NORTH BEACH HAPPY HOUR

First of all, special thanks must go to MoFo [above] for last night. Here's why...

A friend of mine from law school, MaRe, and his wife, DoRe, just had a baby about ten weeks ago. DoRe left for Texas this week, so I had a chance to see MaRe for the first time in a long while, at a Happy Hour at the Columbus Cafe in San Francisco's North Beach neighborhood. So the plan was to meet for a couple drinks, and then I was going to pick up MoFo for a movie.

Man, do they serve large margaritas at the Columbus Cafe. I mean, wow, these margaritas came in pint glasses. Needless to say, I had a good buzz going (hadn't eaten dinner by this point). I'm waiting for a call from MoFo, oblivious to the fact that my cell phone had no reception in the bar - missed the movie, but kudos to MoFo for so being cool about it. Ended up drinking wine and eating quality hummus back at her place... and then by 1:30 a.m., I found myself facing "Bucky" the mechanical bull with VeGa, my driver for the late night to next morning's hours. I'd write more about it now, but the thought of Bucky is making my stomach turn. Pardon me. Will continue this when I feel human again.

RYE, RYE, BIRDIE TO THE AMphoto by Greg L

MeRe and I went to one of her favorite establishments, Rye, across the street from the Ambassador (which is my least favorite place in SF). Rye is great - great bartenders; ergo, great drinks. Sweet style, cool crowd. The Ambassador, while a city favorite for Euro-trash, sluts & posers, can learn something from its neighbor across the street.

I made it there following a happy hour in the peninsula, a place called... oh damn, it's happening again. I really need to fix my camera so that I can take photos of the names of places I go to.

CaGa BOOM-ZEE-AY!

or

JeDa NIGHTS

or

DO-MeRe-MARTINI

A man of leisure could never find a better friend than the woman who is CaGa. That's a photo of her (above) sipping a bloody [spoken through clenched teeth, of course] at Perry's on Union Street. Very tasty, by the way. The Bloody Mary, that is. CaGa, too, I suppose, but I think a better term to describe her is (using her own catch-phrase) "Super-fabulous." She will be in charge of IMOL's stylistic concerns once corporate sponsors start pouring in the $$ for all these links I keep providing you the reader. I love her ideas for my new business card, too. It's going to be black with fancy letters. Can't wait to start passing them out.

Until then, she has instructed me to not include any more cell phone camera shots in this blog and to tuck in my shirt. We'll see if with that the people at Skyy Vodka will start paying attention finally.

A shout out to JeDa, whose birthday it is today - even though it's been years since we've seen each other, you can't say I ever forget... and thanks too for supporting my writing endeavors, as always, by reading this blog.

Oh, and I think it's time for a survey again:

MeRe turned me onto dirty martini's, so I'm leaning towards this drink as my personal potent potable. I also always enjoyed listening to her tell the bartender, "I want it dirty, dirty - just when you think it's dirty enough, go ahead and make it dirtier."

So... if San Francisco's Skyy Vodka ends up sponsoring International Woman of Leisure instead of me - what should IMOL's signature drink be and how should the order be uttered?

a) "Pour me an Absolut Dirty Martini, please.";

b) "I'll have a Dirty Bird, thank you." (Grey Goose);

c) "Belvedere... up but far from clear.";

d) "Pearl, please, not white or black... but as green as you can make it."

e) "Findlandia... filthy, shaken and stirred."

Or maybe I should just have MeRe order my drinks for me...