I’m not sure if it’s because of all those terrible Brazilian restaurants in Midtown, but for some reason, whenever anyone mentions anything about going to a Brazilian restaurant, I’ll just assume it’s going to be incredibly meat-heavy, Pan-South American (as opposed to actually Brazilian), neon-lighted, and generally horrible.  UNTIL NOW.

In a city full of dive bars, KoKo Cocktails is one of those tiny hole in the wall joints that you tend to overlook unless either a) your friend who lives in the neighborhood loves it and tells you to meet there for drinks or b) you’re out in a

Whelp, guys, it’s hot out. I’m just gonna say it. I’m gonna be the Eminem of this website, givin you things you joke about with your friends inside your living room, the only difference is I got the balls to say it in front of y’all and I don’t gotta

Did you know that the SF Weekly, Sunset Promotions, and a bunch of other sponsors I’m too lazy to type out are doing a huge show in North Beach on Sunday?  Me neither.  Seems like someone needs to be doing a lot more promoting in the next four days.  Yadadamean? Regardless, All

Between TV, the internet and live tapings, there are lots of ways to watch the Daily Show without paying anything But getting tickets to a live taping involves planning several months ahead and winning a random lotto. If that kind of long term planning is beyond you, just get yourself

Some people are naturally funny and don’t need extra attention by doing standup and exposing themselves to the criticism of a spiteful, intoxicated audience.  I happen to be one of these people. But there are some awesome people that are naturally funny AND they work extra hard on humor because

Friends are fun. Having friends over to your house is fun. Buying snacks for your always-hungry friends when they come over, however, is not so fun. I usually forget about the latter in a frenzy of excitement over the former (“I get to wear slippers while being social! Score!”), so

There’s just something about vinyl. Something about hearing every warble, pop and hiss; something tangible. While 8-tracks are mocked, CDs are sold back and cassettes appear more often as ironic tattoos, records are coveted. Traded among friends, entrusted by departing roommates, fought over by fomer lovers, the record remains the