I did it again. Or why should engaged people have all the fun?

I just lost an hour looking at effing wedding blogs. Granted, they were irreverent, amusing wedding blogs but I still know more about veils and dresses and wedding accessories than I ever wanted to. Why aren't there any entertaining divorce blogs? The ones that exist are dry and legal and horrific. From now on, I vow to make this blog about how to have fun while divorcing. What to wear while divorcing. What to do with all the empty shelf space after your ex takes a trailer-load of books. 

My first piece of post-divorce advice: Have cheap fun.

Yesterday, I reluctantly accompanied Big Guns to Fisherman's Wharf. I wanted to go to Hayes Valley or the Mission where all the hipsters like me hang out but when BG asked what we'd do there besides shop (which is expensive even at thrift stores and falls into the realm of chick fun) I drew a blank. (Even though he's covered in tattoos, it's not like we can sit in a bar, drink Pabst and smoke cloves cigarettes.) And that's how I found myself in a melee of frozen tourists speaking numerous languages like the Tower of Babel in the Antarctica.

We stopped and watched a group of strapping young street performers break dance. This art form has come a long way from spinning around on the top of your head. These guys could put any suburban yoga guru to shame! Cost: free if you can live with the guilt but I put a couple bucks in the hat.

Then we visited the sea lions -- always a good time -- and saw a very fat, middle-aged street performer (kind of shaped like a sea lion come to think of it) escape from the chair he was tied to while the hokey pokey played on his Ipod. The best part of this show was watching the looks of horror on the faces of his audience. Cost: free and I didn't feel guilty.

In a contrived candy store with false bottomed-barrels, we purchased a bag of chick-o-sticks and caramel licorice. Cost: $6.00.

Then we stood in a long, multicultural line at Starbuck's where the Barrista raised his nasally, American voice at every non-English speaker: "WHAT KIND OF COFFEE DO YOU WANT?" We sat and watched a homeless woman eat the rest of a candy bar somebody left on a table. Being in the proximity of so many vacationers made me feel like one. Cost: $7.50 for two lattes.

The view from Starbucks.

Parking was expensive, but we got there late in the day so we only had to feed the meter for an hour. Luckily I had a lot of quarters in my heavy purse. Cost: $3.00.

Total for the day: $18.50.