Letters From The Bay, Week 12: Hardly Strictly Hungry

Part I: No Pants, No Problem

It all started with a bowl of oatmeal.

I generally don’t like to start out my stories with “it all started out with…” but what I’m about to tell you is such a clusterfuck, it requires three separate blog posts and the only way to start such a thing is at the beginning.


It all started with a bowl of oatmeal.

It was just this past Saturday morning. I was standing in my kitchen, eating a bowl of oatmeal with strawberries on top, contemplating how it’s never too early to start being concerned with your cholesterol, when I looked down and realized that I was not wearing any pants.

I have been known to have a wardrobe malfunction or two.  I can often be found with my shirt on backward, and when I lived in Flat 4G and shared a bathroom with my dearest LP, she knew that if I went in straight faced (or whatever kind of face one wears when headed in to the WC with the Pottery Barn catalogue to take care of bathroom business) and came out laughing, it was because my underwear was on inside out.

But never before have I cooked pantsless, let alone eaten a full breakfast that way.  I don’t know what surprised me more: the fact that I had, indeed, forgotten to get dressed, the fact that it took me until I was mostly done with my extra fiber to realize it, or the fact that there was absolutely no reason for any of the above.

C’est la vie.

So there I was, in my kitchen, still eating a bowl of oatmeal and now contemplating both my cholesterol and my sanity, when my roommate AKB walked in.

“Um, what are you doing?” she asked, slightly bewildered.

“Um, eating breakfast?” I squeaked out, hoping she wouldn’t notice my sartorial shenanigans down South.

“Yeah, I can see that, but why aren’t you getting ready?”

“Uh, what are we doing again today?”

“Hello? It’s Hardly Strictly!  D is going to be here any minute!”

“Yes. Hardly Strictly.” I said with great determination.  And I was determined.  Determined to escape the kitchen without AKB noticing I was hardly strictly wearing any clothing, and also determined to figure out what Hardly Strictly was and why we were going there in the first place.

“Yes!  Hardly Strictly!  We talked about this, remember,” AKB called out over her shoulder as she bounded down the hall of our apartment.  “We need to start packing the cooler, so hurry up and finish that oatmeal.  And while you’re at it… put on some effing pants!”

So much for that plan.

So, as instructed, I finished my oatmeal and put on some effing pants.  While I was doing so, I recalled that Hardly Strictly was San Francisco’s finest bluegrass festival, and it was happening this weekend.  D lovey loves bluegrass – and who doesn’t, really? – and I simply love a good festival.  Upon further reflection I realized pants were only the tip of the iceberg that was the cluster that was my already very strange morning, and we needed additional accoutrements in order to truly enjoy our festing experience.

Those accoutrements being, of course, mostly cold, bottled, and refreshing.


1 Comment

Filed under Fiesta!, It's awkward now, Letters from the Bay

One response to “Letters From The Bay, Week 12: Hardly Strictly Hungry

  1. Pingback: Letters From The Bay, Week 41: Trashy «

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