Good Coffee Day

Had my massage test in the city this morning. Went well. They are super disorganized, but they will get in gear soon. Popped downstairs afterwards to the Starbucks for a Mocha. Panhandler was in there asking for quarters. After the third employee told him to skeedaddle, he left yelling a bunch of stuff, including, "...you rich, selfish m***** f***ers...". I guess it was true in a way. Grabbed a money order at the post office next door (here I am accosted by some suit that says this post office gets some real weirdos, the kind that come in to buy money orders, but he forgot to include himself). I then proceeded to the Hall of Justice (yes, SF has a bunch of comic book-sounding names) where the security guard was having a bad day. Too many people not having their bag unzipped by the time they get to the front of the line. At the Hall of Justice there is no differentiation between the criminals and the non-criminals. It takes me an hour to turn in my background check application (at the taxi permit window)and get fingerprinted. It would have been a lot more fun if I had been able to peek at my FBI file, or if there had been fewer menacing people there.

I then scooted on over to visit Homie K and Homie A. They seemed in fine fiddle and we played and ate good, as usual. The 12th street time warp was in effect, so I soon had to scoot home, where I found a massage chair on the front porch! YAY!

The picture I didn't take was of this 60's era painting in the finger print office. Bright orange and yellow with an old farm house off to one side and black birds flying into the foreground.