Just little snippits of what life in San Francisco has taught me about myself, other people, and this crazy city I live in.


Words of Wisdom for Mr. Ford

Tom Ford - Via Coke Talk.

1. You should put on the best version of yourself when you go out in the world because that is a show of respect to the other people around you.

2. A gentleman today has to work. People who do not work are so boring and are usually bored. You have to be passionate, you have to be engaged and you have to be contributing to the world.

3. Manners are very important and actually knowing when things are appropriate. I always open doors for women, I carry their coat, I make sure that they’re walking on the inside of the street. Stand up when people arrive at and leave the dinner table.

4. Don’t be pretentious or racist or sexist or judge people by their background.

5. A man should never wear shorts in the city. Flip-flops and shorts in the city are never appropriate. Shorts should only be worn on the tennis court or on the beach.

Listen up, fellas. Tom Ford is giving away pure gold here. There’s nothing better than a gentleman. Number three is important. Mind you, it’s not about chivalry. It’s not about courtship and gender roles. Tom Ford is heartbreakingly gay. He’s not trying to fuck me, but he still knows how to treat me. He still has manners. It’s a distinction that I appreciate. Fuck chivalry. Be a gentleman.

Nothing makes me happier than some early morning wisdom from Mr. Tom Ford.

Problems…yeah I got a lot of those

Recently I have encountered a wide variety of problems unique to my own culture, you will be able to guess the culture I am talking about after reading past the third problem. 

For example, today I had to cancel my hair appointment for a work meeting.  I also missed my friend’s party to celebrate the launch of his fashion line.  My running sweatshirt was wrinkled at the bottom of my hamper, who knows how long it has been there; this prevented my evening run around the city.  My dryer seems to have magically started running at a higher temperature, shrinking some of my favorite Polos.  I’ve been too busy to remember to DVR the Real Housewives of Orange County and New York City.    I had no dinner plans on a Friday night.  My flowers from Whole Foods died before they opened up.  I broke one of my largest wine glasses.  I forgot to bring in my new face wash to the shower after getting in the shower.  Guilt Group sent my underwear order in two shipments to my office.  The small sizes from this particular underwear brand are too large; luckily, my dryer shrunk them as it now runs at a higher temperature.  My housekeeper didn’t wipe my cabinets like I asked.  I missed my BART train by one minute on my way to work this morning, missing the Gilt Group sale for Chronicles of Never and Jack Spade; there were shoes I needed.  The attractive gentlemen who works in the office down the hall works for a larger company than I thought, he is not high up; therefore, I cannot stalk him in any online way.  I had to pee at a gas station on my way back to the city.  I have no dinner plans this Friday night.  My only girlfriend who works downtown cant get her nails done with me anytime soon at lunch because she got a promotion at work.  The PSN is down.  Because the PSN is down, I cannot watch a movie before bed with my glass of wine.  I might not be able to go to Europe.  I didn’t have a Diet Coke within five minutes of waking up today.

These are the gayest problems I have had recently.

BART demographics

Every morning my commute consists of 5 blocks of walking and 4 to 5 BART stations, depending on if I pay attention or not.  After riding BART for almost half a year now, roughly 5 to 6 days a week, I have begun to notice quite a few trends to each BART station, the manners unique to each station, and also their demographics.  Consider this a BART survival guide within the county/city of San Francisco.

24th street and Mission, is the first ‘real’ station going into the city from Daly City; this is also where I begin my commute.  Oddly, this is the most diverse off all the stations demographic wise.  There are a number of people who trek down from Noe Valley and possibly as far as Diamond Heights.  This station is also prime for homeless people as there is a McDonald’s across the street.  Within the county of San Francisco I have noticed that fast food chains are magnets for the homeless; why I am not so sure.  This station abides by the rules of a downtown BART station.  The left side of the escalator is reserved for those walking, not standing.  Those with bikes take the stairs to the street level.  In addition, those like me who are usually in a frantic rush to get to the office, move to the furthest right side set of stairs on the way into the station going down.  Avoid the BART ticket machines here, as no one knows how the fuck to work them for some obscure reason.

Stop #2, 16th street and Mission.  A smaller station with a less eclectic crowd, 16th street does not have any rules…which is very annoying.  When using this station I am forced to walk at a slow place up stairs, blocked by small children, strollers, and, for some reason, suitcases when going up or down an escalator or stairs.  This portion of the train ride is where I become extremely annoyed.  After departing from this station you enter the ‘bend’. 

This ‘bend’ is the loudest part of BART in all of San Francisco.  My irritation level is then heightened when the train arrives at stop #3, Civic Center.

Civic Center/UN Plaza is by far my least favorite BART stop, and not because of the scary Greek God murals on the wall.  Nor is it my least favorite because of the man who enters the train with his loud music and oversized plastic quilted jacket that stands in front of me near the leaning stations (Leaning stations are on the opposite from the door you entered from and have a panel you can lean on next to the handicapped seats without having to sit.  No one should sit on BART as there is Staff growing on the seats).  It is my least favorite station because I am increasingly annoyed by the amount of government employees entering the train. 

A government employee typically will be talking on their phone, to a fellow government employee, or grunting as they read the newspaper.  Where one still procures a newspaper, I am unsure.  I am also unsure as to why they are leaving Civic Center Plaza at the beginning of the workday.  I am also upset and irritated with this station the most mainly because the government employees insist on wearing ill-fitting oversized suits, pant suits, pencil skirts, power ties, work badges, and overstuffed back packs.

Unfortunately, disdain with these ill fashion choices are quelled at the last stop of my commute.  Station #4, Powell Street.  Second to 24th, this is also a very culturally diverse station.  The mall is also at this stop.  This is the most fashion forward stop of my BART commute in the city.  For example, today I decided there is nothing I want more than a dark red burgundy pea coat to wear with my John Varvatos boots, dark slimmy 7s, and that plaid shirt I never wear…thank you hipster girl for this idea.  This station also makes me happy because everyone stands on the right of the escalator and walks briskly on the left.  Those with bikes take the stairs in the center.  This is how a BART station should be.  Except in the evening.

Rush hour at Powell St. is a clusterfuck beyond epic proportions, especially if you are getting on a Daly City train; which for some reason I always do.  Typically, at 24th or Montgomery at pre/during/post rush hour, everyone lines up at the black tiles to get on the train.  Those who arrived at the black tiles first, get on first; after those getting off the train of course.  However, at Powell St. on a Daly City bound train it’s a free for all of plastic bags, young professionals, strollers, tourists, and angry homeless people.  I used to get incredibly annoyed by this, but now I realize…if I am on a Daly City train I am going to be standing anyways because those trains are always so fucking packed with people it doesn’t matter.

If by chance I am staring an that ill-fitting paint suit for too long and miss my Powell St. station during my commute to my office, I arrive at Montgomery; the most indimidating BART station on my commute.  Everyone departing or arriving at this station has been doing so for many years.  The majority of these people are accountants, lawyers, bankers, and high-level executives; a few start-ups may have slipped through.  These are very well dressed, well connected, and well established people.  At this station, if you are standing on the left side of the escalator, you better believe that the woman behind you power walking in her Guicci Pumps will poke you with her Todd’s umbrella or, in season, Prada shoulder bag.  She also will not care if she hurts you while doing this.  Because she knows the men on this escalator and they just might push you to the side or possibly down a few steps while using their Tiffany’s cufflinks as a weapon.  Enjoy the day.

If you are still on BART after this point there are a few things that have gone wrong.  You have either missed you previous destination, with enough time to save yourself from going under the Bay, or your office location sucks.  I interviewed somewhere around here and I had to walk close to 5 blocks towards Russian Hill to get there…I might as well have drove.

The Embarcadero station is the last stop before you leave anywhere close, meaning the city.  It is mostly compromised of tourists, semi-established start-ups, new companies moving into town that want a view of the ‘ocean’ (it’s the bay, there is a difference), or people shopping at the Embarcadero Center.  It is a fairly mixed crowd here with some attractive Europeans, but you aren’t missing much.

After all of this during my commute though, I am still thankful I don’t take the fucking Muni…I like to be on time.

#jankyj #munifail #ntonowhere @munidiaries

Drink Water at the Park Please.

Much like the unspoken rules in the workplace, supermarket, and federal laws; there are a number of do’s, don’t, and oh so don’ts while enjoying a sunny day at the park.

First for the positive do’s.  Do make sure to pack ample amounts of sheets and blankets as the park can get muddy from time to time.  As you are likely at the park to people watch, you might want to pay attention to those who do not follow this rule and walk around with wet asses.  Speaking of asses, do be sure to hide your ass crack.  There are multiple levels and categories of ass cracks that I have seen in the wilds of Dolores Park; more specifically, in the wilderness of the Meat Rack.  Do be sure to bring playing cards, sunscreen, wine, a bottle opener, plastic cups, napkins, silverware, sunglasses (preferably one’s with lenses so dark that the people you are staring at can’t see in), and also cash; cold beer cold water anyone?  You may attempt to bring a Frisbee or football, keep in mind people like me will stare and judge you.  I also suggest screw cap wines and twist off beers.  Do also attempt to sound like an intelligent person.  For example, don’t say something like “These cups are great to drink out of!”…..really?  What else would they be good for?!

Don’t drink vodka at the park, this is the day time and no one wants to be the girl at the party running around making a fool of themselves.  Don’t bring your iPod speakers to the park, this is not a club, I am not at Sadlands, Lime brunch was hours ago, and I can only take so much Lady Gaga.  Don’t ask me for my wine bottle opener, plan ahead please.  As I listen in on your conversation, because you are drunk off your warm vodka and orange juice, don’t sound like you belong in high heels while you prance around in your skin tight Peter Pan low-rise no-show enhancing briefs.

There are also things of utmost importance while at the park.  Never ever ever get naked.  Never ever ever allow your wilting ass crack to be seen if you are an older gentlemen.  Never ever EVER let you little shit kicker purse dog out of your bag.  Your dog is too tiny to leave the house and play with the normal size dog.  Your dog will most likely attempt to steal my salad, and I waited for fucking ever in the line at Noe Valley Whole Foods to buy it…for me…not Pixie, or Daisy, or Beast (for those of you who name your dog something butch, and it is smaller than some of my BM’s….what are you thinking?).  DON’T smoke shitty weed in front of me.  If I have to smell pot the entire day please make sure it is of the quality short.  There are also people walking around the park selling truffles, brownies, cookies, lollipops, and many other edibles.


Birthday List 2.0 - Stemware?

It’s happened.

I have come to the point my life where all I want for my birthday is home furnishings.  No longer are the days where I day dream about what I want for my birthday months on end, but now I think about it all year long.  But it is not with ‘things’ I want, but things I need apparently.

I’m talking of course, about stemware, cutlary, flatware, home furnishings, appliances, or any domestic product; these things also need to be fantastic enough to last me a very long time.

Cheap things tend to not last too long with me or in my house.  This means, no more Ikea.  Ikea is Satan in the form of a warehouse of furniture, light enducing seziures, and sweedish meatballs.  This isn’t why I hate Ikea.  I hate Ikea because I feel bad that the employees have to wear a hideous blue and yellow wool polo.  How often do they wash those?  And how does the wool stay so bright after so many washes?  I want furniture shopping to be a relaxing enjoyable experience, form a bond with the salesperson so I will return and ask for them.  But instead, Ikea presents me with a frantic cash spending gymnasium. 

I should be furniture and home furnishing shopping at Bloomingdale’s or at the very least Gilt Group.  Sure it costs more for the same white plate.  But my Bloomingdale’s white plate will shine forever and ever.  It also will be able to withstand dropping to the floor, resist microwave heat, and most importantly not say Ikea on the bottom.

There are advantages to Ikea.  I can break it and say “meh…it’s Ikea”.  Or really beat it up ans say “meh….it’s Ikea”.  I can also redocrate on a whims notice and spend hours on Saturday and Sunday building it while drinking wine, and have an alright good time.

BUT, there will always be one thing that truly sucks about Ikea.  Their fucking stemware!  I wash and wash it and all it does is get water spots, cling to grime, and somehow rust in the dishwasher.  A proper steak knife is meant to cut into the meat and not tear everything to shreads as you saw away at you entree because the knife is rusted after one use.

All I really want for my birthday is expensive home furnishings from Bloomingdale’s.


Your closet, and those idtiots who don’t pay attention to theirs.

Clothing has been, is, and always will be my best friend.  Walking around the city I see so many different combinations of patterns, prints, colors, plaids, fabrics, furs, and bags that give me ideas for each morning when I wake up and look in closet to create something new, fresh, and bold it makes me want go shopping everyday.  Rather than some people, I don’t look and immediately judge what others are wearing, I try to appreciate it.  Because, whether you agree or not, that wrinkled t-shirt, that questionable sweater dress, that flannel button up, those snap buttons, that Jansport backpack, your fake Louis, or (for some reason people wear these still) berkenstocks (ugh, something so ugly visually that it can’t even be spelt correctly) says quite a bit about you…quite a bit..positive or negative.

Everyone plays with different things when they play dress up in the mirror, yeah you do it even though you may not realize.  Some play with prints and plaids.  Some play with stripes.  Some base things off of purses or totes.  While some play with a certain style.  I am the ladder.

With all of that said, I fucking loves clothes.  I love pants, socks, underwear, cardigans, ties, button ups, tshirts, blazers, bow-ties, sweaters, polos, shorts, bathing suits, shoes, boots, heels, dresses, and blouses…I just love it all.  Someone who walks into a store and snags a lime green t-shirt, thinks “sure”, and walks to the counter (without trying it on) in my opinion, has something wrong with them.  Actually, a lot wrong with them.

This lime green t-shirt says quite a bit about you, especially in the gay population/scene/culture.  This most likely ill-fitting on sale pre shrunk wrinkled crew neck tee says, I don’t care.  I don’t care to impress you.  I don’t need to impress you.  My first appearance, the visual one (witch bee-tee-dubs(BTW) is the most accurate and most memorable) doesn’t fucking matter to me.  Why?  Because, it says you are stuck up and rude.  That you think you are too good for the gay scene.  You are actively taking the time to be so counter culture, dare I say hipster, that no one will take your seriously and you don’t care.  Think about it briefly family, fruit flies, and gay friendly straight men…what is a gay man doing in a lime green crew neck at a gay bar? 

They’re insulting everyone.

These rules do not solely apply to just homosexuals.  Straight women, that dress where I can see your hoo-ha…yeah no…don’t do that.

Dudes…those MetroPark Deep V-Neck Affliction pre stained logo tee’s…they make me want to cut myself multiple times, same with the straight girls you are trying to impress.

It doesn’t matter what you think about yourself or how confident you are in yourself.  What you wear, affects other people’s perceptions.  So please, please take the time to look in the mirror and say to yourself, “Does this work?  Does this lime green go with my red shoes?  Do these Ugg(ly) boots look better tucked under or over my jeans?  Do these colors really go together?  Should I really wear the shoes I run in to a bar?”  Most likely you should answer NO too all these questions.

I have made a select few clothing mistakes in the past.  But really all it takes to avoid these mistakes is a mirror, GQ/Deatils/Vogue, and some common fucking sense.

Thank you for your not including your input.  Because I know clothes.

Your Coffee Table

The coffee table in your living says more about you than you might think.  Your remote controls, magazines, coffee table books, decorative expensive home furnishings, and lack of any of these things says quite a bit about your personality; mostly because the living room couch is where you spend most of your time at home.  People who do not have coffee tables should be avoided at all costs for a variety of reasons.  They may be making an outlandish attempt at being obscure or different (i.e., a hipster), which means they are an irritating person that is difficult to understand regarding their rational decision making abilities.  The coffee table is also a durable piece of furniture.  If you are in a house with people who are not obscure or different, but rather people who are often very drunk and stumbly; then the coffee table may have been broken in a drunken stupor, rampage, wrestling match, or redecorating attempt.  These people, are douche bags and as such should also be avoided.  What is most important is that you find someone with a coffee table, look at what is stored there, and you can then learn a little bit more about them.

I will use my coffee table as an example.

It is from Ikea, please feel free to make judgements however this piece of furniture says quite a bit about me.  Ikea furniture is practical, cheap, and requires patience.  This type of furniture is usually used by younger people who are in a transitional phase in their life, or have just recently made a major move.  It could also mean that Gilt Group hasn’t had a good sale in a while on coffee tables.

There is one decorative fixture on my coffee table and commands enough attention in a subtle way to not need any support.  It is a glass ball that can be used as a fortune telling device by drunk people, a blunt weapon, or just to look fancy.

There is a small assortment of remote controls; TV/Cable, AppleTV, and a mouse/keyboard.  People with too many remotes, dead remotes, remotes that are not connected, or dusty remotes are lazy.

The coffee table book selection is the most important.  Unfortunately, I seem to have ‘misplaced’ my collection of post secret books.  Coffee table books should be a form of quick and mindless entertainment.  You don’t want novels on your coffee table.  If you have novels on your coffee table and have people over for a wine and cheese party, or just wine in my case, someone may borrow/steal it without telling you.  Or even worse, that weird awkward person who seems to have infiltrated your group of friends somehow might sit and actually read it, this is a sign not to invite them over again as well.  Books like US Weekly, People, Star, etc. are a must, meaning you must have them.  Everyone likes to sit around and pass judgement on people they don’t know.  These books are just a jumping off point for more intellectual conversations about various things; like coffee tables.

Coasters…..ugh….why?  I understand if your coffee table is made of mahogany or an antique…but really…coasters for drinks? I don’t have coasters, I offer napkins.  Coasters bring about a sense of up tightness, or might say something like, “Here.  I know you are going to make a mess with that drink and condensation.  I also want to clean as little as possible after you leave”.  A napkin says, “Here just in case you spill.  I don’t want you running to the kitchen knocking other shit over making more of a mess”, which I personally think is a little nicer.

Check out your coffee table to learn more about yourself.

Sucker Punch

Sometimes people just sucker punch you on the street.  Sometimes people sucker punch you in life.  Sometimes, people might even sucker punch you on the weekend…and that’s just really fucked up.

A sucker punch isn’t just hitting someone when they aren’t looking, it isn’t just an awesome movie that everyone should see in IMAX, and it isn’t rude…a sucker punch is just tacky, selfish, and immature.  We’ve all been sucker punched in life, whether it is by a handyman smacking you with a ladder telling you to get out “of his fucking way”, yes this has happened to me, or by a coworker taking credit for your work, someone telling you that you won’t be fired, then firing you, maybe even giving money to a homeless person for food to see them walk into a liquor store five seconds later.  The point is that people sucker punch everyone, all the time, and in the smallest ways possible.  While their are a long list of douche things that one can do (a list will soon follow), this is towards the top.

While I realize it is completely illogical for one to live in a world with benevolent beings, I fail to see why others need to take advantage of another person’s naive nature, kindness, hospitality, openness, generosity, and humility.  But then I think to myself about my own selfish nature, my own selfish tendencies, and I have realized that I do this all the time…I sucker punch mother fuckers every day.  I weave in and out of people on the sidewalk, I jump in front of the small old Asian lady with her many bag pink bags at the crosswalk, I don’t answer tourist’s questions, I plan things around my schedule, I use others to accomplish something, and I might even lie to people to make themselves feel better.

Why?  Why should I be inconvenienced by your inability to read a sign properly?  Why should I be late in to the office because you have too many bags?  And why should I feel better about my destination that yours?  Bottom line is that I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t be an asshole by cutting people of in pedestrian traffic, I should tell people the entire truth,  I should inconvenience myself for others, and I should make sure to learn everything from others.

But most of all….I should learn to go with the flow of the sidewalk.  Appreciate the sights, sounds, and people who surround me in one of the most eclectic cities in the world.  With some of the most eclectic architecture, people, food, workforce, and life in the entire world.

We shouldn’t sucker punch anyone, especially the older Asian woman on the sidewalk who needs help carrying her bags.  We shouldn’t sucker punch the homeless man named Mark, who gave his canine companion his only sweater to keep warm. 

Most of all, call the assholes out who sucker punch you in the smallest of ways, just don’t be a dick about it…at least make them laugh at themselves when you tell them.

Keep calm and carry on.

Mean nasty people

There are three degrees of shitty people in this world.  Gross people, shit talkers, and the life ruin-ers.  There may be some cross over behavior depending on the situation, the levels of shitty-ness are not exclusive.  For example, a person can be a gross shit talker or a shit talking life ruin-er; or the rare gross shit talking life ruin-er.  No doubt there are some exceptions to the laws of shitty-ness but for the most part, they are absolute and universal.

On the scale of shit-ness, a gross person is at the bottom as they should be.  When you think of gross naturally you think of yucky things, like crap, urine, nasty, and trash (teehee); all of these things are usually at the bottom of something.  Gross people typically do things that annoy you.  They may avoid paying a muni fare, claimjump you at a BART station (i.e., when a person quickly rushes behind you to avoid the clamps shutting and paying their fare), or tell a homeless person to get a job.  After witnessing any of these events you are annoyed and often think ‘eww’, ‘gross’, ‘yuck’, ‘nasty’, ‘rude’, or anything similar.  Gross people often do gross things, like steal, unfairly judge others, and just say nasty things.

Shit talkers, level two, are those who are just straight up mean.  Mean people who talk shit for a living, say untrue things, or are just blatantly rude.  Shit talkers also have bad social manners, are sometimes socially awkward, and strive to be the center of attention.  Think histrionic.  Shit talkers are not to be confused with gossipers, ladies who lunch, or story-tellers; these people say truthful things in a constructive manner while not in the direct presence of the other person…there is a difference.  Often when one encounters a shit talker, they are waist deep in a shit talking story at a party.  You listen to these people, because they are entertaining to a point.  But at the end you know that they are just sad people, a sad person in a wrinkled dress and sugary cocktail in their hand which will go to their hips.

A life ruin-er is someone who does truly dastardly deeds for no real apparent reason.  Commonly they are upset with their own crummy life and decide to take it out on someone else.  Life ruin-ers think on a grand scale, like “how can I really fuck someone’s life over today”?  They may spread really vicious rumors about someone, get them fired from their job, knowingly be spreading an infectious disease, steal from someone, out a closeted homosexual, or roofie someone at a bar.  People who shit at bars can also fall into this category if this behavior remains constant.

Don’t be a dick.

Umbrella Etiquette: Do’s and Dont’s

Given that this shit show of a rain storm has gone on far too long, I have begun to notice quite a bit about the behavior of others while under the safety of an umbrella.  There are many selfish behaviors that some people exhibit while using these, thus a rule book of do’s and dont’s follows.

In downtown you are not golfing, there is no reason for a massive golfing umbrella which requires both hands to hold as you are walking down the sidewalk.  If you carry one of these large devices, make sure you are enormous in stature and not a 4 foot thinly framed Asian woman carrying massive amounts of grocery bags; this can be problematic.

If it is windy, odds are some people will adjust their umbrellas accordingly to block the wind; in some instances they will not be able to see where they are walking.  If you are a pedestrian moving in the opposite direction, kindly move out of their way since you can see where you are going.

Never steal another person’s umbrella at a restaurant because you were to stupid to remember yours.  There are numerous Walgreen’s and street vendors on every sidewalk selling these things, for cheap.  It is also bad karma, and most likely that umbrella will break on you shortly after you stole it.

Don’t shake your wet umbrella off on someone else or animal, that’s just fucking rude.

Do not cram your umbrella to fit into a public umbrella storage bin so others have to hunt for theirs, as you were the jackass and simply tossed your lazily in; ruining any sense of organization therein.

If you have an umbrella do not walk under the awnings of a building shielding the umbrella-less from the ensuing rain.  This space is reserved for those with hoods, people waiting for a stoplight to change, or people with bags and no umbrellas.

Do offer your shelter briefly to attractive people at the crosswalk.

Don’t share your umbrella with a small child.

But most of all, never purchase a rainbow umbrella.  All umbrellas should be black, grey, or blue.  I don’t want to see a happy fucking rainbow pride umbrella trying to make light of the fact that I cant be too certain if I am about to step in a puddle of water or piss.