I’m a big fan of the arts. Yesterday, I went to an exhibit at the Southern Exposure in Potrero Hill. Truly amazing stuff. I’d tell you to check it out, but yesterday was the last day.
I keep a never-ending list of all the art I want to see. Many places have similar exhibit cycles so on the last day, I’m furiously running around the city, hoping to catch them before they get taken down.
At Southern Exposure, Chris Sollars put together this insightful video installation. He filmed eleven people dressed up in garbage bags sitting down and walking around Market Street. Sitting down, these people actually looked like typical bags of garbage. No one seemed to notice or care. Then the bags of garbage would get up and start walking around Market Street. Tourists and other people started laughing and taking notice. The camera phones came out. It was quite funny! Interesting how we don’t seem to mind garbage polluting our city until the garbage gets up and starts moving around…which is essentially what happens, but to a lesser extent. Give a hoot, don’t pollute!
The same artist draped an SUV in paper, then with a pencil produced a rubbing of the whole car. A massive beast of a car reduced to a sketch on paper covering a whole wall of the gallery. It’s a simple, flimsy sketch that stands for something greater. The consequences of driving an SUV—the pollution, the intrusion on space—cannot be reduced.
Next, I stopped by a new SOMA gallery, AfterModern. A sign on the door said they were unfortunately closed in order to install a new heating system. The owner saw me walking away dejected, asked me to come in, and gave me a personal tour. This is a gallery to watch. The owner has a great eye for talent. Many of the artists are undiscovered which makes the prices reasonable. I am seriously considering buying a couple pieces! The owner asked if I was a collector. I told him I was merely a fan of art, but his question planted a dream in my head. I could do this. In ten years, I could own a gallery.
I did some research on the artist whose paintings I’m considering purchasing. He’s a young guy who’s been tapped by Nike and Urban Outfitters to create work for them. Urban Outfitters?! I couldn’t believe it. That’s one of my favorite retailers. Hip, stylish, different. I’ve clearly zero’d in on what I like.
Besides artwork, I also want to mention the ODC dance theater in the mission. I’m always impressed with the caliber of the choreographers, dancers, and the overall performances.
With everything we have to offer here, especially with the new De Young Museum and the Conservatory of Music, San Francisco is really burgeoning as one of the greatest places for modern, thought-provoking works of art.
It’s referral time. Time to give you my personal tips on the best the city has to offer.
245 Fillmore // Haight next to Indian Oven
This is hands-down the best haircut in the city. And the kicker? It’s only $40. Where the hell in the city can you get a great cut for two jacksons? I always throw in a $10 tip because I think they’re under-pricing themselves. They should be charging the going rate of $65, but maybe the discounted rate is what keeps their business rocking.
My ex used to get his hair cut here and I loved accompanying him because the owner is HOT! He’s a total cutie, some surfer dude from San Diego. He’s not gay either. One of these days I’m going to recommend him for The Bachelor. Mike’s been cutting my hair for a while now. He was booked up on Friday so Tara cut my hair and she was fabulous, too. I think anyone there is really good.
Clothing for Men and Women
2nd Street and South Park
So you save on the haircut and splurge on the clothes. There’s a reason why I bring my lunch to work everyday. I’m really into the Chef Boyardee cans for $1. $1 lunch. You can’t beat that!
My friend Conrado bought me a birthday present from this place several years back. I checked it out and fell in love. Jeremy’s is like a boutique version of Loehmann’s. Expensive clothing at discounted prices. I try not to go often because I always end up spending a paycheck. Something regularly-priced at $200+ will be marked down to $80. I was on a mission to buy some new pants and the one pair of pants that fit me in the store was $120. Yikes! They fit perfectly, too. So I had to have them. You’ll be seeing me wear them everyday.
I’ve had problem skin my whole life. I had awful acne as a teenager. I’ve got hyper-pigmentation. I swear by this medical esthetician. My skin has never been better. After I told her I’m allergic to normal sunscreens, she named the exact sunscreen that took me years and years to find.
Be forewarned: this is not your typical, soothing, relaxing facial. I was extremely uncomfortable with the microdermabrasion and the extractions were painful beyond belief. But instead of washing your face (I mean, I can do that on my own), she’s actually doing something. She is amazing. If you go, tell her I referred you.
$125 for a 90 minute session which includes microdermabrasion and brow shaping.
My sister Therese gave birth to a baby boy yesterday morning. His name is Dominic.
The gender of the baby was a surprise, but everyone was expecting a girl. Even my sister had this feeling that she was going to have a girl.
Well, they were wrong! She had a boy and I can’t be any happier. I always wished I’d had a brother to grow up with. And my poor dad with two girls. He’s probably more excited than any of us.
My parents are both down in LA with my sister and my brother-in-law right now. I wish I could be there, but I checked flights and it would have cost me almost $300 to fly down. If I go next Friday, it’ll cost me $100. So I’ll be there next weekend. I used the money I saved to get my sister and the baby a really cute welcome basket with these books targeted towards the ‘Einstein Baby.’ Totally cheesy, but hey, they seemed to have hooked me. Way to go Brand Managers!
I’m heart-broken I can’t be there, though. My mom was telling me how Dominic was happy when he was getting bathed in warm water. I swear, I was ready to jump on a plane when I heard that. He must be so cute. I can’t wait.
Pictures to be posted as soon as I see him!!!
My sister and I seem to be having the same problem. We can’t gain any weight. And she’s pregnant!
Therese is due any week now. Valentine’s is the due date, but everyone in our family seems to have a premonition that the baby’s coming early. She has gained a total of eleven pounds. But she eats. Gosh, does my sister eat!
Since my strep throat episode, I too am having the same problem. Pigging out on greasy Chinese food, super burritos slathered with guac and sour cream, and chocolate chip cookies doesn’t seem to be helping.
Right now as I write this, I’m scraping my plate. Chocolate molten cake and raisin ice-cream. Bon Appetit!
I’m watching the number on the scale creep ever slowly to double-digits I haven’t seen since my teenage years. That’s scary. I’m thinking I may have fucked up my metabolism so badly when I was anorexic. Now that I don’t care what I eat, I’m transforming back into the skinny body type that I naturally am. It’s scary, but the only theory that makes sense.
There was a time in my adult years when I was completely sedentary. People would ask if I ran, swam, cycled. “Why work out,” I’d muse, “when you look this good?” I’m back at that point again. Nothing fits. The belts are coming out.
Lesson learned. I truly believe this. Dieting hurts you in the long run. Eat, drink, and be merry. Bon Appetit!
I wish! I’m wielding a machete and these guys still keep coming. I just want them to go away!!!
I’m sick so I’m going for the stream-of-consciousness approach. If this posting seems a little scattered, it’s because my brain cells are fried. Cooked. Well-done. Burnt to a crisp.
Here’s what’s happened. My beloved Brett pissed me off. He was supposed to come out and meet a bunch of my friends, but bailed at the last minute. Did he call? Of course not. He sent a fucking text message saying he didn’t feel well. I had already told the mother-fucker I really despised how he continued to text-message me instead of calling. And here he was…text-messaging me that he couldn’t come. I asked why he couldn’t simply call. His text response: “I’m sitting on my mom’s friend’s couch. I feel groggy and really shitty.”
I didn’t buy it. Not one word of it. Who did he think I was? Some ga-ga Britney Spears looking for love in all the wrong places? It was very suspicious. I immediately logged on to Match.com and guess what? THE MOTHER FUCKER WAS ONLINE! Well, I’ll be darned. I reached my boiling point and furiously texted back: “Brett, you are a liar. Good riddance.”
After momentarily patting my back for being so decisive and bringing down my prospective candidates to two, I started to fret. Uh-oh. What have I done. So I did what any girl would do when she’s having guy problems. I started pestering my guy friends. Well low and behold. They all had different opinions.
Male Friend Advice #1: “Oh no, Cathy, you did not. What? Why? What if he happened to leave his computer on? I do that all the time. I don’t always shut down my applications. Well, hold tight. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Do not call him. He’ll call you. If not, then he’s not worth it. And let me just tell you, when you find out he really was sick, you’re going to feel awful.”
Male Friend Advice #3: “You know, Cath. You did the right thing. Sitting on his mom’s friend’s couch with the flu? And he can’t pick up the phone and call? This guy is bad news. Stay away.”
There you have it. Three different opinions solicited. What did I do? Nothing. I pretended like he wasn’t in my life anymore. Then it came. The inevitable text message: “I ended up having strep throat.”
And like a 2 for 1 special. So did I.
I was in Minneapolis for work. On the second night, Brett’s text came through. I laughed and debated how I should respond. Soon, I started feeling feverish and ill. My throat was constricting. Next, I was on fire. Literally! My head was throbbing. I couldn’t open my mouth. Everything—pillows, sheets, blankets—was soaked in sweat. 30 hours straight in bed. I called on room service to bring me a plate of chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate. That’s all I ate over the course of 30 hours.
Because of the altitude on the flight back home, I can no longer hear out of my left ear.
I now weigh as much as I did when I graduated from high school. I look in the mirror and can’t believe that this is how I wanted to look all those years I struggled with my weight. I look like a skeleton.
I’m not happy. Because of the hearing deficiency, my balance is impeded and I feel completely off. Getting from one room to the next is a chore—and my place ain’t big! Mainly, I want my appetite to return. I know I wouldn’t feel this weak if I could get some food in me, but I can’t seem to stomach anything. Besides, I do not want to look like this. Skinny and unhealthy. Before I left Minneapolis, my team went to get lunch. My manager tried to entice me, “Catherine, chocolate chip cookies! Go grab one for yourself.” I shuffled over and just looked at them in disgust.
As for the other two guys, they’re still vying for my time. I thought Nick—selfish bastard—would surely drop off somehow. He’s always so busy, never really had enough time for me. The guy is finally calling more frequently. And super sweet Adam is always asking if I’m doing ok. He can’t wait to see me again. Super nice guy.
Gadzooks. One of these guys is going to have to drop sooner or later. I’m taking bets…