Never Take A SF Taxicab Co Cab!
Another one of those crazy weekends...
Spent Friday night chopping off my hair. And I do mean chopping, it's now around chin length. This is by far the shortest I've ever gone and I'm still not really used to it. After that I went shopping for my sister's christmas gift and picked her up a little pretty on Haight Street. By the time my hair was cut, the present was bought, the dog was walked and I was fed it was almost 10 - not too mention icy cold. I was supposed to meet up with Dan, but there was no way I was going out to the Mission at that point. I called Dan and we made other plans for the weekend and I crawled into bed and cuddled up for the night.
On Saturday I took Mandy and Chas shopping - the last big shopping weekend is no time to let amateurs lose. I was pretty proud of myself, although we didn't break my record we did manage to get 90% of their gifts within about 3 hours. I know, it's kinda sad - I'm a professional shopper. I raced home after shopping to get ready for Di's surprise bday party.[Sidenote: I was invited to five, count 'em five! parties on Saturday. I felt like the belle of the ball!]
On my way to the party, I saw a cab hit a man. The man managed to walk away with help from a friend and I lost track of the cab. I called the cab company to repot the incident. Here's the convo:
Dispatcher: SF Taxicab Company (I shit you not, I know it sounds generic but that really is the company. Never, ever take a cab from them.) How can we help you.
Me: Uh...cab number #206 (and never take that cab in particular) just hit a man going southbound on Van Ness at McAllister.
D: Does the man need an ambulance? What happened to the cab?
M: The guy was helped off the street by someone. The cab drove off.
D: The cab drove off? Well, I guess the situation resolved itself, now didn't it. *CLICK*
Yeah, that's right, the assholes over at SF Taxicab Co hung up on me when I called to report their driver had hit a man. I'm sorry, but what the fuck?? You know what the worst part is: Dude is still driving a taxi with no consequences and there is nothing I can do about it.
So the bus finally came and I made my way to SoMa for Di's party. Now, don't get me wrong I absolutely, positively love Di to bits and pieces. She is the best fake sister a girl could ever wish for. That being said, I can't fucking stand her Marina-bitch friends. So I get to the fancy pants restaurant and ask for the party. They direct me to the bar where the whores of Union street are standing. Jesus, can you say bleached and bitchy? Not to mention, I swear everyone of those guys was gay. Especially the English guy. But that's just because English guys always sound gay to me. [Sidenote: have I shared with you my theory that England is about as white trash as Europe gets? I swear it's the gulf coast of Europe...]
So I saddle up to the bar and order an Irish coffee to help defrost a little. I'm standing there drinking and they're all standing there drinking and I finally realize I'm going to come across as really rude once they figure out I'm part of the party as well. So I introduce myself and we make awkward small talk as I glare at their tacky ass highlights and they glare at my tacky ass nose ring.
Di finally shows up, so I have someone to talk to. I stay for most of dinner (make that appetizers and a couple of rounds of shots. Even Di was taking them, which was quite the shocker) and then leave to go cross town to my other bday party that night.
I get up to Haight street and make for the Kezar. Naturally, most of my friends are trashed when I get there. Most of all Court. Her party was a lot more fun because it was the usual thing: catching up with my friends while drinking in a comfortable environment. Shove that up your ass, Marina-bitches. Nothing too exciting to report, save a friend who got her clit pierced earlier in the day pulling everyone into the bathroom to show them. Thing was, she was pretty wasted...and wouldn't take "no" for an answer on the viewing...and wasn't really keeping track of who she had shown it to. Me, I saw it three times....
Saturday I woke up surprisingly non-hungover. That was the good part. The bad part? Had to take TJ to the vet in Pacific Heights. I called a couple of friends to see if anyone would give me a ride, no dice. I made my way up there in the thunder storm. Good news! TJ is still certifiably healthy! Anyway, after the appt was over I went back into the storm to catch the bus and the nicest thing happened to me. I was waiting and waiting and waiting for the bus when one of the women who was waiting with me (and had chatted with me about TJ) told me she was taking a cab and would be more than happy to drop me at home "because you need to get the little one inside." See, that's the kinda shit that just makes me love this city.
Anyway, to conclude, here's something that doesn't relate to anything here. Jesse has asked for more Jesse stories because Jesse really likes to read his own name (Jesse.) I suggest Jesse ought to do more interesting things then, cause lately Jesse aint been worth writing home about. Jesse. Jesse. Jesse. There, happy?
Spent Friday night chopping off my hair. And I do mean chopping, it's now around chin length. This is by far the shortest I've ever gone and I'm still not really used to it. After that I went shopping for my sister's christmas gift and picked her up a little pretty on Haight Street. By the time my hair was cut, the present was bought, the dog was walked and I was fed it was almost 10 - not too mention icy cold. I was supposed to meet up with Dan, but there was no way I was going out to the Mission at that point. I called Dan and we made other plans for the weekend and I crawled into bed and cuddled up for the night.
On Saturday I took Mandy and Chas shopping - the last big shopping weekend is no time to let amateurs lose. I was pretty proud of myself, although we didn't break my record we did manage to get 90% of their gifts within about 3 hours. I know, it's kinda sad - I'm a professional shopper. I raced home after shopping to get ready for Di's surprise bday party.[Sidenote: I was invited to five, count 'em five! parties on Saturday. I felt like the belle of the ball!]
On my way to the party, I saw a cab hit a man. The man managed to walk away with help from a friend and I lost track of the cab. I called the cab company to repot the incident. Here's the convo:
Dispatcher: SF Taxicab Company (I shit you not, I know it sounds generic but that really is the company. Never, ever take a cab from them.) How can we help you.
Me: Uh...cab number #206 (and never take that cab in particular) just hit a man going southbound on Van Ness at McAllister.
D: Does the man need an ambulance? What happened to the cab?
M: The guy was helped off the street by someone. The cab drove off.
D: The cab drove off? Well, I guess the situation resolved itself, now didn't it. *CLICK*
Yeah, that's right, the assholes over at SF Taxicab Co hung up on me when I called to report their driver had hit a man. I'm sorry, but what the fuck?? You know what the worst part is: Dude is still driving a taxi with no consequences and there is nothing I can do about it.
So the bus finally came and I made my way to SoMa for Di's party. Now, don't get me wrong I absolutely, positively love Di to bits and pieces. She is the best fake sister a girl could ever wish for. That being said, I can't fucking stand her Marina-bitch friends. So I get to the fancy pants restaurant and ask for the party. They direct me to the bar where the whores of Union street are standing. Jesus, can you say bleached and bitchy? Not to mention, I swear everyone of those guys was gay. Especially the English guy. But that's just because English guys always sound gay to me. [Sidenote: have I shared with you my theory that England is about as white trash as Europe gets? I swear it's the gulf coast of Europe...]
So I saddle up to the bar and order an Irish coffee to help defrost a little. I'm standing there drinking and they're all standing there drinking and I finally realize I'm going to come across as really rude once they figure out I'm part of the party as well. So I introduce myself and we make awkward small talk as I glare at their tacky ass highlights and they glare at my tacky ass nose ring.
Di finally shows up, so I have someone to talk to. I stay for most of dinner (make that appetizers and a couple of rounds of shots. Even Di was taking them, which was quite the shocker) and then leave to go cross town to my other bday party that night.
I get up to Haight street and make for the Kezar. Naturally, most of my friends are trashed when I get there. Most of all Court. Her party was a lot more fun because it was the usual thing: catching up with my friends while drinking in a comfortable environment. Shove that up your ass, Marina-bitches. Nothing too exciting to report, save a friend who got her clit pierced earlier in the day pulling everyone into the bathroom to show them. Thing was, she was pretty wasted...and wouldn't take "no" for an answer on the viewing...and wasn't really keeping track of who she had shown it to. Me, I saw it three times....
Saturday I woke up surprisingly non-hungover. That was the good part. The bad part? Had to take TJ to the vet in Pacific Heights. I called a couple of friends to see if anyone would give me a ride, no dice. I made my way up there in the thunder storm. Good news! TJ is still certifiably healthy! Anyway, after the appt was over I went back into the storm to catch the bus and the nicest thing happened to me. I was waiting and waiting and waiting for the bus when one of the women who was waiting with me (and had chatted with me about TJ) told me she was taking a cab and would be more than happy to drop me at home "because you need to get the little one inside." See, that's the kinda shit that just makes me love this city.
Anyway, to conclude, here's something that doesn't relate to anything here. Jesse has asked for more Jesse stories because Jesse really likes to read his own name (Jesse.) I suggest Jesse ought to do more interesting things then, cause lately Jesse aint been worth writing home about. Jesse. Jesse. Jesse. There, happy?
posted by La Doña at 5:26 PM
1 Comments:
Thank you so much for the purse - it's really incredible and perfect with the green dress. I do have to defend the gulf coast - I've lived all over this country and the only white trash difference is there's has an accent. Somehow this makes the rest of the country think they are more prevalent or less intelligent, but in my experience at least both the west coast and the midwest have just as much white trash as the gulf coast. except without the accent. and that's a fucked up story about the cab. in the future, call 911. you'll get the police and an ambulance which are what you need in the situation. but it is terrible of the cab company. finally in florida and I had forgotten how gorgeous it is. unbelievable. it is 80 degrees today and stunning. i never want to leave
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