»The greatest day ever.

Just like the good ol' days, back when I was unemployed, today I got absolutely nothing done. *Nothing* I decided to sell Winnie in favor of finding something either better on the gas mileage or easier on the commute. First I needed to overcome the obstacle of the crappy repair-work done on the radiator hoses a few weeks ago: I had AAA tow the truck back to the auto body, where the manager put on a good show of outrage at the lack of quality work. Winnie now runs like a champ. Stopped at Cooper's for an espresso and a bit of reading the paper. Amber hooked me up with a mystery espresso, which was flat and bitter. After correcting the bean mix-up, we chatted about espresso machines around the world (what is an Atomic?) and I sat outside and eavesdropped on a mobile-phone conversation about getting tickets to Bumbershoot. After I picked up Winnie, I was driving back and Aram rang up with a call over to Kate's. where he, Mary Riley MD MD, and Greg were taking up three seats of a four-top. After a delicious round of breakfasts at Kate's, we adjourned to the stoop and put back some sixes of New Belgian. Could the day get any better? A man on his way to pick up his laundered and pressed jeans ("Three for $4.50! What a deal!") stopped to boogie a little while we were pumping some JB from the new Mazda, which was parked on the sidewalk. He thought our day was all sorts of all right. We then motored down to the Olde Chelsea for some fish an' chips ("three days' worth of fat right here!" according to the Dr), because the Edinburgh still hadn't opened. Afterwards we went over to the fuckin' beach and frolicked in the remains of the Sutro Baths, and Aram and I skipped across the low tide and climbed up Seal Rock. Climbing down was harder: I was wearing flip-flops. But it was harder for Aram and his Heinikes, which he didn't dare get wet. Just as we climbed back up to the parking lot, the ice-cream man went by. I got a cherry-flavoured (but green!) Hulk-sicle. Gum-drop eyes. Then we zoomed back around the Marina over to Lombard, where we inched up and then down in tourist traffic while listening to Interpol. Greg had a date with three foreign girls, and they were meeting at Spec's. Mary then wanted to go to Fenton's, and I initially resisted. But why should I? A quick trip back to the crib so's to change out of my not-quite-sushi-grade-fish-smelling pants, and we headed to the nickel-dime in order to load up on the creamed ice. Now what?