49ers know where the fans are

The SF 49ers are popular through much of the greater Bay Area, which according to them includes a place called Santa Mateo County.

Observe.

While looking to see who I'd bug to get into a game free of charge just for holding a camera, I stumbled upon this on their "These are the places where we'll send an old infirm star to barbecues and youth football practices" page.




Map reproduced below, bigger size. See, says Santa.

I've been too busy to post...

...with this new job.



Pays about the same, and I don't have to shower.





Fuck you.

Damn SF pigeons

They don't even eat their crusts. Bet they drive late-model Priuses.

Hey, I witnessed history today

Sometimes the job sucks. Nobody calls you back, high school kids treat you like dirt, you lose your self respect and then a Muni train runs over your foot.

But some days, like today, for example, you get up early, you find a parking spot, and you witness history -- all before 9 a.m.


Stuart Gaffney and John Lewis, first in line at City Hall to receive a same-sex marriage license.



Who was he talkin' to? Duh -- God.


That kid in the middle? The state made an honest couple outta her Daddy and her Poppa. Fuck yeah.


Rejoice, gentlemen. That's a very significant piece a paper.

I hate street fairs

I hate them.


Hate them (but this guy was friendly enough)



Hate them (all these guys were douches)



Hate them (this band made my tinnitus worse)

Fuck. Why do I hate these things so much? Well, they're crowded by asshat scenesters, they're utterly homogeneous events with the same bbq, same tents, same booths and -- in a lot of cases -- same people at each and every one. And inevitably, I have to be the one sober guy, toting a camera through the crowd, trying to find enough PG-13 images to fill a page in some raggedy-ass paper.

That'd be why I hate these things so fucking much.

Attention, street fairs: Go away, never come back. Fuck off and die while you're at it.

Happy Sunday!

Mark it

While we wait for election results to trickle in, we take a moment to gloat.


In case you can't see -- cos, dammit, Blogger, why is that so small?? -- that's some history on the browser.

A rug for the ages

I don't know much about rugs -- Persian, Pennsylvanian or Patagonian -- but this one's kinda unique.

Behold.



I want guns and tanks on my floor. Why not?