Finding: U. F. Fucking O.

For reals. A U.F. Fucking O. over San Francisco!

Finding: Muni conversations are priceless

There is a special kind of crazy person that is indigenous to San Francisco public transportation. This morning I'm riding the F market which never fails to deliver. This dude is wearing BOTH tie-dye and camouflage, which is a look that tells people you're both militant and a softie. I wish I could have gotten a picture of his face but he's not the kind of guy you want catching you take a photo of him. He looks kind of like Henry Rollins if Henry Rollins was dead drunk at 8 in the morning and his face was a ball of hamburger meat.

So he lets out this earth-shattering burp and does the wrecking ball stagger over to a woman he seems to know. I start getting really excited.

Henry: You seen Paul around?
Woman (bristling): No, he died.
Henry (incredulous): He DIED?
Woman: He died.
Henry: What about Larry, Moe, and them?
Woman (getting pissed): Look, I DON'T wanna talk about it with you.
Henry: I'm just askin', cause, those guys got pretty violent with me.
Woman: That's because you're UGLY.
Henry: Yeah.
Woman: You got an UGLY disposition.
Henry (agreeing): I'm bad, I'm bad.
Woman (suddenly getting off the bus): You are.

Wow! I could wrap that up and sell it at Tiffany's.

Finding: You can't escape from Hippie Drum Circles

Sure, it's Halloween. Sure, the 364 other days of the year you're at the bottom of hippie hill, PLUR-ing your brains out. But this is your night to shine. You're going to set up camp right outside my fucking flat and drum into the night.

Let's see. Non-sensical "costumes". Check. Girl in a tutu who can only play the cowbell. Check. Shit-eating grin on your face. Check. No job, girlfriend or place to go for 5-8 hours. Check, check, check.