these days of leiderhosen

Absinthe Restaurant and Bar 398 Hayes St. San Francisco, CA Steven took me here two years ago when I insisted that I WAS going to drink Absinthe, damn, it, despite his hearty objections. So we went and I had my odd little green drink and its weird little ritual and S. had a bowl of the most life-altering astounding Chanterelle mushroom risotto ever created with tiny chunks of mysterious silky fat floating in it. Magic in a bowl, served with a massive spoon. So. Now that we live here: we figured that we would have to go again and that Friday Night in the City seemed a good enough occasion. (Alas, no risotto on the menu this time.) The place is always filled with the well heeled, slighty overly groomed crowd. A lady who looked an awful lot like Ms. Madeline Albright was at the next table on a date. I hope it was her; she looked happy. I do adore Maddie. (And she knits, ya know.) As you can see by the photo, Absinthe has very sympathetic low lights and sexy glossy dark red paint on th

The utterly mad perpetually stoned out landlady is getting on my nerves. I will not answer her calls to help pull her out of bed at 6:00 AM or go outside downstairs in the dark and wet at 10:55 PM to corral her dog in the house. Ungracious as it sounds, she does manage to get up out of bed and eventually the dog goes inside. The constant pestering for handyman type chores (and if I say no five times, you can be sure I pretty much mean it), the offer of half-spoiled food out of her fridge, her incredibly filthy house, her unwillingness to remember anything I explain to her in regard to the internet or her computer....constant constant demands. I am on the verge of throwing the emergency ladder out of the garret window (yes, I have my own personal garret) and scrambling out of the house via the alley so that I will not be perpetually ambushed by her AOL questions every time I leave or enter the building. So S & I spent the morning drilling holes in the side of her house to thread he