Archive for March, 2008

They’ll probably even find a few pre-cancerous polyps up in there

We’ve been doing boring, grown-up things over in these parts lately. Things like looking for our own apartment and planning for the future and plucking our ear hair and blah, blah, BLAH. That’s right, people…no more fun times sittin’ at the kids table! It’s all mushy peas and soggy Depends at the grown-ups table from here on out. I wonder if cheese goes well with mushy peas? (Hmm…something to think about while I soak my dentures.)

So we found an apartment…which, at present, is not a trivial task. The way the rental market is right now, potential renters are showing up in droves to see just about anything listed on Craigslist. (200 sq ft studio apartment in Crack-head Ho-town Central? Sweet! Let’s go check it out!) All potential landlords have to do is just sit back and allow the bidding to begin. Some landlords, though, take more pleasure in the competition and make us do unspeakable things for luxuries like hardwood floors, crown moldings, onsite parking and laundry. If he or she even mentions that utilities are included, everyone present starts visibly foaming at the mouth. (It’s frightening out there! Hold me!) I personally had to balance on a small platform over a pit of water and joust my competitor mano a mano for the lease to our apartment, but lucky for me, my opponent had a really high center of gravity and exceptionally bad credit. Poor sap!

The Brit and I don’t move until the end of May, and we’re bummed about the prospect of leaving our house on the hill where we currently live in peace and harmony with our roommates and amongst the squirrels…but we are excited to have our own place. And it’s in the Mission district which is where all my peeps1 live. Where people dance in the streets to show tunes from Westside Story! Where there are produce markets and taquerias just around the corner! Where people mill around aimlessly at night doing somewhat questionable things on the corner…things of which my Mamacusa would likely disapprove! Ooh, and it’s where enidd lives too! Now she and I can meet up for burritos and cerveza whenever our hearts desire! Que bueno!

In the spirit of growing up, we also went and got ourselves a financial planner. Because it’s not enough that we periodically huddle together to point and laugh at our pathetic bank statements and measly investments2…we went and found someone to do it FOR us on a more regular, let’s say…quarterly, basis. Now we don’t need to guess that it’ll take us 30 years to afford owning a house in SF, we have a paid professional to assure us that it’ll take 30 years to afford owning a house in SF! (So this is what peace of mind feels like!)

At this rate, we’ll be scheduling our health maintenance colonoscopies for next week! Won’t that be fun!

1. The ‘spics (aka Los Latinos, The Beaners).
2. And by ‘measly’ I mean ‘imaginary.’



I am giddy with delight over the fact that I have just paid off my last credit card…a card which I have, no doubt, poured unnecessarily and shamefully large amounts of money into in the form of interest payments! SUCK ON THAT CREDIT CARD COMPANY WHICH SHALL REMAIN UNNAMED!!1 HA!

I am dizzy with self-congratulation! I am slightly short of breath from my brief but vigorous victory dance! My arm hurts from patting myself on the back! I just treated myself to a small piece of Dove chocolate in the shape of an Easter egg but I feel it does not suffice!2 I feel the overwhelming need to run out and make an offensively large purchase! And put it on my credit card!!

1. Chase. It was Chase!!!
2. Because let’s be honest, that chocolate was REALLY in celebration of the resurrection of our lord and savior who will hopefully forgive me for the fact that I neither gave anything up for lent nor gained any further spiritual insight this Easter season! Hooray for my damned soul!

It could be totally beautiful, man

Behold the magnificence from the balcony of our rented house atop the hill:


That’s right. There is nary a whiff of fog, nor wind, nor chill. Nothing but pure sun shining down on San Francisco paired with what I can only assume is the faint sound of angels singing somewhere in the distance.

Its days like this when the view from our balcony makes me reconsider the idea that The Brit and I should grow up and get our own place. Why can’t we have roommates for the rest of our lives? We could start growing our own vegetables and armpit hair… put Earth, Wind, and Fire on repeat on the iPOD…we could raise and homeschool each other’s children (who, of course, would have names like Moon and Turnip)…have our own worm compost bin out back…

The hidden truth behind the NC-17 rating

Me: So, remind me…why did we just stay up til 1:30 AM to watch this movie?

The Brit: I don’t know. Because it was an Ang Lee film.

Me: Ang Lee?

The Brit: He made Brokeback Mountain.

Me: Oh, right.

The Brit: Plus I was curious…I’d heard that the sex scenes in this movie were so explicit that the lead actress got banned from ever making another movie in China again.

Me: Seriously? Why? I mean, sure, there was sex. But they didn’t even show anyone’s bits. What exactly deserved the NC-17 rating?

The Brit: Not sure. Probably the fact that she had hairy armpits.

Me: You’re likely right.  Though her horrible taste in men might have had something to do with it too.

I might have worded it differently is all I’m sayin’

Me: I just want you to know that I will blame you entirely if we don’t get that apartment.

The Brit: Why?

Me: Because you just told our potential landlord1 that you once took hip hop dance classes from a…how did you say it? “A flaming gay, extremely obese, black guy?”

The Brit: Yeah? And? I was just making conversation. I think it makes me sound more well-rounded!

Me: Or, alternatively, it makes you sound like a closet gay guy who’s prejudice against the openly gay, African American, corpulent male dance instructors of San Francisco.

1.  We thought about buying a place.  Then we looked at our money, and then at the housing market in SF, and had a good chuckle about it.  So we’ll be renting, then. 

Wedding invitation etiquette

I wasn’t previously aware of this, but apparently, there is a proper way to do a wedding invitation. (Did y’all know this?) And judging from all the wedding website etiquette columns, the people who determine the prerequisites for a proper wedding invitation spend a little too much time at the country club and maybe wear their girdles a bit too tight! I’m thinking that just to spite them, we might forgo their suggestion to spell every last detail out in all capital letters1 and just use all lower case letters. Maybe we’ll include an emoticon throwin’ our favorite gang sign from the west side in there too while we’re at it. Cuz you know that’s how we roll. Sheeeit.

Needless to say, we’re going to break a few of Miss Manners’ rules. But not too many.2 We’re currently at that stage where we’re trying to figure out the invitation wording. And the fonts! Jesus, picking a font is about as fun as picking which sharp weapon an assailant might kill you with. The ice pick or the filet knife? I just can’t decide! Luckily, a lot of the font websites out there let you type in a sample text of your choosing, so you can really get an idea of what the font will look like on your invitation. Here are a few of the phrases and script fonts that we’re contemplating…

More formal:








joy-of-our-marriage.jpg 3


Significantly less formal:











We’re also thinking about creating a separate invite for the small handful of black sheep on my side of the family:

















What do you guys think? Any opinions?

  1. For instance, where most would write “3 PM” they would have you write “THREE PEEE EMMM.”
  2. Because we’re carefully hip that way…in an intentionally non-contrived sort of way, of course.
  3. This wording makes me throw up a little in the back of my throat every time I read it, so it’s definitely out.

The upside of our childless, deckless existence

Dinner at The Brit’s boss’ house went well. What am I talking about??? It went EXTREMELY WELL! Because while all in attendance were busily chatting about topics like Kids These Days!?!? or Should we put an extension on the deck!?!? the cheese plate was left TOTALLY open. And you KNOW I took that shit down town!

Also, I only spilled ONE glass of red wine all over the person sitting next to me. Which is different from most nights out.  Pretty sweet. 


The madness featured here is mine and mine alone. It does not, in any way, reflect the madness of my employers, colleagues, patients, nutty family, or my colorful friends. The privacy of my employers, colleagues, patients, nutty family and colorful friends is sacred & deeply respected, so no names. All words Copyright © la cubana gringa, no method, just madness 2006-2010. All comments © their authors. Don't steal; it's not nice. (And my Grandfather knows people.)

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