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CONFESSION: Brews On The Bay was so much fun. Going on Sunday meant that it was much less crowded, and the threat of another thunderstorm was minimized ever so slightly. Instead, we got this bizarrely muggy weather, overcast with some blue patches of sky peeking out here and there, and a slightly damp warmth. It was pleasant! The ship rocked to and fro a bit, and a drizzle came and went from time to time, but we got to sample tons of tasty brews from SF breweries with my comrades and it was a good time. I rang the bell. I didn’t mean to! Well, I did. In fact, M suggested I should, and I only rang it once, but boy was it loud. Checking out the quarters for the captain and sailors and engineers and whatnot was exciting! The only thing I wasn’t fond of was the non-stop U2 cover band. Them, I could have done without.

Afterward, we trekked through the vintage arcade (which we have pledged to return to many times), through Fisherman’s Wharf and a horse-drawn carriage all the way into North Beach,  where we stopped at a Sicilian restaurant for an early dinner. Despite the fact that rain had begun in earnest, it was still warm out, so we took a table outdoors and enjoyed the passerby and sweet rain smells enjoying our bellinis and Sicilian Sangrias, respectively. It was a delicious, romantical meal. We caught a cab home in the rain and do you know something? That asinine Postal Service song about waiting since birth to find a love that would look and sound like a movie didn’t cross my mind, not even once.

I consider this triumph in both authenticity and the raw, undone edges of true love.

So, here’s some (boozy) ship action and M would like it very much if you knew that she took great pleasure in finding that half-broken watermelon resting atop a newsbox in the rain. If you’d like to read about the beer itself, you’ll just have to go here. Oh, and the morning of I let M cut off a whole bunch of my hair (a compromise from the night before, when I was struck by the urge to shear my locks off at 2AM, after we’d both had several cocktails). She offered to use the leveler to make sure it was perfectly exactly straight, and it was one of the most adorable things she’s ever said. Ha!

Confession: Here is my outfit for the local fashion show. Guess what? NOT GOOD FOR KNEELING IN THE PHOTOG PIT TO TAKE PHOTOS OF THE MODDLES, GUYZ. Also? Why was I the only one in the photog pit not just in a dress, but FEMALE?!?! Plus, I held hands with a woman on stilts, clad in a flaming red costume with so many sequins. She insisted. There were also people roller skating in head-to-toe spandex with little flashing light tubes twisted around every inch. It was like someone threw up Burning Man into a giant convention center, right into the khaki laps of its attendees. Like, there was actual fire and I didn’t like it, y’all. ACTUAL FIRE FLAMING FIERY HOT AND I WAS YAAAAAWWWWWWWNNNNNNNN. So bored.

The fashion part was stellar, for the most part, like red carpet, hand-beaded Bollywood madness. I wanted to snatch every dreamy tunic off those skinny models and wear them scandalously, without pants, and sky high heels. Plus, I got to pop backstage and meet the designer.

Oh, and I was forced to drink a Jack and coke (I know) and now plan to NEVER go out to one of these things without at least two bottles of mini-booze in my bag. To be on the safe side. Like a grown-up version of a Girl Scout.

PS. M took these photos of me. Didn’t she do a really, really good job? Isn’t the one with two faces awesomely creepy?

PPS. I love love love my new haircut. It is exactly what I wanted and I got it all wavy like this just by scrunching. SCRUNCH.

Femme Confession: I’m in love with lots of things this weekend. I’m in love with my “rich girl red” manicure and pedicure. I’m in love with all-girl roller derby. I’m in love with my now-dead birdie ring (it didn’t make it past the post-roller derby dancing at The Cat Club). I’m in love with my tomboy and the pretty loverbird pendant my petite made me for Mother’s Day and the fancy new tripod that M got for me. I’m in love with the fiery roses they gave me and with Selby and Sarah for being such fabulous friends. I’m in love with San Francisco, as ever. I’m in love with the fact that M & I got to sip champs at the roller derby, of all places! Bonus on an already spectacular weekend chockfull of awesome. Here’s the tomboy…

Tomboy Confession: Volcom pinstripe slacks, English Laundry shirt (thoroughly inspected by the fem for quality of stitches), Banana Republic jacket, cool captain hat bought from The Hat Guys after some drunken expedition, riding BART back home (she is referring to the time some hipster douche stole her awesome jacket with our keys in it from the Rickshaw in…2006? We rang up a friend of mine and crashed at her house, watched Pride & Prejudice (BBC, of course) half-naked with her roommates shushing us until nearly dawn. The next morning we did a joint walk of indignant shamelessness to BART to get back home to our spare keys. It was pretty awesome, considering the circumstances). Kenneth Cole boots. True story: the guy who works at the liquor store on Folsom street  has the same hat as me! We took a picture together! Hilarity. Roller Derby is fucking awesome! You want to go to there!

Confession: OK, OK. I didn’t really smoke inside of the loft, settle down. That’s so against the law. The rules. You know. ALRIGHT, SO IT WAS ONE MEASLY DRAG, but it was totally by accident, I swear to God. I was channeling Monica Bellucci in Malena (or maybe Joan Holloway from Mad Men, does it really matter which?) and got a little carried away. The entire unsmoked cigarette is in the trash under my sink if you don’t believe me. Where was M? At her monthly poker game, winning us some monies, bless her heart (she always wins). If it’s of any consolation, I sat through 17 Again this afternoon at the movies (yes, with that Zac Efron douche), eating free popcorn and squeezing some joy from the sad 80s references spattered like roadkill throughout the movie. I also overcame great technological odds and mastered my newfangled new special DJ box thingee all by myself before lunchtime, so there!

PS. Yes, I know it’s very bad and naughty, but to be perfectly honest I can’t remember the last time I smoked a cigarette the whole way through, much less several in a day. It very seldomly happens anymore!

When: Monday, August 4th, 2008.

What: Creamy chiffon and sheer black ribbon number from BCBG Max Azria, vintage cummerbund by Milor, bronze and black velvet t-strap peep-toe pumps by Bronx. Thrifted onyx pendant and Victorian-inspired Silver Crane Sterling earrings. Sassy black clutch from M’s lil sis.

Confession: This outfit was from our last night in Puerto Rico. Last of the series, y’all! CRY WITH ME! (Except YAY because I have a few shipments en route with new goodies to share with y’all, from Barney’s and Target and Chosen Stock.)

Here are a few just-for-fun PR tourist shots, ooh la la:

Here is a beautiful mossy green door with a fancy toad door knocker. Perhaps it is even a coqui. Anyway, I saw it and fell in love and had to faux-kiss it, like a deranged princess looking for her prince in unconventional places.

Speaking of princesses, here is the lovely La Princesa fountain. I blame the XXX cocktails at SoFo’s Dragonfly (Ketel One Citreon, Sour Apple Fest, Triple Sec w/ fresh lemon-lime juice and splash of cran) and M for making me dance on it. Then there’s the statue by the ominous, industrial iron spikes.