Yes, milk is good...

andy_roddick_l
Originally uploaded by lissiebethie.

Alright, in theory there will be a time when I have access to a digital camera so I can take pictures of my lovely new surroundings and show all of you where I'm living and all the fun I'm having. So, I thought I would test out uploading photos, commemorate Andy Roddick's 22nd birthday (August 30th) and wish him well in his bid for a second USOpen Championship, and help proselytize for the milk industry.

Glamorous Life in the City

Waiting around your apartment for 5 1/2 hours for the UPS guy to deliver your packages, torn between the uselessness of waiting all day, and saying screw it, I don't care if he leaves them outside my door to get stolen.
Having no skin what-so-ever on the back of your heels because you insist on walking everywhere, so you can be in among the people and the neighborhoods and really get to know the city, but maybe you're just too cheap to pay for the bus fare.
Really wanting to fuck this guy you like, who only kind of likes you, who your friends think is only so-so, and wondering if they are right.
Waking up to jack-hammers tearing up your sidewalk and going to sleep to a drunk arguing in Spanish with what sounds like an anally obstructed sea lion (it would be o.k. if you could at least follow the argument.)
Waiting around your apartment for 6 hours for the UPS guy...

Yum Yum

Call me the cat who swallowed the canary, 'cause I'm grinnin', baby!

12 days in S.F.
12 days unemployed in S.F.
4 days until I start my new job.

ADS Hats @ 758 Valencia Street!

Welcome to San Francisco

So, this blogging thing; very unlike me I know, but I have a friend with a blog and in order to post a comment you have to go through this whole process, where, low and behold, you get your own blog. But it might not be a bad thing because now I can hopefully keep in contact with all you East Coasters and let you know how my life is progressing (or degenerating) out here.

Scenes From My Neighborhood

A man on the stoop outside a laundromat with his neck cut from chin to collar, blood running down like veins in marble.
Mexican guitar music from the restuarant across the street with a heavy full moon right over the intersection outside my building.
Gigantic sunflowers, irises, and lilies sold outside my laundromat making it smell pretty and fresh.
A decapitated pigeon and the queen of clubs on the sidewalk outside Amnesia.
Confused New England girl wandering streets of the Mission trying to figure out arcane parking rules and regulations.

So a running counter to be started:
12 days in S.F.
12 days unemployed in S.F.