Attended a wedding last night at the posh University Club on Nob Hill, at California and Powell. When the bride and groom said « I do », bells from a passing cable car came through an open window and resonated throughout the room.
Only in San Fran, post 1
Saw this sign painted on the window of a men’s beauty product store in the Castro neighborhood:
Tested on boyfriends, not animals.
Boys will be boys
In general, I think Blork and I don’t fit the usual gender stereotypes. He cooks, I take the garbage out. He cries during movies I find sappy. I’m grumpy and like to read the paper in the morning while he wants to talk about how my night was. You get the picture.
But tonight is my friend’s big wedding in a private club on Nob Hill (one of San Francisco’s fanciest neighborhoods) and while I was having acrylic nails put on and a French manicure (for the first time in my life, mind you), Blork was booking the rental of a convertible sports car for our trip down Route 1 next week.
What is America doing to us?