Are you stuck in SF over Christmas and looking for some last minute ways to ease your conscience after all those hangovers in 2009? Maybe you just need an excuse to get out of the house and away from the family for a few hours without sounding like a jerk?

The natural enemy of the broke-ass is the rich person. Not just any millionaire, the super-rich. The kind of rich that automatically turns you into a super villain. And this time of year is a rich person’s favorite. They leave their tropically heated condos, and as their doormen unleash them

Okaaaay.  So, technically this happens every Friday (!), but it seems like a lovely stocking stuffer to share with our dear readers who are already on the late shift of their Noel pub crawls or for those who are desperately fleeing their respective gatherings and need a drip set up

If you look over at the side bar on the right you’ll notice how it says, “Deal of the Day” with a little widget thingy there.  Awhile back I told you how we’re working with Joffer to bring you kick ass deals every day.  Well for many, this is the

So a few Mondays ago Meredith May from the San Francisco Chronicle followed me around for a bit while I did some holiday shopping.  I ended up buying a few books and some novelty gifts and we chatted about all things Broke-Ass.  All that wandering and talking we did was

We here at Broke-Ass Stuart.com remember a kinder, gentler, funkier time when there was an entire network devoted to playing awesome new music videos. Men named Pinfield and women named Idalis would introduce block after block of original music videos from various genres interspersed with interviews with musicians and video

I’m spending most of my day on planes and in airports. I’m hoping to fall asleep so I won’t catch a glimpse at whatever god awful coming of age or chick flick they decide to show. If you’re in New York tonight, you don’t have to leave your entertainment to

I don’t like Christmas.  There, I said it.  To some, that may be the disdainful equivalent of hating puppies or ice cream, but the thing is, I wasn’t one of those Jewish kids raised to simply refrain from the celebration, I was raised to be suspicious of it.  While some