Archive for the ‘Random’ Category

Top 10 Posts of TWENTY DIME!

Friday, December 31st, 2010

AHA! Thought you’d sneak by and end the year without hearing from me again? Sorry friend(enemy?), but you’re out of luck. Janet is busy doing important work pertaining to the real world so I’ve been asked to step up and close out the year by rounding up the top 10 posts of 2010. I’m drunk with the sheer power of it! Or you know, just drunk. Anyway, I present to you, our faithful readers, Twenty Dime’s top 10 posts!

1. Bootie: Without a doubt the best post EVAR that fulfills the “More Than” part of MTFB, with probably the best aminal pic skills to date. R2 commented, “It’s a quintessentially creative synthesis of two of my favorite things – MTFB and the Boot – and a reflection of my two favorite ladies.” Well said!

2. Fucking ENCOUNTER restaurant: Because when else were we gonna get the chance to eat there?! Verdict: Go for the free short-term parking… stay if you want to miss your flight.

3. Susiecakes vs. Kara’s: Because we understand that choosing the right cupcakery is serious business, and the last thing we want is for our readers to be paralyzed with indecision. Also, because I am unabashedly proud of my/our first foray into macro food pics.

4. Portland Report(land): A giant crab. A City of Books. Voodoo Doughnut. Baby octopi. And The Beginning of the End. I guess Oregon isn’t just about bowling and Chocobeer.

5. Iguanas Burritozilla: Because it’s a story of the future… and the past! More importantly, it’s proof that I actually contribute to MTFB. And because I ate nearly 3lbs of burrito in one sitting. I hurt just thinking about it.

6. Espana Part II: Toledo: Between the two of them, R2 and Janet nominated almost all the parts of the Spain series for top 10 status. I didn’t go to Spain, so what’s a guy to do but pick the one with castles? Because castles are effing cool, amiright?! Seriously though, you should read all of the Spain posts here. Muy Bueno.

7. Segway Tour of San Francisco: Because you haven’t experienced San Francisco until you’ve seen it from atop a Segway named Special Sauce.

8. Raku: Because you know it’s good when Janet spends an entire paragraph describing just the tofu. And because it’s apparently the first time “Janet = warm & fuzzy & feeling like a real blogger.” Taste the happy!

9. Lemon Blender Pie: Because what good is a food blog if we don’t occasionally throw in a recipe now and then? This one is SUPER easy!

10. Alembic: Because it’s the top post that should have made the top 10 posts of 2009 but was written in 2010. And because not everything goes right in foodie land, no matter how much you love the pink quail eggs.

There you have it! Please remember that today is the last day you can refer to the current year as “Twenty Dime”, so try to drop it into every sentence you use. I’ve found that whispering it creepily at the end has been astoundingly effective. Rumor has it that we’re going to make a push to call next year Twenty Chop (because the 11 looks like a pair of chopsticks), so keep an eye out for that, too. And now Janet and I (and the rest of the MTFB team of contributors) wish you a safe and happy New Year!

My Pseudo-Cat Mochi

Tuesday, September 28th, 2010

Mochi’s Batman shadow is v. cute

There is this cat that hangs out in R2’s neighborhood. Its name, I have decided, is Mochi. I don’t know if it is a he or a she, but it is definitely a Kitler.

Mochi is fucking fascinated by Bootie. I have to admit Bootie is delicious-looking and both R2 and I have caught each other trying to eat her, but Mochi makes this joke a little too often, making me all “Dude. Mochi.”

Like the other day, when R2 left his door open, and lo!

Where the fuck is that chicken finger

I love it when Mochi breaches the homestead because it makes me feel like a cat owner without the accompanying stigma, and up close I can see her lusciously-soft-looking fur which is good mental fodder to fuel my late-night kitteh petting fantasies.

R2 has his own fantasies regarding Mochi. Or, more accurately, fantasies regarding the significance of his own pet.

Me: Ah. Here is an email from R2. I wonder if this email is about that vagrant that is squatting in the apartment near his that is freaking the neighborhood out. *click*

R2: Maybe – just MAYBE - Mochi is a cat from the future, a future where cats have risen to take their rightful place as Masters of the Earth. After years of failed Human stewardship, control of the Earth will finally be taken by those best suited to ensure its thriving survival. Planet of the Cats is better, cuter world – where humans serve their feline rulers. And Mochi is an adventurer-king, sent back in time to help facilitate and influence the very beginnings of this brighter future. He is accompanied by his faithful but eccentric human servant, Daryl. Under the best of circumstances, Daryl’s something of a Renfield, but this is accentuated/exacerbated once they are both stuck back in our time. They are reduced to living meanly on the streets (temporarily, until their mission is complete), and Daryl’s lack of amenities has enhanced his  appearance as a vagrant-type. Mochi, of course, retains his regal dignity, even on the street. His mission: to seek audience with the key to the future, a sage Animal seer who will provide guidance and counsel. But this wise, aged creature – upon whom ALL depends – is kept safely sequestered and protected – even from Mochi’s noble attempts at communication. Try as he might, Mochi has not yet been able to gain audience. And so the adventure continues – with Mochi determined to complete his mission and Daryl focused on honoring his Cat Lord – until such time as they can treat with this Animal Master of the past (our present).

In the future, pretzels are our enemy. That’s why.

At times like these, I really wish my name was Allie and I could illustrate this shit. For now, I will settle on a particularly elaborate kitty fantasy. Thanks R2.

Porchlight: Kitchen Confidential

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

Do you listen to This American Life? Sometimes they broadcast episodes from The Moth, which is an event where people tell interesting stories. Porchlight is not that. It’s…almost that. Poor man’s Moth. I went with Choco and R2 and Lex to the Kitchen Confidential episode of Porchlight – their most popular event, which was standing room only filling the Verdi Club.

The performers were:

Nikki Silva, one half of the Kitchen Sisters (that NPR show). She told a story about how she randomly met the person who invented Rice-a-Roni (actually an Armenian pilaf adaptation). You can hear the story here, but the best part was hearing the old-timey jingle for Rice-a-Roni: “A de-LICIOUS break from potatoes!”

Saul Nadler, owner of Flora Grubb Gardens who talked about his time as Tom Brokaw’s personal chef at his ranch in Montana. He was cooking for the ranch hands when “You heard the one word you don’t want to hear when you’re on a ranch.” “Sushi?” I wondered. “Stampede!” he said. He told a funny story about putting Tom Brokaw (choking on a buffalo sandwich after heroically dealing with the stampede) in a sleeper-hold rather than correctly executing the Heimlich maneuver. I leaned over to Choco and said, “Henry Heimlich went to Cornell, you know.”

Cecilia Chiang, 90-year-old owner of The Mandarin. Apparently she rubs elbows with Alice Waters and James Beard and did for Chinese food what Julia Child did for French. She told a story about how, back when Chinese food was only chop suey, she ended up translating for two Chinese people who wanted to open a restaurant. Not understanding (a) American currency and (b) English, she somehow got into the situation where she wrote a check for the $10,000 deposit for the restaurant. The Chinese duo backed out, leaving Cecilia with her lost deposit, so she said “OK, I guess I have to open a restaurant now.” The rest is history, you dig? She also talked about how Jefferson Airplane came into her restaurant twice and gave her a lame tip of “two lousy cigarettes in an envelope!” lol.

Speaking of the skunk, the dreamy-accented Pascal Rigo (owner of Bay Bread i.e. La Boulange) told a hilarious story about how a famous producer’s manager in LA asked him to make rolls with $45,000 worth of marijuana baked in for a partay. As the rolls got baked, so did he, and when their K-9 unit copper friend came around to visit – well, HIJINKS! He also took a picture of us from the stage and crooned at us to “say fromage!”

Jerry Townsend, founder of Ghetto Gourmet, talked about the origins of the Ghet, which included, on the nights of the first dinner parties, driving around to their friends’ houses to get plates, around the neighborhood to find abandoned cabinets to use as tables and using towels as tablecloths. He also has a pitbull named Shinobi (sp?) and “fucking BLEEDS hip hop.”

The two mehs of the night were musician, Leslie Harlib, who sang campy food songs including the lyric “I just love his SAUSAGE / I just can’t do without my kitchen man.” And Dawn Agnew, maitre d’ at Gary Danko, who told a story about something.

On that scintillating note, go git yer tix to future Porchlights here.

There and Back Again… or the Ghetto McGriddle

Friday, May 14th, 2010
I is just resting my eyes.

You found me!

o Hai! I’m back! Janet ruined my surprise by asking me to post and asking guest bloggers to come in; I had actually planned on posting quite a bit while she was gone. You know, coz then she couldn’t censor me. Fight the man! or woman, in this case.

*AHEM* Sewing has indeed forsooth been my life for the past… 2 months? So that’s where I’ve been. That and tax season. You see, I wanted to make a labcoat and a hoodie but didn’t know how to sew, so I had to figure that out and then figure out how to sew. I know that’s not an excuse for not gracing you with my presence, but let’s not dwell in the past. Anyhoo, that will be a blog for some other time. Today we are talking about my breakfast!

Mmmmm breakfast. Normally my breakfast is an odwalla bar and several cups of coffee – generally because I can’t motivate myself to wake up in time to do anything more than grab an odwalla bar from the cupboard before heading off to work. Not today! Today I got sick of odwalla bars and decided to throw that thar breakfast monster together. Look at it! Ain’t it gorgeous?

Soooo what is it? If I recall McD’s has a thing called the McGriddle – some sort of breakfast sandwich thing with a sausage patty and cheese and perhaps egg between pancakes. Can you tell I did the research here? Anyway, I call my creation the Ghetto McGriddle. G McG for short. And it was DELICIOUS! Not only that, but it’s presumably hundreds of times healthier than a McGriddle. I know, I know, not really a high standard to begin with, but work with me here. I start with waffles – VEGAN whole wheat waffles. My mom recently decided to go vegan and foisted some extra homemade vegan waffles on me before she and my dad left to vacation in Japan.

Anyway, she made these waffles from scratch and froze them for me. They’re made of whole wheat flour and crushed walnuts. NOM. Between the waffles I put a slice of Tillamook medium cheddar and a Morningstar vegetarian “California Turk’y” patty. It was perfect!

This is a great way to start the day, and it only took a couple minutes to throw together (unless you have to make the waffles each day). Make your own G McG tomorrow!

Segway Tour of San Francisco

Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010

Tinx and I decided at 11 pm last night to go on a Segway tour.  We snagged the last two spots on the 1:30 pm tour today, and took the good ol’ 30 Muni over to Fisherman’s Wharf.

Where we went to In-n-Out, which is a little silly because we were both in LA not 24 hours earlier, but when the grilled cheese animal style calls, you answer.

At $70 a person, the tour is a bit pricey, but absolutely worth it.  The people are so nice, and make the 45-minute training sesh relatively painless with their funny jokes.

Our tourguide was Sarah Silverman.  I’m not joking.  Well, I am.  But for serious.  She looked just like her, talked just like her, scrunched her nose up just like her whilst talking just like her, and dead-pan humored just like her!

Example: [going by a disgusting, padlocked porta-potty] Anyone need to pee.

Getting ahead of myself (as usual, but more so since I am eager to blog after a long time of bizziness).  Did you know that Segways were codenamed Ginger?  This was exciting to us because Tinx is a ginger.

So the training truly is 45 minutes long.  They do a one-on-one with you, AND you watch a video, AND you do training as a group, AND you do training in pairs, AND you do figure-8s through a mini cone obstacle course.  The actual ride on a Segway is actually very intuitive. The trainer dude joked that it works by reading your brain waves, but it really does feel like that.

They each had funny names, too.  I wish mine was Panda Socks but I had Special Sauce – very apropos given what was all over my fingers at the time.  Tinx’s was Misplaced, which was, if you will, lame sauce.

In our group was your requisite jackass who was trying to show off and being all crazy and dangerous on the tour (almost rear-ending me multiple times, fuckin assballs) and your requisite out-of-it-uncoordinated lady who did the falling-on-one’s-face thing for everyone else’s comic benefit. Oh, and the requisite scaredy-cat (who of course was in front of yours truly in the caravan) who was definitely doing some wishful thinking when she chose the helmet with speed flames painted on it.

On the tour, we learned:

  • There are more dogs than children in San Francisco
  • For the 60th anniversary of the boardgame Candyland (or “Xandyland” as it says in my iPhone notes) they turned Lombard (the crazy loop-de-loop street) into Candyland and lined the streets with marzipan and decorated it with lollipops.  SWEET!  [Tinx – “Literally sweet, get it?  Hahahaha that was funny joke put that in”]
  • The oldest Italian restaurant in America is in North Beach (not anywhere on the east coast), where they have a scale outside so you can weigh yourself before and after you eat.  I do not remember the name of the resto but a quick Googly search will surely getcha there.

Our path: Fisherman’s Wharf to North Beach & Washington Square to Pier 39 to the swimmy place to Ghirardelli Square to the outlooky pier on the other end of the swimmy place and back.

Near the Pier were the famous bathrooms SF imported from France – the completely automated ones where you pay to use them and the toilet folds back into the wall.  They cost $250,000 each and the city bought 25 of them.  Waste of monayyyy, especially when you hear, as we did, that since the toilet folds back into the wall you don’t have to flush it, but this confuses people, who end up pushing the emergency button instead, calling the fire department to the toilets time and time again.  Dumbasses.

Oh, also, the toilet doors open automatically after 20 minutes so you have to “make sure you get on with it” said Sarah S.

The outlooky pier, our final destination, was really fun because this is where our guide SS said that we could race each other, go really fast, pull fancy tricks, etc.  Tinx and I had fun zooming around and around the gun turret at the end, and then we posed for some pictures for the company’s FB page.

Our noms:

  • Pregame: In-n-Out (PS that In-n-Out is a clusterfuck – only one in the city)
  • Bread nom at Italian French Baking Co., which supplies basically the entire city with its bread (with the oldest ovens in the city; see above) – we got an Italian Stubby which we ate throughout the rest of the tour.
  • Pistachio gelato at Gelato Classico – not your usual neon green pistachio, folks (see below).  This was oozy, silky gelato with huge, whole and shattered, roasted, slightly salty pistachios throughout.
  • Postgame: Irish coffee at Buena Vista Cafe
  • Post-postgame: Hot fudge sundae at Ghirardelli Square

A note about Buena Vista – it is famous for its Irish coffees, which are made by placing two sugar cubes in the bottom of a glass, hot coffee on top with generous room for a huuuge splash/cascade of Bushmores (hee), topped with freshly whipped half and half.

Tinx and I were apparently not looking cheerful enough so the other bartender (with a crazy spiderweb of facial hair and an almost mullet, but all very Santa-esque) threw a sugar cube at Tinx, who promptly picked it up and ate it.

It was the most gorgeous, non-SFy day for a tour, but I can imagine on a shitty foggy drizzly day these things would be moan-inducing.  Good moan.  It’s warm on your tongue and warm in your belly; just a hint of sweet and  the foam was very pleasingly chilly yet rich.  And just one will do it – Tinx and I were weaving around Fisherman’s Wharf and hiccuping.

And we then stumbled into the sundae shop at Ghirardelli and had a hot fudge sundae with dark chocolate fudge.  The three spoonfuls I could stomach were quite thrillingly delicioso.  Continuing the hot/cold treat train, I enjoyed how the cup was almost too hot to hold from the fudge.

So.  I highly recommend this for SF inhabitants who want something touristy to do with their out of town guests but are sick of doing the same touristy shit over and over again.  Just riding the Segway around for three hours is fun enough, not to mention eating your weight in random foodstuffs.

Book your tour here!

    This Bear’s Been Naughty…

    Thursday, January 28th, 2010

    Wow wow wee wow. You know, this blogging thing is pretty easy. I mean, look at this! My THIRD post in just as many days! My guess is you may be questioning whether or not you like the fact that I am invading your mind so often. Shhhhh! Don’t question! Just let it happen.

    Before you start searching for Janet, hoping she’ll save you by posting something cute or by banishing me, you should know she’s at a conference in the City of Sin for the next few days. It’s probably why I’m in here writing about random things all willy-nilly. Just bear with it for a few days and breathe your sigh of relief when Janet gets back.

    Speaking of bears (see what I did there? so clever.), I’d like to bring your attention to an upcoming game titled Naughty Bear, brought to us by 505 Games and Artificial Mind and Movement. Slated for the PS3 and Xbox 360, it is about a scorned teddy bear going rogue and subsequently terrorizing the other teddy bears. Sounds like just the kind of sick and twisted premise that we here at MTFB love to revel in right? Right! And since this blog is about More Than (a) Food (Blog), I think it’s high time we got the “More Than” in here.

    Here’s the first trailer, pretty tame:

    Aaaaaaand here’s the second:

    Brilliant. Dark. Twisted. Cute. We have so many things in common, this game and I. It is set to drop some time this year, but I recall seeing somewhere that it may even be the first or second quarter of 2010Twenty-dime.” If all this isn’t enough to get you interested, let me hit you with this screenshot from the comment section of this post over at Kotaku, where bear puns were running rampant. I’ve (poorly, using MS Paint, no access AGAIN to Photoshop) circled and underlined the more important parts if you don’t get it the first time around.

    It’s an intersection of video games, making fun of bears, and the social phenomenon known as Cougars. What more could you want?

    If you’re looking for a way to not so subtly get out your anger at when your kids or siblings leave their toys around or if you have been waiting for something like this to express and channel your rage at your poor toy selection as a child, keep an eye out for Naughty Bear, he might be just what you need.

    New Year’s Resolutions for Twenty-Dime

    Saturday, January 2nd, 2010

    I believe we have all agreed on “twenty-ten” as how we will refer to the year 2010. R2 is on a mission, though, to start “twenty-dime” which sounds silly and a bit forced but also sounds just Mad-Men-ey enough to maybe be cool.  [I have never seen the show.]

    Anyway, here are my akshully quite modest resolutions for twenty-dime:

    1. Finish Dogs That Should Be Named Oreo post.  This has been a work-in-progress for over two years.  It got pushed (a) onto and (b) to the top of my resolutions list because I just met the most blatant violation of this – a perfect specimen of an oreo dog (black everywhere except its belly) named…Brownie.  So much wrong there. The fact that it was the quintessential oreo dog and you didn’t name it Oreo is just the beginning.  Why are you naming a black dog after an entirely different color??  Further, you got SOO close with the cookie/pastry-themed name, and then veered off into “Brownie.” WTF. My animal photography skillz will need to sharpen in order for this resolution to come into fruition, as will my charmingness skillz so I can go up to strangers and ask to take a picture of their dog (and, breezily and completely off-handedly, ask, “What’s its name?”)

    2. Wake up when the alarm goes off.  Ever since I moved to SF, I have lapsed into a bad habit of hitting the snooze button many many times; to the point where I have to set my alarm a full 1.5 hours before I actually want to be anywhere in order to wake up.  Untenable. It’s because my apartment has the coziest of cozy sleeping nooks that puts me into hibernation mode every night no matter the season; and while I enjoy peeking out of the nook every morning and announcing “I’m a prairie dog!” to an empty apartment, it’s making me feel like a lazy person.  I could revert to cuteness like the Nanda, but I want to do this the hard, self-improvement way of using sheer willpower to do it.

    I think that’s it.

    How did I do on my 2009 resolutions? Let’s see…

    1. Become a Locavore. Pretty much done!  (A) I got my CSA box, and (B) when I made strawberry cupcakes in the dead of winter it was associated with a large amount of guilt for not eating seasonally. Check.

    2. Be able to do a pull-up. I have been working with a trainer exactly for this goal…next Tuesday is when we’re doing the big test of whether I can do it or not.  Stay tuned.

    3. Spend less time online looking at cats. Epic fail.  Not only do I still do this, I’ve added several more cat blogs to my RSS feed, including Pokke (see below), who just slays me with his all-pupil eye action.

    4. Blog at least 5 times per month.  Well, I count 72 posts in 2009, which is definitely in keeping with this rez, but the whole point was that Daniel would ALSO blog that much, giving our dearest darlingest readers something to read every three days or so.  Instead, Daniel blogs at the rate of once per 9 months, which is enough time make a fucking baby.  While blogging with charm and crass like we do at MTFB can be effortful at times, I don’t quite think it requires as much time as making a fucking baby.

    Happy New Year!

    Favorite 10 Posts of 2009

    Thursday, December 31st, 2009

    1. Bazaar gets 4 stars~* Because the pictures are pretty, and there are a lot of them.

    2. The evolution of my animal photography skillz~* Because our darling hammie Cheeto died [RIP<3] on December 28th, and this is how I want to remember her – all piratey-eyed.

    3. Four Winds II: Snorkeling in Molokini~* Because I enjoy mild sexual harassment.

    4. The many uses of Otter Pops~* Because this was a joint venture between me and Daniel, and represents my happiest 5 consecutive days in 2009.

    5. Pole Dancing Aerobics~* Because it had the most “likes” of my imported notes on Facebook.

    6. icanhascheezburger launch party~* Because every time I look at my Top 5 lolcats I lol.

    7. My CSA box~* Because this fucking post took an inordinately long amount of time to execute.

    8. Bibleopoloy~* Because I was able to play it without bursting into flames.

    9. Fleur de Lys~* Because it was the foodiest meal of 2009.

    10. Victoria’s C-Face~* Because no other posts from 2009 are worthy of being on a Top 10 list, here’s one from 2006 that people seem to like a lot – an expose chronicling the time I spent working at a certain lingerie hocker.


    Wednesday, December 23rd, 2009

    Soo I was off the grid in a cabin in Big Bear for a little while. Highlights included wall to wall to floor to ceiling to wall Christmas decorations, two stray dogs that somberly looked through our windows the whole time with their melted chocolatey eyes, drinking relay races that involved an icy and terrifying sled run, random wafts of baby diarrhea smell (there were nineteen of us, after all), and…Bibleopoly.

    Instead of “GO,” you have “In the beginning.”  Instead of dollas, you have “offerings.”  Instead of Boardwalk, you have, naturally, Jerusalem.

    Instead of going to jail, you go…meditate.

    At first I thought it was a slam against the meditating religions, like Buddhism?  But then someone who grew up in one of those households where they didn’t have a Christmas tree because that was “worshipping a false idol” piped up and said, “NO it’s like, go meditate on your sins.”

    Ohhhh OK.  Makes sense.  The other one makes sense too, though. Crazy game.

    Instead of deeds to property, you “tend” certain cities.  Each card has a description of the city which may have spelling errors.

    The ultimate goal is to build a church?  But to get a “cornerstone” (ie your first house in regular Monopoly) you have to give one of your cities to another player (something to do with utterly confusing verses like 2 Cor. 8:9. For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich?), and that has to also serve to complete the other player’s trio of same-colored properties.  Then you build it up with bricks, and then you win by placing your OWN game piece on as the steeple!  I wish I was in the pitch room when they presented this tidbit as the piece de resistance and the guy said, “BOOM!  LOVE IT!  PRINT A THOUSAND!”

    Rather than “Chance,” there’s “Faith/Contingency,” whatever the fuck that means.  Sometimes these cards make you donate one of your properties to the community, where someone can scoop it up if they land on Free Parking, which in this game is Rejoice/Community Celebration.  The four railroad stations are called “Abyss” – aptly named if you ask me.

    BECAUSE THIS IS THE ABYSS CARD I DREW!  Ahem.  My nickname happens to be “Satan” and I have absolutely no Bible/Christian knowledge.  In fact, I am the kind of girl who once played a drinking game with a Bible (drink every time it says “Lord”).  So how the fuck am I supposed to name FIFTEEN Bible Cities?

    I came up with “Jerusalem” and “God…ville?”

    Luckily, 15 spots back took me to some tony properties on the rich side of the board, and I got to pass “In the Beginning” again for 10 more offerings.

    Satan FTW!

    GoCar Adventures on Halloween

    Thursday, November 5th, 2009

    You know GoCars?  They are the tiny, yellow things that are everywhere and such nuisances on the road, yet you’re secretly like, “Oh, man.  That looks fun goddamnit.”  It’s impossible not to stare at the people who are in them, in their cute lil helmets and their unabashed touristy-ness.

    If you don’t know what I’m talking about, GoCars are GPS-guided, talking minicars (I think they are officially in the class of motorcycles, since we were instructed that we could park in any motorcycle spot “but don’t forget to feed the meter!” they said) that take you on a tour of whatever city you are in.  So far they’re around in SF, San Diego, Miami, Barcelona, and LISBON??

    Here.  They look like this:

    So I was driving around the week before Halloween, or H-ween as I call it, and saw some people flying about in GoCars.  At the same moment, I saw a bunch of chitlins running around in costumes, trick-or-treating.  I didn’t know where to look!  As I swiveled my head to and from from yellowness to cuteness I heard an angry honk and saw a rigidly proffered middle finger and felt a wave of shame for fulfilling the Asian chicks can’t drive for shit stereotype.  All that could have been avoided if only the people in the GoCar had been the ones wearing costumes!

    Bzzzt!  (Wait, what is the correct onomatopoeia for a lightbulb going on?  “Plink?” No, that’s the sound of something else.  “Ding?”)  How fun would it be to tool around San Francisco in a GoCar, IN COSTUME?  Sometimes I am so brilliant it hurts.

    I whipped out my phone and immediately texted R2D2, who is always up for these sorts of dorky activities and LOVES being in costume because that’s when he can “appear as the avatar that represents his true self.”  I didn’t even need to read his response since I knew it would be a resounding yes.  In fact, I got back TWO texts affirming this.

    We (meaning R2) booked one online for two hours; about the time it takes to do any one of their tours, which include “Downtown,” “Urban Parks,” “Bridge to Lombard,” and something called “Mister SF’s Tour” which is hosted by Hank Donat who writes the eponymous blog. It’s $49/$39/$29 first hour/second hour/all additional hours.

    R2’s costume this year was Zorro; he thought though that Spidey would be better for the GoCar and showed up in a Spiderman costume.  He has three of them and this was apparently his first and worst one, which I could tell was getting him down.  “I think your Spidey costume looks GREAT!” I said, trying to cheer him up, but all I got was a sullen “…thanks.”  Anyway, my costume was Zombie Snow White in which I tore and bloodied my legit Snow White costume, put on zombie makeup, and carried around seven mini skulls – ostensibly the dwarfs that I killed and brain-nommed.   We took the 30 Muni to Fisherman’s Wharf, garnering smiles and “HEY SPIDERMAN”s all the way.  “What am I – chopped liver?” I repeated several times, trying it the last couple times in a Long Island accent.  We went to the wrong GoCar station and had to walk to the correct one, but otherwise all went well.  Except for that fact that neither of us paid adequate attention to the instructional vehicle.

    I wanted to do the Mister SF tour, but we were told that one takes three and a half hours.  Damnitall.  Bridge to Lombard it was!  We put on our respective helmets (which kind of negated my Snow Whiteness, not to mention R2 had to take off his Spidey mask to be able to see.  Fail.). We turned right out of the station and the GPS magically picked us up and told us when to turn left and right and pointed out exciting things along the way.

    The first exciting thing, for me anyway, was our drive through the Marina, which is where I reside.  In her smooth voice, our GoCar said, “This is the swanky Marina district.”  Nice.  I like that description.  “But before you decide to move here, you should know what it’s built on.”  Ut-ohh.  “The Marina never existed naturally.  It was built on filled marshland.  During the Loma Pietra earthquake of 1989, the entire district was completely leveled due to a process called soil liquefaction, in which the ground underneath the Marina turned instantly into liquid.  So you should think twice about moving here.”  Fuck you, GoCar.

    Onward!  As you can see from the photo above, (R2 will be upset because he wanted to have his Spidey gloves on for the pic but I snapped it before he could) we sped toward the Golden Gate Bridge.

    We went past the actual Marina and took a mini stop at East Beach.  We got back in the car but couldn’t locate, for the life of us, the reverse mode.  Then some kindly Aussies said, “There’s no reverse!  You gotta push!” and pushed us backward.  I thanked them and made a tiny bit of chitchat from where I was sitting within the GoCar, at which point it turned out that they were not Aussies but in fact from the UK and they got annoyed at me for the error.  Sorray!

    OK!  Next stop, some sort of building at the base of the bridge.  I wasn’t listening because I was perseverating on how fucking chilly I was.  It was a gorgeous day without a hint of fog (see above) but in the thin, cheapo material that comprised my costume I was a-shiverin’.  I asked R2 if he was cold (he was in a single layer of spandex, for god’s sake) and he was, so we stopped at the Warming Hut for a coffee and snack, and then stopped again outside for a Let’s Be Frank hot dog from their Crissy Field location.  I got over being butthurt that R2 did not remember my post on Let’s Be Frank and ate that shit in two seconds flat.

    Then, a winding tour through the Presidio, with some fabulous views and fun curvy roads.  GoCar would say, “Be careful going down this hill!  Remember my top speed is 30 miles per hour.  You know where my brakes are!” but then confused us by suddenly playing very exciting music reminiscent of super fast porn music.

    As we sped down the hill and the wind whipped cruelly around our bodies, R2 noted that while this seemed like a good idea in the beginning, it was starting to be a bit like a joke gone bad since we were freezing so badly in our costumes.  I just laughed because it was so true.

    We wound around, exiting the Presidio, cutting through the “gorgeous” Seacliff district (which GoCar couldn’t say enough good things about, that fucker), and down California Street near my office.  Back into the Presidio, past the “new film company created by George Lucas” by which she obviously meant Lucasfilm.  At this our ears perked up, because R2 works for Lucasfilm, in the PR department no less, so we wanted to hear what information GoCar was putting out to the masses.  All she said was, “You can tell how much money George Lucas made from his movies once you see the size of the building.”  I told him he should send a rep to GoCar straight away to fix that, but he seemed pleased.

    At this point we were driving right near my house (literally – the route takes you to within one block of my apartment) and R2 had the brilliant idea to grab a coat.  We parked the GoCar in front of my garage and skedaddled up to my apartment.  I put on a warm coat and came out of my closet to find R2 in jeans and a shirt.  I felt…betrayed because I couldn’t exactly change into jeans with my face, chest, and arms all dead and bloodied.  He sensed my petulance, instantly understood why, and offered to change into his Zorro costume (which he had brought as a backup lol).  I said, “No it’s ok” all sulkily, and he had the good sense to ignore me and change into it.

    Back in the GoCar, down zigzaggy Lombard, and finally back to the station!  The GoCar guy saw us come back and said, “Wait…weren’t you…?  Wait I thought you were Spiderman before?” which was very sitcom-ey and something we liked.

    I think I would do it again, mostly to take a different tour because the one we did basically took me by (a) my apartment; (b) R2’s place of employment; and (c) my place of employment.  Not exactly the most thrilling of routes.  But if the point was to garner attention, pointing, and smiles in our ridiculous costumes in our ridiculous vehicle, well, then, mission accomplished!