When a smile turns upside down … Hang on to yourself….

Its been a while since i wrote here, but, still, more often than not, late into the evening, way into the early morning hours of the wee nearly there dawn of day I find myself in a little room surrounded by other people’s stuff as they dance their cares and often their sense away…I don’t hate you public, but, fuckity fuck you can be ridiculous and dumb as shit. While, I am so far away from being a bitch, which often I am called. I do not respond to that well, “SEC CUR I TEEEE, remove this person.” is what I yell. So, to be clear – I don’t do mean shit. – I just do not suffer fools, if you are a dipshit, I’ll tell you…think of it as a life hack delivered from a kind place in blunt clear fashion. If you recognize yourself in these words ever, don’t beat yourself up, just don’t do that stuff again. Grow. Change. Make considerate choices. That’s all. The world will be better for it, and good people will like you more.

So, these little words of wisdom I offer thee:

If someone, working in the service sector looks at you with a face that has gone from a grin to a ‘what the hell’ and then lands in what you may think is ‘resting bitch face’ or gives what you may call ‘attitude’ take a moment to check in with your self, play back the interaction in slow motion, or even ask the presumed purveyor of attitude to do a reenactment of the situation. You may find, one hopes you may find, a new perspective and see that you, your very own self was the administrator of the attitude adjustment that occurred in the human being in front of you and by which you are now offended.

For example here are a few rambling rants about things that could possibly make a coat check watcher not smile at you and look like a bitch.

Let’s say you go into the coat check hallway and have a make out session in front of the coat watcher who is trapped in there behind a table with a room full of wet coats, umbrellas, skateboards and scooters, bags and backpacks, art, leftovers, and you are holding up a line of wet, drugged, drunk and dance hungry people and the coat watcher says, “hey, are you going to check your coats or make out on the table?” shock, and or eye rolling that your behavior is bad is the wrong response, so is not moving and making the coat checker ask you again.

Paying in Euro coins in America or with nickles,dimes and pennies is lame and not thoughtful. You are going out for the night, you got yourself in an outfit, did your hair, maybe even got a date…you can uncrumple your money, and pay with grown up currency, its a 21 and up establishment. Don’t be surprised when you hand over pennies to someone and you get a frown. On that note, when an establishment is cash only, that means the coat check is cash only, so have cash to pay. Have it ready, have your coat off, and lord please, don’t shove twenty sweaters in the sleeves or take you coat off with the sleeves inside out, especially if they are all wet. These things, they induce non smiling in the face, and remember a non-smile is not a frown, it is just a face that is trying not to emit annoyance…so leave it be, let the non smiler just get on with the get on, you already broke the situation, don’t break it more.

If you are a smoker and you check your coat take your cigarettes out. duh. If you have chapstick or are a constant lipstick applier…have pockets…or be out with people who have pockets, coming back to make the coat checker dig through tightly squished coats and bags to find your whatever you need in your pocket is time consuming and has the potential to cause the coats to fall off the hangers and get misplaced. Coat watchers do not like that. You wouldn’t like that. If you do find yourself doing this tip, don’t apologize 90 times and then come back and do it again. Don’t do that.

If you lose your ticket please know what your coat looks like. If you are going to get off your head take a picture of yourself in your coat and a picture of your ticket – these are easy preemptive measures that fulfill your part of the bargain of being responsible for your ticket. I am watching your coat on your dime so it is not stolen or molested, or otherwise occupied…so do your part.

Speaking of that, if you don’t check your stuff and it gets stolen, it is totally not my fault that it is lost, stolen, molested or otherwise occupied. That is your fault. Please do not cut in line to find out if it was turned it. If it was turned in don’t scream really loud and grab the coat checker in for a bear hug, that is scary and alarming…be happy, say thanks, tip, and check your stuff next time. Okay.

All those things, they can turn a smile into a frown. It takes way more muscles to frown than smile, and running in the coat check hanging and taking down all those coats and bags and misc. items is enough work.

and a little advice from Mr. Bowie

big love


Fleas and Espadrilles

Some months the coat check gives one lots of time to read…this has been one of those months….and being a social scientist and historian by educational training I love learning about how societies create infrastructure. Public heath epidemics are a prime mover in pubic infrastructure, as is crime. Often in the meeting of these two things it is little twists of fate that change outcomes, not always the big moves of big players…I just finished reading a book about about the Bubonic Plague in San Francisco in the early 1900s – “The Barbary Plague: The Black Death in Victorian San Francisco” by Marilyn Chase. Like the way most San Franciscan’s get anything at all I found the book lying in the middle of the sidewalk waiting for a new owner. Fascinating and well written it chronicles the racism and political roadblocking and maneuvering that shaped San Francisco at the turn of the 20th Century and created the slow response to plague and then the scientific discoveries and political motivations that then stamped it (almost) out.

I had no idea that The Black Death that has ravaged Europe, India and China had come to the United States ever and that it has stayed! It still exists here, but thankfully there are medicines and people monitoring the shit out of wild rodents and their fleas these days. But it is the crazy anatomy of the north american flea that really helps us out! Who even knew fleas had stomachs, well really I almost said who even knew fleas have anatomy! I mean they are so fucking small, how do they even have insides! But, they do! and it is nuts. When a flea bites you it injects you with the blood from it’s previous bite. Gross. After a bunch of bites the meals of blood get collected in the flea’s foregut and it gives the flea “heartburn” and it wells up and gets spewed into the next victim! The Asian flea (cheopis) has a stomach that grows a basket of spines. Inside the basket a clot of blood collects and it forms a ball. If the flea has bitten a rat or some other warm blooded creature that has Bubonic Plague it makes a bloody ball of plague germs. This ball of lurking death blocks the new meals of blood from getting to the stomach and the flea starts to starve, which makes the flea ravenous and it goes on a feeding frenzy until finally it sucks enough to dislodge the ball of blood and plague right into the next victim. The amazing thing is not all fleas have those spiny stomachs capable of producing balls of death. The Frisco flea (Fasciatus) does not a have a spiny basket in its foregut. So while, it still gives up some of it’s last meal in a bite, it is less potent, a less infectious dose of germs! Crazy huh! Had that not been the case, there would have been way more deaths from The Black Death than there were. And, folks the plague is still out there, mostly in the high deserts of California, New Mexico and Colorado.

So why am I going on about this, aside from the fact that it insanely interesting to me, is that in Coat Check, one might come across fleas! Yes, bag and coats, might carry them in and those fuckers have insanely strong back legs and can jump the human equivalent of 200 feet! Yikes!

It also is another reason I don’t want to hug you, random travelling dust covered stranger. You might have slept next to a flea ridden plague infested squirrel in your travels through the South West on your journey to SF…and blam…you got a flea…and that flea might jump off and bite me…and blam…Black Death…So really I would rather you pay me in money than hugs. I also like to be paid in money because, money pays bills and hugs don’t. Especially in this town. It is not the 60’s anymore dust covered backpack wielding festival going sir, no it is 2015 and the currency in this cold hearted beautiful town is money…no matter how well-intentioned and practiced at neutral affection your hugs may be.

I would also just like to take some time here to rally against the wearing of espadrilles especially by men. If you are not European, not currently standing on European soil, or near a sunny warm beach donning shorts and a deep tan, don’t wear espadrilles. And, if those espadrilles are covered in designs signifying an affinity with the American Southwest, and you are wearing dirty grey sweatpants, smoking a cigarette outside your building in the drizzle and you are white and wearing a big turquoise necklace, I am not going to say hello back, and only one of the reasons is going to be that I think you may have possibly come in contact with fleas that could possibly carry bubonic plague while you were gathering your desert manliness in the wild’s of New Mexico.

And, the moral of this story is read books. They will make your imagination run wild.



Wile E. Coyote visits the coat check, a little MacGyver action and an interview with yours truly

Sometimes celebrities show up in the coat check. The other week it was none other than Wile E. Coyote. He was checking the world largest plastic tub; I think it may have been his home. In trying to lug the huge thing into the back room of the coat check it fell open and inside were lots of condoms, a bagged lunch and some shoe strings…

minimalism-wile-e-coyote-cartoon-hd-wallpaperWile E Coyote was polite and tipped. And, just for the record he has an enormous head and big paws.

Other than celebrity visits one of the things I really love about working in the coat check are the new skills I get to learn each time. I never know what may be asked of me. Fit a corset. Cut a girl out of her sweater which she zipped into her bag. Tape together shoes and dresses…Every night is an adventure in learning. I wonder what it is about the coat check that inspires such broad and unbridled confidence in folks that we hold the answers and the skills to whatever may arise while out upon the town…yes, we have snacks, earplugs, scissors, tape, water, rubber bands, thumbtacks, hangers, pens and paper clips…we are whip smart, easily located and trapped in a hallway…I know MacGyver got his training in a coat check. No doubt about it.

The other night a British bloke with incredibly unstylish hair and a real bland fleece walked up to the coat check and in all seriousness asked, “”ello luv, do you fix mobile phones in there?” Like, would we take out his sim card, clean it off and then get his phone working again. Umm, ok, fella…we searched around the coat check and found a button pin from the cheese monger fest and helped him pry out the sim card…do we fix mobile phones in the coat check…yes, now we do…check.

That same evening this well dressed  group came to check their coats. While they looked like they all held jobs that paid them handsomely, I know from experience that does not always translate into good organizational or social skills, nor is it an indicator of their party professionalism or responsibility retaining while drunk or high. Like roadrunner my sixth sense for trouble lurking tingled during the dropping off of their many huge furry, looking like they took the apolstry off their great grandma’s sofa, coats. Mr. Highroller in his casino chair vest seemed to be in charge of the gaggle of skinny blonde ladies in white pants. He took all the tickets because he was responsible…fukinAbeams I thought, if he is the responsible one…we are gonna be in trouble later. But, really, I am the responsible one, that is why I am there all night cold chillin with the coats and bags. When they returned at the end of the night to get their coats at the same time as all the other people who came to get their coats…he got up to the front of the line and realized he did not have the tickets. Their Uber was waiting to take them to the airport to go to Dallas…

I said, “Sir, I have a completely full coat check and a huge line of people with tickets that I have to get though, the club policy is that you need to wait until the end of night to get your coats, but tell me what they look like and while I am working on getting through this line I will look for your coats.” (you may recall they were big furry sofa apolstry looking things and wonder how I could forget them…but it was a burning man party so the whole coat check was filled with such items giving the little room the unsavory look of the cantina scene in Star Wars)

He says, “That is not good enough, the Uber is waiting, we have to get to Dallas.”

I say, “It is what I can do, you lost your tickets, that is your fault not mine, you booked your Uber before you were ready, that is your fault not mine, you have to go to Dallas, that is your fault not mine. – I will find your coats as soon as I can.”

“I will tip you to find them,” he says. “That’s good, I will still find them when I can. All these people in line are as important as you and they didn’t lose their tickets.”

I found his coats, he tipped me…

lessons to be learned.

1) don’t lose you ticket. take a photo of it. don’t lose your phone.

2) check to see if you have your ticket before you get to the front of the line.

3) don’t book an Uber until you are ready to go.

4) don’t wait till the last moment to get to the airport from the club.

5) don’t get all entitled with the coat check girl, that will not help your cause.

Moving on, cause that is what you do. No hanging on to any of that stuff.

Here is an interview I did with the lovely and inspiring writer of the blog Check My Coat

As always thanks for reading.

Hand Sanitizer and that laundry sat wet too long smell…

Hi folks it has been a long while since I mused upon #lifeinthecoatcheck on the pages of this blog. But, I have been living life in the hallway of hangers and cubbies each week on the regular in the fair city by The Bay. For San Francisco, unlike most places on earth, is cold and windy when the sun goes down no matter what time of year it may be.

Before I get to hand sanitizer and smells I want to share some things that being confined to the coat check, that little hall way of a place in which I, the Coat Watcher, am confined for hours upon hours with your coats, bags, skateboards, weird art purchases

, left overs from dinner and my sociologically trained brain, have been wondering about:

1) Why is it inevitable that the long haired beardo in a Grateful Dead shirt is going to say “smile beautiful” and then lean into the coat check with open arms for a hug?

 2) Why do people get all the way up to the coat check counter after waiting in line for a while with their coats still on their person and their money still in their wallets? Why are these people then annoyed that it takes so long to check a coat?

3) Why do people come to pick up their coats without their claim ticket out and ready? Why do these people then tell you to hurry their Uber is waiting?

4) Why do guys check their date’s coats and not theirs and then spend the whole night sweating and at the end of the night look like a bog monster? Do those dates end in a happy place?

5) Why do people put money, which is germified enough already, in their mouths and then wonder why you look aghast when they hand you the soggy bill?

Which brings me to hand sanitizer, the Coat Check gal’s best pal! I am so far away from being a germaphobe!!! (But, for the record I vaccinated my son and believe in the goodness of vaccinating.) That said, I always take a hot shower when I get home; and would have a bath in a tub filled with 150 proof Old Granddad Whikey instead if I could!


Because people put their tickets in their bras and in their shoes and yes in their underpants. Dudes, I have a brother, a son, was married once…male private part hygiene – especially while out with the triple d’s (dancing, drugging and drinking) is limited! I don’t want to touch a ticket that could have been stuck to your ballsack or possibly crept toward your butthole! No No No!

Smells. The coat check is rife with them and my nose is sensitive. People come to the corner where the coat check is to fart.

 I don’t understand that. Go to the bathroom. This is 2015, not Medieval times when cloak rooms were connected to bathrooms so visiting knights could disarm and disrobe after long journeys and battles. For real guys I am never going to confuse anybody farting near my coat check for a knight or even a chivalrous rogue. People also seem to douse their coats in perfume or curry…or both. One time a guy checked his shirt and it smelled so strongly of patchouli I was instantaneously transported back to the 80s…high school in New Jersey on the Dead Head side of the amphitheater…but, no it was 2014 in San Francisco and in front of me was an greying bear in rainbow suspenders. Nanu Nanu friend.

But, the one that knocks me to my knees with a gag reflex is that smell that happens to your clothes when you have left them damp for too long before drying them. This scent seems to be highly cultivated among young French male travelers. They have this ou du cologne down pat. This scent combined with a lack of tipping just makes me really unhappy. And when I see those handsome jovial young faces cuing up at my coat check I truly wish I could smile…for shallow as it sounds putting a dollar or five in the tip jar would go a hell of a long way in making those sweet tadpoles more smile inducing. The accents and hair are so cute, their demeanor so sweet and polite, but checking a scarf, v-neck pull-over and jacket that all smell like they have lived damp in a traveler’s pack since The Revolution is a deal breaker. 

Tip. It is the balm.  

A little advice from a coat watcher.

Last night Django Django played. Was fun even in the coat check! But, the best moment was when the crowd a wonderful mix of young folk and old(er even than me!) shouted for more and the band says, “we only have one album, that’s all our songs.”

I heart live music. But with live music, well really with any music, comes the music know-it-all.

blackberry clear 262

These people are painful. They hurt my people skills. They most often were college radio DJs. They carry heavy backpacks filled with things and wear t-shirts with obscure bands on them. They lean in when they talk. All of us who love music have a little bit of this guy in us. So I am not hating. Just noticing. And offering up a little advice, just in case your music know it all pops up and you are not among other music-know-it-alls, but amongst the general public…some of whom you might be attracted to.

Here is my advice. It is not much, but – please take it, especially if you find yourself in my coat check.
1. Your are entitled to your opinion. Remember it is your opinion, not a universal truth with a Big T. People might disagree with you, that just means they have different taste, not that they are a intrinsically unworthy. And you should not make aghast faces at them or throw your hands in the air. That is bad form.

2. Less is more. If it takes you more than 10 words and multiple analogies to describe a band, stop. Full stop. For example saying something like this – “this band sounds like 4 nerdy guys dressed in Hawaiian shirts buttoned all the way up on their way to a board game party, but they took peyote along the way and now they are talking to your grandmother.” is ridiculous. Don’t say things like that. I will not take your coat if you say things like that.

That’s all for now.
Love you

Learning, love, loss and the best t-shirt ever…

Like every child may have, so may each night in the coat check, have its own.

This weekend I learned new vernacular:

Him: “yo! your hat is so 9/11.”

I had no idea 9/11 was now an adjective, meaning military. Nor, did I have any idea my soft golden brown and white wool cycling cap oozed military. Learned me up a new one there.

The best t-shirt ever worn in my coat check!


On the fashion front: These two girls came in covered in neon tape. They had gone to a neon tape party. When they returned to get their coats they had sweated off the neon tape leaving sticky tape marks on their skin. This was a worse look than the neon tape.

The couples moments were pretty good this weekend.

A tall blonde lady walks in with tall brown haired man. She has wild eyes and those molly induced gropey hands. He is rather somber and sober, Clark Kent glasses, buff chest and all.

She: “Honey bunches, cute lady, on normal nights my style is soft and simple and reserved like yours. (I find this hard to believe as she is tall and gorgeous like an Amazon, but this is San Francisco and we all have our secret lives and costume trunks.) But, tonight I am all ripped jeans and neon. And, this is my friend Corey. He spells his name C O R E Y, and don’t you forget there is an e before that y. Not ever.”

He: “Hi my name is Corey. I’d like to check our coats.”

Later they come back to get the coats. She is yelling and laughing about losing her wallet, her phone, her keys. But, ever so grateful she has not lost her bra. He has their coat check tickets ready and they are not crumpled or sweaty. I wonder what his secret life is like and if he is wearing what is in his costume trunk.

A blonde gal in a little red dress and black jacket and brown haired man in a grey t-shirt,  jeans and blue jacket. She has scowly eyes and a smile. That always weirds me out, because it is the eyes that are true.

Her: (with those scowl eyes ablaze and her huge smile) “I am so glad we are out dancing tonight.”

Him: (without moving a facial muscle at all or a single bit of inflection) “I am not dancing.”

Her: (less scowl in the eyes more smile) “You are a grumpy old man. That is why you do not ever get laid.”

Oh boy.

But, the highlight, saving grace moment of the night was this:

A couple comes in to check their coats. They are in the 40s and British. Both attractive, but not flamboyant. They ask to check their coats together. I ask if they plan to leave at the same time. Same question I always ask when people want coats on the same hanger. This is Standard Coat Check Opperating Proceedure (SCCOP), not a query into your personal life. But, often it illicits a spilling forth of TMI.

Me: Will you be leaving at the same time?

Her: “Well I am stuck for life with this guy, he is the father of my 2 children, so yes. We best be leaving at the same time.”

Him: “I have never heard you put it that way.”

I laugh and take their coats, a few folks are in line behind them.

Her: “Hi, pleasure to meet you?”

Him: “I’d like to hang my coat with yours.”

They begin to make out.

Him: “I’d like to take you home and spend my life with you.”

Her: “Yes, please hang our coats together.”

They return later to get their coats. The man in front of them says. I know you asked me before, I thought we would leave together, but I just need my coat, not hers. I really hate that moment in the night.

The British couple step up and she says,” Oh, that is sad. I guess they didn’t meet, make out and then get married in the coat check.” He pats her bum and they go off to get some before the kids arise.

Love in the coat check.



Life In the Coat Check…

Hello January in San Francisco.

You are cold this year. Sunny, but cold. This is good for us Coat Watchers. Layers on for warmth outside, mean layers off when the dancing starts. All kinds of layers. All kinds. Especially in January when we walk the line of our resolutions and scramble to find love before the horror of Valentine’s day arrives.


Us coat watchers, we don’t just check your garments and keep track of your valuables. We watch out for you. Let you know when your fly is down, tell you when you should maybe have a breath mint before moving in for the dance, coach you and role play so you can ask for that number with out being creepy. We shake our heads at you when beer goggles and lust create couples that shouldn’t be. We take a deep breath and listen when red bull, vodka and cocaine make you leave not only your coat but your life story in our care. We ration your cigarettes, and wipe your tears, tie corsets, fix wardrobe malfunctions, offer tampons. We do a lot for humanity really.

When I got home after 4 last night tired and with not enough money in my pocket for the effort put out – I had to remind myself that sometimes we do get paid in stories and moments.

Last night I had the honor of listening to a sweet young fellow tell me about the letter he had written to his grandfather who had passed before he had gotten to see him again. He sent the letter and asked his brother to burn it so that his words would reach his grandfather in the beyond. He then told me with great humor about his struggles to find a girl in this town. Being fresh off the boat from Taiwan and unable to pronounce t’s he felt limited his chance of being taken seriously. And then there was the added weight of his name…Wai Hung Hung…’that’s a lot in America, he said.’

Then there was the girl all lit up with Christmas lights. She has a serious and responsible side. On that side of she meets lots of men who love her, but they can’t handle her lights – especially when she dances, and she doesn’t want children because mental illness runs in her family. So she meets dance floor boys – who love her lights. While these boys are pretty pretty and make her happy, they can’t handle the responsible side of her – that girl with the lights off, a blouse and casual slacks. So what is she to do she asks? But, then a cute boy comes in and sees her with her lights off and says. “Ah, it is you, I recognize you.” She laughs and says, “and you are leaving for Hong Kong tomorrow.”

Thanks people.

I love you.



Life In The Coat Check is never a bore and sometimes dangerous.

Lets just start with the fact that Mercury is in retrograde. BLAM! And, maybe I should just end the story there. A nut farm invaded by drunk squirrels on crack was what it looked like from behind my little counter.

Help me…………I need to check my coat, and my groceries, my cds, my Poloriod camera, my shoes….and my lipstick.

Well we checked everything lets put our tickets in our bras….(and either lose them or give them to the coat check girl real sweaty at the end of the night)

Okay…like Obi-Wan tells Luke … “Don’t give into hate. That leads to the dark side.” I will be like Yoda and stories will I tell. Yes. Instead stories. Laughter I will have.

So like the good coat-watcher-night-out-therapist I am I knew I’d be in for a bit of a doozy with Mercury diving into retrograde in the sensitive emotional sign of Cancer. With Mercury representing communications I could envision some tears and fights and if lucky high laughter and a good old chance as always with Mercury in retrograde to be misunderstood!

Welp. There was all of that.

The night began with a woman asking to rent a whole cubby. She came in wearing a typical SF in July ensemble. Little dress over jeans under a sweater, hoodie and a jacket, a wooly hat and scarf and a pair of boots. She changed her shoes and checked everything but the dress. She was followed by two gals who had gone shopping at Rainbow Grocery before venturing to the club. They wanted to check their groceries….Kale, lots of bulk goods, fruits, veggies and a backpack that felt like it was full of bricks…along with coats, hats scarfs….I found a place for all their goodies and when I got back to give them a claim ticket they said “we need the bags back our wallet is in one of them….so had the lift them all back up and out of Coat Check and then back in….not too long later they come back. “we need the backpack back, jeans are too constricting.”  Off came the jeans. When they came to retrieve their stuff. I must say they tipped me well and gave me a an anti-carple tunnel wrist massage to lessen the impact of their bags upon my life. #LifeInTheCoatCheckInSANFRANSICO

Then came the cute guy who smiled and said “hi.” I say hi my hand in my bag reaching  for chocolate. My ginger beer jumps off the shelf and shatters on the floor. Glass and a puddle of ginger beer spread all over the floor. He says, “bummer – here’s my coat.” I check his coat. Get everything cleaned up, and some how manage not to get cut. That guy comes back to check get his coat later in the night. He says hi and hands me his ticket. I trip over the sticky puddle and bang into the counter getting his coat zipper all caught up in a hanger, and knock about 5 hangers off the rack and get a paper cut on my finger from his ticket…” He says. “You should be careful tonight. Mercury went retrograde.” I manage to laugh and think NO SHIT!!!! Because just before he came to get his coat….

I was handed a real heavy bag. As I pick it up the dude says, “Honey that’s real heavy its an amplifier.” As I slide it into a cubby it wops my chin leaving a huge red welt. Yes.

What a night….but, it continued. Lost tickets….people at the wrong party dressed entirely in leopard print grabbing my head and tying a leopard head band upon it. …


him:”I have to find my drunk wife’s coat. I lost the ticket. I think it is brown.”

me: “can you find your drunk wife?”

him: “okay, I found my drunk wife. The coat is black. It is pink inside.”

drunk wife: “I think that’s it, does it smell like mine?”

him: “yes.”


Guy: “I am looking for my very drunk girlfriend.”

Me: “This is the coat check. Did you check her in?”

Guy: “No, but I thought she might have been found.”



Pride in the CoatCheck.

Well goodness me it has taken me till Monday to tell the tall tales of Saturday Night In the Coat Check. I had to get a massage on Sunday. Everyone came in with a big ass ungainly heavy bag. I had to scramble around ’em and get super creative about where to put them in my little hallway of a room, on the floor, in cubbies, climbing a rickety chair to get them above cubbies teetering overhead.

This weekend was one of those that required all my skills. My Yoga Teacher agility to navigate the piles of bags deftly. My super duper memory skills to keep track of where I put the bags because while they were numbered there was no way to order them! I am grateful for those mulit-tasking memory skills I gleaned over the years being a girlfriend or wife – honey ‘have you seen my super important blah blah thing – its green’…… or a Mom  -‘ have you seen my little knife that goes with the little man with white hat an brown boots’. Always I have seen them. Or bartender remembering who got what drink when all the faces looking at you look the same….drunk and twisted.  I do wonder though, how I can remember that kind of stuff, but never find my own keys or glasses…how I can remember the conversation I overhear and not what I said….but, hell hearing things like, “she looks like a boy, but  has to have shinny lipgloss at all times.” is stuff worth remembering. And lastly my interpersonal skills which looked a little like this by the end of the night….but with a smile. xo

Until this weekend I had forgotten that fanny packs existed; and that they are also known as ‘bum bags.’  I handled a lot of them in coatcheck. Seems the young lesbians of SF and beyond are bringing them back in style. Luckily though not too many were rockin both the fanny pack and the Justin Bieber haircut. That combo was a little much for my senses.

I got a few things to say about partying all day then heading out to the club:

1. From a practical standpoint it is best to go home inbetween being out in the park and going to the club. Really. Take a shower. After a hot day in the sun swilling malt liqueur by the 40oz you stink. That means your coat stinks and that mean my coat check stinks. Plus showing up with a blanket or two and a backpack large enough to carry your hoodies, hats, boots, snacks, books, lip balm, french press, lap top and whatever else you got is not sexy. And, it is fucking heavy and cumbersome. And, no, I don’t want to dig through it after you checked it find your lip gloss. Even if you tell me I am the cutest human you have ever seen and especially if you ain’t gonna tip me. Folks, tipping makes the world go round. Really.

2. Eat things that don’t make you fart. All those chips and dip and deviled eggs don’t bode well for your fellow clubbers or those working near where you are ripping new holes in your fishnets.

3. Another thing partying all day in the sun poses that you might be wearing a big floppy hat when you arrive a the club. While these things, fashionably questionable as they are, serve a purpose outside in the sun – in the club they are real ‘get-in-the-way’ items both when they are on your head and when you try to check it. Amongst all the bags filled with all your stuffs they are bound to get squashed…and a squashed floppy hat looks even worse.

Here are a few more pointers to consider when going out and finding yourself in need of the coat check. First of all not every coat watcher is as nice as me.

1. Do not ever hand the coat watcher a pile of sweaty coats in a big messy tangle of a ball and ask that they be hung on one hanger. that’s smelly and lame. – if you have to do that put them smushed up into a bag and hand them over that way.

2. Even on pride weekend it is not okay to have a dildo hanging off your backpack with a caliper clip and hand the bag over to the gal in coatcheck. Take it off before you check your bag.

3. Do not come to the coatcheck to find your coat that you stashed on the floor and then found lost. Guess what buddy, you didn’t check it. Duh.

4. No matter how cute you are do not try to take the granola bar (the only snack the tired-hungry-been running around all night long lifting heavy ass bags, and hanging coats, not getting a chance to-pee coat watcher has had) out of her hands at 2AM. And then grab her cheeks with a pinch when she scowls at you. Lady, your white cat suit showing off a perfect figure doesn’t make you cute then.

5. Speaking of pee. Good lord party people – Pride weekend is not a excuse to make the bathrooms totally gross with body fluids and toilet paper. K. Have pride.

6. Please don’t pay in quarters and tip in pennies and dimes.

7. If you are going to lose your coat check number, please remember what your coat looked like. That is really really useful information.

8. Please find your honey badger. Honey Badger: Lost at Public Works (mission district)



Just another Saturday night at the door.

Remember if you recognize yourself I am laughing with you, at you and out loud in your general vicinity. And loving you for the human moments you provide.

While taking people’s money so they could party this Saturday these things happened….

Man and woman walk in. He’s well shorter than her. In her massive heels he comes up to her chest. He steps up to pay. She steps to the side. He pays, gets a ticket and a wristband and turns to walk into the party but walks into her chest. She just looks at him and says nothing.  He says, “Oh, I need another ticket. I brought my step-sister.”


Me: “Hi. $40 please.”

Him (in a black turtle neck and black jeans) :”$40 each? That’s a lot of money.”

Her (in a little leather bustier,  hot pants and a gold mask with feathers): As she pushes his hand and wallet back in his pocket and pulls the cash out of her bra.”Oh that is not too much. Here.”

Me: “Thank you.”

Her: “Do you speak carrot or duck?”


While taking people’s money so they could party this Saturday I thought….

If you come to a nighttime party wearing sunglasses and a bright red shirt that says “I FUCKING LOVE COKE!” you look like an amateur. If on top of that you are smacking your gum loud enough for me to hear it through my earplugs and your attempt to pay for yourself and your figity friends in very small dresses results in your wads of cash flying all over the place and me having to pick them up – that makes me want to write you a ticket for being a dipshit. It doesn’t get you a discount.

This might seem obvious, but…if your girlfriend says hey honey I am going to this party wearing my matching black lace panties and bra and that is it  – showing up in something straight out of the LL Bean catalog with your sweatshirt tied around your waist and hiking boots makes you look a little out of place.

Sir with the grungy entirely denim outfit, half empty bottle of Jim Beam in your back pocket, and two cigarettes in your hand trying to sneak into a party isn’t a particularly flattering look for a 50 something man.

Dude, if you go to a party with a girl and she gets really drunk and does the zig zag walk so slowly to the door that she is barely moving you should go back and get her, not have security bring her to you.

Lady if you go to a party and then decide to leave when there are no ins and outs you will get stuck on the outside of the party. This is true no matter how cute your dress is.

Really though, I love you all.