I’m Gonna Fuck You, Man!

They’re nose to nose, H and bouncer, a very intimate relationship, when H growls, “You want me to fuck you?” Security guy blinks, says nothing, looks at our friends in confusion.

This is the story of how, after all we’ve been through together, Medjool 86’d me. :(

We went there in the same mood we always do- jubilant, high-spirited, energetic, and ready to dance. The others had preloaded. Ibrahim, after not having had alcohol for several months as a nod to his observant-Muslim homies, decided to celebrate the end of Ramadan by breaking his sober streak in a big way. He drank almost a fifth of vodka immediately after the bottle arrived in the apartment, brought by my boyfriend, H. We quickly confiscated the bottle so the remainder could be put in a drink for H. As H poured his own drink, Ibrahim began dancing around the apartment, singing made-up songs. H and I eyed each other. It was only 8 o’clock and the others hadn’t even arrived yet.

H sipped his mixed drink slowly and rolled several spliffs at a leisurely pace. We planned to bring these out with us and smoke them at intervals throughout the night. There would be no smoking at home because, we concluded, that would just make us sleepy. When we smoke before we go out, we never end up going out.

Ayman, Shaddi, Khalil, and Francisco arrived, and after greetings, we decided to go.

We hadn’t been to Medjool in maybe six months. A couple members of our regular crew had gotten married, others were traveling abroad, and it just wasn’t the same. But with the core group back in town and ready to party, we decided our old haunt was just the place to go.

Continue reading “I’m Gonna Fuck You, Man!”

I’m Down Here, Muthafucka

It’s 10:22 am on Easter Sunday and me and my roommates begin to hear someone yelling outside, “I’m down here!” He then mutters repeatedly, “Where are you, muthafucka?” We peek outside and ascertain that Mr. Black Man with Unrealistically White Shoes has spotted the shoes hanging from the power lines outside our apartment. Or rather, the power lines outside the apartment of the crack dealer who lives across the street. He clearly needs a fix but doesn’t know which apartment the shoes are signaling. So he does the best he can by announcing his presence and hoping for the best.

The guy yells again, in a Barry White voice that booms all the way down to Mission Street, “I’M DOWN HERE!” He then pulls out a wad of money and begins to count it in a very obvious way.

Alas, our neighborhood drug dealer is not awake yet, and Barry White ambles on down the street, muttering and counting his money.

UPDATE: Jack says, “Oh look, drug dealer’s awake. Omg that guy has no pants on. That just ruined my life.”

Benjamin Bratt, Diane Lane Celebrate the Underdog at Mission High School

The People’s History of the United States, written by Howard Zinn, came out in 1980 and has sold over a million copies. Partially because it is filled with primary source material from underdog activists, writers, and other overlooked people, its words are still relevant today.

Last night, Mission High School’s auditorium was filled to capacity and beyond for a reading of this primary source material by actors like Kerry Washington, Benjamin Bratt, Josh Brolin, and Diane Lane. Among the material read was Sojourner Truth’s speech “Ain’t I a Woman” given in 1851 at the Ohio Women’s Rights Convention, Susan B. Anthony’s address to the judge in the case in which she was convicted of casting a ballot, and both Martin Luther King’s and Muhammed Ali’s speeches against the Vietnam War.

The works read were both incredibly poignant and still relevant to our world today. As Frederick Douglass said in 1857, “If there is no struggle, there is no progress.” Zinn, his source materials, and the actors who superbly brought the works to life, have reminded us that it is the underdog who has always changed history, not the powerful.

A film with even more material and even more actors will be coming out shortly, and the website is here.

Medjool Claims New Fan

In fact, any watcher from the mezzanine above could visually separate the Americans from the foreigners just by paying attention to who was yelling the words and who wasn’t.

Ok, I take back every bad thing I ever said about Medjool. Friday night, I had maybe the most fun I ever had at a club. That might be because I don’t really like clubs, but whatever.

The girls were smokin hot, the music was sufficiently kitchy, and there was a nice, bloody fight to finish the evening off. There was a mash-up of The Ting Tings That’s Not My Name and Toni Basil’s Mickey. There was M.I.A.’s Paper Planes, Steve Miller’s The Joker, Sublime’s Santeria, and Beck. Old Beck. Like Loser. And of course, Bon Jovi’s Livin On a Prayer, during which the DJ cut out the music at intervals, concert-style, so the drooling and mesmerized audience could yell out the lyrics. My F.O.B. boyfriend could not understand the crowd’s rabid reaction when Aretha’s Respect came on.

In fact, any watcher from the mezzanine above could visually separate the Americans from the foreigners just by paying attention to who was yelling the words and who wasn’t.

When we finally left, we were standing outside chatting when an angry Arab bum rushed a drunk white guy, and then had to be pulled off, kicking and clawing, by three bouncers. Drunk White Guy’s nose was bleeding so bad, the bouncers had to run inside and grab a handful of towels to catch it all. Angry Arab hung around the nabe for no less than an hour more, possibly waiting for an opportunity to finish the fight. I know because I saw him twice more, before and after my 1am taqueria run.

Cleavage, oldies, and a bloody nose. What else could I ask of the Mission?

Wells Fargo Bears Brunt of Mysterious Protest

Me: So what’s the deal?
Him: We’re protesting.
Me: Against what?
Him: Against a police state.
Me: glances around at the dozen or so police officers protecting the protesters and their right of free speech. Wow, it’s really nice of these police officers to protect you while you protest against them.
Him: blank stare.

Whilst shopping at my favorite little corner store at 16th and Mission, I saw out of the corner of my eye some people run by in the street. Then said people were suddenly awash in red and blue lights. And there was yelling on a bullhorn and big signs and more people. A protest against something or other had materialized in front of my eyes in a matter of seconds.

Strangely, the protesters converged on Wells Fargo holding a 5’x5′ sign that said, “No Police in Greece,” or something like that. I might have remembered more specifically what the sign said had any aspect of the protest- like, at all- made any sense.

After watching for a few minutes and listening to the guy with the bull horn yell (again, not exactly, but basically), “We’ll burn your face off,” I headed across the street to ask some questions. I started with a kid who was holding one side of the aforementioned giant sign.

Me: So what’s the deal?
Him: We’re protesting.
Me: Against what?
Him: Against a police state.
Me: glances around at the dozen or so police officers protecting the protesters and their right of free speech. Wow, it’s really nice of these police officers to protect you while you protest against them.
Him: blank stare.
Me: What’s this about Greece?
Him: It’s about the killing of Alexis Grigoropoulos. He was killed by police in Greece.
Me: Why Wells Fargo?
Him: Huh?
Me: Why are you protesting in front of Wells Fargo?
Him: We don’t like banks.
Me: This bank, or just all banks?
Him: All banks. We’re going to be stopping at a few others.
Me: Ok, that’s cool. So who organized the protest?
Him: Nobody.

Feeling even more confused than when I started talking to this kid, I moved up the street a little and questioned a police officer who was waiting dutifully on his motorcycle.

Me: So what’s the deal?
Police Guy: I don’t know, they’re protesting all over the place. Their last stop was New College. You know the one on Valencia Street?
Me: Yeah. What are they protesting against?
Police Guy: They’re mad at us police. We wouldn’t let them occupy some building earlier.
Me: So why are they protesting outside Wells Fargo?
Police Guy: I don’t know. Earlier they took a vote and everyone voted to just go drink at a bar, but the guy with the megaphone over there, he vetoed that. So they’re here.

I walked away thinking how much I love this ridiculous city.

More:

They don’t fuck around in Athens on Unburying the Lead.

Laser war in Athens on Danger Room.