Banter? I just met her...
Ok. There seems to be confusion as to who my best friend is. So here is how we settle it.
I was in the Gay Pride parade yesterday with my best friends in the whole world, James and Dan, who were married here in SF back in February. They asked me, Jared, Krista, and Hilary to accompany them in the parade. I was so honored. They had a sign they made for me saying, "Straight, not narrow" which I hoisted proudly throughout the parade. It was way cool to stand for something important. Gavin Newsom walked right in front of me and my camera too, so that was nice.
Thanks James and Dan and congratulations.
The screening went really well. I am pretty damn happy with myself.
I was asked by a friend at Planned Paerenthood to create a short video for a "March for Women's Lives Reunion" gathering which happens tonight. I showed her the rough cut and she told me she would like to use it as a motivational mobilizer for PP's across the country. I was blown away. I will get paid and everything. I hate to count my chickens before they are hatched but she seemed excited and the piece is very good. I will keep ya'll posted.
Great news on the videography front. I'll let you know as things progress from nothing to something.
The first one that hit me was a dime, then a penny. I looked up and some little shit on the third floor flipped me off and pointed and laughed. I strutted for cover under the bus-stop. Once I was shielded from the incoming, "TINK","CLANK...", I noticed to my right someone was being evicted. Four nice men were chucking someone's household next to the garbage cans as a woman spoke on her cellphone and a Toyota truck with a built-up bed held together with bungy chords pulled up alongside to dispose of the evictee's posessions. Then I got on the bus.
Jean Luc Piccard sold Porsche's.
Jean Luc Piccard sold Porsche's.
Jean Luc Piccard sold Porsche's.
Forced to listen to on the bus this morning:
"Oh my god, she is like, so mad at me...I don't know...She said that she was pissed because I walked into her apartment and her parents were sitting there, who were like, visiting from Sri Lanka or somewhere over there, and I was like, on the phone and didn't introduce myself to them...She's like, really pissed..."
--She was pissing me off too like, I don't want to hear your fucking stupid-ass story. Go to cellphone etiquette school so that cloud engulfing your head may dissipate someday.
I went to Alcatraz this weekend.
It was neat and scary.
You know, the old prison.
Big zit, new razor, bloody face
Here at the Pentagon; when we don't fly, we don't not fly first class.
If a simpleton is a person who is felt to be deficient in judgment, good sense, or intelligence; a fool, then why is everyone always telling me to keep it simple? I'm a complexeton for god sakes.
Conversational communication by the written word is much more conducive to misinterpretation than the spoken word. It's all in the inflection.
Many times a day I wish I was somewhere else.
One time I told a Kiwi I wanted to move to Queenstown, NZ.
He knew I lived in San Francisco and had been here.
He looked me square in the eye and with a down-under accented urgency he said,
"The graass is awlwaays grainer Jeff"
We are recording a 60 second radio public service announcement right now and there are 17 individuals here to be the voices of seventeen different characters in the spot. How can that be? How can that many people be needed and given sufficient time for the listener to discipher each character? It seems ludicrous. I guess I shouldn't speak until I hear the final mix. They are all spilling food and blabbing and generally harshing my early morning mellow too. Fucking talent.
And Frankie left the Real World.
Blogs really suck when you got nothing to say
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jefe
San Francisco, California, United States
fishin' with firearms