Category Archives: BlogHer

258 pho­tos at the Ferry Farmer’s Mar­ket– less fat­ten­ing than Cow­girl Cream­ery Cheese.

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The Ferry Farmer’s Mar­ket: like heaven, just foggier.

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BLC (out loud): (To guy nearly kneecap­ping me with his cane) Hey, watch it!

BLC (inter­nally): Oh, shit. Another blind guy.

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I’ve never been afraid of heights before. But I tried to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge today, and only made it as far as the first tower before hyper­ven­ti­lat­ing. Wind + lots of traf­fic + wide expanses of incom­ing tide = hyper­ven­ti­la­tion. At least I got some good pic­tures. And the BH, trooper that he is, went to the mid­dle of the span for me to fin­ish out the photos.

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“None is more won­drous than man.” (Sopho­cles). I don’t often think this, but some­thing as arti­fi­cial, as inge­nious, as sci­en­tif­i­cally and aes­thet­i­cally designed as the Golden Gate Bridge? It makes me change my mind.

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I should have done a pho­toes­say: “Glasses of BlogHer.” There were some seri­ously cool specs on offer this week­end. I love girls who wear glasses.

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Two new verbs from the Bet­ter Half this weekend:

“These [Zuni Cafe] fries are so good, I am going to invent a verb. I am going to ‘cookie mon­ster’ these.”

“I don’t know what I want. I am going to just ‘Ste­vie Won­der’ here until I do.” (File under “going to hell.”)

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Re: this morning’s crack-of-dawn cable car ride: “I love the smell of steel dust in the morning.”

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There’s a blues/rock band on the cor­ner, and mar­i­juana smoke in the air. Sun­day night in Union Square.

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The laugh­ter and spit takes after fin­ish­ing a bot­tle of wine? More than worth the fact that we’re too drunk to f*ck.

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BLC: I never regret it [drunk­e­ness]– I never remem­ber it.

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BLC to BH: That reduced liver func­tion whinge? It might work bet­ter if it wasn’t because of a bad McDLT.

BH: Yeah, but are you going to write “con­t­a­m­i­na­tion by fecal mat­ter” on your blog?

BLC: No, I don’t want the google hits.

(Ooops. Well, too late.)

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You did NOT just lick the crema out of your cap­pu­cino cup, did you?