Oh Boy. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh GOD I just came. That’s how good this shit is.
The sauce. The Whole FUCKING shabang sauce. If they bottled that sauce and sold it, they would make bank. When I eat there with my family, my dad always takes the leftover sauce home. While at first I thought it was gross, I found myself putting it on my rice for breakfast the next morning.
The crab, the shrimp, the oysters. The aroma when you open the front door. Everything about this place makes me salivate.
The only thing missing is a hand washing station.
Seafood enthusiasts beware: eating here will likely ruin your seafood experiences anywhere else. You will forever compare all seafood to Boiling Crab. Everyone, make like PacMan and eat those shrimp carcasses like there’s no tomorrow.
Today I went to Folsom Street Fair to serve up some safe sex for the masses with API Wellness. I love how open everyone is with their ‘I don’t give a fuck what you think’ kind of attitude. I didn’t get a chance to buy the gag I wanted ‘cause finding an atm machine there was hellish.
The dom-sub couple doing a demo at our booth were UH-MAZING. The dominatrix was just so… GOOD. I’ve never seen someone snap back a condom on someone else’s penis. She also put clothes pins on various parts of the guy’s body, took her whip, and snapped ‘em off one at a time. It was one of those moments where you cringe, but can’t look away, and you’re getting turned on at the same time. Albeit nipple clamps and pinching sensations aren’t my kinda thing, however I LOVE choking. Being on the edge of suffocating and orgasm. For every ‘yuck’ there’s a ‘yum.’ Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.
The only thing I didn’t enjoy was having an unwanted penis almost smashed against you as you’re trying to push through a crowd. Gross.
I can write a whole novel on fetishes and the various other things I saw today, but I’m not a fan of posts longer than this. All in all, I had fun. Saw new things, got turned on, and went home to have sex. As martha stewart would say, “It’s a good thing.”
I got dinged by my coworkers for being a hipster from the mission when I wore my high heeled oxfords to work.
I don’t know the exact definition of it, but I’m definitely not one of them. I love their style, but I don’t know what they’re about. I admit I have an aversion towards them solely based on the fact that they’re ruining the diversity in my neighborhood. Why does a bar called “El Amigo” have white yuppie hipsters as the main audience? Why did my sushi guy named ‘Yo’ get replaced by another sushi place whose chefs and customers are both white?
I’ll take some humiliation with my gentrification, please.
I know, I need to get off my horse. It’s just that I grew up in the mission and when I realized that some white folk a few blocks up are racist it made me mad. Taking my little cousin trick or treating and having a house that was welcoming all other (white) children NOT open their door for the ‘crazy asians’ pissed me off.
Bottom line is: hipsters make me think of white people, make me think of racism, makes me wonder why they moved to a heavily latin neighborhood in the first place.
I like white people I promise. Racism and ignorance just pisses me off. That’s all.
It’s annoying how buttons are on opposite sides for men’s and women’s shirts. If you don’t do laundry for men or haven’t ever tried to play the, “let-me-wear-my-boyfriends-button-up-and-nothing-else-to-feel-sexy” look, then you probably haven’t noticed the button thing I’m talking about. Ladies, if you don’t believe me, try a guys shirt on. You’ll have a hell of time buttoning that shit up. I’m mentioning this because my coworker didn’t believe me (psh, men).
I always thought the button thing was because women were used to buttoning up men’s shirts for them back in the day and they made it opposite for women since our hands were ‘used to it.’ Doing a google search I came across this:
Mens’ buttons are on the right side because men have always tended to dress themselves and most men (and women, for that matter) are right-handed.
Womens’ buttons are on the left side because years ago (say, during the Victorian Era), the women that could afford fancy clothing with a bunch of buttons would rely on maids to help dress them. So, if a servant (most of whom, naturally, would be right-handed) is going to routinely buttoning up a shirt/dress for someone else, that servant is going to prefer to have the buttons on their right side (which would be the left side of the garment).
Either way, this occurrence is because a woman of a lower standing buttoned your shirt for you in the past. Go figure.
- I started this book where I write down 'stuff my boyfriend says.' Here's the latest entry for your entertainment. This was through text.
- Me: Watch the Giants game right now, they're doing hella good.
- Adrian: No, it's okay. I'm watching iCarly.
- Me: *smh* That's going in the book.
- Adrian: :(
He kinda played an important hand in the invention of the blow up doll. He didn’t want his soldiers catching STIs (better known as VD in those days) from random whores. Similar to how soldiers are given condoms nowadays, Hitler gave his guys blow up dolls. They had blonde hair and blue eyes of course, ‘cause you know, that’s all he liked. He burned everything else in an oven.
Although he was an all around bad guy, I can slightly admire his concern for the health of his soldiers. Slightly. Other than that I say fuck that mother ‘fuhrer.’ I get my small revenge on the Nazis while playing kino on black ops. God I need to stop playing that shit.
- SanDiego: blah blah blah, sports psychology, blah blah blah, i love San Diego teams.
- Me: Giants swept the Padres.
- SanDiego: Why you gotta go there?
- Me: :)