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This is the blissed out face of a femme who is not only enjoying a perfectly innocent make-believe joyride on this totally bizarre pony statue in an even more bizarre reclaimed-wood-and-nature needle minipark in a big city haystack thing, but also headed to The Front Porch, a Southern restaurant in SF’s Mission District. I’ve been wanting to check it out for months and months and damn months.

Pluses: The co-owner (maybe ex co-owner? Apparently, she’s opened Hibiscus in Oakland) is a smokin’ hot dyke. Fried green tomatoes. Old-timey decor, included car seats with seat belts for booths.

Cons: Like, none. OK, the beignets could have been better, but it was a very lovely dinner date.

I didn’t even care that it was cold. Cold enough for toggled enclosures on my chunky vest. Sorry, I’m really distracted because I’m trying to write this while The Real L Word season finale is on, and it’s, like, really hard because they’re all so mindbogglingly vapid. Most of them. Natalie just said that going to Dinah when your relationship isn’t rock solid is tricky or something, to which I replied, “Like doing the AIDS ride when you’ve just had ass surgery and the doctor is NOT advising it but also not expressly forbidding it, either, so…just inadvisable? Like that?”

I really wish that we had whatever on/off button for falling in love that she and Rose have, because then maybe people would projectile vomit around M & I a little bit less. Just a smidge. Just a touch, darling.

PS. I am wearing my pony belt buckle. YAY!

Leggings: Romeo & Juliet Couture
Ruffled blouse: INC Women
Vest: Bloom (ZOMG Mikey is talking about making fun of people with bad haircuts POT KETTLE holy fucking balls)
Belt w/ pony buckle: M’s
Belt w/ pouch thing: Modcloth
Boots: Rock n’ Rose
Bullet cuff: Portland street vendor

You must say hello to Blanket. Blanket is a neighborhood kitty who really loves me, despite giving me this total bitchface for taking a picture of him lying so preciously in this box full of dead stuff. His name is Blanket because his fur is soft like whoa.

1360 miles
1 majestic waterfall
12 new towns we’ve never been to before
4 hours at Bite of Oregon beer, wine and food festival
9 hours of non-stop driving through the Pacific Northwest
nearly falling into the deepest lake in all of the United States
2 adorable companion goldfish delivered to us by room service

…learning that I actually thoroughly enjoy a good road trip after being certain for the past five years that I hate them unequivocally – PRICELESS!

And now we’re home, in fact we drove right into San Francisco’s deliciously foggy embrace late last night. Here are all the places we stopped in: Weed, Medford, Canyonville, Salem, Woodburn, Lowell Covered Bridge, Pleasant Hill, Salt Creek Falls, Crater Lake, Mazama, Klamath Falls, Bridge Bay, and of course Portland.

Sadly, we didn’t get to explore the Hawthorne District, but we did get a pretty good taste (and I do mean taste) of downtown and the Pearl, Old Town/Chinatown, Nob Hill, and Alberta Arts Districts. I took a bite out of a “Hot Hood” from the grilled gourmet PB&Js, made with Challah bread, black cherry jam, jalapeno, apple wood  smoked bacon, and PBJ’s peanut butter. That was after the savory fried pie, stuffed with BBQ pulled pork, from Whiffies. I drank an Old Curmudgeon paired with mouthwatering Draper Valley fried chicken and country gravy at the very new, very fantastic Irving St. Kitchen, made with Buffalo Trace bourbon, Aperol, Cynar, pepper jelly and lemon housemade grapefruit bitters.

If I discussed how incredibly marvelous their butterscotch pudding with brown ale caramel and crème fraîche was, or that it was complemented with a brown paper cone of caramel corn with curried peanuts, I’d have to change my panties and that’s rather inconvenient at the moment, so you’ll just have to find out for yourself.

And the shopping! Of course, there were a lot of typical big name chain stores, and the standard hippie-dippy weekend markets that pop up with common wares all over the Bay Area, but there are even more really outstanding boutiques featuring local, independent designers or craftspeople. For instance, the next FFAF will be set among the stacks at Powell’s! (Many FFAF household dollars were cheerfully spent at Powell’s.)

The photos here were taken in a room of big, beautiful doors for sale at Cargo, an importer of handpicked antiques and artifacts from around the world. It’s an incredible store, set in an enormous warehouse, and you can pore over the tables and shelves and cabinets for hours. (Friendly FFAF Tip: Bookmark this link, kids, the site goes live in about a month where you can order and ship their goods online!)

Dress: Fire Los Angeles
Boots: Rock n’ Rose (Portland, OR)
Denim: Old Navy
Pony Bag: Cargo’s own! (Hell yes, I bought it.)

More San Francisco alley murals. More flat boots (the dog went and re-busted up my ankle fixin’ to fight some other dog on Monday night, just when I thought I was all healed up). MORE COVERT LESBIAN SMIRKING, courtesy of dear old Judge Walker’s incredible decision in the now very well known Proposition H8 trial. I thoroughly enjoy history being made in an irresistible hotbed of sexy, compelling, riveting logic, rationale, and sanity. It moves me.

I had the honor and privilege of being at the (not-nearly-as-open-to-the-public-as-I-thought) press conference that was held in the Banking Hall of the historic Bently Reserve in San Francisco yesterday, immediately following the announcement of the decision. The plaintiffs were there and spoke with eloquent emotion about how deeply grateful they were to the court, the legal team, their families and friends and colleagues, and of course, to one another for enduring the hell and glory of this battle for marriage equality. It wasn’t until Ted Olson took the podium, however, that I really began to get emotional. That man has a splendid command of words and speech, backed by a tremendous amount of authenticity.

It was out of this world to be in the presence of all of them, a wonderfully brave group of people who will live on forever as heroes to our community! If you haven’t already read or heard or watched what they all had to say at the press conference, you can catch some of it here.

Let us discuss this dress. I really love it. I bought it without even trying it on. The silk is beautifully lined but unforgiving, the kind that clips your natural stride by a quarter or perhaps even a third. I kind of like it, but saying so will probably make M call me a big old masochist. (I’m not, honest.) It looks a bit strange without the belt, but who cares? I have a belt! I’ve worn it dancing (with very sheer black hosiery instead of the thick leggings you see here), I’ve worn it to dinner, it’s one of my favorite finds of the year so far.

Dress: Castle Starr
Belt: H&M
Boots: Lamica
Tiny Hungarian Purse: Vintage
Necklace: Spoiled!

Sunday before last, we went to an epic brunch featuring an outstanding drag show at the Sir Francis Drake in San Francisco. This past Sunday, we went to an SF Giants vs. LA Dodgers ballgame, an exciting one, apparently, on account of the fact that the Giants were poised to sweep the Dodgers in the series. (I don’t speak baseball; forgive me any errors.)

On Saturday, however, M indulged my new lust for suspenders and bought me a pair of skinny ones from H&M, and I was dying to wear them. You know how it goes. (I am currently typing so speedily that M suspects I have Nasdaq trading windows open. I do not. Hello, the market’s closed. Except in Japan, but I’m so sure.)

So, yeah, this is what I wore to AT&T/PacBell Park. (Free drink for the first person to correctly name it, I really just can’t keep up.) One girl walking past literally squealed, pointed and exclaimed, “OOH, SUSPENDERS!” all gleefully. I felt more like a stable boy than anything else, but it was a really, really fun outfit to wear. Believe it or not, not a lick of what I’ve got on belongs to the tomboy. Not even the hat. That belongs to the petite, and it’s from Goorin Bros.

A girly girl in tomboy drag makes what?! I don’t know, but it was S U P E R.

Let’s break it down from head to toe!

Hat: Goorin Bros.
Suspenders: H&M
Shirt: RVCA
Trousers: RVCA
Boots: Lamica
Bag: Betsey Johnson
Sunglasses: Kenneth Cole

Last but not least, some pics from the day just for fun. The tomboy in her LA Dodgers garb, the consumption of cotton candy (do you know they come in flavors? I like blue the best, M prefers pink, how’s that for GENDERFUCKERY, yo), me feigning delight and excitement in a souvenir shop, boozing and the big, gloriously blue sky we were blessed with on game day…