fitforafemme.com

More and more and more sunshine. These were taken in a friend’s backyard. I’m standing in an empty fish pond and drinking a mocha from Martha & Bros., trying not to think about all the cocktails I foolishly consumed the night before, at both Mango and Cockblock, nor how I was still fighting a nasty summer cold.

M & I were waiting for them (“bcw” and Dr. Dyke, if you must know) to look after their kittens before we headed down to Jack London Square for the 2nd annual Eat Real Festival, an amazing weekend full of the greater SF Bay Area’s best street food carts, local beer and wine, entertainment and the most current, informative happenings in the world of slow food and sustainable eats.

This is FFAF’s 2nd year at the festival!

Wearing:

Levi’s Denim
Old Navy linen cami with pintucks
RVCA shirt w/ roll-up sleeves
Boots from Portland’s Rock n’ Rose
Bag by Emilie M.
Handmade necklace
Kenneth Cole sunglasses

It was a gorgeous day. We ate so much, we drank a lot, we all stripped down because it got so bloody hot, and we sat in the shade to watch the most incredible butcher contest I’ve ever seen before in my life (okay, so it was the only one I’ve ever seen). Another great year with the best friends at a superbly done event. GO OAKLAND!

Here are some fun pics from the day:

THE GOOD STUFF (brace yourselves, it’s PORK-O:

HELLO THERE. How the hell are you? It’s Memorial Day, are you enjoying yourselves? We are. It’s been a merry four-day weekend, and we’ve managed to perfect the balance between being lazy and resting without missing this wondrous sun gracing the rain-soaked city, running to and fro. If you’d asked me if I thought it would get hot enough to wear these shorts this weekend, I probably would have popped you one. M’s been dying to wear hers for at least a month.

These photos are from the little walkabout we took BEFORE our massive, late sunny afternoon Pimm’s Cups.

I don’t know about y’all, but M’s outfit here makes me think of tag football, grass stains and making out at dusk on a park bench. We both took advantage of the RVCA Memorial Day sale, and M scored this new shirt. Mine is also new and the lightest, softest silk-cotton blend. It’s, like, the perfect shirt for dancing around braless with no pants and a whiskey coke in your hand, on the hottest summer nights.

We found this spot in a narrow alley behind a mortuary near our place. I don’t understand this shelf or why it’s placed here, sandwiched between garages and trash bins of all things, but there it was, little Lady of Guadalupe and all. Perhaps people put candles on it and pray or something. How nice! While I pondered all of this very seriously, M snapped photos. Obviously. My favorite thing of all on our walk is the sidewalk graffiti a bit further down. They’re so lovely! Sometimes I think we’ve got the most delightful graffiti of all here, underfoot and ever-changing.

You didn’t think I’d mention it and not post the video, did you?

Dear readers, you’re in for a treat. I’m handing the blog-mic over to my dashing M, who will surely amuse you as much as, if not better than, I do. Enjoy!

Don’t let my awesome cowboy-ish outfit trick you into thinking it’s hot out here. IT IS NOT HOT. Every day for the past week, the cocktease sun will come in through our tiny tiny bedroom window and blind us while we’re trying to sleep, and all the heavy sunlight tricks us into putting on shorts or flip flops or cowboy shirts and lures us outside into the PHONY PHONY spring day. Bah! By then it’s too late to go back in and change, so here I am, acting like it’s all warm, but in reality, only 1/10 of my face was warm enough to justify this outfit.

We went on a mad shopping spree this weekend! Sometimes you wake up, not sure if you’re still drunk or not and you decide you really, really need new white underwear. Not a fleeting desire or idea, a NEED. I decided I was going to buy some white underwear. ‘Cept I’m not really known for buying a reasonable amount of anything. Not clothes, not booze, certainly not lemons! I need a whole truckload of a thing. I shit you not, I think I got about 30 new pairs of white underwear. You can’t see them in these pics, but I am wearing them! Of course, once we were in the store, the femme decided I absolutely needed this shirt — she’s already threatened sexual assault — and as you can see, the sunglasses also go quite nicely. After this photo shoot, I put on a giant christmas sweater.

Fuck you, SF sun!

I love my wife, guys. She makes me laugh. Wanna know something else? We totally sex-broke our – well, her – bespoke harness not last weekend, but the weekend before. It’s only been a year or so! Anyway, off we went first thing Saturday morning afternoon, in a homo ass panic to Mr. S (super NSFW) to see if there was anything they could do at the Sex Toy Hospital for M’s most beloved leather piece and lo! “This will just take us 15 minutes. We’ll be right back.” OMFG, I love them so, so much. Thanks to them, we only had to resort to the lowly commoner harness once. Well, a few times. But still. IT WAS REALLY A SCARY TIME FOR US, OKAY!?!

She also left out this very crucial part of our retail therapy binge on unmentionables:

When: Christmas Day 2008.

What: Wide-leg corduroy trousers by Tulle, vintage Levi’s tee, brocade coat by Tulle. Flats by old Navy and vintage rabbit collar.

Confession: I only wore this outfit for about an hour yesterday. To leave the house. And come right back. So there. Also, it is now a tradition for the tomboy and I to wear the matching pajamas that her grandmother got us last year for Christmas, for opening presents and whatnot on Christmas morning. They are still crispy. After a whole year. One day, they will be super incredibly soft and worn in. Like twenty years from now, but still. Here they are:

When: Saturday, November 1st, 2008.

What: Dry aged denim by James James, vintage t-shirt with geese by Levi’s, cropped corduroy moto jacket by Abercrombie & Fitch. Charcoal scarf from Old San Juan boutique, suede Cerulific bag from modcloth.com and bronze boots by Donald J. Pliner.

Confession: The sky has buried itself in clouds and finally, finally, it’s begun to rain in earnest. I am looking out at a monochrome gray, wet sky that is darkening rapidly and it’s very, very happy. M & I slept in this morning (I had the filthiest, longest sex dream ever) and had a mimosa brunch at the beloved Godspeed, which was good for my heart today. M was worried it was too soon, but really, it was just right.

PS. This is fun:

When: Sunday, July 20th, 2008.

What: Embossed leather cuff with eagles from Dollywood, vintage geese t-shirt from Panatela Tops by Levi’s. Insanely pretty hair courtesy of my superior genes and Seth from Down At Lulu’s.

Confession: I am a daft cow and forgot entirely to take any “before” photos. I am deeply sorry for this. (However, isn’t this whole blog sort of a “before”? Yes.) Moving on.

You know your stylist/colorist loves you when you march into the salon biting one of your fists with hair anxiety and clutching no less than 15 photos of various styles and shades to whittle down in the other fist, and they’re all “Oooh, let’s look at what you’ve got!” as opposed to, say, kicking your sorry ass out of there.

My requests: Keep the length whilst tidying up the ends, clean up and accentuate layers into a sort of long, piece-y shag, lighten my natural dark, reddish brown with a warm, rich brown. Peek-a-boo strands of ruddy caramel underneath optional. M’s requests: Breezy hair. Every photo I asked of her in order to support her request was basically a girl with long hair standing in a strong wind. Ridiculous. Alas, when Seth was done and the lipstick-print robe was whisked off of me, M leaned in and whispered, “Jonesey, it looks breezy!” – success! And without a lick of wind, even!

Anyway, I’m totally thrilled with it. The brown is so lovely, my hair so soft, and the cut came out just the way I’d envisioned!

In natural light:                                           With the light on: