I fucking love my new hoodie(s)!

I do. So much. I bought it yesterday in San Francisco at my favorite clothing store, Villains, which I've been to twice and never seem to be able to leave without "dropping" as they say large amounts of money.

My hoodie is amazing. It's part cotton, part cashmere, so soft. Here's me in my hoodie. I feel like Obi Wan, but even cooler.

Believe it or not it's my first hoodie ever! It cost a ridiculous amount of money. I spent more on this hoodie than I've ever spent on any article of clothing (that my mom didn't buy me, cus she bought me this super expensive coat a few years ago, because that's what (jewish) moms do, and also Z Cavaricci jeans that I really didn't want but she insisted I needed in 8th grade that cost $80 in 1992, back when we still had a functional government mostly and $80 was worth something). Anyway part of the fun was flirting with the salesclerk, part of it was my friend Ellis telling me how money I looked in it and begging me to buy it - insisting really - and the best part was when a storm knocked out power for this trendy store and they had to close and I said to the salesclerk, "Get the manager to knock 25% off this, and I'll buy this hoodie right now," which of course is unheard of because we don't live in Calcutta AND this is a trendy store, the kind initially you're not sure you're cool enough for, but my Israeli father trained me well and wouldn't you know, the manager agrees without batting an eye, and I give her a high five and then proudly model my new ___-dollar hoodie to the young salesclerks, most of whom were very supportive of my decision.

So finally, 3 years after the popularization of hoodies, I have a great hoodie. Actually now I have three because I bought two others the next hour, one in the __ range and one just above the _ range at a thrift store. I'm wearing my hoodie now and it feels so good.

OK, enough about hoodies already. Let's talk about something more familiar. Last night I broiled a whole red snapper Mediteranean-style, and made mussels marinara, and we ate it with saffron rice and kale in a beautiful house with sweet, sweet friends. It was the fucking bomb. It's funny whenever Republicans make fun of how we live here in Marin County, cus' I'm like, "Dude, I LOVE my hikes, the beautiful houses here - large and small - the sense of community, the delicious food, the wonderful open people, and yes, the hot tubs! Soaking in a hot tub is epic. If you're making fun of people who like hot tubs you're clearly just jealous that it's too damn humid in your red state to enjoy hot tubbing. Either that or you're straight off the Mayflower."

K, my rant (or as we say here in Marin, "sharing") for the day.

Oh, one more thing. I wish, for those who haven't been to Fairfax, I could fully describe what it's like in the Fairfix Cafe right now (it's always like this here), where my friends Jimmy, Ellis and I (drinking chai, in my hoodie) are all blogging and such. To my left two middle-aged men are having a series of serious discussions ranging from Buddhism to Kale and now to the "Aging Process." In front of me a man in a red wool cap has just purchased a hot chocolate-type drink and taken but one step away from the counter before diving into the whipped cream, which still adorns his mustache. The high school boys who were trying to play the Rocky soundtrack on their harmonica while pretending to ignore the high school girls two tables over have now left, as have the high school girls in the short skirts and tall boots who were pretending not to notice the high school boys. All around me people are enjoying pitas and soups and salads and chais, and my Palestinian counter-guy friend Sa'ad (as often happens between open-hearted Israelis and Palestinians, we became friends the moment we found out we were from the same battered land) is joking with the Yucatanian bus boy, and the middle-aged friends to my left are now on to shoulder injuries and their role in the prevention of enjoying tennis, and now onto the Oscars, right, which are tonight, and Jon Stewart is hosting!, but you might not know it in this town, it's so Norman Rockwell meets Woodstock and I freakin' love it!