Good Fortune

I firmly believe you make your own way through life. You get a few lucky breaks. You get a few lemons. But most of your fate comes from what you put into life.

But moving to San Francisco has been nothing short of amazing. My luck in this town has been fantastic.

• Car Lease: I thought it would cost me a small fortune to turn in my leased car in Detroit 7 months early. Instead, they gave ME money BACK!


• Apartment: I found an awesome loft for cheap on my first full day in town. It's also one of the rare places that doesn't require three full months of rent up front (first and last months rent plus a deposit).


• Job Part 1: I quit my job in Detroit with no new one out here. When I was telling a friend I was moving, he offered freelance work for as long as I needed it! So I had time to find a great job without feeling pressure to replace my income.


• Job Part 2: I wasn't even starting to put out my resume yet, when I was contacted by a recruiter for a company 6 blocks from my house. They made me a sick sick offer which I'm giddy on right now.


• Furniture: All my furniture purchases have been awesome deals. For example, the sofa and chair I wanted turned out to be on clearance for a third of the cost. Or the Sony Bravia TV that I got for a steal plus an extra ten percent off coupon.


• Jason 2.0: Yes, the foot guy. I'm too superstitious to write much about him. It's been very lucky though - just trust me.

Someone gave me a lotto ticket when I told them how lucky I had been out here a couple weeks ago. Frankly, even I was shocked I didn't win.

I'm sure my good luck will run out eventually. I will just have to go back to making things happen myself. But until then, I keep waking up every day enjoying the blessings that keep magically appearing in my lap.

Holy Sh*t

I got the official job offer today. The salary was about what I was expecting plus a little more. I was NOT expecting the 300 shares of stock (worth $17k) that came with the offer as a hiring bonus.

Color me happy.

As a clam.

In whatever it is clams like to eat.

Floating particulate matter I guess.

Whiteboarding

I had another job interview today. It was the awful, "Here's a bunch of story problems, write pseudo-code to solve them" type of panel. Everyone I met seemed ready to have a stress induced breakdown at any moment. They all work overtime every week. And getting to the office on public transit is a nightmare even though it's only 2.5 miles from my loft.

Thank god I received an offer on Friday from a company I like that's 6 blocks from my house.

For a lot of money.

With great benefits.

With people who are fun.

Who never work overtime.

Beautiful Katamari

This morning I picked up the new Katamari game after breakfast. My week will not be productive :)

Dirty Little Frat Boy

I have a feeling this year's New Year's Resolution will be something along the lines of "Shower".

Since I don't have a regular job anymore, I find myself heading out of the house often when I really should shower first. It's gotten so bad that I rarely shower before 5pm. Take today for example, I should have showered before the gym, but I figure, "Meh, I'm just going to need one afterward".

I did take Bart both ways instead of Muni though. I figure I have much less of a chance of seeing someone I know amongst the bridge and tunnel crowd.

Lucky Shoes

It's the simple things in life that make me happy.

Nike athletic shoes are almost always very comfortable for me to wear. The downside, is that they change styles constantly. It's hard to find the same style again once you wear them out. So yesterday, I found my fourth pair of this particular Nike shoe. The last pair I got at a clearance place, so I didn't think I would be able to find them a fourth time. Woot!

Is there a sale on crack somewhere today?

I swear, the homeless people in my neighborhood were fucking crazy today. I saw a woman doing the deuce behind a guy in a wheelchair in front of the federal building. Literally, 8pm, and a taking a dump behind a homeless guy.

Then half a block up, this huge fat woman in a wheelchair was doing some sort of narcotic in an old shoebox.

Then on my way home, they really weren't screwing around. They usually ask (barely mumble) for a quarter which is easily ignored. This dude asked me for FOUR DOLLARS! And was following me around, asking me if I was sure.. was I being honest with him.. was I holding out on him? What the hell. I don't know you. I don't owe you a damn thing.

Then in line for Carl's Jr (shoot me, I was drunk and in the mood for a greasy burger), this guy has the balls to ask me to buy him a small hamburger. The guy working there noticed this exchange, and said something along the lines of "I've been working here for nine years, it never changes around here". Okay, so WOW, nine mf'ing years working at Carl's Jr in the ghetto is a hard existence. But it's REALLY got to chafe your ass to see people coming in there every five minutes of every day expecting something for nothing while you bust hump for $7 an hour.

On a happy note, my drunken jalepeno burger with waffle fries was delicious :)

The gym has been great for my body... mostly

I've been working out religiously for the last two years. And I look and feel great. Except my feet. My feet are in the worst shape they have ever been. I've got athlete's foot and a couple toenails with your standard locker room fungus. Now, they aren't hideous per se, but they aren't the cute feet I've had most of my life. Frankly, the hot six pack and not-so-cute feet look is a HUGE improvement over the 250 pound lumpy potato with cute feet look that I was sporting before.

So I've been seeing a guy for a few weeks now. This weekend, I finally wised up to his thing for feet. On our first date, he gave me a foot massage and tried to take off my socks before taking off my shirt. A week or so later, we were laying in bed when he asked me what my shoe size was. Someone is DEFINITELY paying attention to the little piggies.

The athlete's foot thing looks the worst, and is luckily the easiest to fix. I've known about it for about a year and half-assed treat it with foot spray whenever I remember. When I actually remember to do it all the time, it clears up in about a week.

The toenail fungus can be killed with prescription drugs that are really hard on your liver, but I'm very hard on my liver already with my high protein intake and alcoholism. Thanks to the internets, I found out that Listerine and Vick's VapoRub is just as effective thanks to the eucalyptus found in both products. Because toenails grow so slowly, it takes about a year to get your toenails completely back to normal.

I'm a romantic dope, but I really hope this one will be around to enjoy me feet once they are all cute again.

Missed Connection

I've known about the "Missed Connections" section of Craigslist for some time now. I've looked at it once before, kind of hopeful someone had noticed me in my roamings about the city. Now keep in mind, the listings generally fall into one of three categories:

Not really romantic ones: "We had anomymous kiss/blowjob in ______ bar/bathroom. That was hot. What was your name again?"

Kind of stalkerish ones: "I see you every day in _____ coffeehouse and follow you for hours. I made bust of you out of mashed potatoes. I can't wait to spread my buttery goodness all over you...."

Romantic ones: "I asked you for a light on Hayes Street. I was wearing a sweatshirt, you were wearing an orange shirt. We walked together for several blocks. I kept trying to think of something snappy to say to break the ice, but I was to shy. I thought you were really cute."

So yeah, me orange shirt and lighter. Him hottie in a sweatshirt. I know it sounds dippy, but that kind of thing is really sweet. Oh yeah, and did I ever mention how much I like attention? The correct answer is "a lot".

Blue Angels

Living in San Francisco is totally like living in a whimsical fairy tale. Not necessarily the "Happily Ever After" aspects of a fairy tale, more the nuns in roller skates and chaps teaching you how to be a better person kind of a thing.

Someone told me the other night, "The city embraces you or chews you up and spits you out. Either way, you're getting felt up the whole time, and that's why it's Everyone's Favorite City".

On an unrelated note, the Blue Angels are in town for some reason. They have been doing acrobatics over downtown the last couple of days. Absolutely breathtaking!

Time To Get My Eyes Checked

The Folsom Street Fair was surprisingly tame. I was much more scandalized by the LoveFest on Saturday. Straight people parading nude down Market Street in afro wigs is somehow more shocking than 100,000 gay men invading the city in leather chaps.

My awesome white Lego shirt came to an untimely end last night. My shirt came off for the millionth time, only to land on a dirty wet floor. The walk of shame this morning was CLASSY. My hair was sticking up all over. My shirt was filthy. I looked like a homeless person, which I must admit had some benefits. People get the hell out of your way when you look like you could ask them for change at any given time.

I left the bar at 9pm last night. In the three hours I was there, I saw:
* Lesbians fingering each other
* The bartender's triple pierced cock
* The same bartender go down on multiple patrons
* Hot optometrist from LA beg me to let him go down on me in the middle of the bar
* The same hot optometrist having sex ten minutes later in the bathroom
* A handsome, slightly nerdy guy named Jimmy ineptly trying to flirt with me

I almost missed the last one. I blew him off twice, but he came back again later to try and get to talk to me. Thank god the man is persistent. After he ditched his friends to stay and talk to me, he pulled out the old "let's go to my place and snuggle and talk" line, which I fell for. Hell, I almost fell for that when a woman tried to take me home from the Zoo. What I don't think he counted on was me sticking to my prudey guns. After cuddling all night with Jimmy, he seemed to be more comfortable around me, which made for a pleasant ride to the Bart station.

Ever Closer

Today marks the end of my exile in South San Francisco. Because of the Folsom Street Fair and other festivities over the last weekend in September, hotels in the city were over $100 more a night, so I've been taking an hour's worth of public transit into the city every day. Now I'm on my second extended stay in a hotel near the Castro while I await my apartment.