Leaving on a jet plane

We leave for San Francisco tomorrow. It's been over a year since we were last there so I'm more than a little excited about this trip. I swore we weren't going to do a bunch of touristy stuff this time but I had the hotel concierge book us a "luxury tour" of Muir Woods. I'm not expecting a limo with champagne or anything but so help me God if a motor coach shows up to the hotel with a bunch of little old ladies on a Bible retreat I am going to be one unhappy biyatch. If this tour turns out halfway decent I will book another to Nappa Valley. We're going to be in the city for 8 days so 2 days of playing tourist ain't going to kill us. The rest of the trip will be divided between seeing friends, dining, and my favorite pastime, shopping. The hotel is in the better part of Union Square so in theory I can skip right across the street to the stores. (Skipping, however gay it may be, is permitted in SF. Or so I'm told)

Our friend, I'll call her Muffin, who does our spray tans just dropped by the house (she's also a neighbor) with iced mocha lattes. One day it's ice cream, cookies, or Chik-Fil-a brownies and the next it's coffee. I just have to say how much I adore this woman. She is the quinessential southern belle gone bitchy. Fabulously attractive, funny as hell, and has a perfect set of real boobs (she paid for them) that you give you a hug all on their own. She'll also cuss you up and down if you piss her off and you'll never even know what hit you. (Only a true southern woman can pull that off effectively) Anyway, when she got here T was just getting out of the shower and still wearing his towel. Modesty being his middle name he has to run and get dressed in what I call his uniform -- khaki shorts and a Polo. HELLO? She does your spray tan so she's seen almost as much of you as I have.

So Muffin has conned me into doing a society calendar she's putting together for a cancer charity. Yes, yours truly will be a calendar boy. I have been assured that all my goodies will be completely covered (along with 10 extra pounds -- OK bitches 20 but who's counting?) and it will be down with the up most taste. So she says to me, "All the matronly society women are going to be in this calendar". Is that supposed to make me feel good.... Matronly? I know most of these woman having served on some board with them at one time or another (every good B.O.D. needs the token gay man) or some fundraiser so it will be fun I'm sure. I just hope nobody tries to bitch-slap me into serving on some damn committee again. I will gladly write you a check but my cold calling for donations days are over.

Back to SF: This is by far one of the most beautiful, liberating, exciting cities I've had the pleasure of visiting. I've a close friend (a former roommate) who lives in Pacific Heights who was our unofficial tour guide last trip. At present he is in the hospital recovering from knee surgery so it's safe to presume he will not be leading us down Lombard St. this visit. This will give me the opportunity to see inside his flat. Last trip he wouldn't show it to us. This time he has no choice if he wants to see us. He has always been impossibly messy so I cannot wait to see first hand if he's still living like a designer bag lady. Rest assured I am taking a camera. Blackmail among friends is the sweetest.