I want to cry. But I forget how.

I'm here in San Francisco after a weekend spent with Don and Stephanie, moving 300 miles from Los Angeles to San Francisco. I've dealt with stress, frustration, incompetence, and yet, somehow, I've struggled on and made it. I'm going to skip what Stephanie called Voldemort: "the stuff which shall not be named," because I really don't want to remember it. I want to focus on the fun we three had.

We drove up on Saturday, arriving in time to get my keys, meet the movers, and have them unpack. We then checked into our hotel for the weekend. See, I have no bed, no couch, nothing on which to sleep. So I booked us into some European boutique hotel less than a mile from my new house. Saturday night we did a walking tour of my "local" bars: the Gangway, the Cinch, and the Deco Lounge. I vote for the Deco Lounge. That will be my new local pub. It's horrible and wonderful and I think I love it. The Cinch is a close second place, but the Gangway just was too divey without redeeming qualities. No me gusta.

Sunday morning, Don and I went out walking and came upon some movie being filmed - a car chase through the Civic Center Plaza. It was amazing to see a movie being made because you never see that in LA anymore... (hah).

As you do with Don, most days turn into some kind of sexy thing, this was no exception. While walking in the Castro after breakfast we bumped into Diego Sanz, sexy model for Randy Blue. He was so sweet - giving us advice on where to go and what to see, telling me how much I'll love it here (especially if he gives me his number and offers to be my guide the first few weeks <wink> ), and how fun life in San Francisco is with the beach (can I see those tan lines, Diego?) and the City and the mountains... He's a one-man welcome-wagon for San Francisco, and I'd like a ticket to ride that wagon...

But I digress. As I do. Sunday was a day spent trying to shop. Trying to find (a) a bed or (b) a sofa or (c) a dining table. I have none of these. And by Monday, I simply must have a bed to sleep on. Stephanie soon joined us, and we took the U-Haul truck back to the center on Treasure Island. I'd never been on Treasure Island before, so that was the silver lining. You get some amazing views of the city from there. I wish we had stayed to sunset, but time marched on any my belly was hungry.

We went to Fisherman's Wharf for dinner, drinking way too much and eating all the seafood in the place, then we strolled Pier 39 a bit. It was pure family fun, even if I was in a pissy mood because of the whole Voldemort thing. Don't ask.

We ended the night at the Deco Lounge. It wins. It's my favorite. I said that already, but it bears repeating. I dug it. Sunday night was amateur stripper night, so it was just like being at the Spotlite here in SF. But with friends. Of course, I hadn't charged up my camera since before Miami, so it didn't last the night, and I had to resort to iPhone pictures (which stink) but at least I have something to show you to share these fond memories I have of 21yo skinny twink boys shaking their butts for a dollar. Yes, the good way, where they seem to act as if they really like it instead of that creepy Twist way. Blech.

And now it's Monday. I've bought a bed, I'm waiting for it to be delivered. Don and Stephanie have left. I'm unpacking and doing laundry and packing for Orlando tomorrow at 5am. It's all so unreal. My life. This city. Everything.

I hope I make friends here.

I'll try to be nice.

Grrrr...!