San Francisco’s so-called theater district

Yeah, so, last night David and I saw “Spamalot” at the Golden Gate Theatre, located on the corner of Crack and Meth streets, errr, I mean, on the corner of 6th Street and Golden Gate Avenue.

Man oh man, I hate that area. Hate it! I’m so embarrassed for San Francisco. All of these wonderful Broadway shows come here and play the Golden Gate Theatre, Orpheum Theatre or the Curran Theatre, and they play in the absolute worst part of the city. All of these actors, musicians, etc., must be horrified when they are making their ways to the theater.

I think it is so sad that you pay $50 or more for a ticket to a high-quality Broadway-type show and there is no where near the theater to get a drink or have dinner. Instead, the area is besieged by every random druggie, homeless person and undiagnosed crazy in Northern California. Not that you have an appetite anyway. The urine smell pretty much takes care of that.

A few years ago, good buddy Kate and I saw Conan O’Brien when he did a week of shows at the Orpheum Theatre. I was so ashamed. He did several jokes about how crappy the area is. “How do you get to the Orpheum Theatre? You walk three blocks until you get stabbed and then you make a left.”

I used to work in that area. The Examiner had an office above the Warfield Theatre on the corner of 6th and Market streets. I had so much empathy for the people in the neighborhood at first. I would give them change, and even be polite when they “addressed” me. Slowly, they broke me down. They would practically chase me to my car. The harassment was too much. I became cold to them. I could feel my heart turning to stone. I hated that feeling. There were many nights that I drove home from work late at night and I would tear up thinking about how cold and indifferent I had become. I wanted to understand. These are human beings, after all. I hated having to harden up my soul just to walk to work. Eventually, I refused to make eye contact. I walked briskly to the office and back to the car. I never, EVER turned my head when they yelled, “Hey Red! Check this out!” You’ve seen one crazy druggie penis, you’ve seen them all. Trust me.

Seriously, San Francisco should be ashamed of itself for allowing an area of the city to be this way. I don’t know what can be done to fix it. Clearly, these people need help. You can’t just sweep them under the rug (or into a Millbrae).

Be careful, don’t trip on my soapbox.

So anyway, as for “Spamalot,” it was — of course — funny. We were in the cheap seats. I think there were two rows behind us. But we still had a good time. For the first couple of scenes, I kept thinking, “Oh yeah, that’s funny. I remember that from the movie. Boy, the movie is funny. I wish I was watching the movie.” The musical really kicked in for me when they get their quest. That’s when I really started laughing. Also, I could watch the French guards taunting King Arthur for two hours. When is that musical coming out?

Shut up, Gwyneth!

Yeah, so, I’ve grown to hate Gwyneth Paltrow. Every time I read an interview with her I have to fight an overwhelming urge to poke out my own eyes.

She’s always talking about how “crazy” her life is being married to a rock star and raising two kids. Hey, Gwyneth! Try being married with kids and actually having to work for a living! And by “work,” I mean a 9 to 5 job that requires, you know, working; not standing around looking beautiful and repeating lines that other people wrote for you. As I watch friends and family working hard to keep their family together and happy with a roof over their heads, I get annoyed when someone who was born into a rich and privileged life whines.

So anyway, I read this article this morning on Broke-Ass Stuart’s website — Newsflash: Rich People Are Lame — and I just had to share. It pretty much sums up how I feel but puts it much better than I would.

Nerdgasm!

Yeah, so, I think this shirt would look really good on me …

I miss my Atari 2600. I want to go home and play “Adventure.”

Death of a TV Critic

Yeah, so, Tom Shales of The Washington Post says that we need more TV critics. As a former TV critic, I agree … sort of. I think we need more TV critics, but we need less grumpy, old white male TV critics.

There, I said it.

I think TV critics are just as important as movie critics in giving us context and letting us know when a show is truly great. There are so many channels out there, great shows can get lost in the shuffle. I mean, look what TV critics did for a show like the brilliant “Arrested Development.”

But still, I think we need less grumpy, old white male TV critics.

Approximately 90 percent of TV critics are grumpy, old, white men whose opinions are completely irrelevant. They say “get off my lawn”-type things such as “American Idol is the death of television,” and they completely ignore the shows that are the most popular with viewers, which is why no one reads their columns, which is why they are deemed expendable by the higher-ups when it comes time to cut the budget … again.

So many TV critics write with such disdain for television shows. Bad idea! The people who would take the time to read a TV critic are people who love television. Also, TV critics forget that some people watch TV to be entertained and relax. Not every show can be “The Wire.” It would be too emotionally draining. I love “The Wire.” I think it’s one of the best shows ever created, but sometimes after a hard day at work, I want to come home, relax and watch “The Closer.” Not every show needs to be art. TV critics forget that. They forget their audience.

We had a TV critic in the Bay Area about 10 years ago who had the job for a million years. Basically, his reviews turned into “I don’t get it” and “Hey, this PBS documentary is swell.” It was no surprise when he “retired” and was replaced by someone else, who is now a grumpy, old, white male TV critic, who doesn’t like anything that’s not on HBO, Showtime or FX.  He also writes a lot TV insider-influenced columns about network presidents getting fired, which the average reader just skips right over. Hell, I used to cover that stuff for a living and I skip over it. No one cares about that stuff! They just want to know when “Scrubs” is coming back.

What I’m trying to say is if TV critics are having a hard time holding on to their jobs, it’s because they made themselves irrelevant. Instead of going to the newspaper to find out what’s on, people go to TV-focused websites. Why? Because the content on those sites is written by people who love television.

Open Letter to Gov. Mark Sanford

Dear Gov. Mark Sanford,

If you really want to work things out with your wife, maybe you shouldn’t tell the media that your mistress is your soulmate.

Yeah, chicks hate that shit. That’s a serious Marital Fail!

Sincerely,

The Sonia Show

Pizza! Pizza!

Yeah, so, last night David, good buddy Kate and I went to the dog park, where her dog Maria ran and frolicked while Homer sat at my feet being socially awkward. Afterward, we checked out Goat Hill Pizza’s “Neighborhood Night,” which is all-you-can-eat pizza for $10.95.

I’m still full.

Click here for the full UpTake review.

This is just a taste of what you get at Goat Hill Pizza.

Let Brangelina adopt Michael Jackson’s kids!

Yeah, so, I think Brangelina should adopt Michael Jackson’s kids.

Instead of letting Jacko’s parents get custody, I think the kids would be happier chillin’ Maddox, Shiloh and company, don’t you?

Besides, Jacko’s parents didn’t exactly do a bang-up job with their own kids now did they? Seriously, they would probably make Jackson’s kids join Jackson 5 on tour or something.

Open letter to Doritos

Dear Doritos,

“Late Night” is not a flavor.

Sincerely,

The Sonia Show

Lunch by the water

Blue Moon with an orange and a mimosa at The Ramp in San Francisco

Yeah, so, David and I decided to enjoy the lovely San Francisco weather today with some lunch by the water at The Ramp.

Great way to spend an afternoon.

Saddest. A’s game. Ever.

Yeah, so, yesterday David and I went to the saddest A’s game.

It started with an annoying Muni ride to Bart just to get to the game. The Vans Warped tour was going on, so the train was filled with drunk, sunburned, obnoxious people, including a woman who was treating the handrail like a stripper pole.

David: “OK, G-String Diva, we get it. Now, which one of your relatives touched you?”

At the game, the A’s lost 11-9, and A’s didn’t score those runs until the last two innings, so for most of the game the score was more like 3-0, 11-2, etc. Very disheartening.

Oh, look, it's the second inning at the Rockies already scored three runs.

I'm wearing my hat to the side cuz that's how the kids do it. Right?

Also, there was some sort of pre-game beer festival, which we didn’t know about. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love beer. What I don’t love though is completely smashed people when I’m not one of them. So, everywhere at the game were really drunk people acting a fool; yelling, grabbing each other, shoving, maybe looking for a fight. Sure, it makes for great people watching, but after a while it wears about as thin as their wife-beater tank tops.

Here’s a shot of my favorite drunk girls at the game:

“Oh my god! You know what would be, like, totally awesome? Let’s dress the same and get wasted at the beer festival before the A’s game. Then we can walk around the game, channeling our, like, inner Amy Winehouse with our wife-beater tank tops. … Hey, let’s stand in a really long food line and hang all over the poor, unsuspecting guy in front of us, who just really wants a barbecue pulled pork sandwich. … Wait, we’ve been in this line for like 20 minutes and I just realized that they don’t have nachos! OMG! I’m so wasted! I haven’t been this drunk since I agreed to be shot for ‘Girls Gone Wild.’ … Hey, after this we should go to that bar that we went to that one time and sing some karaoke. I’m in the mood to sing some Pink songs. …  After that, I’m going to drink some more then I’m going to get mad at you for something stupid and yell at you. Then I will start crying and hugging you and telling you how much I love you. Then I’m going to hook up with some guy I don’t know, because I’m insecure and I think any male attention is good attention. Later, I will learn that I have chlamydia … again! … Hey, you know what would be awesome? If we got drunk before the Nickelback concert …“

So anyway, I think around the sixth or seventh inning, David decided the game was too depressing, so we hopping Bart to Berkeley and saw “Up” at the Shattuck. Wonderful movie. Certainly ranks up there with “Toy Story” and “The Incredibles” as one of Pixar’s best. I didn’t realize, though, that it would make me cry like a little girl. The first 15 minutes … I sobbed. SOBBED! I had to take my glasses off. I cried three or four times. I wasn’t expecting that. [UPDATE: I started talking about "Up" again the next day at lunch and starting crying again at the table.]

After the movie, we took Bart and then caught the T heading back to our hood. I think we got home by 12:30 a.m.

Sleeping on the T-train