I Left My Heart ...

Not a day goes by that I don't miss living in the Bay Area. That doesn't mean I'm going back, though, LA has been wonderful to me so far. With the exception of one extremely nasty string of bad luck at the end of 2002, I've loved it.

I also love San Diego, where I grew up. However, I only love it within certain constraints:

1. At the beaches in the North County (Encinitas, Leucadia, Del Mar)
2. At the yummy fast food Mexican places (Alberto's, Karina's, Juanita's, Roberto's)
3. With the smattering of friends I grew up with and the family cats
4. Old Town

Mostly, I think San Diego pretty much sucks. I was just there this weekend, and every other second was reminded of the things that suck:

1. The military. They are everywhere because SD has it all... Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines. And all the special branches of those things too. I saw a hovercraft at the beach as I went past Camp Pendleton (where I also attended the prom, NOT with a Marine thank you very much.)

2. Frat Boys. Rather - the frat boy mentality - in the bad way. I knew plenty of ok frat boys in my day, but these are the sideways baseball hat long pocketed shorts Grateful Dead bracelet scruffily manicured facial hair blasting Bob Marley guys I'm referring to. The ones that pull up alongside a carfull of girls and hoot through the glass before remembering they can roll down the window to yell, "Wanna suck my dick?" Yea, those guys.

3. The rich, overly tan guys from other countries in silky flowered print shirts wearing too many rings who ask you to get drunk with them and do karaoke while they attempt to feel you up.

4. The drunk, overly tan bleached blonde women with smudged eyeliner and incredibly buoyant breasts holding up scraps of tank tops worn with polyester pants and pointy open toed sandals laughing too loud and draping themselves over potential new boyfriends.

5. The lack of nightlife. Well, there's plenty of nightlife is you include the places where the drunk, overly tan people hang out.

Okay, San Diego doesn't totally suck. There just aren't a lot of options for a gal like me. But more or less, I always seem to run into what I listed above.

Case in point: several years ago, I worked for Spike & Mike's Festival of Animation. I was glad to get the gig, especially after every other job I tried to get turned me down because I had a tiny little nosering. I did everything from promotions to office work to announcing the shows to selling shit at the merchandise table. Mike had already been dead a couple years, and Spike was traveling. Everyone had told me Spike was an asshole, but I didn't think it would be too bad. He was back for about two days when we did a show in La Jolla. He walked up to me and said, "Who are you?" I told him. He grunted. Then he walked about 2 feet away and said to my manager, "Put her out on the street to hand out flyers. Those tits will get some action." I quit on the spot and moved back to Berkeley.

But those "Cuidado! Family crossing!" signs are pretty rad...