Well queers, we are already mid-week of this year’s rainbow tour and about knee deep in plenty of gay-ass shit to do. If you are, by chance looking for something to do on the way to the Milk Club and 48 Hills joint happy hour (because you would never miss

Golden Boy Pizza has been feeding working people, drunk people, and working drunk people since 1978. It’s also hands down one of the best slices in San Francisco.

I write about Williamsburg a lot and that’s because I live here. I’m coming up on my one-year anniversary, in fact. But I’ll admit it. I was kind of hatin’ on my own neighborhood for a while. When you’re not snobby about music and could care less about owning a

Being a Broke Ass – It’s elementary, my dear. Abstinence. From fancy ass parties in the Meatpacking District where a gin and tonic will set you back fourteen bucks. Blue, purple. Blue, purple. Blue, purple. AKA – all you see after a particularly draining day of job hunting on Craigslist. Crocodile

 Canned Tuna  While most people may find canned tuna a bit repulsive and unattractive due to the obvious fact that it is a canned food, I happen to have fallen for it. It has saved my soul on various occasions. Just grab some mayo and maybe 2 slices of toast

In the middle of Brooklyn’s Williamsburg neighborhood of hipsters, artists and broke-asses, is a special place amongst the infinite amount of restaurants and bars riddled along Bedford avenue–the Charleston. The Charleston is an unrivaled hangout spot for the local clan of Brooklynites. To start off, its owners have cleverly designated

  I guess it’s pretty obvious why people who frequent bars a lot are called “bar flies,” but I always get this image in my head of all these big, horse flies swarming around and getting stuck in a puddle of warm beer. They try to move about and escape,

There are hundreds of fake grape clusters hanging from the ceilings, red and white checkered tablecloths, “That’s Amore” playing loudly in the background. Wine is served in huge quantities. Paunchy, beaming waiters slide steaming pizzas in front of their patrons. Gaspare’s, I’ve realized, is pretty much exactly where I would