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Remember when I was pouting nearly two weeks ago about not being able to wear summer dresses willy-nilly? Here’s the Kensie number! Glorious cotton and silk blend, lovely sorbet shades, and of course there’s the ruffled neckline. Searing temperatures in the high 80s yesterday finally gave me the perfect excuse to wear it to my little brother’s high school graduation. Alas, we were wholly unprepared for the direct, relentless sunlight that scorched us from 9:30AM-noon during the ceremony. So bad. I know. We just had no idea what it was going to be like! (Next year, when my other little brother graduates, we’ll be far better prepared). It was a wonderful ceremony, though, very All-American, Norman Rockwell.

Here’s me goofing around in my mom’s weirdo barnyard shed thing in the backyard. If you think this is bad, you should see their garage. I didn’t really have time to accessorize because the tomboy was bossing me and we, of course, were running late. (It’s so rare that we get up early on the weekend, and we had to be out of the door by 8AM. I barely had time to throw on these nude patent leather pumps (Madden Girl).

When we climbed into the car I exclaimed, “Oh no! I forgot my necklace!” and M said (tersely, I might add) “Oh, you’re right, your brother TOTALLY can’t graduate from high school without your necklace.” I sulked until I got my triple shot mocha, and then: BYGONES.

We had all sorts of notions about what today would be like. Champagne-soaked croquet in Dolores Park. Perusing the DIY wares and glutting ourselves with tater tots at IndieMart over at Thee Parkside. Having succumbed to what can only be heat exhaustion compounded by an unending meat parade of happiness at the post-graduation BBQ yesterday, we slept in until noon, brunched at 2PM and are now enjoying an Ally McBeal marathon from the comfort of our sofabed. C’est la vie!

I’ll make up for it with the following this week – Monday night shopping with my BFF:

I just got tickets to see Karen Elson on Tuesday night at Cafe Du Nord!

You didn’t think I was going to keep the tomboy all to myself, did you?

She’s wearing an emergency pair of $16.99 JCP shorts we had to run and fetch her at the mall near my mom’s house before she DIED in her pants, a classic wifebeater, RVCA shirt and one of her many pairs of flip-flops. She is as tasty as she looks sunbathing all hot and salty and smelling of sweet tea tomboy.

CONFESSION: What a doozy of a weekend. The week prior? So-so. Taking tentative steps after my brink-of-death sickness and whatnot. I did manage to accomplish the following, I am happy to say:

• Making a delicious dish of scalloped potatoes from scratch
• Horseback riding in some semi-regular capacity on the cheap (I tried, got shot down – but I tried!)
• Finishing a re-read of Ayn Rand’s Anthem, which started in the tub last night
• Forgave myself for getting rid of an ashy purple velvet blazer and an asymmetrical dresses years ago

Back to the weekend! The lovely Kelly Alice (a dear friend) came to visit from back East, and we enjoyed fantastic conversation over breakfast, freshly baked Pithivier from Trader Joe’s with Peerless coffee, followed by noontime French 75s (with a few drops of rosewater, so lovely). KA was sort of shocked that I’d never really flat-ironed my hair before, so she busted hers out  – some fancy Solia model we heated right up to 450°F – and went to town on my glossy locks. It was amazing! We headed to Mango (an awesome lesbian tea dance on a lush patio featuring salsa and hip-hop with free BBQ) all dolled up with the tomboy on our arm and had a fantastic time.

Afterward, we took her to one of our favorite Mission restaurants and then, of course, to the obligatory stop at SF’s Lexington Club, the city’s only 24/7 lesbian bar. It’s a great dive with a super rad jukebox. (Note: The bartenders overrode my Patsy Cline pick, which pissed me off.) M & I danced, not that anyone else did (as per usual). Someone wanted to know what kind of shampoo I use. It was a great night!

Yesterday, we popped up to my mom’s house for a birthday party and had a lovely evening where dozens of family secrets were aired out in hilarious and hilariously tragic circumstances, and I had a beef bourguignon that changed my life. Alas, after a screwy Monday, I’m ready to get back to weekend shenanigans! Surely I’m not alone. XO!

PS. My kitten! The black one with the little white boots. She loves me so so so so so so so so much. She’s suicidal for me, even. M had to chase her back home because she tried to follow us into the street! When I come walking down the street, she comes bounding toward me out of nowhere to greet me and purr and rub against my legs. So precious. I love her so. She brought a friend over and they came into the house and miraculously, neither dog bit their heads off!

PPS. Drool.

*Big bag by Betsey Johnson!

CONFESSION: So, the weekend! It was officially kicked off at bartending school, where we sped through our lesson to get to the tequila lecture and tastings. I learned that sipping tequila straight is like unleashing a pack of hellhounds on your palate, unless it’s an anejo, or extra-anejo. M & I stayed up late watching old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and eating the Indian food we had delivered.

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When: Saturday, October 18th, 2008.

Femme What: Halter dress by Poleci, patent pumps by Enzo Angiolini.

Femme Confession: Firstly, I apologize profusely for the lack of posts. I’ve been suffering from an especially vile hybrid of plane-internet flu disease post-Memphis. I’ve been miserable, but y’all will be relieved to hear that tonight I am back to half-watching UFC (Go Silva!) with the tomboy and drinking cava cocktails. Hurrah! The femme is back!

Now, for the reknowned Panda wedding. It was nothing less than amazing. Even DJ equipment malfunctions and freezing Memphis cold couldn’t prevent the awesomeness. (You think I’m joking? I was shivering so hard it knocked the champagne right out of my glass!) While the pandas slept (or tried to sleep), the ceremony was spectacular, the Asian-Cajun fusion buffet perfect, and the amazing bamboo wedding cake lovely. The BCPs seriously brought it on the dance floor, much to the delight of various aunts and one very enthusiastic grandmother. The evening ended with our group taking over the zoo tram mic and singing the animals to sleep with “We Are The World”, “Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog” and, as ever, “Rocky Top.” Thank heavens I found fancy DJ software to mix up my intracately chosen playlists, because I got to shimmy and shake with all my fancy friends, and of course, the tomboy.

Note: We all got the cops called on us at the Memphis Doubletree (it was nothing), thoroughly abused the glass elevators, visited BB King’s on Beale St. where M flirted with Kimberly Locke, ate some pretty good BBQ and oohed and aahed at all the well-behaved puppies on the horse-drawn carriages lined up downtown.

Tomboy What: Grey corduroy suit and black shirt from Express Men. Silver ascot from www.dress-better.com. Ok, maybe the ascot was a little bit much!

Tomboy Confession: We were in town for a panda wedding and here are some things I did not expect: Memphis to be colder than San Francisco, difficulty finding clove cigarettes, difficulty finding good bourbon, no choices for BBQ sides! Coleslaw is not a side. It is a side-of-a-side. The thing everyone pushes off their plate to make room for real food. Mashed potatoes are a side, stuffing is a side, or at least some steak fries?! Don’t even ask about breakfast.

Since the femme and I were all fancied-up we decided to go to a bar and try to get some proper bourbon (no liquor stores either, Memphis?!). We were served Knob Creek @ BB King’s (which is KENTUCKY BOURBON, wtf?!), but at least we got to see a good Memphis band do a really good cover of a U2 song, and afterward we went back to the hotel room to eat powdered donuts and drink Corona with the rest of the wedding party. I made my Corona green with some lime Sweet Tarts. I had no lime and improvised!