Today Is Going To Be A Good Day

Bush's political guru Karl Rove to quit

Rove to leave White House

Karl Rove to leave White House at month's end

California Nice

A comment posted by a reader of SfGate.com told the small story of how she was once hastily cut off by another driver just before reaching the toll booths on Golden Gate Bridge. Her next few moments were spent road-ragedly cursing the driver in front of her, right up until it was her turn to pay, and she was told by the toll worker that the driver in front of her had paid her toll (five bones, mind you) and was sorry for the maneuver.

The teller of this story offered it up as evidence for what she thought was a pretty unique phenomenon- a major U.S. city with people who can actually be nice to one another.

Hmm. Yeah, I guess I'll buy it. To be sure, there are many not-so-nice moments (my ladyfriend's car was broken into two weeks ago while it was parked just a crackpipe's throw away from my front door), but if I think about it, I can come up with a handful of situations I have been involved in that were made blogworthy by a little bit o' San Francisco Nice.

Top Three.

3) I walked across the bar one night to pick up a $20 bill directly underneath a woman sitting on a stool, tapped her on the shoulder, and gave her back what she dropped. She thanked me enthusiastically, and I returned to my table. Ten minutes later, she was at my table to thank me again, this time with a shot of single-malt scotch. Nice lady.

2) The roommate and I went out one night in search of a specific seedy little establishment that is known for its surly, jaded, and unpredictable bartender (he kicked a guy out into the street for playing Dylan on the jukebox, the online review warned). We found the place, cautiously took seats at the bar, and oh-so-respectfully ordered drinks from the big buy across from us. Carl introduced himself with handshakes, guessed correctly that it was our first time at his place, and then spent the next two hours charming us. The bar was mostly empty, and it seemed he got bored easily, so he stayed busy by telling us dirty jokes, yelling insults at people walking past the open front door, and sliding us free 7 ounce bottles of MGD every fifteen minutes. He told me I really should see Jersey Boys while it's running at the theater down the street, and then made me take a tequila shot with him. He threw the DVD of "The Illusionist" at us, saying it was one he enjoyed a lot, and pressed, "Take it home, watch it. If you bring it back, you bring it back, if you don't, you don't." Carl is one nice guy.

1) Six months ago, I had just moved to the city and was living in a cheap Chinatown hotel while I looked for apartments. I met a girl that lived nearby and we ran around together for a bit, exploring the neighborhood. I knew her for all of three days before she offered her rent-free air mattress to crash on, and I accepted. Nice.

Did You Hear The One About Laura Being A Drunk?

I had a late night last night- more of a morning, really, involving Trivial Pursuit, pizza, card games, and lots and lots of wine. This morning (Editor's Note- OKAY, afternoon) as I was in the cab coming home from The Boy's house, the cab driver- an Armenian-looking guy in his 40's- looked pointedly at the red wine dribbles on the front of my white t-shirt.

"Rough night?" He asked. I nodded, not as embarrassed as you'd expect. He heaved an enormous sigh. "Yeah, me too."

Awesome SF: Euro Tourist Edition

I usually do not enjoy European tourists--they are masters of the Sidewalk Roadblock downtown and that really peeves me. However, today I saw a group of women lazily walking down Market sporting some awesome Bedazzled shirts. One 40-ish woman was wearing a black v-neck with "Who's Who" splayed across the chest in white, her equally 40-ish friend was sporting a white tee with "Stress + Fun" in big, pink letters dominating the front side (I hope the back said "= Drinking", but it didn't) and one of the 40-ish's daughters was rocking the ever classy "Playboy" zip up hoodie. Love it.

Burning Some Beach

My first bonfire since moving to the city was late one night on Ocean Beach and me and some of my classmates and their friends and roommates all met on the beach with our blankets and supplies and were soon waved over by a group of strangers originally from Michigan to join their group since they already had a fire going and we thanked them by sharing our hot dogs and marshmallows and after the Michigan group left the fire their place was quickly taken by another group of strangers that we invited over to help with our mini drum circle and even though my efforts to get the whole beach to sing along with my acoustic arrangement of Steve Miller Band's "The Joker" fell flat and it was getting cold with the sun having gone down I was still feeling good because it was my turn to sip from the bottle of gin and as I did so I could look around the fire and see that the guy across from me was smiling because he had found the beat on his drum that he was looking for and the girl beside me was smiling because she was halfway through her joint and the girl on the other side was smiling because she was staring out at the waves and the girl in the stroller was smiling because she was two-and-a-half years old, she was asleep, and her mom had named her Journey.

Cancer and Fruit

Today I was smoking an after-lunch cigarette (albeit at 3:00 pm--I work hard!) and I saw a woman walking down the street sipping her Jamba Juice. As we passed by each other going opposite directions on Market Street, I noticed that there was a cigarette perched between her left index and middle fingers. Jamba Juice and a cigarette simultaneously? Really? I can't say that I haven't been guilty of this particular combo myself, but I at least have the presence of mind to hide the 500-calorie juice bomb in my purse until I finish my Parlie. Duh.

Homeless Guy News Roundup, Friday, May 4th

A fidgety homeless dude was in front of me in line at the post office, and we shared about a 20-minute, slow-moving wait before being helped. When it was his turn, the homeless dude approached the lady across from him and asked for a stamp.

"One stamp?" the lady clarified.

"Yeah," he said, and plopped a fistful of change on the counter.


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I was walking down the sidewalk one afternoon, and came to a temporary stop in front of a Chinese restaurant to read the menu that was posted on the window. A second later, a man was shuffling up beside me, readying to ask me for money. He didn't go with the direct approach ("Spare change?") or the life story ("Maan, I'm livin' on the street because my girl kicked me out...") or the lowball approach ("You got a quarter?") or the humor angle (see below post) . Rather, he went for the guilt trip.

Guy, looking at my feet: "Whooo-hoo! I'd like to know where you got those shoes!"

Me: "Well, I bought them used off of Ebay."

Guy: "Well yeah....but....ok, still though....I mean..."


Did I just make a homeless guy backpedal?


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Loud homeless guy in a preachy mood: "...And do you know what the crime rate in that city is??"

Cop, arms crossed, looking bored: *answers with silent, condescending stare*

Loud homeless guy: "ZERO!!!!!!"