Before I say anything else, I want to give a huge huge thank you to my lovely friend Lauren for giving me one of her high class moleskin journals to keep notes in. I don’t know what I would do without it and my summer would not have been nearly as good without her. So on to day three. We had to wake up bright and early this morning (10:30 am) to pick up Maggie, Ms. Creamer, Peter, John and Michelle from the airport (Vaughn’s sister, mom, mom’s boo, uncle and aunt). I drove my car and Scott drove his. After we picked everybody up, we went straight into San Fransisco (I forgot to mention that David and Scott actually live in Half Moon Bay, about 30 minutes outside the city). This meant that I had to follow Scott the whole way. That was one doozy of a task, especially in Seymour. I think I wasted more gas in that 15 minutes following Scott than we did all the way from NC to Yellowstone. He was weaving in and out of traffic and accelerating at speeds that Seymour’s sweet ass has never even dreamed of!! He even switched lanes to get off on an exit so late, that when I followed him I was crossing the solid line at the beginning of the exit. As scary and challenging and is was, that could have been some of the most fun driving I’ve ever done! And even though it was fun, I will always hate NASCAR. So after the death race, we finally made it to the parking area for David and Scott’s sailboat, which happens to be literally 50 yards behind AT&T ballpark, the Giants’ stadium. Their boat is docked in the bay that Barry Bonds hit all those home runs in. This is why I’m either marrying rich or, if I marry for love, I’m training my kids to be superstar athletes. We went to look at their new sailboat which isn’t bad, just the nicest boat I’ve ever been on. Two bedrooms, a kitchen, a large dining room/hangout area, and a large deck. No biggie. After checking the boat out we went on a little tour of San Fransisco for Peter, because he has never been here before (neither have I, but I will be here after Yosemite). We started out by eating lunch (I liked the way this tour was starting) at some Mexican restaurant. I had a steak taco that was small but delicious, and a lot of chips and guacamole. Vaughn had ceviche which he really liked (not as much as the one in Peru of course; I still don’t stop hearing about that), and I tasted it and agreed with him. We also had some free samples of olive oil from one of the shops near the restaurant which just classied up my day a bit. After that we headed to pier 39, which is absurdly touristy!! It was nice though because of all the interesting people that I saw there. There were also sea lions that come to sun bath near the pier that are a huge attraction. The coolest part to me though was that we could see Alcatraz really clearly from the pier. I’ve been thinking about maneuvering my way into prison somehow so I have no choice but to lift weights and get some muscle. That is why I thank the Lord every day for giving me the strength to deal with my slowly waning masculinity, so I don’t go to prison. After the pier we walked around the city and walked through Chinatown, which is very very sketchy. It was so interesting to be on a block with fancy brownstones and then walk a block over and get into Chinatown, which reminded Vaughn and I of the rundown shops in South America. But I will forever be in love with San Fran’s Chinatown for this one reason: we saw George and Ricky from Yellowstone outside of a butcher shop with ducks and chickens hanging in the window!! We could not believe it when they came up to us, and I still can’t believe it now. Luckily we took a picture with them to prove that it wasn’t a dream. Ricky and George are flying out tomorrow, too. Small world; and I must be living right. So after we saw them, we caught back up to the group. Scott showed us where the lady dance clubs (dirty topless stripper bars) were, not that we plan on attending a show ever. We then headed to dinner at Tony’s Pizza Napoletana. We arrived a little early for our reservation so we relaxed in a seating area that was built in the street to take up two parking spaces. They seem to be the new fad here. We then sat down for dinner. This place had some AWESOME pizzas!! They practically made it into an art form. We ordered 4 pizzas for the whole group including the quail egg, white rose potato and chorizo pizza (mozzarella, white rose potatoes, rosemary, calabrese peppers, quail egg, speck, cowgirl creamery fromage blanc and lavender sea salt), the wild robiola (mozzarella, straciatella and robiola cheese, wild mushrooms, truffle oil, speck, piave, arugula), the New Yorker (mozzarella, hand-crushed tomato sauce, natural casing pepperoni, sliced Italian fennel sausage, ricotta, chopped garlic and oregano), and the burratina di margherita (burrata, cherry tomatoes tossed with fresh basil and extra virgin pugliese olive oil, not just normal extra virgin olive oil). We also had an order of meatballs and we had spinach salad and a Caesar salad as appetizers. Needless to say, this was a feast fit for a Forrest Moog. So freaking delicious!! And relatively healthy, because quail eggs have good fat. After dinner we went to the gelato shop and then headed back to the cars. As we walked behind the stadium to the cars, there was a game going on (Giants/Phillies) and there is a place in the back of the stadium where you can watch the game through the outfield fence for free. So we watched about 5 minutes and saw a homerun hit!! Not too shabby. Unfortunately, when we got home and I checked ESPN.com, it said that there was a bench-clearing brawl in that game that we missed. I guess you can’t have everything in life. So if anybody is actually bored enough that they are keeping up with this blog, I’m sad to inform you that it will not be updated for another week or so because of our Yosemite camping trip. But hold your breath, because I will be back into civilization at some point!! And to that one person or no people that are reading this, THANK YOU!!
Tip of the day:
Life is game, so have too much fun and never stop playing with all your heart.
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