BOOZE AND SHOES

I live two blocks away from ‘The Tenderloin’, a notoriously rough part of San Francisco. Technically I live in the ‘Loin, but since my studio also falls within Nob Hill jurisdictions (allegedly), I consider myself a resident of the real estate friendly ‘Tendernob’, if only because it sounds nicer and it sort of fools my Bay Area-vetted friends into visiting me.

I found out on a random scouting mission for food last weekend that I’m also pretty close to Little Saigon, which is also in the Tenderloin. My gastronomical joys however might be putting me at risk for a mugging or a serious ass beating. I’ve only experienced a block or two of the TL, but I’m pretty sure my experiences here have made me re-evaluate my idea of personal safety. I thought going to Wal Mart at 2AM in Sacramento was a risky proposition, but I now think of that trek as a simple walk in the park…ing lot. Walking in the TL is a completely different beast, as I’ve had drug transactions happen right in front of my face, threats of “ass-eating”  by emaciated hobos, and the occasional dodging of syringe caps and contraception. I don’t mind it really though. I live on one of the busiest streets in the city, and I can avoid this rough patch if need be. But I can’t. The banh mi down the street is way too good.

…probably step outside of my studio.

Shit....they're out on Yelp anyway.

I’ve really had the same group of friends for years. Absolutely no complaints there. All my friends are pretty cool, and being friends with me is a total testament to that.

But really, I haven’t made new friends in years. I made like two friends in college, but I like to think of it as quality over quantity. I’m actually pretty deliberate in regards to who I let within my inner circle. I mean, I generally run into somebody I know when I go out, but I think I just have a ton of acquaintances and a few people  that I’d have no problems spending a Saturday night with. I usually stay within my circles, and I like it that way.

However, moving to another city has kind of forced my hand in regards to coming into the good graces of  strangers. It’s not that bad. It’s actually pretty funny. There are times where I’m stuck in social situations that I absolutely hate, like hanging out with an already established group of friends. It’s like I’m encroaching on their company. Riffing with existing conversations, finding common denominators with other people, getting reads on what these people think is funny…it’s all stuff I haven’t done in a while. It’s not like I have Asperger’s or anything, but I’m definitely not the best when it comes to meeting new people. Actually, for the most part people think I’m a fucking asshole when they meet me. I’m pretty quiet around strangers, and a lot of people understand that as being snobbish. It’s not that I’m snobbish, it’s just I don’t know what the hell to say to someone after the initial pleasantries have been exchanged and the stock questions have been exhausted.

At least there’s a ton of places to drink in the city by the bay. Alcohol makes everything 90 times easier.

I think all the dinners that I’ve had at home for the most part have involved me boiling a pot of water for 15 minutes. Unsurprisingly, I botched my first attempt at making Soba noodles by thinking you can cook them like instant ramen, and it was pretty hard for me to eat that failure. I followed the directions the next time around (who’d of thunk that’d of been helpful), and Soba has really been my go to dish if I have nothing else to eat. I’ve grown very fond of the cold, buckwheat taste, but allegedly if you eat it too much, you will go retarded. My Japanese friend told me so, so I take this as gospel. I’ve also had success in making Fettucini Alfredo, and that triumph still makes me smile to this day. It was awesome to discover that I could cook a meal that a) was relatively tasty, and b) didn’t make me pee out of my butt.

Although San Francisco is known for its epicurean delights, I’ve found comfort in the simple things. I found an amazing Chicken & Waffles place a block or two near my work, and I’ve grown fond of the Sheboygan Bratwursts at the number of Giants games I’ve attended so far. I’m hoping to find a Thai place soon, and I’m going to meander through the town this weekend to see what the city has to offer in terms of Sushi.

Real talk though, as of now. 3 weeks in. Sacramento > SF in terms of food YEAH I SAID IT.

I’ll take it back in a week or so.

Proudly, I’ve never purchased an Axe product in my life. Frankly, I find the advertising pretty fucking ridiculous, and I subconsciously associate the smell of Axe with bros, douchebags, and sexually transmitted disease. If there’s  a scent that made dumb women want to sex you, it’s  the smell of currency or Polo Sport.

However, this new Axe Detailer Shower “Tool” (the irony that it’s named that)  just looked too awful to pass up. So I bought one. The dollar loofah I got at Target started to unravel, so why not spend the $5 to get this cleaning device that quite honestly looks like a landmine with a tire wrapped around it. Points for looking like a weapon.

The gimmick (besides the marketing ploy that makes people think they’re gonna get some tail if they use this)  is that one side is a normal feeling loofah, while the other side is a more dense loofah. So ideally you’d wash your body with the normal side, and then use the tougher side to chip away at the harder funk that resides on your body.

I’m 30 minutes removed from a shower, and I have to say that I feel pretty clean. It’s like washing your body with sandpaper. My arms, legs, and torso took a beating in the name of hygiene.

I am patiently waiting for the women of San Francisco to ravage me now.