🍸A Nun Walks Into a Bar… and Orders Pie
After 90 days with no alcohol and no sugar, Tré Taylor is celebrating in deliciously ridiculous style with two temptations on the table: a classic martini and a slice of fresh peach pie she has never tried before. In this playful April Fool’s Day blog post, she heads to San Francisco’s Financial District and Embarcadero for the wonderfully absurd Saint Stupid’s Day Parade, where she returns as part of the coalition for silly, nun-inspired nonsense. Featuring glamorous food fantasy, sacred foolishness, and next week’s shenanigans, this post is a cheeky love letter to pie, parody, and the blessed art of not taking life too seriously. www.tretaylor.com
Breaking a 90-Day sugar-and-booze fast at Saint Stupid’s Day in San Francisco
By Tré Taylor and Bleep the Tattoo
Category: Bleep’s Comedy Corner, Food, Comedy, San Francisco, Deliciously Fun Life
Date: April 2026
🍸🥧Holy carbs, Batman.⛪✨
There comes a time in every woman’s life when she must ask the important spiritual questions.
Not Who am I?
Not What is my purpose?
Not even Why does San Francisco make a perfectly decent cocktail cost the same as a small utility bill?
No.
The real question is this:
If you gave up sugar and alcohol for three months… what would be the very first glorious thing you would break your fast with?
For me, the answer is not abstract.
It is not theoretical.
It is not low-fat.
It is pie.
Because pie is love. Pie is comfort. Pie is mercy. Pie is edible forgiveness with a crust.
And this year, on Saint Stupid’s Day, I plan to celebrate my survival, my healing, my discipline, my ridiculousness, and my continued devotion to living a deliciously fun life… by dressing as a nun and heading into San Francisco with a mission:
A nun walks into a bar.
And afterward, she goes looking for pie.
As one does.
⛪Why Saint Stupid’s Day matters to me🎭
If you know, you know.
Saint Stupid’s Day is one of those gloriously local San Francisco traditions that could only have been invented by people smart enough to make fun of everything—including themselves. It’s organized by the First Church of the Last Laugh, the wonderfully absurd community behind the annual parade, and the official 2026 call is to gather at noon at Justin Herman Plaza / foot of Market across from the Ferry Building.
This parade has been satirizing capitalism, rituals, bureaucracy, and the general pageantry of public nonsense for decades. Coverage of recent parades traces the tradition back to 1979, launched by Ed Holmes, aka Bishop Joey, as a downtown Financial District absurdist ritual.
These are my people.
Not because they’re polished.
Because they’re playful.
Not because they’re serious.
Because they know exactly when seriousness has overstayed its welcome.
Years ago, I showed up in a nun costume carrying a sign for the Coalition for Silly NUNsense. I was much heavier then. Funny still, yes—but in pain. A lot of pain. The kind of pain that changes how you move through the world, how you sleep, how you hope, how long it takes to walk down stairs, and how often you pretend you’re fine when you are absolutely not fine.
This year, I’m bringing the nun back.
Only now, she’s got two titanium knees, a lot more muscle, a lot less weight, a clearer brain, and a much deeper appreciation for the holy trinity of healing:
discipline, humor, and proper dessert.
🥚 What I actually did for 90 days🍓
Every year, the first week of January, I give up sugar and alcohol.
This year I took it seriously. I decided to go 3 whole months.
For the first stretch, I went pretty ketogenic. Then I eased into something more sustainable: low sugar, no alcohol, monk fruit, berries, cream, protein, vegetables, broth, soup, intermittent fasting, and the occasional strategic carb when life called for diplomacy.
And I learned a few things.
The first few weeks were rough.
My body complained.
My habits complained.
My inner chocolate goblin filed a formal grievance.
But then something shifted.
My brain got clearer.
My sleep got better.
My joints felt less inflamed.
My emotions became easier to regulate.
The fog lifted.
That doesn’t mean life became easy. It means I became more available to myself.
And honestly? That’s a miracle.
So no, this is not a binge story.
This is not a crash-and-burn cheat day.
This is not me “being bad.”
This is me celebrating feeling better in my body.
This is me choosing quality over quantity.
This is me saying:
I earned one beautiful bite.
I earned one beautiful sip.
And I refuse to waste them on mediocrity.
🥧 The dessert question: what is the holiest first bite?
When I imagine breaking my sugar fast, I do not imagine chaos.
I imagine ceremony.
And in my heart, ceremony looks suspiciously like pie.
I love cake. I respect cake. I honor cake. I have absolutely no conflict with cake.
But pie?
Pie is different.
Pie is grounded. Pie is honest. Pie is grandmotherly and seductive at the same time. Pie doesn’t need a spotlight. Pie knows who she is.
So yes, I’ve been fantasizing about a real slice of pie—the kind that makes you close your eyes, go quiet, and reconsider every bad pastry decision you’ve ever made.
And for this nonsense-filled holy day, my top pick is Three Babes Bakeshop, which has its main shop at 2797 16th St. They also sell at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market at 1 Ferry Building on Saturdays, though April 1 falls midweek this year, so the Mission shop is the practical pie pilgrimage.
Three Babes is all about pie—handmade in San Francisco, with a whole identity built around the craft. That is exactly the kind of focus I trust in a moment of dessert destiny.
Bleep the tattoo: Pie is my love language. Also my relapse prevention plan.
DROOL-WORTHY SEASONAL PIE MENU HERE: https://www.threebabesbakeshop.com/collections/seasonal
😇 The cocktail question: what is the holiest first sip?🍸
This part matters.
I am not a “let’s do shots and make bad choices” girl.
That ship has sailed, sunk, and become an artificial reef.
I want one proper drink. Maybe two if I’m with friends and the laughter gets reckless. But this is not about quantity. This is about the art of the first sip.
The finalists:
A classic vodka martini with an orange twist.
A beautiful gin martini.
A dark, dramatic tiki drink with enough rum and personality to qualify for public office.
After much prayer and consultation with my inner lounge singer, I have selected three worthy contenders.
1. Comstock Saloon
155 Columbus Ave, San Francisco. The place describes itself as an old-school bar in a historic 1907 space, restored in 2010, with classic cocktails, live jazz, and a first-come-first-served attitude that I deeply respect.
This is where the nun goes when she wants to look like she has excellent taste and several suspicious backstories.
2. Pagan Idol
375 Bush Street, San Francisco. Officially in the Financial District, which makes it especially convenient if the Saint Stupid energy carries directly into tropical nonsense. Their own description leans hard into the immersive tiki fantasy: shipwreck vibes, volcanic back room, modern tiki cocktails, and serious rum selection.
This is where the nun goes when she’s one rum drink away from founding a maritime cult.
3. Zam Zam
1633 Haight St, San Francisco. Not downtown, but if I decide to extend the day into a proper martini pilgrimage, this is the legendary Haight stop. It’s been around since the 1940s and is still famous for classic martinis and the mythology of stern bartending.
This is where the nun goes when she wants to be spiritually corrected by a glass.
🗺️ My Saint Stupid’s Day deliciousness plan
Here’s the rough plan:
Start at Saint Stupid’s Day at noon near the Ferry Building.
Film costume shots.
Film sign shots.
Film strangers in glorious nonsense regalia.
Ask people the important question:
“If you gave up sugar and alcohol for 90 days, what would your first bite and first sip be?”
Then:
Either head to Comstock Saloon for the ceremonial first cocktail, or save that for later and go straight to pie at Three Babes. If the day gets sillier and the budget allows, Pagan Idol becomes the afterparty fantasy level.
Because I’m low-income right now, this is not a luxury crawl. This is a quality crawl.
One beautiful thing.
Maybe two.
No junk.
No panic.
No binge.
Just joy with a budget and a better outfit.
🎥🍸 Calling all weirdos, saints, snack theologians, and volunteer extras
If you’re already going to Saint Stupid’s Day, come find me.
I’ll be the nun.
Probably laughing.
Possibly holding pie.
Potentially interviewing strangers.
Almost certainly being encouraged by Bleep the Tattoo to make worse decisions than I should.
I’m filming content for my YouTube channel, and I want to do a whole “A Nun Walks Into a Bar” bit with friends, weirdos, bartenders, parade people, and innocent bystanders who accidentally become part of San Francisco history.
You do not have to drink.
You do not have to perform.
You do not have to understand any of this.
You only need one thing:
A willingness to honor the sacred civic duty of public silliness.
Dress stupid.
Dress glorious.
Dress like late capitalism lost custody of your closet.
And if you feel moved to buy a recovering sugar goblin her first proper drink after 90 days of discipline, I will accept this gesture as both charity and performance art.
🖤 Final confession
I’m not doing this because I “deserve a cheat day.”
I’m doing this because I’m alive.
Because I’m out of some of the worst pain of my life.
Because I worked hard.
Because I’m rebuilding.
Because humor is healing.
Because San Francisco still knows how to be weird in the best ways.
Because being half the size I used to be is interesting, but being more fully myself is the real victory.
And because somewhere between the parade, the pie, the cocktail, the camera, the costume, and the laughter… there is a woman reclaiming her joy.
Also, there is a tattoo on my hand with terrible boundaries and excellent timing.
And he would like to add:
Bleep says:
“Pie is holy. Cocktails are ceremonial. And poor judgment is just community theater with garnish.”
Amen.
🍸🥧 Interactive question for the comments
You give up sugar and alcohol for 90 days.
Now it’s over.
What is your first:
1. Bite?
2. Sip?
3. Splurge-worthy holy treat in San Francisco?
Tell me everything.
With love, music, food, art, and fun,
Tré Taylor
📍 Practical notes for this ridiculous pilgrimage
Saint Stupid’s Day / First Church of the Last Laugh
Meet: Noon, April 1, 2026
Start: foot of Market / Justin Herman Plaza, across from the Ferry Building
Three Babes Bakeshop
2797 16th St, San Francisco, CA 94103
Also at Ferry Plaza Farmers Market on Saturdays only.
Comstock Saloon
155 Columbus Ave, San Francisco, CA 94133
Historic saloon, classic cocktails, live music.
Pagan Idol
375 Bush St, San Francisco, CA 94104
Financial District tiki bar.
Zam Zam
1633 Haight St, San Francisco, CA 94117
Legendary martini bar in the Haight. (DRESSED AS A NUN, WHAT COULD GO WRONG?)
A previous pie moment…
“A Nun Walks
Into a Bar…” jokes
From Bleep the tatttoo
I’m covered in soap, full of nonsense, and ready to offend the holier-than-thou with 40 "a nun walks into a bar” joke zingers with excellent comic timing. www.tretaylor.com
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’ve been sober for 90 days.” The bartender says, “What’ll it be?” She says, “Something that pairs well with resurrection.”
A nun walks into a bar and orders pie first. The bartender says, “Dessert before dinner?” She says, “I serve a merciful God.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’d like a martini.” Bartender: “Dirty?” Nun: “Let’s not gossip.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “Make it stiff.” Bartender says, “Gin or vodka?” Nun says, “I came here to sin, not to split hairs.”
A nun walks into a bar with a pie box. Bartender says, “Outside food isn’t allowed.” Nun says, “This is not food. This is ministry.”
A nun walks into a bar and asks for the house special. Bartender says, “You sure?” Nun says, “I didn’t survive keto to die a coward.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’ve given up sugar and alcohol for three months.” Bartender says, “And now?” Nun says, “Now we test the sincerity of my character.”
A nun walks into a bar and whispers, “Grey Goose martini, orange twist.” Bartender says, “That sounds expensive.” Nun says, “So was healing.”
A nun walks into a bar. Bartender says, “Sister, are you lost?” Nun says, “No. I’m exactly where my coping skills led me.”
A nun walks into a bar and orders a rum drink. Bartender says, “Tiki?” Nun says, “Technically, I’m on a mission trip.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “One cocktail, one slice of pie, and no unsolicited life advice.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’m breaking my fast.” Bartender says, “Religious?” Nun says, “At this point, mostly dietary.”
A nun walks into a bar in San Francisco and says, “Which drink says ‘I’m healing, but still funny’?”
A nun walks into a bar and the bartender says, “What’s your poison?” Nun says, “Let’s rebrand that.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I need something low drama.” Bartender says, “Wrong city.”
A nun walks into a bar after Saint Stupid’s Day and says, “I’d like a cocktail with notes of bad ideas and civic pride.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “Do you have anything with blood orange?” Bartender says, “Seasonal.” Nun says, “So is redemption.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’ll have a sidecar.” Bartender says, “You drove here?” Nun says, “Sir, I live in the sidecar.”
A nun walks into a bar with Bleep the Tattoo. Bartender says, “Which one of you is trouble?” They both say, “Yes.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I haven’t touched sugar in 90 days.” Bartender says, “Then why are you smiling?” Nun says, “Delusion is free.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’m here for one perfect drink.” Bartender says, “And after that?” Nun says, “We let pie handle the rest.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’m not here to get wasted.” Bartender says, “Then why are you dressed like that?” Nun says, “Content.”
A nun walks into a bar and asks, “Where’s the nearest pie?” Bartender says, “That’s oddly specific.” Nun says, “I’m a woman of structure.”
A nun walks into a bar in the Financial District and says, “I’d like a drink strong enough to forgive capitalism.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “Surprise me.” Bartender says, “That’s dangerous.” Nun says, “So is hope.”
A nun walks into a bar wearing sunglasses and says, “I’m with the Coalition for Silly NUNsense.” Bartender says, “Checks out.”
A nun walks into a bar and orders crème brûlée and a martini. Bartender says, “That’s a lot.” Nun says, “No, honey. That’s closure.”
A nun walks into a bar and asks for a holy water martini. Bartender says, “You mean vodka?” Nun says, “Depends how the night goes.”
A nun walks into a bar after a parade of fools and says, “Finally. My people with glassware.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’d like something classic.” Bartender asks, “Like what?” Nun says, “A drink, a pie, and one emotionally available saxophone.”
A nun walks into a bar and the bartender says, “Cash or card?” Nun says, “Do you take miracles?”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’m celebrating.” Bartender asks, “What happened?” Nun says, “I stayed alive long enough to become hilarious.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “Can I get something with rum?” Bartender says, “Dark?” Nun says, “Sweetheart, have you met my backstory?”
A nun walks into a bar and asks for the driest martini in San Francisco. Bartender says, “Zam Zam?” Nun says, “Now you’re speaking liturgy.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I only want one drink.” Bleep says, “She also said she only wanted one pie.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “Today I break my fast.” Bartender says, “With alcohol?” Nun says, “With intention.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’m trying to make responsible choices.” Bartender says, “Then why are you filming this?” Nun says, “Because art.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’ve got titanium knees and expensive taste.” Bartender says, “Take a seat, Sister.”
A nun walks into a bar and says, “I’m not drunk, I’m historically accurate.”
A nun walks into a bar and the whole room goes quiet. She raises her glass and says, “Pie is love.” And suddenly, for one shining moment, everyone understands religion.
