Well jeez, if it's fair and fair alike, I wonder how many "San Franciscan" restaurants there are in Italy.
@cerephic I'm in SF for, in the words of Warcraft 3 peons, work-work-work. Or, put another way, for three weeks. Or for funsies. Pick one!
One block from the museum is a bar with a sign declaring "Bloody Mary Sunday". Who am I to argue with the locals? Payback for the airport!
The surveillance and voyeurism exhibit at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art: no photography allowed.
(Eadweard Muybridge basically invented stop-motion in 1872.)
Overheard, without comment, at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, on Eadweard Muybridge's art: "I think these things are over-rated."
Seems I'm not alone in thinking the San Francisco cablecar would be fun on a Saturday afternoon. (They call them "lines" here, not "queues")
My superpower is walking at exactly the right speed so that the green "walk" sign comes on just as I reach it.
The best thing about bottled beer: the small neck opening hardly lets any shower water in.
My bosses are great: beer in the apartment fridge when I arrived.
@xisforxmen Right, I'm here. You were saying something about breaking out the nice booze...
What is *wrong* with you, America?
The one *single* thing that gets me every time I get to the USA... The lightswitches are the wrong flippen way round! Every. Single. Time.
Pretty sure I just saw Steve Buscemi asking for spare change outside San Francisco International Airport.
It's like 9 degrees here (that's 48 Fahrenheit, America!), and all the Londoners are strutting about going "it's so balmy". I miss Africa.
Also overheard: "Upper class passengers come this way please." I think I'm flying with the Queen!
Overheard: "I hate jumbo jets, they're just too big." I think I'm flying with Amelia Earhart!
You are in a maze of twisty passages, all alike. You are disoriented. Oh, hello Heathrow. Where's Flight Connections please?
A journey of 16000 km (that's 10000 miles, America!) begins with an "automatic" hand dryer snubbing me, and no Bloody Mary. Pants.
What sort of airport bar doesn't serve a Bloody Mary?!
Toiletries packed, in alphabetical order. Took me seven minutes to work out if "toothpaste" came before "tooth brush" (the space confuses!).
I am supposed to be packing, since I leave for San Francisco in 6 and a half hours. So, obviously, I'm here, online, telling you so.
Only in Stellenbosch: a cordless power drill with a corkscrew head attachment...
Ah, the luck of the Irish. Found a parking spot right near the takeaway, so I could get dinner and get home in time to ignore St Patricks.
This month, playing "which gay capital, surrounded by winelands, with an offshore prison island, am I in?" Pick: Cape Town or San Francisco?
"Your travel authorization has been approved and you are authorized to travel to the United States under the Visa Waiver Program."
Standard Bank ATMs are apparently designed for zombies? "Braaaiiiiins. And R250 please." http://t.co/aE47jpa
I see why you looked at me funny, waiter. I meant a coffee and an *iced* tea. I'm not sure how to drink these now.
The violent outburst that just roiled from the kitchen was both fiery and acid, yet this food from the same source is lukewarm *and* bland?
I see you roll past. Tinted windows; sweet rims; dropped suspension. The heavy thump of your sub beats out the bass of... Karma Chameleon...
YOU MEAN "Come see of what 2011 will be the year", APPLE.
Interviewing a prospective employee. I have real trouble not shouting out the answers as we're grilling him.