San Francisco Let Me See That Thong

Let me know if you understand the title of this post. You are awesome if you do.

Me and my jet-setting awesomeness went to San Francisco last weekend. I love SF because it is the city of stereotypes: hippies, gays, and druggies, OH MY!  Wrap it up in a tortilla and call it heaven.

Vacation began with an awkward encounter on the plane. I was really looking forward to getting groped by airport security but I gueeeeeeeeeeess I don’t look like a terrorist or my boobies are not big enough, so that didn’t pan out. After missing out on some airport action, I got to sit next to a hot little number on the death trap. Well, he was like 50 and had 2 kids but let’s pretend he looked like Colin Firth and wanted to make out with me. So, Colin offered me a free drink ticket and of course I say “Oh, no thanks, I’m saving myself.” Wait. What? WHO SAYS THAT? I mean, besides Mel Gibson. 

Anywho, lovermuffinbffslutbag – aka Audra – picked my ass up from the airport and surprised my Kim Kardashian booty with homemade chocolate chip cookies. Since Rachel refuses to feed my fat face and there is no such thing as a “microwaveable choco-crack cookie,” you can only imagine how rarely I get to make-out with a homemade cookie. Mmmmmmm. Dear Audra, if you want to keep the fire burnin, send me cookies. Please and thank you. 

Friday was spent with my NEWLY ENGAGED BESTY and her fiancée. Bomb diggity. We talked wedding and drank wine at a nifty little spot on the water. Then I lamented how I have one less friend to compete with me for Brett Michaels love on Rock of Love: Season 15 – The Adult Diaper Years. Once my tears dried and left streaks of orange bronzer on my cheeks, we ate tacos and drank alcohol and got to hang out with the inventor of HJ’s on Tractors (check your local fetish store around 2012). I can probably get you an autographed video. Not to brag or anything.

Saturday = Wise Sons Deli = Crap my pants delicious deli food. No offense San Di-Goy-go, but when it comes to deli food I feel like Moses would if you dropped him in China and told him to find a latke. Lost, starved and confused. Thank God, my friend Evan Bloom just opened his awesome deli in San Francisco. Here comes my shameless advertisement: 

Are you searching for mouth-watering corned beef? Ever find yourself craving a gargantuan homemade bagel with a hefty helping of cream cheese AND lox?  Well, tell your stomach to grumble no longer because your Jewish cravings have been answered! Wise Sons Deli. Bitch. 

I threw that “bitch” in for flavor. The salt of my sentence. If you are reading my blog and you live in SF, then go to Wise Sons and God will grant you one wish and give you one kosher turkey leg. 

The rest of my Saturday consisted of hanging with my lovermuffin and my cousin and shopping for some naughties. I won’t mention who bought the naughties because I don’t want that person to be embarrassed. SEE, I DO HAVE A SOUL. So, um, then we waited an HOUR AND A HALF for some damn tacos. But, we were with good company (my other engaged friend and his fiancée) and the tacos were tacolicious, so it was all good. You would be laughing right now if you were part of that nifty group because the taco place is named tacolicious. Wicka wicka whaaaaaat! Pickle boob. 

I am so tired of writing that I am not making sense anymore. Here are some pictures for you to touch:

Kill Fat Bitches, yo.

Okay, LOOK CHALLENGED!

Mama said knock you out, so I'm gonna knock you out.

    

FIN.