I’m still in Texas, but only until tomorrow morning. Really, really, miserably early tomorrow morning. The paper here promises that the TSA lines will continue to be soul-crushingly long; the advice is to get there 3 hours early. No wonder I’m never leaving San Francisco again.
Although I want to be clear I’ve had a really great time on this trip. My niece and her family as well as my brother were very amusing. The high point of the trip for me was going to a wildflower garden and arboretum. My family and Diane von Austinburg were all very sweet about tagging along, but it was pretty obvious that I’m the only one interested in plants. “Look, it’s a salvia garden and NONE OF THEM ARE BLOOMING,” I’d say and they would all look at me as if they had always known I was simple-minded.
Also my birthday was Tuesday and I celebrated it by sleeping all day. Fabulous. Diane and I went out for French food that evening. She had a really delicious dinner and I did not (over salted mashed potatoes were the worst part, but not the only misstep) which seems totally unfair since it was MY BIRTHDAY.
Any vacation for me revolves largely around eating and this has been no exception. People argue about what is the best barbecue with aficionados of Memphis and North Carolina and other camps passionately defending their own. It’s really a shame to see such misguided passion since, obviously, Texas barbecue is by far the finest. We were lucky to stumble on an old-timey and excellent joint slinging some serious ribs.
Similarly, a large swath of the uneducated will turn the nose up at Tex-Mex food. Morons. Texas at one time was a part of Mexico and the food that developed here is just another regional cuisine. We had very fancy Mexican food one night and then last night Diane and I chowed down in a place that had originally been a laundromat and now serves some of the best enchiladas in town and that remind me poignantly of my childhood. Tears in my eye, baby, tears in my eye.
So now I have to go spend the next 12 hours bracing myself to get up before dawn and go stand in some fucking line. As much as I like Texas, it’ll be worth it to get back to San Francisco.
Various naked men:
This guy was a model about 30 years ago, which just serves to point out the timelessness of good smut.
This guy again. I have a really weakness for sweet faced guys with big, fat whackers.
He needs a warning sign on his pants: “Sharp curves ahead.” Like that would stop anybody.
Just nice, young, attractive pussy. Sometimes that’s just what I had in mind.