A day of decadence...

I love this time of year.

The lovely Miss Sassyhair treated me to a fabulous, yummy, mimosa-y brunch today, and then a spectacularly relaxing pedicure here, which included the best foot massage I've ever had. No joke. And then we got to enjoy some trashy mags while drying, and noticed that each one seemed to have the same stories about Britney and Kevin, Jessica and Nick, Lindsay and Paris, and Nicole Richie, week after week.

Still. I love trashy mags. I love spa experiences even more. If I ever came into any money, I'd totally be a spa whore.

So you can imagine how alarming it was, after being enveloped in a cloud of lavender and cucumber and yummy-smelling lotions to set foot back on Muni to come home and be hit with the aroma of urine and sour milk.

Oh, and since we were in the Haight, there had to be an unusual sight. It's practically a requirement. Today, it was a bunch of mostly male bicyclists... nude. We saw more penises than we were prepared for. And they weren't particularly pretty ones. I'm guessing the chill in the air didn't help.

And as Miss Sassyhair said, "I'm glad we saw that AFTER we ate."

(Oh, and is it odd that Anthony Bourdain turned up in one of my dreams last night? )