I had the best mojito I've ever had there. I may have to add a page to keep track of these discoveries. Not fresh, but the perfect mix of sweet and sour and minty.
I decided maybe things don't always have to be so complicated, and not everything has to fit into it's safe little compartmentalized definition. Or at least I don't have to put things into those compartments. Especially when it comes to people. Maybe I should give them a chance to define their own place. Pistol Pete put this quite well:
Life is all about spectrums. Sexuality. Politics. Relationships. If you don't establish where you are in those spectrums, people will pin you somewhere in each. Categorizing if you will. Straight. Bleeding-heart. Lover. Tree-hugger. Acquaintance. Gay. Right-Winger. Friend. In life, if we are going to live in this world of strict definitions, you can let others define you, or you can establish it yourself. I think I tend to be too nice and end up letting others define me. I didn't always do this in the past.
In other events of the crazy antics variety, my visiting SF virgin danced the night away with me in the Castro. In the cab ride home she decided the hispanic cabbie must not speak English and she'd have to translate. Even after he informed us that he didn't speak much Spanish, she continued to repeat everything I said in her drunken version of the language. After I got her up the stairs and to the couch, she apparently walked to the bathroom where she fell into the tub and gave herself quite the head injury. Apparently while she was there she ditched her jeans, because she was found sprawled half-naked on the couch in the middle of the night. Absolutely fabulous.
Friday night I got to take the coolest 15-year-old I know to see Weezer! And others, of course. And with my favorite concert buddy by my side.
And all with a great weekend ahead of me. Life is good.
Outside of my own little world: Colombians are acting irrationally out of fear, South Africa is condoning the irresponsibility of men, and Ashlee Simpson is mastering the art of bad publicity as a good thing.
And next week we have Bush's anti-flu plan to look forward to. Yeehaw.