You know you are a bleeding woman when...

You have lapped up the sad travesty of the remake of Shall We Dance like it was rock candy, all sweetness on a stick, and the rhumba made you shed tears of self pity, and now between words you are attempting to tango and your phantom partner can't bare (bear? grammar lapse, blame my hormones or the wine) your weight.

Do they even make rock candy anymore, that crystaline sugar delight, or am I showing my age again...

Overheard two bankers:
banker 1; blah, blah, blah, vice president, blah, yeah I just turned 28.
banker 2; blah, blah, fast track, my wife, blah, I just turned 29.

And there I had to stuff my lolling tongue back into my face and choke on my surprise, I've got a good five years on these boys and they seem so much more adult than I...

Funny thing I saw on my way back from lunch. There was a pigeon with his chest inflated and his cocky gait, and my eye wandered to the object of his desire. It appeared to me that the cocky pigeon was trying to seduce the UPS man in brown shorts. And I thought to self, self, now we have seen everything in San Francisco, when the pigeon is trying to pick up a straight man you know the times are trying and the end is nigh....

I chortled all the way back to the office, only in San Francisco.