Itchy and Scratchy vs. Ren and Stimpy
Just because I’d never been, I took the 24 Divisadero bus up from Castro on Saturday to check out the area on top of that hill, the one up from all the bars and clubs. I don’t know if that’s considered still part of the Castro or Noe Valley, but it’s got all the really beautiful houses–not just Victorians, but real, big, mini-mansion type cribs, with fantastic, sweeping view of the City.
In a way, it makes me sort of sad. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to own a house like that, since it would inevitably mean I’d have to have a partner who made a six-figure income, and that I myself would have to make a six-figure income, and we’d have to have the luck of making the winning bid on one of the rarely-for-sale houses in that neighborhood.
Then on Sunday, I made the egregious mistake of combining coming down off of a hangover with watching "Rosemary’s Baby". Mia Farrow was awfully beautiful back in the day. But I can’t recommend her character quite as much. At the end, when the goddamn film finally reaches its agonizingly long-awaited climax, and Rosemary discovers that her baby is the Anti-Christ, and she’s been lied to by her husband and deceived by her neighbors, I don’t know why she didn’t just take that little Satan spawn by its forked tail, hurl it off that highrise, and have a go with that butcher knife on that kooky old couple and her shitworthy husband.
C’mon, Rosie!
