Thursday 17 March 2016

Taking the plunge in the City by the Bay; meth, penis socks and a guy jerking off

Well, we finally took the plunge and actually moved to the big smoke. Though the big fog would be more appropriate. 

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The apprehension I felt while looking at potential apartments was not abated by the man who dropped trou and started pooping against a wall as I walked past on my way to a viewing. And this seems to be irksome, but entirely too comfortably tolerated by all the current inhabitants of the city! There really is no excuse for shitting in the street on a busy Thursday afternoon? 

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Pretty much anything goes in SF, which makes it a fascinating and vibrant city, and I really don't want to lose my current mixture of fear, respect, awe and intrigue, but it looks like that feeling wears off pretty quick. When regaling my City chums with stories of men hanging out in the park wearing only gold lame penis socks, trainers, a small satchel and a hat (Seriously??? A hat??? If you're worried about sunburn I've got a better solution. Clothes. Also, a bag?????? When you left the house this morning and wondered where to put your keys and your wallet, didn't your mind immediately leap to 'trousers' rather than 'over-the-shoulder canvas bag') their shrug is always punctuated with the same "that's San Francisco" refrain. Really?? You've become THAT accustomed to street-pooping that its just one of the quirky features of the City?? 

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The latest tale of incredulity comes courtesy of a close neighbor who found a dude wanking next to the front door of his apartment block (I feel like the term "jerking off" really doesn't sound graphic enough. If you're "jerking off" then you're just messing around, being a bit of a scamp. A man pleasuring himself in an apartment doorway is most definitely "wanking"). Yup. That happened. 

I really REALLY don't want to become numb to this City and its inhabitants. Firstly, shitting in the street is fucking disgusting and we should all be horrified and do something about this before we welcome the Bubonic Plague with our apathy. Secondly, if all of the craziness becomes second nature then what's to enjoy? The uniqueness of a man in a gold lame penis sock having a picnic in a public park is one of the reasons people still flock to SF, and if you're not still amazed by the City then maybe its time to move on. 

Wednesday 16 March 2016

Travel winge 10

And there was me thinking that the international home of logic and engineering would furnish me with a pleasantly efficient airport experience. Ding dong, you're wrong! Lets recap the basic principle of the US - everything has a price. However one feels about this approach you do get used to it, so when faced with 3 hours in Frankfurt airport, nowhere to sit and have a coffee within 3 miles of the gate (seriously - its a fucking huge airport) and a husband who can access the business lounge we assumed that a guest pass would be available for purchase. Lets face it - its money for old rope - $30 for an automated cappuccino and some mixed nuts.

Turns out Lufthansa (who own the lounge) will not be pressured into delivering a good service, even if one is prepared to pay. They are the only lounge I have ever come across who don't offer guest passes that can be purchased. Seriously? The vibe I got from the little fräulein at the desk was that if I'd wanted access I should have bought a business ticket in advance. These are the rules and there is simply no way round them. And no questioning them. And no disobeying them.

K Lufthansa. Whatevs. Your breakfast was an abomination, FYI. Please do not serve "pancakes" (LOL - I question the validity of that description, but ok) with a sticky strawberry syrup to people who have just woken up again. I was finding little sticky patches on my clothes/skin/hair for DAYS.

Also, apparently, smoking rooms are still a thing in certain european airports. Seriously, I thought we'd evolved beyond that?? Like hot boxes of cancer.

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Wednesday 2 March 2016

Like Tinder for serial killers

We survived. In a city full of meth addicts with mental health problems I ostensibly invited anyone with an internet connection into our home to look at our things. I concede that statement is a little dramatic, but this is basically what Craigslist is all about, if you believe everything that you read on the internet. And I do. So, shit.

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I had been informed by a number of well-spoken, middle class types that we could "donate our unwanted couch to a charity", a statement that is always followed by "its tax deductible" as if I know what the fuck that means. I mean, I know what I'm supposed to do when people say that - you raise your eyebrows, turn down your mouth and nod, silently implying that you hadn't thought of that option, but this news about tax deduction will certainly make a difference to your decision. It would honestly make more sense to me if they said "give me your couch and I'll give you my half-drained Caramel Macchiato". At least I understand the value of the things we're talking about in that statement enough to be able to weigh up the options. Anyhoo, I digress.

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So, needless to say we had no intention of handing our couch over without even a Starbucks in return. Instead, in a vain attempt to recoup some of the cash that we threw at it, we sold it. And where better to sell it than on Craigslist, the match.com of the house-bound, technically-minded psycho-stalker. Why waste your time pounding the street for your next victim when you can select them online and make just one trip with your bloody axe?

It was a solid klippan with a clean beige cover that would have looked very happy in the IKEA showroom, as long as you didn't remove said cover and spot the disturbing mystery stain, made significant worse by my efforts to clean it. So, photos were taken. A description was crafted using my very best pseudo-sales-assistant-ese, and the responses started to drip into my inbox.

I was initially a bit worried about being able to spot the frauds and fakes, but it turns out its suuuuuuuper easy.

"Hi, I am very interested in your IKEA KLIPPAN SOFA, GOOD CONDITION!!! IDEAL COUCH FOR BEDROOM, STUDY OR HALLWAY. Please send me more details. Thank you."

Yeah. Unless there is an automated search bot out there who is looking to furnish his first apartment  with simple and stylish furniture on a budget, I call bullshit on that one. And the five others I got that were nearly identical. I'm still trying to work out what the scam is.

There are also the people who want to beat you down to a fraction of the price. Yeah, no.

That only leaves us with one potentially genuine offer, and I was cacking myself at the arranged hour as I waited for god-knows-what to turn up outside our apartment block to view my wares clutching either a small wad of cash, a meat cleaver, or both.

The old man had already helped me carry the sofa downstairs to the lobby (no need for my crazy new friend to know which apartment we actually inhabit) and I was MIGHTILY relieved to see a clean and normal looking lady approach with a fistful of dollars. I left her waiting for her ride, sitting on her spanking new purchase on the sidewalk. Happy camper.

So relieved was I to have the whole process dealt with that I didn't check the notes until I got back to the apartment and it turns out she snuck a fake one in there, but thats probably Karma for the big fucking stain on the seat.  Meh.
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