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CONFESSION: Spot the Maker’s! That wee bottle was critical in my speedy recovery from this miserable CRUD sickness I have only just now come out of (alive, praise Dolly), after 9 hellish days of being bedridden. God, I despise being sick. I despise being slowed down. Do y’all know how fast I go? FAST. It was unpretty, but we are moving forward. By now you may have heard that we (as in San Fran-fussy-cisco) had a whole hour of 300 MPH torrential downpour blues earlier today. Hayes Valley, the Van Ness Muni station, parts of the Mission flooded in some places up to three feet. There was some nonsense about a new pumping station, but come the bloody fuck on, people, if we can’t handle an hour of heavy rain then what on earth do we do when it rains steadily for days? CRY. DROWN. I would like to see how drowning rat hipsters handle that situation, I really do. Hm. Food for thought!

CURRENT OBSESSIONS:

• Reviewing fragrances and makeups here at FFAF again
• The perfect pair of brown (dark or mahogany) cowboy boots
• Making a delicious dish of scalloped potatoes from scratch
• Bourbon balls (you bitches know who you are)
• Horseback riding in some semi-regular capacity on the cheap
• Finishing a re-read of Ayn Rand’s Anthem, which started in the tub last night
• Trying to forgive myself for getting rid of a) an ashy purple velvet blazer and b) asymmetrical dresses, both from years ago, since they’re “back” – don’t you just fucking hate that?

DREAMY:

It’s become a sort of tradition to post this photo of M in honor of Cinco de Mayo every year. After all, who do you think put the sex in Sexican, or the Mm in Mexican? Exactly. Since I’ve the great fortune of being her honorary Mexican wife – adept now at making the homemade chilaquiles she likes better than any she’s tried before, making sure there are always lemons in the house, taking her dutifully to the Laney Flea or Int’l for her frequent and dire need to consume massive bags of mango, cucumber or watermelon slices drenched in chili powder and lemon, or to Tamarind or El Pollo Loco or anyplace with a mole that won’t make her scoff (the list is LONG, yo) – and because I’ve been temporarily, let’s hope, kicked off Facebook, let’s start celebrating here.

Lousy weather or not, it’s Cinco de Mayo, damn it and we won’t be deterred!

Let’s all raise our boozy tequila shots or bottles of delicious Mexican beer to Mexico and our favorite Sexican ever:

When: Saturday, August 23rd, 2008.

What: Zara Woman skinny blue jeans, Nocona cowboy boots with vintage spurs from Tal-Y-Tara, vintage candy-stripe swimsuit, SF hoodie procured from one of those post-baseball game street hucksters at AT&T Park in San Francisco.

Confession: I told y’all that some days I was low femme! Or, you know, not all dressy and shit. See? Earlier in the day I was traipsing around the beach in a Mango dress, but once the fog finally hit the sand around sunset, I yanked on these jeans and my new (favorite) hoodie. YAY SAN FRANCISCO!

It is worth noting that Tal-Y-Tara is SF’s only tea and equestrian shoppe. Their Motorloaf is the most delicious bread I have ever had in my life. All their recipes are very secret. M & I go here as often as we can to enjoy a lovely high tea in the wonderful garden, where you feel as if you’re anywhere but in the middle of one of the most exciting cities in the world.

Of course, if you prefer to enjoy your tea indoors you may do so amongst the excellent new and vintage collection of equestrian goods and anything your heart desires for having a fancy tea party of your own!

Oh, and they’ve got a giant pony statue thing that they put outside of the shop whenever they’re open. I highly recommend it.

(Tal-y-Tara photos courtesy of tea_austen @ flickr!)

When: Monday, August 4th, 2008.

What: Mango halter dress, Becca bikini, Kenzie rope sandals and Marc by Marc Jacobs shades.

Confession: It was bloody hot in that rainforest, but insanely lovely and lush and the falls were worth every grueling minute of the “30-minute” long hike to get there. The coqui frogs sang the entire way. We passed other couples, random groups and families on their way to and from La Mina Falls. I was happy as a clam splashing around and lounging on our very own giant rock, just like a couple of lizards. It was wonderful!

I HAD TO EDIT MY PRETTY VINTAGE STRIPED ONE-PIECE OUT OF THIS B/C SOME PERVERT FUCKER KEPT LOOKING AT IT. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. DIAF, ASSHOLE.

When (Day): Thursday, July 31st, 2008.

What: Black striped one-piece, vintage. Dark green and bronze peep-toe pumps from Carlos by Carlos Santana. Dress from Mango, thrifted pink corduroy bow belt, California Girl flip-flops in khaki. Red DIY headband from Charles Chocolates.

Confession: M said that this swimsuit made me look like one of those old-fashioned lollipops. Naturally, I wasn’t going to argue. (Gay! And yes, I put heels on for the first photos. So?)

When (Night): Thursday, July 31st, 2008.

What: Red cocktail dress by Fire. Black men’s vest, vintage. Linea Paolo flats in red and black patent leather. Black onyx pendant, vintage. Studded leather bracelet from the Dollywood leather shop, mixed silver chain bracelet from Juniper Tree.

Confession: I honestly don’t believe that I have ever, prior to this night, gone “out” wearing flats. The truth is, up until about two years ago I still refused to get on the goddamn flat train (cue that one Cure song, you know the one), but then I met a pair of black Dolce Vita ballet flats made of buttery black leather, and I permitted myself to slowly acquire a pair every six months or so. M hated them right off the bat. The puppy hates them. He eats them if I’m not careful to put them away – I can leave my heels out for days and he won’t touch them! Now, I think I’ve got at least four pairs to skip around in.

When: Saturday, July 26th, 2008.

Femme What: Black cocktail dress by Fire, black lace and pearl necklace from Spoiled! on Broadway, pink snake skin sandals by Max Studio, creamy vintage cut-out belt and wooden bangle bracelet.

Also, I apologize that my shoes are in none of these photos, but they are exactly like the ones pictured below, but in a frothy pink snakeskin instead.

Femme Confession: How many mimosas can one kitten drink during brunch? 84,000. That’s how many. I also bossed the bartender into adding champagne to one of their signature guava cocktails, to make a sort of guava French 75, and it was fucking spectacular. In full view of our company at the table, M grabbed my tits multiple times, citing the non-fact that I was “flirting with her” and I apologize publicly for that, but do at least thank your lucky stars you weren’t subjected to her hand up my dress at Mango (a tea dance with salsa and hip-hop music for lesbots at El Rio in SF). Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Tomboy What: Brown linen pants from Banana Republic, Ralph Lauren Chaps shirt, plaid brown Aldo shoes. And a brown Guess watch the femme gave me. Mimosas courtesy of Lime.

Tomboy Confession: Hello, brunch! Anyplace that is willing to give you bottomless mimosas for $6 deserves a medal of honor, or at least a remedial arithmetic lesson. Seriously, Lime, you are bad at math, but we love you for that! I ordered huevos rancheros, but I got this really interesting set of white testes with runny yolk inside on a bed of black beans, with guacamole and salsa slathered on top. They meant THAT kind of huevos. OK! Lesson learned! Although the ambiance “music” made me slightly nauseous (at least 3 different Britney Spears songs played within a mere hour-long period, which is too much for any person with unwaxed body hair to bear), the eye-lock with the endless champagne-seas kept me focused on what was really important: jogging the liver in preparation for outdoor drinking and dancing.

Note from a femme: Welcome to my tomboy! This is her first post, so greet her sweetly! (I know y’all will, you damn HOORS.) She’ll take over from here.

Before & After

Let me explain. I have been fighting with the femme for weeks now; I insist that I need a haircut, she insists that I do not. Please see the “before” photo(s):

I was well on my way to a hard-core Mexi-mullet, complete with inexplicable FEATHERING. WTF?! Also? I look like a lopsided toadstool from the Mario video games. (I know this because over the last 3 weeks or so I have logged some 40-odd hours playing Super Paper Mario : Thousand Year Door and asking the femme to find hints for me on-line — she’s such a good girlfriend!)

It was about 900 degrees Fahrenheit in Oakland today, and once again, I threatened to cut my own hair. The femme finally relents, so I dressed up for the shoot and cut. [I shopped at nearby fabulous Rockridge vintage & contemporary boutique Pretty Penny. -Femme]

Observe how much more handsome I look POST-haircut. I even look like I smell clean! My hair is now tidy and well-behaved. And look, I have ears! No more toadstool head! I feel much better, and encourage all of you to join me in a whiskey on the rocks. Cheers.

When: Sat., June 21st, 2008

Tomboy What (some facts, loosely based on reality): Seersucker shorts from Express for Men, H&M military shirt and belt, O’Neill flip flops and the tie actually belongs to the femme. Breitling Chronographe watch (bought in NYC while hungover in the street). Vintage silver & black Equestrian tie clip.

Femme What: Dress by Mango, vintage brown leather belt with embossed spring flowers from Down At Lulu’s, Nocona cowboy boots. Sunglasses by Oscar de la Renta, vintage onyx necklace.

[Confession: That awesome skinny black tie with the cute little olive green skull & crossbones? Hot Topic. Shut up. - Femme]