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By Denise, September 1, 2010 10:07 pm

Yes, the title of this story is “An Affair With a Fugitive: The End” so that does mean there was a beginning. If you’re not an avid follower, refer back to An Affair With a Fugitive: The Beginning to catch up on the details…

So here we go…

Despite my just hearing the horrific recap of The Fugitive’s run-in with the law, I took my mother’s recommendation and The Fugitive and I saw a movie. I don’t remember what that movie was, but surprisingly chemistry ensued. We ended up back at my parents’ house making out on the couch. Fill in the blank. (Shocking I know.)

Over the next couple weeks I spent time with The Fugitive on several occasions, but our final night together truly takes the cake. It was at a house party at my friend Christie’s the night began. Her parents were out of town and she invited a bunch of people over for some shenanigans. The Fugitive showed up with a couple of his friends. They were stoned, and I myself was a bit buzzed to say the least. The Fugitive and I flirted over a couple Smirnoff Ices and Mike’s Hard Lemonades (because we were classy like that.)

At some point in the night The Fugitive had tripped and hurt his ankle so he was barely able to walk. But that didn’t take away from his charm. The party ended and The Fugitive and I decided to sleep at my friend Michele’s, whose parents were also out of town for the weekend. Michele was dating my current roommate Danny at the time, so the four of us headed over to her place for a nightcap.

The Fugitive and I slept in Michele’s room, Danny and Michele in her parent’s. Nothing particularly exciting happened that night, however the next morning will forever be burned into my memory as the worst morning after ever…

I had to be up around 6am to get ready for work that morning. At the time I was a manager of a small retail shop in town. I of course woke up about an hour late causing my adrenaline to pump as I feverishly attempted to piece together my life. The Fugitive lay sound asleep while I rushed about the room gathering my things, which also included a lackluster search for my dignity.

To my surmise, I had drunkenly packed a bottle of vodka without the cap in my overnight bag. All of my things were drenched in Taaka! The only dry items of clothing were a pair of purple patterned pajama pants and a jean jacket, no shirt and no undergarments. Classy. So I pulled on my ridiculous pj pants, buttoned up my denim jacket and ran a brush through my hair in a feeble attempt to look somewhat decent.

My thought was to stop at home on my way in, but before I could even think about getting to work on time, I had to deal with The Fugitive. In my hungover state he somehow convinced me to allow him to stay in Michele’s room for the day and I would just pick him up after my shift. (PS The Fugitive had no cell phone or car. And let’s not forget that he had twisted his ankle the night before and had no health insurance, so walking anywhere was definitely out of the question.) So I said goodbye to The Fugitive, packed up my shit and snuck out without waking Danny or Michele.

As I was driving to my parent’s house I remembered my mom hadn’t left to work summer school yet and there was no way I was going to stop there with the chance she would see me in this state. I could only imagine the questions and judgement. So I turned the car around and waited in a parking lot until I knew she had left the house…After I knew she was gone I swung by the house, picked up some clean clothes and by some miracle of the lord above, made it to work on time.

I remember thinking I was literally dying because I was so hungover that morning at work. After I looked in the mirror, I do believe that both my employees and customers also thought I was dying. It was a couple hours into my shift when I received a call from Michele, who was also working with me at the store that Summer. She was calling to inform me that unfortunately she couldn’t get into her room because The Fugitive had locked himself in there, so she would be in late and dressed in her mother’s clothes. She showed up in a pair of oversized pants, baggy t-shirt and a bra three cup sizes too big. It was HAWT.

I left my shift as soon as she arrived, picked up The Fugitive back at her house, dropped him off at his friends’ place and haven’t spoken to him since. Occasionally I see him around the hometown, but haven’t engaged in any sort of conversation.  You’re probably wondering why I call him the fugitive if he had already spent time in jail when we met…But about a year after this happened I found out there had been a warrant out for his arrest the Summer I was with him. I’m not sure of the details, but, hence My Affair with a Fugitive.

P.S. It was only within the twelve months or less my mom found out select pieces of this story. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to now know the details…OGKHMILY.

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By Denise, August 30, 2010 10:24 pm

This one’s a throwback and, I must admit, one of my all time favorites…

So it’s the Summer between Freshman and Sophomore year of college and I’m home for a couple months. I had been screwing around with the same guy on and off for a year at this point, but he had a girlfriend for the Summer, so I was most definitely single. I was decently pre-occupied with work, mini vacays and partying with friends (and no, I was not 21, but it was always contained at someones’ house mom), but this left men as a latter priority. Still, however, I was on the hunt, and as usual, so too was my mother on my behalf.

Smack dab in the middle of my Summer break Joanie (my mom) tells me that she’s run into an old friend of mine from high school.  This quite frankly could be anyone. I was rather social and had all sorts of acquaintances still hanging around town, but it came quite a shock to find out who it was…

BEGIN BACKSTORY:

When I was a Freshman and Sophomore in high school I hung out with a group of fantastic mormon girls (See 1400 Days or So Later and I Got Arrested). In addition to the mormon girls, I met a lot of mormon guys, including my favorite type of mormon boy, commonly known as the “Jack Mormon.”

SIDE NOTE: The Jack Mormon is a special breed of boy. He is raised in the traditional Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints Church, however, through adolescence and puberty has been tempted by the evils of fowl language, dirty jokes, risque music, drugs and alcohol.

I had fallen for one particular Jack, who I shall refer to as ‘The Fugitive.’ It was during these early years of high school I got to know him. I loved most his twisted sense of humor, belly laugh and taste for the dark side. Right before the holidays, my best friend at the time, Nichol,wrote the following note about him and I. (And yes, I save this kind of shit.)

Title: Christmas
Verses: Christmas time is here again. Oh joy, hooray, dance, be gay! And the greatest gift of all, to go to Winter Ball! So spread the cheer cause (insert the fugitive’s name here) is single! So get that boy and then there be joy. Yippe, hooray, today’s the day…Hopefully we’ll get some play! Oh dear, oh my, how I need a guy. So Merry Christmas my pal! Hope it’s great and get that mate! I love you man!

Needless to say I was a bit of a pussy in high school and despite my incessant fascination with him, I never acted upon my feelings. My mother knew of my secret, well not so secret, crush and since she worked in the school office she made a point to get to know him. Lucky for her The Fugitive had a tendency to spend time in the Vice Principals’ office (remember that taste for the dark side), so she had a lot of time to chat him up. The Fugitive ended up transferring during our sophomore year, so I saw him on only a rare occasion thereafter.

Fast forward to Summer break after my Freshman year of college (aka 2003). Enter The Fugitive. I had heard rumors of The Fugitive spending some time in jail, but I hadn’t seen him since high school and had assumed most of what I heard were the typical hometown exaggerations. Then one night in July my mom came home from grocery shopping and said she had a surprise.

Apparently Joanie had run into The Fugitive while he was doing some yard maintenance at a house in the neighborhood. She stopped to chat with him and ended up inviting him over for dinner that night. WTF mom? So that evening, over  one of my mother’s delicious homemade feasts, we heard first-hand from The Fugitive his tails of woe. In sum, this is what he had to say:

“Getting home from running errands one day my girlfriend was insulted in my front yard by a couple kids from a local gang (SIDE NOTE: Gangs? Believe it.). Acting in her defense I got into a fight with these gents. A couple weeks later my girlfriend came home to tell him she was leaving me and had taken some money from me. I was upset, left my place with some buddies and got high, which resulted in my jumping a fence and breaking my hand. When I got home the police were waiting there to arrest me with the warrant from the fight. Off to jail I went, not time to bandage my broken hand…”

I’m pretty sure my jaw was about two inches from the floor during this story. But I’m absolutely positive it hit the floor when after dinner my mom suggested I take The Fugitive to a movie cause he, and I quote, “needed a friend.” Was my mother seriously suggesting I go out on a date with this guy? She was (and still is) clearly desperate for grandchildren.

But the story does not end there…Check back tomorrow for part deux…

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By Denise, August 30, 2010 11:57 am

A couple weeks back I shared with you Lola’s obsession with pork spare ribs (See Lola Loves Spare Ribs for more details.) Over the course of two or so weeks Lola was bringing, from what I imagine is a hidden stash, ribs into the house. Until last night I had assumed her stash had dwindled since in the last week I have seen no such activity…

Yesterday Lola and I returned from a housesitting gig in the Easy Bay. While I was unpacking I left the back door to the yard open for Lola to come and go as she needed. After about 30 minutes I realized she’d been gone for a while. I went into the backyard and while I could hear the jingling of her collar, I couldn’t find her anywhere. I finally gave up and assumed she would wander back into the house at her leisure.

I walk into the apartment and hear the tapping of her paws in the hallway, I turn to heard towards my room and there she is, sitting right outside my bedroom door. I open my door and walk into my room and there on the carpet is a chicken wing! WTF?! Where did she find a chicken wing? I promptly pick it up and bring it into my roomate’s room to prove that I’m not going crazy and that she is in fact storing pieces of meat in a secret hiding place. I wrap it up in a paper towel and toss it in the trash, hoping this would be the last.

Oh no…This morning I let her out to do her morning biz-nasty and while I’m straightening my har I hear her push through my bedroom door and in her mouth..TWO chicken wings! I’m serious! As if I weren’t already freaked out by the whole spare rib incident, now chicken wings! So creepy!

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By Denise, August 25, 2010 3:48 pm

For those of you who love the Gap as much as I do, I’m thrilled to share a great offer for this coming weekend, Thursday, August 26 – Sunday, August 29.

Give & Get is an awesome program that gets you 30% Off Your Entire Purchase AND gives back to a non-profit organzation of your choice! Copy and paste this link into your browser: www.gapinc.com/giveandget/picknonprofit

If you haven’t been into Gap recently, you should most definitely take a second look with Gap’s Fall Look Book!

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By Denise, August 16, 2010 12:24 am

Where do I begin? I can’t say I recall the first time I met Milo and, quite honestly, I can’t remember half the things that have happened since. I can tell you that since we became friends sophomore year at Santa Clara, we’ve had a pretty good amount of pretty good times.

The following are just a couple of my favorites…

Milo’s First Visit to Folsom (2003)

It was sophomore year of college and we headed home to visit the ‘rents in Folsom.  Milo and I headed to your average Duchow house party. Upon walking up to the front door Milo got his first taste of first-class Folsom, when my ex-con lover took a piss on the driveway, greeting us with a pleasantly stoned “hello.” Milo loved it.

It was difficult to recognize the familiar high school faces through the clouds of smoke but we somehow managed to find our friends, including Danny and Shay-rone. Fast forward several hours and Danny and Milo have found a common interest. No this was not MaryJane, but rather Shay-rone. More specifically mocking Shay-rone without mercy. By the end of the night we were plenty tipsy and ready to head home. Danny and Michelle dropped us off and Milo promptly passed out, clothes on and wreaking of booze. My mother kindly tucked him in. She thought he was so innocent…She was so wrong. The introduction to my hometown was a success and Milo quickly became a welcomed addition to the f-town crew.

Spring Break: Milo’s Encounter with a Mexican Stripper (2004)
One of my most memorable road trips has to be during Spring Break sophomore year. The crew included Milo, Danny, Shay-rone, Bob, Kyle, Matt, Eli, Paul and myself. The nine of us had invited ourselves to stay at my ex-SoCal lover’s apartment in La Jolla for a couple days. The entire story of this insane trip will be posted soon enough here on I Left My Dignity, but one particular portion pertains strictly to Milo I would like to share now. (Disclosure: I was not with Milo when this happened, but heard about it the next morning when we were all reunited.)

No virgin spring break in San Diego would be complete without a trip across the border, and after our trip into Tijuana, there is no need to pop that cherry every again. This portion of our adventure comes after a full day and evening of debauchery in TJ. Around o’dark hundred everyone decided to head back to La Jolla to avoid any further trouble. Well everyone that is, except for Milo, Paul and Kyle…

These three decided to stay behind to hit up the local strip club. On their way, Milo realized he needed to pick up some cash and stopped at the ATM. As he went to withdrawal $20 for a lap dance , he was prompted to take a minimum of fifty dollars out, or so he thought. He failed to realize that the minimum fifty-dollar withdrawal was actually only cincenta pesos (i.e. four American dollars). Walking into the strip club, he drunkenly announced, “I got cincuenta bitches!!” and proceeded to waive the money in the faces of local patrons. Clearly this angered management and despite arguing with them about his inappropriate behavior, they allowed him to stay.

Paul and Kyle reasoned with Milo and determined he needed the attention of a stripper immediately. Upon receiving a lap dance, words, which cannot be recalled, were then exchanged between Milo the lovely senorita. This quickly resulted in Milo getting slapped dead in the face, and yet, ironically, she finished the dance… The story goes on with Milo, Paul and Kyle walking across the border, getting stranded in southern San Diego, contacting a local friend at 4am for a ride, sleeping in a college dorm and bussing it back to La Jolla the next morning.

Fleet Week: Sunday Funday Aftermath (2009)
After a disappointing Saturday with the Blue Angels cancelling flight due to San Francisco’s chronic fog disease, we were forced to celebrate on Sunday in addition to Saturday. That morning my apartment was absolutely destroyed since we had moved the previous days’ roof party into our small kitchen and three bedrooms. The kitchen floor was so black, with every step she took little Lola’s paws were stuck to the ground.

Several people had stayed the night (aka passed out) so we decided to do a family style breakfast to ease the masses’ hangovers.  During our breakfast sando-fest we realized we had not killed the second keg and were therefore obligated to do so that day. We determined it was best to get an early start. Milo opted for the first keg stand at 8:45am.

By the end of the afternoon we were in pretty awful shape. Around 5pm the crowd began to dissipate and only a couple of us were left standing, including, of course, Milo. Over the course of the day he had taken a couple smoking breaks in the backyard, but around 5:30pm we realized his most recent had seemingly taken over 45 minutes.

When I peeked out my bedroom window to check on him, I saw Milo face down in our rose garden. The whole of us ran down the back stairs and into the yard. Milo was completely passed out, pants unbuttoned and cigarette lit on the ground beside him. (Side Note: My yard is shared with about 35 other tenants, several of which were watching the whole thing go down from their apartments.) From the evidence we assume after lighting up his ciggy, he unbuttoned his pants to take a leak, tripped in a pothole in the grass and just fell asleep. (There is video proof of this incident as well, however I have sworn to not post it on the www.)

A Weekend with Milo’s Family Clan (2010)
Milo is one of six kids, Gina, Joe, Julie, Jackie & Jay. Yes, all of their names start with a “J” sound. Ridiculous. You always wonder why people are the way they are. It’s clear after spending a weekend with his family that Milo is the perfect blend of his parents, Patsy and Jim. His ability to chat it up clearly comes from his mother, who after several ‘half’ glasses of wine stayed up until 3am talking with us. I have no idea what we discussed, but I know if Milo hadn’t said, “Mom, we’re going to bed now,” that she wouldn’t have stopped. From his dad, I think he gets his go-with-the-flow attitude. For example, on Saturday night we opted to pick up his 21-yr old sister from the bar at 2am. I drove and accidentally left the lights on and killed their car battery. The next morning his dad is talking to me about it and says, “Eh, it happens.”

This past weekend was my second time visiting Milo’s family home in Santa Maria. Always a good time, Friday and Saturday were filled with copious amounts of local wine, Santa Maria style steak and lots of linguicia! Good times Milo. Good times.

Milo is a Baller (Ongoing)
Post college suddenly Milo became a baller. I’m not sure if he makes butt-loads of money, but he sure is willing to treat his lady friends as if he does. From cocktails to Vegas tabs to O Magazines, he picks up the check. What a gentleman.

__________________________________________

For your enjoyment, here’s a little Milo montage to pay homage to the one and only James.

Download Video

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By Denise, August 11, 2010 10:54 pm

As you know I have a dog. Her name is Lola and she is a small fourteen pound cockapoo. She has a couple strange characteristics including, but not limited to:

• Walking sideways when she’s excited.
• Rolling over on her belly when she’s scared.
• A ridiculously long tongue.
• A habit of digging aggressively on hard wood floors for no apparent reason.
• Strange noises (not barking) to express herself.

Aside, I think she is quite adorable. Recently, however, she has started the quirkiest quirk of all.

Throughout the day and night I let Lola into our backyard for a bathroom break and some playtime. Typically she goes out, does her thing and comes running back into the house. In the last two weeks, however, every time she returns, she brings in one to two pork spare ribs. (Seriously.) I’ve tried to locate where she is finding them, but can’t seem to figure it out. How over the course of 14+ days does she keep finding them?! For example, this morning she came into the bathroom while brushing my teeth with two spare ribs. I wrapped those up and threw them away. Then tonight, she shows up with another one!

Who knew…Lola loves spare ribs.

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By Denise, August 1, 2010 11:47 pm

Summer of Single Dudes has proven to be quite successful. Aside from meeting several men to pursue, we’ve met a whole lot of random people all on the eternal pursuit of fun and good times…

As you know from the launch of SOSD the goal has been to find creative ways (aka not just going to the bars) to meet eligible bachelors. We’ve been to Tahoe, Carmel and all sorts of new venues within the city limits in our search….One of my most favorite locations was right here in our backyard aka the Mission Theatre. Here Mary and I saw “Much Ado About Lebowski” as writ by William Shakespeare; an adaption of an adaption of a parody of a farce. Quite hilarious.

After we enjoyed several rounds of white russians and the banter of an adorable San Francisco married couple, we met up with Blaire and her older sister (technically it’s Blaire’s mom, but she doesn’t look it) at the Brickyard.

It was actually nice to have a mom around…She was great at giving advice on which guys to pursue and which not to… To my recollection she was not, however, a fan of Tony, but I was!

Once Blaire’s mom decided it was time to call it a night, we left The Brickyard and headed over to Mauna Loa to meet up with some other friends (and family)…

I know there were a lot more people at the bar that night, too many to count. And I’m pretty sure a lot of craziness went on around me, but somehow I managed to avoid almost all of them. See I ended up with a seat at a table of strangers, excluding Doug who I do know, playing round after round of cards.

I showed them my waterproof camera and my playing cards, at which point, one of the random girls at the table commented on my admiration of drinking games as demonstrated by my preparation with waterproof gadgets. Bitch puh-lease.

Despite her sassy attitude we continued on with card games until the end of the night…Ridiculous.

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By Denise, July 31, 2010 11:18 am

To celebrate my cousin and uncle’s birthdays we gathered in the East Bay for some good old fashioned family fun. Outside of San Francisco and Folsom, the East Bay is my third home. I love the hot weather, the short distance between Filbert Street and Diablo Road and of course, the aunts, uncles and cousins who are there for my entertainment and company.

Aren’t we precious?!

Happy Belated Birthday Stinks!

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By Denise, July 31, 2010 10:29 am

By now you have probably figured out that if it involves booze, music, a theme, etc, that I most likely want to be a part of it. As July is quickly coming to a close, I thought it important to highlight the Festivals of the Fall. Let’s face it, Summer might as well be winter in San Francisco with all this fog we’ve had, so let’s make August, September & October the key staycation months of 2010!

Below you will find a complete list (well complete in that these are the things I would like to attend) of Fall Festivals!

Only in San Francisco: A great site for all your San Francisco good times!

August

Saturday, August 7
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is Playing at Dolores Park

Saturday, August 14 & Sunday, August 15
Outside Lands Music & Arts Festival

September

Friday, September 3 – Monday, September 6
Sausalito Art & Wine Festival

Saturday, September 11 & Sunday, September 12
Ghiradelli Square Chocolate Festival & 7th Annual Brews on the Bay

Saturday, September 18
2nd Annual Taste of Fillmore Street

Saturday, September 25 & Sunday, September 26
SF International Dragon Boat Festival & Polk Street Blues Festival

Sunday, September 26
Folsom Street Faire

October

Sunday, October 3
Castro Street Fair

Friday, October 8 – Tuesday, October 12
Fleet Week

Saturday, October 16 & Sunday, October 17
Half Moon Bay’s Pumpkin Festival & Treasure Island Music Festival

Saturday, October 23 – Tuesday, October 26
Oktoberfest by the Bay

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By Denise, July 16, 2010 1:18 pm

So last night, a random Thursday, I decided to lay low for a change. I got home from work, put on my PJs and turned on the teley. After watching  several hours of nonsenscial episodes of Chelsea Lately, I decided to get up and clean the house a bit. Mid-bathroom deep bleach, a knock at the door. Christie was getting home from work late and wanted to go out for a drink…

After about 20 minutes of convincing and a very sneaky icing, I was in.

SIDE NOTE: Christie was wearing a t-shirt dress. She tells me she’s going up stairs to change, but needs me to help her unzip the dress. I think to myself, what shirt dress has a frickin zipper. Then I realize…ICED! Damn her.

Anyway…I finish up cleaning, tool a quick shower and got dressed. Since Christie and I are ridiculously poor we had only $20 cash between the two of us. (Christie: $20. Me: $0). We decided to keep ourselves in control, we’d just head over to the Black Horse Deli & Pub (See St Patrick’s Day) for a quick couple of beers.

It’s 10:30pm at this point.

As we approach the bar, which as a reminder is a small alley with a roof on it, we hear a ton of noise. It was packed. Ladies on the stools. Dudes slammed up against the wall. And there were just as many people behind the bar as there were being served. We bellied up to a couple seats and ordered two Chimay Whites.

Apparently it was the owner, James’, birthday. They were serving teeny-tiny pies and ice cream cake, and every ten  would break into a mumbled rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Everyone was absolutely shitfaced.

Once settled, we realized the entire crowd was  involved in an intense dice game of 1-4-24. There was a hug pile of dollar bills right in front of us…Being as poor as we are, we decided gambling was a great way to earn some extra dough. So Christie threw down and tossed the die.

Meanwhile, some random girl walks in with a Safeway bag full of Jell-O shots. WTF? Orange and Lime flavor shots are now being passed around the bar. Everyone took the first in unison, yelling, “CHEERS!” tapping one to the other as if a large glasses of wine around the family table.

At 11:40pm James announces he must close at midnight to avoid getting closed down again.

SIDE NOTE: They were recently shut down for ten days for staying open past the deli license allotted hours.

Back to the game. Christie ties for first place the first three rounds…By the last, however, she lost by only three points…The final game ends right at midnight. We chug our beers.

On our walk home we discuss how random the evening was. We’re a little tipsy. We made some mac n cheese, cuddled up (because apparently Christie can’t walk up the two flights of stairs to her own place) and passed out watching 17 Again. Ridiculous.