My sister is hotter than your sister...

Damn, I am a lucky son-of-a-bitch. I didn't meet Tiffany until I was 15; my mom didn't tell my dad that he was a proud pappa. Tiffany grew up with her mother and our father in New Mexico, and they divorced when she was about 4. They made sure that she was loved, healthy, and happy - they did a great job, because she's one of the most actualized people that I know.

Tiffany won't compromise on her happiness. She refuses to be stressed, she knows what she wants, and she walks her talk. I met up with her yesterday at the Irish bar where she works in the financial district of San Francisco near Howard and Second. As usual, she was composed and in charge, albeit a little cracked out on Yerba Mate, a natural, organic stimulant with a bit of caffine. I hung out, had a beer, and grabbed the keys to the apartment she shares with two gorgeous roommates.

I went back to the casa and crashed out while watching a movie after smoking a spliff, only to be awoken by Shane and Julia (the roommates) piling up on me in their drunken excitement at my presence. It's so nice to be awakened by love - especially since I was overdue to pick up Tiffany from work.

This morning, we went to the team meeting for Green Key Real Estate, and I got to meet her co-workers. I'm excited to sell real estate here. It'll be a nice adventure to get to know the city, and to test my theories of sustainable sales on this place. Most of all, I'm excited to get to live, work, and play with one of the most awesome women on the planet - my sister.