Melissa and Angelina are visiting us this week, but did not have the courtesy to bring our dog. I’ll let it slide this time, but next time I’d make a plea that our peers popping in pack Piper in a pre-approved package on the plane. It’s just common courtesy.
We’ve dragged them to the beach, over some winding, vomit-inducing hills, into some unknown wineries, and eventually up into San Francisco. We get a smug satisfaction when people visit now, because it makes us look soooo cool because we’re experts on everything. I’m sure they think we’re as cool as we do.
We got to see more of San Francisco this weekend. This time, we took one of those double decker tour buses that you can hop on and off all day. It was filled with bad puns and worse jokes, the kind you’d expect from any tour guide worth their salt. We got off at Chinatown and walked through a bunch of shops, purchasing a few pieces of touristy kitsch you may some day see on our refrigerator.
The tour was all right. I expected it to be a bit more informative, but besides the bad jokes, we got a few passing references to the earthquake last century, and many more recommendations on where to get the best pizza. The top half of the bus was packed and we were only able to sneak up there later in the day after most people got off at Fisherman’s Wharf.
We turned our attention to Ghirardelli Square, which, aside from being a hard word to spell, is actually the closest I’ll probably ever come to Willy Wonka’s sublime chocolate factory. We ate ourselves sick on a few free pieces of chocolate and some massive ice cream sundaes which I’ll pay off in a few more years.
So then the girls wussed out after only a few shovelfuls of fudge layered ice cream and Jen was all like, “Let’s take a picture of us all acting like we just ate too much ice cream.” The results were spectacular as you may imagine but I’m not supposed to show you those pictures. Instead, I’ll leave you with this gem, which was as close to the ideal that it might pass off as believable. Maybe.
The cloudy day cleared up later in the afternoon, so we went to walk the Golden Gate Bridge which, for some reason, we had not yet done on this trip. I get to run on this bridge in my upcoming race and it looks fun, but tiring. You gotta watch out for bikers on that thing. They’re all over the place and it gets kinda crowded.
In case you’re not convinced of the dorkiness of this crew, I’ve got two more pictures to share with you. I’m probably not supposed to be doing this, but on the internet, I am a god.
The first was the culmination of some good old peer pressure to get a jumping picture which we promised no one would ever see. I’ve anonymized anyone who may be offended at me sharing this picture, so that no one gets embarrassed.
And lastly, any trip to San Francisco would be incomplete without visiting the Full House houses. You remember that old show with Uncle Jessy, Cut-It-Out guy, and the Olsen Twins before all the crack? I present a recreation of the opening credits in which the main characters run up the hill facing the Painted Lady houses.