One-way colour tunnel, originally uploaded by hambox.

• My great friend Sybil braving the Bay Bridge and the myriad of asshole drivers to pick me up at Oakland Airport

• Forcing Sybil to then drive all the way to the Richmond to my favorite Pho place. I would not resort to this if Ventura County would just step up with some decent Viet food (and asian food in general, ahem)
• Forcing Sybil to then drive all the way to the Sunset to meet DP for soy lattes and cookies
• Eating at Slow Club with Molly and catching up on our newly (and surprisingly) interesting lives. In every version of every alternate universe, Molly and I are at Slow Club, catching up.

• Going to a party full of Burning Man one-week-later people. I stole a big handful of glowsticks. Next.

• The main event: Bryce‘s birthday party at the Climate Theater. Unfortunately, the space got doublebooked with a party of (you guessed it) Burning Man a-holes. I tried not to kick the fun-furred asses of the interlopers freeloading our booze.
• Hugging and kissing my friends in a deep and meaningful manner. How I miss my SF improv peeps.
• Taking my pants off and whirling them above my head to whooping onlookers. [no image available]

• Sunday brunch at St. Francis Fountain with MM, and John and Stacey. I spied the sparkler immediately but patiently waited till they told me themselves: engaged! I have been secretly hoping for this from the first minute I saw them together.

• Olafur Eliasson’s “Take Your Time” exhibit at the San Francisco MOMA. I was intrigued by the “participatory experience” angle but apprehensive at the word “moisture”. But no worries: it was great, even the moisture.

• Daiso!

• Beard Papa creme puffs — my maiden voyage. A vanilla one. Then a green tea one. Another thing to be angry at Ventura about. Why don’t we get Japanese creme puff stores?
• A near-fiasco trying to get home, with United Airlines being at its most dreadful United Airline-i-est. But I got home, indeed I did.

• I have to wear flip flops at work today, as I hobbled my feet this weekend with the jumping and hugging and cavorting. I wore flip flops to work today, which means my sartorial standards have entered the handbasket bound for hell.