Sunday, March 23, 2008

Just Another Manic Sunday

You can't re-set your cat. We moved the clocks ahead, but her hours have not changed.

Truffle began her daily torture ritual at 5:00 this morning, stomping back and forth in my hair near the roots for maximum pain. I covered my head with a pillow, leaving a small opening to breathe and she jumped over me a few times, working up momentum to bite my nose. We engaged in hand-to-paw combat for about an hour until I gave up and fed her. I always do eventually. She knows this. Her tactics have never failed and she could teach those amateurs at Guantanamo a thing or two.

I went back to bed but the cat came back, just like the song says. She gave me the pleasure of her company by resettling in my hair so I could enjoy her hot tuna breath while whipping my face with her tail. Truffle is good at multitasking.

I know where that tail has been, and I know that she either loves or hates me; I'm just not sure which.

There was no chance of going back to sleep. There never is, so I made coffee, played at my computer for a few hours and went for a walk.

Spring brings out the songbirds and the push-up bras, the twin strollers and topiary poodles.

As two girls strutted by, one made air quotes and announced, "I'm having a Britney day."

A 1960 muffler-free white Thunderbird convertible with the top down patrolled the main thoroughfare. A voluntary blond standing on the seat lifted her tank top and screamed, "It's SUNDAY!!"

People at sidewalk cafes cheered. It's amazing what bare boobs can do.

Later, I happened upon an Easter Parade on a street with craft and food stalls, fire engines, cable car rides, a petting zoo and antique cars whose passengers brandished Easter bonnets evocative of Chiquita Banana and the Jolly Green Giant doing weird stuff to each other. Cranky Shetland ponies plodded miserably around a small ring with kicking children on their backs.

There was more disco music than I've heard since the 70's, sounding as bad as ever.

If someone from another planet had chanced upon this event and seen children of every ethnicity screaming in unison, the extraterrestrial would have thought that this was a happy, joyful planet where everyone got along magnificently.

So what's wrong with this picture?

I regret missing the Easter celebration in the famous Castro District which featured a Hunky Jesus contest run by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

In a shocking new development, I didn't win the Lottery. Again. This is getting old.

I am the kind of person who used to be genuinely surprised when I didn't win the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes. I bought magazines to ensure it.

Then I discovered bigger game, the California Super Lotto Plus.

It's my new religion.

When I give them $1.00, I expect them to give me millions of dollars in exchange. Don't they understand that?

In my dark nights of the soul, I have suspicions that nobody really wins these things. After all, does anyone actually know somebody who won a lottery? I think not.

Flip has suggested that I simply throw my dollar in the street where it might do somebody some good.

He says my attitude is wrong, that I shouldn't think of it as a reciprocal deal when I buy my tickets. I always buy them at the corner liquor store from real people with faces because when I win, they will also benefit nicely. I don't believe that anyone has ever won a lottery with a ticket purchased at the supermarket. Besides, Safeway doesn't need my dollar. They are already into me for vastly overpriced bananas, toilet paper and daffodils.

Safeway is the thug of supermarkets with a monopoly in several neighborhoods. They not only price gauge with impunity, their registers are set to add a few dollars to random transactions. They are counting on the fact that most people don't add up their receipts when they get home or if they do notice a discrepancy, won't confront them.

I only check my receipts when they seem horrifically out of line even for Safeway, but they are wrong often enough to make me suspicious. The error is never in my favor.

Still, life gives us consolations.

The wondrous Claudia at On a Limb with Claudia has given me the Blogging Mentor Award, which is funny because I always thought it was the other way around. Claudia is witty, compassionate, curious about everything and extremely supportive of other bloggers, so receiving this particular award from her is deeply meaningful.

She also gave me the Friendly Site Award and the Spreading the Love Award, which I am happy to share with all who visit her extremely friendly site, Everyday Kindness.

Thank you for so much glorious loot attention, Claudia! Your confidence in me gives me much to live up to.

I showed Flip my new awards but he was not impressed. He said he would rather I'd won the '60 T-Bird. So how about it, Claudia?

I am not going to single out anyone for these awards because your sites are all friendly or I wouldn't visit them. I learn from each of you, so you are all my mentors. Therefore, please consider yourselves awarded any or all of these honors, and add them to your sidebars.

I would like to call your attention to a new blog I've just discovered, Gefilte Fish Blues. If Philip Roth met David Sedaris, their love-child might be Jonah K. Haslap. He is a gorgeous writer whose talent is so impressive that I would be wildly envious if he didn't make me laugh so hard. Laughing trumps brooding any day, so please check him out and remember -- I told you so!


thailandchani said...

Your cat and my dog must have learned at the same school. But it's okay. She puts up with me and that should earn her some merit, although I admit she'd change her wake/sleep pattern.. just a little.. maybe.

I'll check out the blog recommend. Thanks. :)

Anonymous said...

Good Lord, why are those children in a cage? It's a strange, starange world we live in.

meno said...

Sometimes, just to let my cat know who is in charge, i throw him out when he starts whining at 4am. But usually, i just feed him.

So who has trained who?

meggie said...

Nice Awards, Congratulations!
I enjoyed your cat. My Mother was a great cat lover, & some of her cats were downright indecent to her.
One of them, however, used to warn her when her electric jug element was about to burn out, so she saved her billions of dollars! I kid you not!

EsLocura said...

cats are always in charge, that's just the way it is, acceptance of this fact just makes things easier. My cat has decided that my only purpose in life is to keep him entertained and fed. When I forget my purpose he bounces on me with vengeance. As for push up bras, those are part of the everyday wardrobe here year round. Damn it wish it only happened at spring time.

furiousBall said...

I say we poke those kids with sticks whilst wearing GOP candidate masks and then unleash them in all their maddened glory at the golf course.

Snoskred said...

This is why we changed feeding time to dinner time instead of breakfast time. ;)

It is still daylight saving here and the little kitty likes to climb into the bedroom window making all the blinds clink together to watch the birds outside as soon as the sun rises.

As yet I have not managed to convince the birds to turn up later in the day.

It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't meow at them and wildy wave her tail when she sees them making the blinds clink more..


RED MOJO said...

I saw you on Johah's blog the other day. Did you follow the link from my blog? He IS a fabulous writer. I've already told him he should write a book.
My cat used to chew my hair off. I'd wake up to chewed frizzled stubs of hair, it was horrifying. I had to wear a doo-rag to bed.

Christy said...

Hot tuna breath would cause me to have a "britney day" lol

Anonymous said...

Your slow, normal, everyday life is oodles more exciting than my most exciting of days!

I am with Flip on the lottery dollars -- just throw it in the street. Your chances of a million dollar return is about the same. You can at least sit and watch your dollar do something there in the street.

I love the idea that with spring comes "the songbirds and the push-up bras, the twin strollers and topiary poodles" -- how perfect. You may get a showing of bare boobs in CA, here in IL, we are still being flashed by parkas and whoolies.

heartinsanfrancisco said...


When Truffle is hungry and no one is in bed, she jiggles drawer pulls and clanks handles on several pieces of furniture, like the Stations of the Cross, until she gets results.


I think it's supposed to be a giant Easter egg, but your statement still applies.


I'm sure your cat already knows who's in charge -- him.


How wonderful! We keep waiting for Truffle to warn us of impending doom, saying, "Speak, Lassie."

She regards us with pity.


You know what they say: Dogs have owners, cats have staff.

Maybe I'll buy four tiny push-up bras for Truffle.


Oh, no, not the John McCain Monster! Uh oh.


Your cat gets fed only once a day? Truffle would report me. She is 18 years old. She gets fed on demand and takes full advantage of it.

I wish the birds would carry her off in the early morning (and bring her back, of course, when I'm awake.)


Jonah commented to my last post and I followed him home, where I saw that you had been there, too.

He's a marvelous writer who takes my breath away, which is probably dangerous while laughing.

What's a doo-rag? And do(o) I want to know?


And don't forget the tail wth its potential to drop bits of litter on me while I sleep.


Flashed by parkas and whoolies. How sexy.

My money in the street would have a predictable outcome: a pint of something at the corner liquor store where I buy my lottery tickets.

One way or another, my money is going to the same place. All roads lead to Rome.

Anonymous said...

I'm always so disappointed when I don't win the Lottery. I didn't really believe that others felt the same way since it's all about ME and I'm the one who's supposed to win to make up for the 'switched at birth' scenario that really happened to me (I'm a princess - not the child of middle class parents.)

I want a cat but I REFUSE to pay the $200 NONREFUNDABLE pet fee the management of my apartment complex has insisted on taking from its' residents. Security for damages would be fine, but NONREFUNDABLE is unnacceptable to me. I suppose I'm in need of a 'safe word' relationship and a cat would fill the bill better than a guy. (eg: Hot tuna breath in the morning might force me to invoke the safe word)

As soon as the temperature is above 40 or so, the hootchies of Atlanta come out to share.

WNG said...

Ok - that was worth waiting for!!! Yes, it is amazing what bare breasts can do. You crack me up, Hearts.

By the way - the hair sleeping thing is one of the many problems I have with cats (who somehow know this and love to love me).

Rachel said...

"Topiary poodles"! LOL.
I nearly peed myself giggling at that phrase. Its the most perfect description of those poor ridiculous-looking dogs.

heartinsanfrancisco said...


Einstein said, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

Hopefully, one of us will win one of these days and we can go to a nice, posh asylum.

I thought you had a cat, a gray one.

That is a totally unfair requirement. Pets are not allowed here at all, but there are 3 cats in the building that I know of. It would be impossible to bootleg a dog in, or Truffie would have a roommate.


Truthfully, I wouldn't have thought those breasts were anything to cheer for but what do I know?

Truffle also uses my prone body for a treadmill. In fact, I am a whole playground to this animal who weighs about 7 pounds.


Dogs should not be topiary. The poodle clip is silliest on Standard Poodles who are too large for such idiocy, and smart enough to be embarrassed.

Rachel said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Open Grove Claudia said...

I love your posts about your walks around the neighborhood. They are so bright and fun. I wish I could give you a thunderbird, but let's face it. You live in SF - You'll never find parking!

heartinsanfrancisco said...


Excuses, excuses...

Nick said...

Wow, are the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence still going? That's brilliant. I remember them from London decades ago. They were a wonderful iconoclastic blast against stifling religious dictums. I'd love to have seen the Hunky Jesus contest!

Jonah K. Haslap said...

Although I am quite perturbed at you (query: can you be perturbed at someone? mark for future nonsensical blog entry) for putting the image of a naked Philip Roth in my head -- if Everyman looked like that, I'd be straight -- I very much appreciate the compliment, which was possibly the nicest thing anyone's ever said about my writing.

And it means even more coming from a fellow witty misanthrope who, like myself, clearly uses humor as a defense mechanism, which, according to my therapist sister, is an unhealthy characteristic. Apparently getting drunk on boxed wine every weekday is a more constructive way of dealing with your problems.

Heart in San Francisco, you could be my soul mate, except I hate cats, and I'm too risk adverse to play the lotto.

heartinsanfrancisco said...


They are indeed still alive and kicking as much as possible in nine-inch heels under their habits.


I lacked the vocabulary to say enough good things about your writing, which doesn't happen very often.

Claire Bloom, an exquisite woman, being English must have invented that national characteristic of closing her eyes and thinking patriotic thoughts in times of duress.

Your sister may be right but I'm allergic to liquor, boxed or otherwise presented, so my options are limited.

I think I have my risky addiction under control, though. (They always say that. Ask your sister.) That single dollar wagered twice a week is all the anxiety I can handle.

Ian Lidster said...

And it's true -- it is amazing what bare boobs can do, I have always found and never changed in that.
On the other hand, dear friend, I absolutely loved reading every world of your Easter travels. You are what blogging is all about and you handle it with such elan, flair, creativity and sense of fun. Damn, I wish you lived on my block just so I could hang out with you once in a while.
And, to top it off, you actually saw Paul Scofield in the flesh. I seethe with envy.
Congrats on all your awards. You deserve them and more.

The CEO said...

please stop by my blog. It might be repetitious, but well deserved.

heartinsanfrancisco said...


I did see Paul Scofield. I was a very young actor at the time so it was particularly thrilling to see what a consummate master of the craft could do.

Kind of like those bare boobs.


Thank you so much for the lovely Nascar-like decorations. My blog looks far more colorful than it is.

Jocelyn said...

You are so springy through all the various corners of this post! I love that feeling of having gone on a walk with you...and now I'm letting my fingers walk me over to that blog you recommend. YAY!

heartinsanfrancisco said...


I think you'll be impressed. The man is A Writer.

NoRegrets said...

I do wish cats would learn how to tell time, and not go by their internal clocks...

MsLittlePea said...

When I was 16, a girl who went to my highschool won, well, actually her father won the lottery. But they were rich already so I'm not sure it should count.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

No Regrets,

They know how to tell time very well. If they are hungry, it is time.

Sweet Pea,

Isn't it always the ones who don't need it who win? What's with that, anyway?

Wanderlust Scarlett said...

So you've partly bought into the conspiracy theory, but not to the point that you'll stop buying lottery tickets.

Ok. That's decent balance.
Hopefully it will help you win the pot.

Then I can say I know someone who got it.

Scarlett & Viaggiatore

heartinsanfrancisco said...


Conspiracy theory? 'Splain yourself, Lucy.

RED MOJO said...

A doo-rag is a little skull cap type thing made of hosery material. Not sexy!

heartinsanfrancisco said...


Like bank robbers use to cover their faces? Definitely not sexy. Guns are not sexy either.

Thank you for educating me on the finer points of head gear.