Mark Twain’s oft-quoted appraisal of S.F’s cruel and spiteful summer climate has been ringing in my ears for about a month now; July hit and like clockwork the Great Grayness was pulled over the length and width of S.F like a wool blanket being drawn up to the chin of

My life mantra has become “Let’s get weird”. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s what I want it to say on my tombstone. So I’ve decided to throw a monthly party in celebration of getting weird. It’s called Freaky-Deaky Fridays. And… It’s a Costume Box Dance Party! and it happens

And so I continue my mission to find a pupusa that would justify, at least in my mind, their ubiquity, nay, their very existence.  In Panchita’s No. 2 I’ve found a pupuseria whose product at least gives me hope and prevents me from writing them off as nothing more than bland, pudgy

There comes a time in every broke-ass’ life where he or she realizes there are other broke folk looking our for their own kind. The Shit Show is one of those moments. Every second Saturday at The Showdown, Fuck Off Presents and Team Terrible throw this amazing party where the

  So Noodles Almost always, one of two means are used in selecting the next spot upon which to grace my wobbly prose: either word of mouth, or spur-of-the-moment curiosity.  Working in the restaurant industry myself, I’m constantly fielding a steady stream of recommendations from cooks, bartenders, servers, etc., not to

I had so much fun hosting the Phono Del Sol Festival last year. I got to hang out, meet rad people, drink beer, and listen to good music. What else could you want in a weekend afternoon? If you said “Nothing” then I have good news for you! The 2013

I suppose there periodically come times in everyone’s life when they’re forced to ask themselves, “Is this necessary?” When you’re arguing with your significant other on the Muni over which band you’ll see together at Hardly Strictly. When you’re forced to bee line around a group of sidewalk-hoggers in the

Pride in San Francisco is never a mellow affair, but even by the Barbary Coast’s well- seasoned standards, this was one hell of a joyride.  From Castro on Wednesday until grooving through the bodies electric on Sunday, our eagle-eyed contributor, Fabian, caught the City as she swelled rhythmically in a