Sunday, June 17, 2007

Pants

I do not like to be constrained by things like pants.

I think that the concept of "nudists" is really pretty gross in a hippie, dirty-feet kind of way and would never, ever, EVER in a million years consider myself one. But if the option presents itself of "Wear Pants" or "Not Wear Pants" I will choose the latter.

I'll bet you didn't know that about me.

Sometimes when I go a long time without posting real entries regularly, I not only feel guilty, I feel absolutely paralyzed with writer's block fear. Like I'm some kind of bigshot movie star who has dropped out of the movie-making world for a few years to deal with personal issues, and then returns to the silver screen in a blaze of shameful glory, appearing as the love interest in some sort of lesser-known Wayans vehicle. You think to yourself, "Oh yeah, what ever happened to THAT actor?" and then you see the preview and go, "Oh. THAT'S what happened. The poor dear."

So I'm trying not to make a big deal about it, or think that I need to provide you with some sort of spectacular series of entries in order to make up for my dearth of posts. Instead, I'll just tell you about my disapproval of pants. And stuff.

I have noticed that I have a whole lot of pictures sitting around on my hard drive and in Flickr that are all very amusing (to me) and that I took with the express intent of sharing them here and then never did.

But it's a lazy Sunday morning and I'm ignoring that it's Father's Day and while I have work to do later this afternoon, I thought maybe I'd post some of them for both of our sakes.

* * * *

Downtown San Francisco has only three types of people. Tourists, people trying to make money from tourists, and locals who are annoyed with tourists because they do not know how to walk at a city-appropriate pace.

Among those in the second group of folks are those who are, shall we say, "colorful."

There's the guy who stands at the corner in front of Sacks Fifth Avenue and sings "Darling youuuuuuu send me...darling youuuuuuu send me...darling youuuuuuu send me...honest you do, honest you do, honest you do."

Now, those are the only lyrics he sings. He dresses in a top hat, and is very, VERY good at those lyrics. He will tip his hat at people walking by, and raise his eyebrows at the ladies when he sings the word "darling." But if you find yourself around Union Square for any length of time, you will soon find yourself wanting to kick the man, much like you would want to kick a jukebox that is skipping a record.

I don't mean to be cruel to the man whose entire income may be dependent on these six words, and yet I have to wonder why, if indeed his entire income is dependent on these six words, he has not taken to learning, say, a seventh, or eighth, or fifty-second word. But who is to say. San Francisco.

And speaking of "colorful," there is also the silver guy. I do not know what kind of day you have to be having to decide to become The Silver Guy, but it can't have been a good one. I picture this gentleman having a boring, corporate job, and sitting quietly in a conference room as another man goes over the monthly numbers. And then just snapping.

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS!

And then instead of an accountant, he decides he'd rather be a robot.

I've had those days, you know?

But so anyway, I wonder what your taxes start to look like, once you've decided that you're going to be a robot for a living. Do you claim your job title is "other"? Or do you go ahead and put "robot"? How does the Federal Government feel about "robot" as a profession, anyway?

Truth be told, I had never stopped to think about the robot man's taxes until I happened to run into him at the bank.

Here, he is filling out a deposit slip:




Robot man has an account at Bank of America, in case you were wondering.


* * *

One afternoon, Ben and Emily and Ish and I found ourselves at a local bar. I realize how shocking this must be to all of you, but try and get over your disbelief.

Anyway, we were there, and there was this guy at the end of the bar who everyone called, "Colonel." And that is because, he was all too happy to explain to us, he had been a Colonel in the United States Army. And we thought that was pretty cool and impressive, especially as he started telling us alllllll about his experiences in the armed services.

The Colonel - 3

His stories were fantastic.

The Colonel - 4

I'm not real sure of their veracity, however. I suppose it's possible he's a close friend of the Kennedys. And was in the first convoy into Baghdad. And charged up San Juan Hill with Teddy Roosevelt. And had some run-ins in the jungle and I sort of don't remember all the women he was involved with, but you know.

The Colonel - 1

* * * *

So I saw this sign on the door to a deli. Phew, I say.







* * * *

I took a few pictures when Ish/Pete was moving out of his tee-tiny studio apartment and into his real, I actually live in San Francisco as a single man apartment.



If the label on the top box doesn't sum up Ish's kitchen, I don't know what does:




Pete decided when the movers came that it would make the most sense to put the cats in the large, cozy closet with the doors shut.

I happened to notice that Eddie was very interested in what was happening on the other side of the door.





Finally, I had this image sitting around. Pete got a television the day he moved in -- because a man has his priorities -- and Em thought it would make a great fort. I couldn't blame her.

Except she fell on her way into it.




And thus concludes my cameo in the Wayans brothers movie.

11 comments:

  1. I just loved the robot man picture! That is absolutley hysterical that the robot man has an account at Bank of America- I don't know why I find it quite so funny but I do :)

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  2. There's a guy who panhandles at the Hyatt at Embarcadero BART. His schtick is, "Just a nickel and a smile will last a LOOOOONG while. Hep the homeless wit a nickel!" I silently root for him, because he puts effort into it. On holidays he wears holiday themed hats. When the Giants are playing he wears a Giants hat. After Katrina hit, he wore an LA hat, he really tries. He also gives directions to tourists, and I resist the urge to smack them when they don't at least give him the nickel he asks for when they get directions.

    Also a fan of the guy down by the Cal Train station who holds up a sign to everyone coming off the highway. Says something like "My family was kidnapped by ninjas; need money for karate lessons."

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  3. As a long time reader, I think that your entries, while irregular, are always entertaining. You have a great "voice" in all your writings here. Do not stress about entertaining the masses, because if we are bored, we can always hit the back button.

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  4. Those pictures of that old man were really nice! (I know you can be photographically challenged, so I thought I'd say so!)

    Also, everyone who blogs know exactly how you feel. :)

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  5. I can't see your pictures so I hope I've got the general idea of them.

    London has more than it's fair share of pandhandlers and 'street entertainers'. I used to work in a very popular place with too many.

    There is one gentleman that paints himself gold and has a matching gold bike and just stands there. God, I'd love his job.

    Anyways one day as I was rambling on by, I noticed a bit of a crowd. Of course, I had to see for myself and there was our gold gentleman having a staring contest with a wandering drunk who decided he could.

    It lasted about 5 minutes and then the drunk's eyes started watering, he started to weave back and forth and promptly fell on his fat arse.

    Just another London moment.

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  6. I love the robot guy in the bank. That is just wonderfully surreal. I love it.

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  7. Oh, and i'm with you on the No Pants thing. But you know, not in a creepy way.

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  8. Awww, the colonel is so cute. I bet his stories were intriguing (zzzz).

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  9. I so agree with the pants thing. I hate them, and pretty much only wear them when I have to leave the house or if there's a chance someone might be coming to my house. Shoes and socks, too.

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  10. NEVER woulda thought robot guy would have a bank account. I mean, why shouldn't he? But also, weird that he would :)

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  11. I always thought Robot Guy was Robot Girl.

    Thanks for clearing that up for me.

    :P

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