turns out, i like the funky whopper...

Friday night was girls' night, a relatively new and very welcome addition to my social life. Melissa, Tara, Pooj and I have become a loud and loving foursome. We're very Sex and the City in our need to sit in bars and ignore everyone else, discussing the most intimate of intimates. So this weekend, girls' night consisted of drinks for Pooj's birthday at Zeitgeist, cocktails on the deck of El Greco's gorgeous loft, late night apps at LuLu and a final drink at the Tunnel Top, across the street from Mel's new pied-a-terre. 

The girls were hell bent on meeting up at 10am on Saturday for some No on Prop 8 rally, but I had bigger and in my opinion, far better plans. The Castro Theater was offering a double feature. 

Godfather 1 started at 1pm. 

Godfather 2 started at 4:15. 

If you'll recall, I'd asked weeks ago for any parties interested in joining me to submit an application stating why they might be worthy of joining me for 7 hours of Corleone bliss. Nary a soul applied, save Pooj who enthusiastically claimed to be joining me. But this was after 3 or 4 hours of drinking, so I had little faith in her convictions. 

I woke up on Saturday, threw on some clothes and got to Safeway by 11:30. After all, I needed provisions. I purchased my ideal deli sandwich (turkey on Dutch Crunch with mayo, lettuce, caramelized onions, avocado and cranberry), wine in a box and Whoppers. 

I had enough time to kill before Connie's wedding to meet up with Mel, Tara and Devine for some post rally brunch at Tangerine. 

"You're nuts. That place is going to be fucking hot and packed."

"I bet there's a line."

"It's 7 hours, Beth. You'll give up after 2."

"It gets so hot in there. They have no air conditioning."

"I can't believe you're doing this."

"SHUT UP!" I screamed, stealing a bite of Devine's crossandwich and marching towards the Castro. "This is very important to me."

I marched my way to the theater, nary a soul in line. 

"One, please."

For ten bucks, I made my way into the theater, finding it less than half empty. I took a seat along the side, enjoying an entire row to myself. The second I took my seat, the lights dimmed and we were off!

Folks, I've got to tell you, seeing the Godfather on the big screen, especially in that gorgeous theater, is so motherfucking fabulous, I really recommend you take advantage of this awesome opportunity. 

(Which you still can! Monday and Tuesday, GF1 is playing at 7:30. Wednesday and Thursday, GF2 is playing at 7:30. Friday, for you hardcore soul mates, GF1 is at 5, GF2 starts at 8. Lemme know if you plan on going. I could be tempted to re-do this gloriousness.) 

I kicked off my flops, threw my feet onto the empty row in front of me, kicked open that warm white wine and managed to spill 75% of my awesome sandwich on myself. 

Hea. Ven. 

Mel thought she might join me for Part 2, but by the time it rolled around, Tara and Mel were texting me that they were up at Devine's, mere blocks away enjoying champagne all afternoon. 

I'll admit, I was tempted. 

I love hanging out at Maison des Brian, drinking champagne, gossiping about everyone we know and eating those great date/chevre things Devine makes. But as much as I love doing that, and I sat there and pondered this, I love sitting in a vintage theater watching the Godfather by myself just a little bit more. You guys, I can't begin to tell you how much fun I was having, on a gorgeous hot, sunny San Francisco Saturday sitting in an un-air-conditioned movie theater with a bunch of gay people watching 7 straight hours of Corleones kicking ass. 

Here's my ONE complaint: Anyway showing up at the Castro to see a Godfather 1 and 2 double feature has seen this shit before. They'd seen it at home, watching silently and normally for the past 36 years. But suddenly, they need to guffaw at scenes just to show that they either get the humor or that the scene is currently over the top. You know, like Luca Brasi struggling over his thanks to Don Corleone at Connie's wedding.

"And may their first child be a masculine child." 

Ha ha ha! Big thug can't get words out. And he's sexist! Oh, mafia! Isn't this camp!?!

Yeah, Burning Man. We know. It's the Godfather. Have some respect and shut the fuck up. 

I've always identified, er...culturally, with the Italian side of my family. My father is half-Italian and he was raised within this wonderful, Dago, loud, screaming, hilarious family who couldn't stop hugging and kissing and arguing and eating. (I make a lot more sense now, don't I.) Anyway, because I'm a whole 25% Eye-talian, I maintain I'm practically in La Cosa Nostra. Which is why Kay Adams Corleone can suck it. Never tell an Italian dude you aborted his son, you spineless WASP, unless you're in the mood for a solid backhand across your pale, confused face. 

Like I said. Watching the Godfather 1 and 2 alone at the Castro. 

Hea. Ven. 

7 hours later, I made my way to the Brians' to find champagne, Indian pizza and Newsies. 

Oh, Newsies! Great! Another movie...