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Friday, Eliza and I hoofed around The Mission and The Castro. Highlights here included a store called 826 Valencia, which was ostensibly a Pirate Supply store, but it felt more like a headquarters for McSweeney’s. I think McSweeney’s is published out in SF, right? There were very funny lists posted around the place — things like “How Ned Lost His Eye” and “What To Do If You Are Being Mopped.” And everything had an old-timey McSweeny’s-ish typeface, and they sold most of the back issues. I refuse to conduct the very small amount of research necessary to answer this question.

We also saw a sci-fi/horror bookstore that featured a hairless cat. It was creepy and adorable.

By the way, I was out there because Eliza, along with Glennis and Travis, were performing their musical improv act (I Eat Pandas) as part of the San Francisco Improv Festival. I love watching Pandas shows — they are always great, and the audience eats it up. Saturday night they almost got a standing ovation. A sample of the songs that were made up over the course of the three nights: “Being a Ballerina Is Fucking Hard”, “Temple of Ha, Retold” and “Everyone I Work With Has Mustaches.” Pictures, from the festival, here.

Saturday, Eliza was teaching a workshop so I went to see a Giants baseball game. Beautiful day, and I just walked up to the box office an hour before the first pitch and bought a $39 ticket which was 6 rows from the field. Much easier than getting tickets to Fenway, or even Yankee Stadium. I treated the game like an expensive picnic. I bought a hamburger and spent much of the afternoon reading my book, Son of Groucho. At one point Barry Bonds stole a base — a rarity now that he is old and presumedly off of steroids. I missed it since I was reading, but shot my head up when the crowd roared. “What happened?” I asked to no one in particular. “Bonds stole second,” said a guy in the row behind me. “Shouldn’t be reading when Bonds is on base.” I guess he was right! But I kept reading anyway. Good book!

Saturday night, the SF Improv Festival headed out for a night of karoke-ing. Shaun Landry and her husband Hans (who had nicely taken Eliza and I out to dinner Wednesday night) led the charge to some place deep in the mostly gay Castro neighborhood. This place had a small, but very hip list of songs to sing. I belted out Elvis Costello’s “The Angels Want To Wear My Red Shoes” mostly because I couldn’t believe it was available for singing. I believe this is me in the midst of singing it, actually.

Today on the flight home we watched 16 Blocks, directed by Richard Donner, who directed the original Superman movie, which is far better than the Superman movie that is out now. 16 Blocks was pretty damn good, I thought!

And now I am home. The cats are excitedly running back and forth and meowing.

| Tags: eliza, san francisco