All in all, I’d have to say it’s been a pretty acceptable week.

I was a little disturbed by life last week (you’ll thank me for sparing you the details and the whining), but things look a little brighter now. The financial traumas associated with setting up housekeeping alone have eased a bit. The construction across the street has become a little less annoying.

And I found a great new dive with an irresistable name: Big Joe’s Broiler #2. Look for a review soon.

My new part-time boss even scored points today. We were talking about Sunday’s demolition at SF State and about Detroit when he recommended a book I should read. Turns out it’s one of my all-time favorites, The New American Ghetto by Vergara (note the shameless marketing link…twice even…) When someone recommends one of my favorite books, I’m pre-disposed to like him, because (a) my favorite books are very specific types, and (b) my favorite books are really obscure.

I’ve even paid this month’s bills already. Some of them were even on time!

And I’m only four shows short of my complete set of “Streets of San Francisco” episodes on tape. I’ll have them all by Friday. There’s a database involved. Even my hobbies are becoming geeky…

On the other hand, I’m still behind on the email. Really behind. Up to a month in some cases. I seem to have developed this really bad mental block when it comes to email.

Yeah, I’m babbling and writing about nothing, I know. Maybe it’s best that I’m not answering email…

Sure, the news today had stories about the fact that we now seem to be at war. There was also mention of the fact the Fred Phelps made his semi-annual visit to San Francisco on Friday (he’s done wonders for queers ever since we put him on the payroll as official spokesidiot for bigotry).

But today’s completely unnewsworthy story on horse racing at Golden Gate Fields was the one which caught my eye. You see, I grew up going to the horse races and I know what a wondrous thing it is.

About twice a year, my mom and dad and I (sometimes with my grandmother) would pack up the car bound for a little town called Charles Town, West Virginia and go to the races.

The trip was pretty similar each time. The first day, we’d drive up, check into our motel, hit that night’s races, and have a late snack at the diner downtown. On the second day, we’d drive to wherever there were races in the suburbs of Washington or Baltimore. My dad would watch the horses and my mom and I often hit a mall or whatever. Back to Charles Town that night for a repeat. On the third and final day, we’d either go to Washington (for culture) or one of the big theme parks in Virginia (for fun) and then home.

These were great trips. They weren’t really about gambling (although I did learn how to pick a winner). For me, and I suspect somewhat for my mom and dad as well, they were largely about people-watching. Some of the strangest characters in the world lurk about eastern race tracks: big fat drunk guys in plaid sportcoats, scary kids who looked like modern adaptations of Dickensian orphans, bored and damaged-looking mothers…

The food was great too: no frills pizza and hot dogs and hamburgers. There was lots of beer, too, but my mom and dad didn’t drink. The whole atmosphere was so incredibly seedy. I loved it. It prepared me for the pockmarked urban landscapes I love to this day. It was all about the working class (or maybe not even as well-to-do as that…)

Somehow, I can’t imagine that any track in the increasingly trendy and sanitized Bay Area could match up to Charles Town or Laurel or Timonium. No doubt, the uptight soccer moms of Marin County would be horrified at the idea of a child visiting such a place. It’s just too real for our sophisticated palates. I envision lattes and biscotti and sandwiches on focaccia.

But maybe I’m wrong. Anybody wanna check it out with me? Casino gambling bores me. Dog racing horrifies me. But I could be in the mood to hang out with the horses this week.

Ever wonder what I mean by “Financial District yuppie scumbag”? Here’s a classic, almost cliché example I witnessed today in the actual Financial District involving an actual yuppie scumbag:

Biff was sitting in his BMW, chatting away on his cell phone. He was double-parked in the path of a bus. The bus could not get around him. The bus driver blew his horn.

Biff was obviously unconcerned about anything but his conversation, and about making sure everyone knew he was more important than any of the lowly slobs on the bus. Biff would not move. Period. After a few minutes, Biff even got out of his BMW to yell at the bus driver rather than move his car ten feet.

Biff is an asshole. Biff deserved to have things thrown at him by the passengers on the bus. Biff is so self-obsessed that he believed himself to be the victim (“how dare he interrupt my important business call”) even though Biff himself was clearly the one in the wrong.

Biff reminds me of another Financial District yuppie scumbag (let’s call her “Muffy”) who once threatened to sue ME when I grabbed her hands and told her to stop poking me in the face and screaming at me.

Biff and Muffy are becoming way too common in San Francisco these days.

Biff and Muffy must be stopped.

I’m re-furnishing my house courtesy of Sarah and Brad. So far I’ve added the coolest butterfly chair in the world as well as a drafting table. They’re great…sort of like a surrogate aunt and uncle. Except that they’re both younger than I am. And they have cooler stuff than my aunts and uncles.

Strangely sociable weekend. Went to Jack’s in the Mission Friday night to see Rae and Michael as they visited from Portland, along with Dawson, Paula, Shawn and two other very nice people whose names I now do not remember. There are more pictures. They’re not significantly better than the one above. Dark bars do not photograph well.

On Saturday, I had dinner with the ex-roomie and visited my former sofa. The sofa seems very happy in its new home. It has lots of light and a new blanket and a bigger TV. It also has an adjacent futon with which to pass time during the day. It’s a happy sofa indeed. Dan seems pretty happy too.