★ “A Day in the Life of the Modern San Franciscan”

Rocket-Shoes:

I check-in to my apartment on Foursquare, which I’ve named something cute and clever because for some reason I think people actually care what I call my apartment on a mobile application named after a children’s playground game. They don’t. I just wanted the mayorship, let’s be honest.

When I am getting ready, I decide between my Salvation Army/Buffalo Exchange purchased t-shirt that I’m so proud of (because it features the name of some business I’ve never heard of, yet it also has a great “worn a lot” consistency that I yearn for) and my J. Crew oxford. In no way do I find this ironic for some reason.

Before leaving, I peer out of the one window in my outlandishly priced studio apartment, whose price i’m okay with as it’s “just how San Francisco prices are” to see how the weather is. It is sunny, but I also know this means that it’s probably 52 degrees with a wind chill of “you’re freezing, why the fuck didn’t you wear a coat.” I do not bring a coat, as though trying to prove to the weather that I’m above it’s crafty trickery. I will regret this later.

Before I go, I pack my black rimmed Ray-Ban eyeglasses and put on my Ray-Ban sunglasses. I then pack my Macbook Pro, iPad, iPhone and Kindle into my Chrome messenger bag. The Timbuk2 bag is too small and makes my collarbone hurt because I didn’t splurge for the shoulder guard. These are things that I’m actually concerned about.

I walk to the Bart station, which is about 3 blocks from my house.

I check Twitter.

I check Facebook.

You should read the rest of it. If you get sick about this and think, “WTF is this guy’s problem?!?!?” Then you’re not cut out for life in San Francisco. This is how everything there lives. I couldn’t do it anymore and that’s why I left.