Couples Massage....huh?

Spoiler alert: No "Happy Endings" are involved in this story!

Oh the things we do for those we love. A few months back, Charlie and his girlfriend were able to get a deal on a couples massage that they loved. So much so, that Charlie will randomly bring up how amazing it was and that we should all go.  Well, (unfortunately?) it landed into the ears of the Crow who decided to squawk it out to me when we were walking through a particularly scuzzy section of the Tenderloin, littered with "massage parlors". 

What kind of shower are we talking???

We usually make the random stereotypical Asian massage girl / happy ending jokes every time we pass these places but this time the Crow actually said, "hey we should get one of those". I looked at him curiously, "what, crabs? Herpasyphilitis? Bedbugs"? He started laughing, "No, a couples massage. You know, like Charlie was talking about". When I think of couples massages I think of a Cialis commercial or one of those creepy communes. But I'm trying to be more open to new experiences (within limits) and Charlie IS pretty convincing. Plus I remembered that the Crow had been having some back problems so I said, "lets do it! I'll take care of everything...but not in the TL. I haven't gotten my rabies shot in awhile". He looked as happy as a fat kid at the ice cream truck and all I saw were dollar signs.

Now for the record, I am NOT against massage. I fully believe in the health benefits and recognize how hard massaging people can be on your hands. Having said that, it's fucking expensive! Justifiably but still, my cheap ass is just as happy "treating myself" to those Asian dudes at the mall with the $12 chair "massages" that leave you looking like you have scoliosis.

I see she went to the place at the mall too...

Still, I love the Crow so I took my cheap hat off and booked us a massage at one of the massage chains in the city. After having the receptionist comment that the Crow's real name sounded like a supervillian's name, we were taken to our massage room where we greeted by warm temperatures and Chinese violin music. It was supposed to be calming but we kept making fun of it...like people do when they're out-priced for a service. As the Crow was stripping down he paused, "so uh, do we go totally naked"? Huh, you know they don't mention this in massage etiquette so I just used common sense...and humor. "You go as low as you want...but I WILL be peeking!" After a guffaw, we agreed to stick to our undies and got our massages. Luckily, the Crow had an amazing experience that he went on and on about. I on the other hand left looking...like I have scoliosis! Damnit, my masseuse sucked! I had pain in my feet that I didn't know I could have and an over-massaged head (yes, that really happens)!

So as the Crow and I walked hand-in-hand back towards the ghetto, talking about how we need to do more "couple" things together, I suggested skydiving. I figure maybe I'll be flailing so much that I'll be able to put all my muscles back into place. Oh, the things we do for love....

Cracky Tales...or the Crow Flies His Nest

I don't write very much about the boyfriend and don't plan to. However, I felt the need to use this story as an example of a phenomenon that happens to many people in San Francisco (myself included) - eventual disgust with your neighborhood. The Crow lives in the deep Tenderloin where it's not the safest place to be a tall, skinny white guy. Still, he's done pretty well there (and by that I mean his car has only been broken into once) and between us, it's not as dangerous of a neighborhood as people think. The crackheads and drug dealers get used to you and pretty much leave you alone but their presence is never forgotten or ignored and after awhile, the neighborhood actual grew on the Crow and I. We found diamonds in the rough like Hookers Sweet Treats, Italian Food by an Asian dude, and of course, where I met my funny drummer boy. He made a less than ideal situation work...for a time but slowly the bad started to outweigh the good and mid-conversation between us the other night he spouted out "oh, by the way I'm moving! Not sure where yet but I'm done with the TL". Being the awesome girlfriend that I am, I smiled and was encouraging even though he had no plan - I understood.

This is your brain on living in the Tenderloin for more than a year...any questions?

You get to a point in this city when you look around and realize where you physically lay your head sucks and that you can do better. I equate it to realizing you have a girlfriend who really let herself go or a boyfriend who does nothing but play video games (asshats)! So as we explore places where the Crow can begin again in this city (living together again is not an option...yet), we're also spending the month on a "Final Tour of the Tenderloin"- hitting all of our favorite spots, saying bye to our favorite crackheads (I'll miss you Cracky McCrackerson!) and playing our favorite game: Hooker, Ho or Guy (referencing the "prostitutes" on Larkin Street).

Hmmmm....I'm stumped

As someone who was too recently on the other side of an apartment hunt - I don't envy him in the least. It has been sad packing up the Crow's Nest (very rare to have your OWN studio apartment in this city...even in the ghetto) but everything's gotta change and I'm proud of my guy for embracing this so much. Still, I think he'll always look fondly over his time in the ghetto and it still didn't stop me from getting him one of these for Festivus.

Cuz you know, you still gotta represent!

The Aftermath....

Wholly shit! Almost three weeks later, I still feel like I've been hit by a midget with a wiffle-ball bat.

Close...oh how I love Marlon Wayans

When last your hero left you, the Giants we're headed to the World Series where they not only won, they fucking destroyed! Now I know I said that I was going to drink and party my ass off while potentially hugging random strangers but life didn't quite work out that way. As I made my way to a bar on the night of the first game I realized that I just - wasn't. feeling. it. I'm not quite sure what happened to all my enthusiasm but I just didn't have the party spirit - especially after it became brutally apparent that the Tigers weren't even putting up a fight. So I passively watched the game at home with Superfan Gangster Tom or at work with Superfan Boss. Although, to be fair I did watch Sergio Romo throw the final out at Tommy's Joynt with some random superfans and a very annoyed non-sports fan Crow who just wanted his fucking meatloaf dammit! I cheered, I hugged, I hi-fived and then I walked back to the Crow's nest in the Tenderloin while telling him of my adventures earlier in the evening at the Civic Center (luckily, he and I left minutes before the rioting).

 Yeah, this shit...no wonder the rest of country hates us

After the smoke cleared, buses didn't have people riding on them anymore and the vomit was sprayed off of the street (except in the Tenderloin where that's just a normal Monday), was the Giants ticker-tape parade! Now THAT I was excited for - hanging out and cheering with Tone and the family. Yeah, it was going to rock, except...it turns out all these years of cultivating this evil persona were about to backfire. My office was empty on the day of the parade and yet, SOMEONE had to stay. It wasn't about to be my boss - she is a SUPERFAN and offered to pay me to wait overnight outside to get a good spot (it rained so I had to decline) so it came down to me...and another big Giants fan. A fan whose boyfriend managed to get the day off from his impossible job so they could enjoy the parade together. I heard this story and as she was ready to call her boyfriend to say she couldn't go I found myself saying "take my parade spot, I'll stay". I'm still not sure how I got that out through clenched teeth but there I was, the day before the parade telling Tone that I couldn't make it because I did a "nice thing". Luckily, Tone and Leanna understood because they're badass like that and I was able to go spend the early morning before the parade with them and Mainee so I could at least pretend I didn't miss it...again.

I feel like I should mention the parade was also on Halloween. Yeah...that's why I look like that.

So I watched it from the 20th floor, drank my Starfucks because I'm corporate like that with my coffee (suck it coffee snobs!) and felt the strange satisfaction of doing a "good thing". Since then we've all had to deal with election bullshit (I don't care about your politics and you damn sure don't care about mine), I'm swamped with homework (I did NOT think I'd ever be able to use that excuse again), and part of my favorite radio show gang is missing (come back Arnie!). So here I sit (not at Starfucks) - trying to catch up on my life, planning birthdays and football related mayhem. Someday soon I'll be back to random ghetto stories. In the meantime, I've put my Giants hat away for the season and am trying to find a Niners beanie...and a good cherry-almond muffin. Oh, and NOW I'm not doing anymore sports posts for awhile. :)