the house is so quiet i can hear the 21 hayes roll by the end of the block. what a concept to be alone in my house with two quiet cats as my only companions. the solace is foreign and lovely.

what to do? what to eat? what to watch? i'll start by opening the bottle of pinot grigio i bought on my three-mile walk home from work, which i could do because there's nobody here waiting for a meal, a story, a beddy time routine...

my one-year old boy has a shoe fetish. while it might be more acceptable/understandable for myself or even my four-year-old daughter to be obsessed with "shoesh" (as he calls them), it is my little boy who seriously can't get his striderites on fast enough in the morning and melts down prostrate and screaming when they need to be removed. i can't tell you how many times i've chosen other battles and let him sleep with them on.

he prefers his sturdy brown leather top-siders but will deign to have sandals (either rubber-soled nubuck treks or close-toed striderites) on his feet. not uggs mind you, he has disdain for them. or my fave,  his  black, modish beatles-esque pull-on boots. won't go for them either.

he cares about your shoes, too. he will gladly fetch my gladiators or present my running shoes to me like a gift. or point to dan's tennis shoes and pridefully announce that they are "daddy's shoesh."

i've even seen him put parker's shoes in his mouth and laugh with delight. disturbing.

often it's the first thing he asks for when he wakes. most kids want milk or a banana. or thier diaper changed.  roman wants shoesh.

thanks to mike doughty, my new criminal obsession is kari ferrel, aka the the hipster grifter, a petite 22-year-old korean girl with a massive, colorful phoenix tatt emblazoned across her chest and another tatt reading "i love beards," who has been duping fellow hipsters from salt lake city to williamsburg.

she was arrested in philly and was recently extradited to utah where she had made the salt lake city police department's most wanted list for five warrants for forgery, retail theft, and passing $60,000 in bad checks.

among her fabrications was to tell her cool new friends that she worked for concert producer golden voice (which is based here in sf -- they run the warfield -- and is a client of my husband dan), promising them trips backstage and free shows.

she scammed numerous roommates and boyfriends out of money and told many that she had cancer, was pregnant and/or was being stalked. she could apparently cough up blood when it was necessary to enhance the cancer story.

she managed to con her way into a job at vice magazine and after pursuing a colleague with sexually aggressively texts, he googled her and she was found out.

the best anecdote though took place at that bastion of hipness, the union pool in williamsburg, where my friend matt tends bar and djs. HG allegedly slipped a note to a bartender (not matt, i checked) to be handed to a male patron. it said, "i want to give you a handjob with my mouth."

schweeet.