The First Rule of Berkeley Book Readings is Don't Talk about the Line

I've been getting some strange comments from the guys at work. They're all having trouble understanding my 'accent' - apparently, the 'toilet paper English' Australians speak is hard for Americans to comprehend.

Anyway, moving Backwards...

Last night - After my first gym session since arriving: obligatory Tales of the City checkoff moment (a drink at The Stud II), followed by dinner and drinks with a pastry chef cum architect in the Castro. Fabulous new recipes for salads and desserts, and getting taught 8-ball and 9-ball at the pool table at Moby Dick's.

Wednesday morning - Franciscan monk spotted on the corner of Church & 14th. As is typical, wearing red laptop satchel and wearing a NY Yankees baseball cap. Franciscans in San Francisco - who would've thought?

Sunday afternoon - the boys from the office hired a car and took me around town. Saw the most amazing view from Twin Peaks of the city (it was a fogless day, and I typically forgot my camera), and had hamburgers from this fantastic hole in the wall in Sausalito after sleazing over hot men on the beach in Marin County. This was then followed by a couple of drinks at The Mix. The weirdest thing? Toss up - meeting a meek drag queen or a man who begged I sleep with his ex so that he could get some sex...

Saturday - After crawling out of bed at 3pm, went for late brunch at the Grove on Fillmore
(Pacific Heights) - really nice! Then stumbled through Chinatown and upper downtown til I eventually found Union Square. Met the Support Diva, and she took me with her to a book reading by Chuck Palahniuk at UC Berkeley. (photos on the Flickr account)

The sight of all those aspiring writers did something to us. The Diva and I came up with a great introductory speech ("You really think you can make it as a writer? Well, you can't!! It's too hard a life - just ask this schmuck..."). Then I managed to fall asleep during one of the readings. Thank God I don't snore. Oh, and he threw out fake dismembered limbs and plastic hamburgers at the end of the event. I have a hamburger - got it signed, but only after a TWO HOUR wait in the line. Diva and I were so insane by the end (and they didn't even have the decency to offer drinks while we waited), that she asked him if there might be some mistake, but does he realise the second rule of Fight Club is the same as the first?

One last thing - you could take photos with the author, but only if one of you held a veil and a bouquet. The Diva went through that once, thank you very much, so it was my turn apparently. Worst part of the evening, tho? Getting back to SF at 1am, having missed all the Cinco de Mayo celebrations across the city...Eh, at least I have a signed hamburger.

Friday - a rather inebriating dinner at a coworker's house (including my white shirt being bled on by his pet chihuahua), followed by dancing at the Endup. Met the hottest straight Irishman on earth, then his best friend (I think Busty would well like him, too). Then the hot boy set me up with a spunky primary elementary school teacher. Didn't realise the teacher was 46yo until 3pm the next day - he seriously looked like he was in his early thirties. Oops!