fun to sit around and reminisce about Pakistan and flip through pages of old albums. Plus Biryani and Karrhi trump cuddling. At least for a few days ;OP

A Different District

I have these bouts where I actually have girlfriends. Most of the times, though, it’s guys, the same old guys, the loyal, crazy, funny, lovely, horrible, my favorite- the boys. Somehow, ever since high school, I’ve just had guy friends. But anyway, that’s a whole different story (and district, perhaps) and a whole other pain for my poor boyfriend. He’s awesome though. And so patient about all my ex-boyfriends-turned-good/best-friends. We are currently in the process of finding me some girlfriends. (If you know of any….)

Anyway. So during my last round of escapades with "girlfriends" I had gone to District a few times. One of my favorite SF wine bars. Oh, I had flirted, lifted skirts, pouted my strawberry lips, tilted my glass of wine until I almost spilled (almost, but not quite)- you know, the usual. Anyway. I had ended up making out with a guy. Chris and I had just started seeing each other but we were so far from being in a relationship then that the thought was actually funny. I gave him my number, hoping he wouldn’t call, and he was kind enough to acquiesce to the request I never made.

This past Tuesday evening, back at another company-sponsored baseball game night (what’s up with that, anyway?), Chris and I were running behind schedule, as usual- well, rather, we were too busy with ourselves to be bothered with anyone else’s schedule. We stopped into the Irish Bank for a drink before heading to Pete’s Tavern where everyone had already left for the game, by the time we got there. I was having a glass of wine when a guy tried to pass by behind Chris, smiling and waving at me goofily. He looked familiar.

He was still watching me as he went down the aisle. I called out, "You look familiar, but I can’t place you!" He tried to mouth something, pointed somewhere in the air that seemed more like a point in the direction of a time rather than a place and suddenly-

"Oh my god!" I covered my mouth.

"What?" Chris asked.

"Oh, god!"

"What?"

Yes. It was the guy I had made out with at District.

And yes, I told Chris.

But it would have been fun to tell some girlfriends, too.

Of Red Dresses and Absinthe...

You know how I have managed to built a troop of old married admirers at work? You remember how I took one of them to HR and how my manager took the other one for me? The guy who was always trying to find me a red dress to wear at parties was the one my managers empathized with me on. Anyway, now that I’m no longer working at that office, I ran into him (the admirer, not the manager) at Absinthe. I said hello, and he waved a quick hello, too, in a rush to get out of the restaurant with his wife. Yesterday, however, he probably spent a few long minutes trying to search through his e-mail to find the goodbye e-mail I sent companywide, containing my e-mail address, and shot me an e-mail.

Hi!

It was great (and surprising) to see you Saturday at Absinthe. They say this is a small town—I guess they’re right. I’m really sorry I couldn’t stop and talk; the three ladies who preceded me out the door were in a hurry to vacate—my wife to go home, my daughter (the tall blonde) and her friend (the manager at Absinthe) to party… That was my Father’s Day dinner, because they’ll all be out of town next week.

So how are you, where are you working now and what brought you to Absinthe? (And did you have one [absinthe]? I don’t much like the taste of licorice, but that went down smooooooothly.) I guess—from your e-mail address—that you want to write. How is that going? My daughter is also an erstwhile author, and is currently interning at the Guardian to achieve that end. She reports a troubling reluctance to apply her backside to the writing chair, though… do you have that trouble?

Let me know what you’re up to—I missed your going-away party, so if you are working downtown maybe we could have a drink some afternoon…I’m out at Laguna Honda for the next few months, so I can get anywhere pretty easily.

Best,

D-----


And he’s the one who I didn’t mind so much. The other guy, the one I went to HR about? The one who had to “fight himself to keep his hands off me”, the one who, “couldn’t control himself around me”? He wrote to me the day I left. Really. What do men think they’re doing? Do they never get it???