Oh no she better don't!

I swear this kind of stuff only happens to me...However this time it's not luck. This was more like every straight mans dream come true and every gay boys worst nightmare. Let me just start by saying that I am a 'Gold*Star' homosexual, I am proud of it and I plan on keeping it that way.

One of my favorite events each year in San Francisco is the Bay to Breakers. It's a 7 mile run/walk/drink race across the city from the bay side to the ocean. It's actually the largest foot race in the world and has around 100,000 participants. There are lots of serious runners that run out in the front of the pack but there are probably more people in the tail of the race that dress up in costumes, have moving bars and loads of fun antics. It reminds me of a high school classroom, the good students are up in the front row and the bad students are in the back of the room passing notes and trying figure out how to score booze for the weekend. Some things never change...I have always been in the tail of the race wearing a wacky costume (or nothing at all) and concealing my beverage of choice. I usually park my car at the end of the race the night before so I can get home easily as getting stuck with thousands of others trying to get back towards downtown sucks.

This particular year a group of us boys have dressed up as shower girls, we have towels on our bodies, towels wrapped up on our heads, make up and jewelry. Eventually I lost my towels but everyone has already seen my naughty bits anyway and the nude photo shoot in some strange old ladies bathtub was fabulous but these things are not part of the story. By the time we get to the ocean (the end of the race), I seem to have lost all my clothes and all the shower girls except Brian. Naked and in makeup we head out of the park and into the neighborhood where I have left my car. People didn't even bat an eyelash at a naked boy in makeup loose on the streets, San Franciscans have already seen it all, I love this town.

I quickly pop the trunk, put on some shorts, start the car and begin to head back east. As I start driving we are passing packs of people that need ways to get home. I know what you are thinking right now but I don't care... I don't care how drunk I am, really people, there are no cabs, no busses, it sucks! I cant possibly pick up a group of 4 or more so I keep driving eventually I see this girl with her thumb out on one hand and her roadie (drink to go) in the other. I have space for one so I honk and pull over. She jumps in the backseat and tells us how great we are, this is all stuff I know but I let her keep talking... BIG mistake. I kid you not folks, I had not even driven but three city blocks and the conversation went like this:

HH (Horny Hitchhiker): "You guys wouldn't be interested in having a 3-way would you?"
DC10: "Excuse me? Missy, I don't know if you have looked at us since getting in this car but do you see how short these shorts are? And I am wearing make up! We are like gay."
HH: "Really? Well we can still do it... come on, please."
DC10: "Hell no! We really only like men. I am a gold star homo... I've never had sex with girls."
HH: "Well you should try it sometime."
DC10: "No, definitely not... I don't ever want to go there."
HH: "Thats ok then, I just thought I would ask."
DC10: "You know what, people who don't say what they want, don't get what they want. So I'm glad you did. Sorry it's just not my thing."

Then the conversation turned towards more normal topics. She was a waitress at La Barca down in The Marina and invited us to come right away and have margaritas with her. Since I had already had plenty to drink I declined. Brian wasn't interested in having margaritas either as he is a conservative Mormon from Utah, I think he was very shocked and feeling uncomfortable with the 3-way chit chat. After I dropped Brian off I took HH all the way home to The Marina (see how nice I am!) and wished her a good Sunday. I actually really admire that wild woman, there are all kinds of things I want from people everyday in life but am too shy to ask. We could all take a page out of her book...but when you do, just make sure you have that dental dam in your back pocket!

Sometimes I love my life and sometimes I hate it. This last Thursday was no exception of either extreme. Let me start with the bad news first as the good part of the day is so much more exciting.

I had to drop a whopping 1040 bucks for a brake job on my car (down 400 from what the dealer wanted to charge). These euro sport sedans are so high maintenance. This is like my entire paycheck for two weeks so my checking account is looking pretty dismal, I'm hating life and my 20 something income. As costly as my breaks are... I am somewhat thankful I have them. I can't tell you how many times I have looked up from popping in a Mariah Carey CD or looked back to the road after checking out some studs biceps who's rolling the roadster next to me only to find brake lights and bumper in my face. I slam on the breaks and the car stops instantly. These overpriced high performance breaks have surely saved myself from damage, injury, stress, costly repairs, insurance hikes and tardiness. Could you imagine if I had missed my plane to the Winterparty? How embarrassed would I be in front of Mr. Roadster?

With my new brake job and maxed Visa I went to pick up my Russian accomplice (Pavel) and headed down to Mountain View for the Kelly Clarkson concert. All the lawn seats were 25 bucks so why the heck not? We met about 10 guys I know there and proceeded to pound beers and down thick grilled sausages with spicy mustard while waiting for Miss Kelly take stage. She has a new hairdo and I think she looks like a lesbian.

About three songs into the concert I head out of the seating to get another cold one. After arguing with at least three obese concession workers at different windows that they cant all possibly be closed already as its only been three songs. I finally find a beer and head back to the lawn. On the way there this pregnant lady marches up to me and asks me if I would like her 8th row ticket because she is leaving. SWEET!! Sometimes I love my life! The ticket was comped for her as she is a friend of one of the opening band members. I give her an enthusiastic thanks and head back to the lawn to collect the Russian. In return for the ticket I wanted to offer her some of my beer but remember she’s pregnant.

So now I only have one 8th row ticket for me and the Russian. Pavel and I had a brief strategy session over the beer and decided on a plan to get us both past the ticket checkers. Plan is to find the gayest ticket taker we can spot. Within a few minutes of scanning we spot a blonde male ticket taker wearing a pink plastic floral lei with glitter accents. Bingo! We march right up to him and explain our ticket dilemma. He is obviously thrilled to find some of his own kind in a sea of teenage girls. He asked me where I got the ticket but I avoided that question and instead asked him where was the after party because we wanted to party with him. We complimented him on his pink lei and gave him our phone numbers telling him to call us. Mr. Ticket was very flattered and got out his little pad and wrote Pavel a pass to go down to the lower seating. SUCKER!!!!! Me and my Russian Accomplice make such a good team! Mr. Ticket actually called on Friday but we didn't call him back. Is that bad?

I swear this kind of shit only happens to me. I might as well share as it was probably the highlight of my day since I like freaky people so much. Last week I was in Hawaii for my cousins wedding. It was my first time back in Waikiki as an adult and I really enjoyed my trip. On the last day of my trip before heading off to the beach to catch some waves I asked the front desk person to order me a shuttle for later on that evening. Little did I know it was going to be more like Mr. Toads Wild Ride than some malnourished Asian man who drives in circles through Chinatown like what we have here in San Francisco.

It’s about 8:45 and I kiss the old man goodbye who’s been buying me drinks since about 5:30 and head to the front of my hotel to collect my bags and wait for the shuttle. Why on earth did this guy get me hammered if there was no chance to get any action? He knew good and well I was leaving. Oh well, what I can say is that the locals are very nice and thank goodness for him as the drinks down there are not cheep. If it wasn’t for him I very well could have accidentally drank through my shuttle fare. I harass the front desk man to make sure my shuttle is still coming as I have GOT to get back to work in the morning. He assures me its still coming so I just sit and wait.

Moments later an ethnic man in ratty clothes jumps into the lobby and shouts: “Shuttle!” I jump up and say that I need a shuttle, thank goodness they are here. The only thing I thought was strange is that the guy is drinking a Heineken. He manages to pick up both of my bags with out spilling a drop. I chase him out to the van and he yells to get in. Inside there are already these two cute Australian boys also headed to the airport and a man in the front seat who turns out is the drivers friend or something. Both of them (driver and friend) are pounding beers and as soon as we hit the freeway they break out the pipe and start smoking weed. As we speed down the highway weaving through traffic they tell me all kinds of wild tales of their days on the island and offer us cocaine. The Aussie boys are loving this … and I am loving them. As we approach the airport the guy in the front yells out: “My name is Pineapple and this is Crazy! So the next time you need a ride just ask for the Crazy Pineapple! HAHAHAHA!!!”

I jumped out of the van completely drunk and stoned at this point. Crazy gives me a big hug and pretends to put a flower lei around my neck as a sendoff. Pineapple doesn’t have any change to break my 20 for the ride so he just says I don’t need to pay. SWEET! My readers and friends, as usual, I am full of helpful tips and information to carry you through life in grand style. The next time you are in Honolulu and need a ride, just ask for the Crazy Pineapple!