My Own Two Cents

Creeps

Yesterday we went to the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival. Despite arriving late for completely valid reasons that had nothing to do with selfishness and everything to do with the practicality of needing more yarn, we had an excellent time at the Festival (n.b. My Bay Area folks - you know the “traffic calming”? IT’S NOT WORKING. If you need to go into the city, do not drive). We saw Natalie MacMaster, Richie Havens, Gillian Welch, and Steve Earle, but missed Steve Martin and his banjo, which was a bummer.

The people watching was just as good as the music. One dude was handing out “free hugs and high fives,” then started swearing at people when they didn’t take him up on it. Frustrated that his tempting offer was repeatedly declined, he shouted “Lift your f%cking arm, people.” We were among the decliners.

There were people dancing - some with the aid of artificial stimulants, some without, and all of them really letting loose. There were kids and families and couples and teenagers and gray hairs and just about everyone you could imagine.

Pan models how some partiers looked by the end.

When we arrived, it was comfortably in the 60s. It soon became cold. But, after having lived in the Bay Area for over four years, and San Francisco itself for two, we knew to come prepared. We sat under a tree, protecting us from the wind, and under a blanket, protecting us from the cold. I was knitting.  As the air got colder and more acts left the stages, the crowds began to thin - relatively speaking. People were still streaming past us, but spaces near us cleared up and we were no longer on top of our neighbors.

Then I noticed the guy in the white hat, a hat stolen from Gilligan then decorated with buttons in order to disguise it. I don’t just mean a little flair, here. The hat must have weighed five pounds. He began to walk by us, looked at us, kind of smiled in a creepy way, and turned around to watch the stage. He remained about five feet in front of us while Phil and I whispered about the sly, appraising look we had both caught.

Then I stopped thinking about him. I had completely forgotten about him for ten minutes when he approached us, held up his iPhone, and said, “You two are too cute to not take a picture of.” We both told him no, no thanks, no go away, and everything in between. He just kept smiling and said “oh no,” continuing to hold up his iPhone. We threw the blanket off, sprang to our feet, and began yelling at him. I have no idea what Phil said, because I was too busy shouting “We said no - get the hell away from us,” but I think he may have dropped the f bomb quite a few times.

He just stood there, not reacting, smiling, and said “OK” but he didn’t leave until I yelled a final “please leave” (why did I say please? sometimes in the heat of the moment we do weird things) into his smug little face. He just sauntered away. We picked up our stuff and moved at my prompting, because I soon imagined this guy circling back following us out.

I’m going to admit something. I sometimes overreact when people get in my space. And, let me tell you, when you get into it and yell at people, they most often yell back, or are offended, or anything. This guy just smiled. And I’m pretty sure he had time to take a picture. This guy was a total creep. Even reading this over I can tell I haven’t conveyed the real “creep” feel we got from him. Some things are just instinctual.

So, If you are out on the internets and you see a picture of Phil and me huddled under a blanket, please retrieve our souls, which have been stolen from us.

That guy’s lucky Toby wasn’t there to kick his ass.

Cheeks

I learned yesterday, as we sat in traffic and watched crowds stream by us, that there is something that happens in San Francisco yearly formerly called “Love Fest” and now called “LovEvolution.” As far as I can tell, this means you get dressed up in weird or weird-sexy clothing and walk around SF disrupting traffic. Then you feel like you did something for the sake of humanity because LovEvolution is somehow a non-profit with a vague mission (I encourage you to go read about it and marvel at its meaninglessness).

From guys in full pink leotards to blue-haired girls in fairy wings to Betty Page look-a-likes, there were serious outfits. I feel, after at least an hour spent in study of this crowd, that it is my duty to inform you that if you are going to go to a downtown dance party celebrating love and having sex in public (I imagine), there is only one look that will be a sure crowd pleaser this year. Let your ass cheeks hang out. Whether you have to wear your underwear without benefit of the overwear, cut some jean shorts even shorter,  or roll your dress up very high, you should aim for at least five inches of butt to show. You don’t have to be a super model either - oh no. From tiny to flat to budunkadunk, any ass is OK to wave in the wind at LovEvolution.

Pan models my reaction to seeing the people going to LovEvolution.

Christmas

I’m taking on three knitting projects for Christmas and want to finish Amelia first. Wish me luck.

‘Nuff said.