Having Aaron and Dawn around /the hive. : ( just move East aready
Burritos from the place across from safeway
sushi from no-name
Zeitgiest
hotcookie
Drinks at Puerto Allegre
Its tops
Secret walks with Michelle at night.
Archery at Golden Gate park.
Super large Cinco De Mayo Parties.
Aaron
Dawn
Aaron and Dawn
August 8th, 2008 at 8:24 am
Boy do I agree! Don’t forget Memphis Mini’s, Panchos (they have larger Horchatas than the one across Safeway), the indian ice cream place on Valencia, and the local artist shops in the mission, rainbow Grocery. I can’t wait to take Katherine to some of my favorite places; ocean beach, buffalo in Golden Gate Park, Flax and probably china town and clement st. I’m even tempted to take her on a fishy chinatown bus.
August 8th, 2008 at 9:56 am
The burrito place across from Safeway is El Castillito My first SF taqueria.
You always remember your first.
August 8th, 2008 at 12:34 pm
Funny you guys are discussing this today. I have totally been missing Aaron and Dawn and SF hangouts. Hope you guys are well.
August 11th, 2008 at 4:19 am
I always thought this was a funny joke:
“Well, see, there were these two clams, named Sam and Dave, who had been friends for as long as either one of them could remember, since they were just baby clams, and this friendship continued into adulthood, when, in an unfortunate elevator accident, both progressed together into a phase of life known among clams as The Chowder Years. This is how they found themselves standing before St. Peter at the Pearly Gates…
St. Peter was confronted first with Dave, who, by the way, was a very good clam, always thinking of other clams beside himself. He efficiently perused his gold-leaf-lined Tome of the Deserving and Undeserving, found Dave’s name, and put a check by it using a mechanical pencil. “You’re in, Dave”, he said brusquely. “Congratulations on a good life. Welcome to Heaven.”
But then he turned to Sam, and Sam had been a fairly wicked clam in his time in the oceans of Earth. Besides being a basically selfish clam, he was a no-holds-barred libertine, so endangering himself and others in a Dionysian campaign of lust and excess that it is really remarkable that he met his fate in an elevator.
It is for this reason that St. Peter tugged his beard, shook his head, and said to Sam. “Sorry, pal. You have reservations somewhere else.”
For the sake of brevity we will skip a rather long and tearful scene between Sam and Dave, while the impatient porter stands by to help Dave with his luggage. Suffice it to say that Dave ends up entering the Universe’s longest elevator, and though this elevator too plunges like a vertiginous nightmare, it does come to a safe stop in the place purported to make you wish it did not.
Months later, Dave, the good clam, is sitting in heaven and despondently strumming his harp. St. Peter happens by on his way back to his post from the cafeteria, and asks Dave why the long face?
Dave explains that although heaven is undoubtedly a very nice place, he is a bit reluctant to concede, for his part, that it is the domain of Perfect Happiness, for the sole reason that he never gets to see his old friend Sam, who (although of opposite ethical valence) was not only a dear friend, but the only cause of excitement in Dave’s life.
On impulse, he asks St. Peter if it would be possible for him to leave Heaven every once in a while to visit his friend, you know, in Hell.
For the sake of brevity we will also skip over a long and sometimes heated discussion between Dave and St. Peter, in which an extremely stubborn St. Peter was very slowly brought around to the completely unprecedented idea of letting members of Heaven run around in the basement. Dave had to argue better than Sam (the lawyer) had ever argued in his life, to work this deal, and even so, it came with conditions.
“First”, said Peter. “You are to carry your harp with you at ALL times. There is no telling what sort of shenanigans the Hell Boys could come up with sending you back, so this is your ticket back through the Pearly Gates, got it?” Dave didn’t see how that quite added up, since if Hell was going to send up an evil replica of himself or something, they could certainly wrest his harp from him to more effectively do so, but maybe it had some Miraculous Feature he had not seen in the manual (which, it being heaven notwithstanding, had been very poorly written)
“Second”, said Peter. “You MUST arrive back before the stroke of midnight. This curfew must be adhered to strictly, or your entrance into heaven is not assured. Got it?” Dave assented without argument, and was soon led to the elevator, and after a plunge that left his, ah, his squishy attaches you to the shell thing in his, ah, tonguelike thing clams wave about … anyway, after that plunge, Dave finds himself in Hell, and it is nothing like he had ever expected.
It is basically a very ritzy, no-expense-spared party town, 24 hours a day. The closest of many beautiful and sordid establishments is labelled simply ‘DISCOTEQUE’, and the sounds from within are ample evidence that it is Open For Business. Not knowing exactly how to hold his harp in a place like that, Dave tried to be inconspicuous as he wandered in through great gold-trimmed black leather doors. A strikingly beautiful and almost dressed barmaid soon inquired what kind of drink he would like, and he told her that really he wasn’t in here for a drink, well, at least, not until he could share it with his old friend, Sam.
“I know a few Sams”, she allowed. “Last name?”
“Er … ‘Clam’ “, said Dave, because although clams have been meaning to come up with more and better last names than that, they have not yet done so, for like 400 million years running or something like that.
Well it turned out that not only did the waitress *know* Sam, she worked for him! Because of his great wickedness and debauchery while in the oceans of Earth, he had, upon entry into Hell, been awarded a very special position, operating the very casino in which Dave was now standing!
So it wasn’t long before Sam was summoned and clams did that thing which, though it looks very pointless to a human, is their equivalent of hugging and clapping each other on the back. It would make this a very long story indeed if we related all the good times had by the pair that evening in Hell; it will suffice to say that it is no wonder that when the clock started stroking midnight, Dave Clam was completely unprepared.
It took him about three strokes to even look up at the clock, another full stroke to realize the enormity of his predicament. By six strokes he had managed to push the blonde off his lap, stagger up from his barstool, and begin to explain to Sam the urgency of his need for flight.
By nine strokes he had hoofed it out of the disco, and when the infernal clock was gonging the tenth hour, he’d leaped through the open door of the elevator and stabbed the big white button with the crown logo on it. He sagged against the wall of the elevator and his shell heaved as he respirated from effort under conditions of drunkenness.
Fortunately, the elevator was just as speedy in either direction, and the door to Heaven’s Lobby opened with a swish on the very stroke of midnight. Gathering about himself the tatters of his sobriety, Dave stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, and approached St. Peter, who as it happens had popped in to check on the night shift.
“I’m back, Peter,” he said. “I made it back before midnight, just as you commanded.”
St. Peter smiled but one of his eyebrows went up warily. “So you did, Dave, so you did,” he rumbled. “But..” He pointed a finger at nothing Dave was holding. “But where is your harp, sir Clam?”
Dave started, and winced, and stupidly looked down at his empty arms.
“Oh Peter,” he moaned. “Oh no, Peter, I…”
“Yes?”
“It’s just that…”
“Yes?”
“I…”
Peter glared impatiently.
“I left my Harp, in Sam Clam’s Disco!”
August 11th, 2008 at 7:55 am
Shut Up Norm!
August 11th, 2008 at 11:09 am
Norm is awesome.
At first I thought this was spam. Then I thought maybe Jason had found his way here.
I’m pretty sure Sam Clam’s Disco predates The Turkey Story. Both, however, bring back memories of cheap Mexican beer by the case, $1 “burritos” at sunrise, and stupid decisions made in my pickup.
August 11th, 2008 at 11:24 am
Aaron,
I can honestly say the only stupid decision you made with the pickup was to sell it…..
August 11th, 2008 at 11:39 am
Aaron,
you still have not published the ‘how to add a link’ topic.
so here:
to make you remember…..
August 11th, 2008 at 3:05 pm
(sniff) My baby. I miss her.
The Link post is the third under “How To”. Look to the very top of any page for the list of categories.
August 12th, 2008 at 5:57 pm
Miss: running through Golden Gate Park to the beach, Bay to Breakers.
Don’t miss: seeing the junk of naked, elderly gay men.
August 14th, 2008 at 3:53 pm
I miss:
Human fecal matter
“You want how much a month?”
$5.00 tolls
rainy and dry
hypodermic needles
The graffiti on the sign at south Van Ess and 13th that read “$20.00 in 5 hours I should’ve stuck to crime”
Change, can you spare some change?
You drive a car? you are personally responsible for the war.
internet cafes
If you don’t tip up front they spit in your food
Live chickens on the bus
The bus
Change?
the beach is the coldest place
Ignore him he’s sleeping
human fecal matter
Change?
August 15th, 2008 at 9:24 am
oh yeah, “Garlic ice cream, you have to try it”
“Is it any good?”
“You should try it”
That never answered my question, I was always under the impression it is like the guy diving into freezing water and claiming “it’s invigorating” he was dumb enough to do it so now everyone else should. Garlic ice cream? seriously?
August 15th, 2008 at 9:48 am
Garlic ice cream is weird. But getting licked by a cow sounds sketchy too BUT everyone should really experience it. And being on a bus with live chickens has been fodder for many great laughs. I love SF!! Cant we just get rid of the mid west and make SF and NY neighbors?
August 16th, 2008 at 7:40 pm
I have to say, the pic of the truck does bring back memories… memories of Aaron asking if I want to go for a drive when we were in Mexico, taking me down a near cliff, and ending the ride with us jumping the truck over a sand dune and landing on the beach about 10 feet from where everyone was hanging out.
Ahhhh, good times…
August 18th, 2008 at 6:23 am
I miss Mr. Bitterman. Pary of one.
August 20th, 2008 at 7:29 am
The bushman, first a heart attack, then a shakedown.
August 21st, 2008 at 4:59 pm
The Tamale lady!! do you think that she ever passed a health inspection.
August 22nd, 2008 at 7:05 am
Sure! she passed the health inspection, just like the NYC Roach coaches. At least I have never seen her urinate into a plastic bag under her apron, then throw it in the trash next to were she is standing.
/I don’t think that’s hallal
// It’s certainly not kosher
///I’ll take the homeless wetback for $5, Trebeck.
September 18th, 2008 at 8:58 pm
I miss:
Jen talking about how the fog used to really blanket SF.
Frank’s ever changing facial hair.
Lester in cooking and the rare “deep clean” mode.
Megan couch surfing and giving the boys a hard time.
Hearing Dawn say “oh, Boo”.
Aaron making me feel less nerdy by talking about computers.
Neel showing up at 3am for a whirl-wind weekend.
Meghan’s zeal.
Good burritos.
And hearing all of you laugh. That was always the best part about living in the hive.
I don’t miss the “Wahoo!”-ers.
Don’t laugh, but you are welcome to come visit MN any time. I have the air mattress from the Hive and there is good biking, hiking and snow camping. (I even bought a bike!)