There are a lot of things I don’t miss about living on the Lower East Side, #1 being watching ex-frat boys puke outside of Fat Baby on Saturday nights. Or maybe it’s paying penthouse prices for an ex-tenement apartment… or seeing some kind of dead animal in the street at

Normally, I hate sweating. So I was surprised that I love shvitzing. It turns out, sweating is great when you’re mostly naked in a sauna that smells like sandalwood and oak and there’s a bucket of cold water to dump on your head. It’s not like a gross summer sweat

Usually when I’m on a “journey to the end of the night” it means I’m trying not to fall asleep on the bar after someone thought another round of Fernet shots would be a good idea. But this Saturday’s Halloween edition of Journey to the End of the Night is

Home to the ghosts of famous old people like Alexander Hamilton, John Jacob Astor, and Eliza Jumel–a prostitute who later became the richest woman in America and wife to Aaron Burr in a colonial-style “Pretty Woman”–The Trinity Church has been a resting place for our city’s finest since 1687 and

It’s the week before Halloween, which means things just start to seem a little spookier than usual around San Francisco, and there’s nothing more terrifying in Fog Town’s collective subconscious than our city’s evil transit agency. That means it’s perfect timing for Muni Diaries to throw another Muni Diaries Live!

It ain’t easy being a Boston sports fan in this city. Not only have I had to learn to suppress my reflex of shouting “Yankees Suck!” after every touchdown, recovery or awesome wing I eat no matter which sport I’m watching, but have also learned that wearing Boston sports paraphernalia

Didja ever notice when watching pretty much any RomCom, that the plots are almost always super implausible even though they’re meant to make us all be like: “Celebrities (pretending to be real people): JUST LIKE US!” Well, I did. And I’ve also blown the lid off of what the deal

In my fantasy life, I wake up 10 minutes early and do things like clean my dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, stretch enough to be able to finally touch my toes, and stop into the Sweetleaf Coffee & Tea shop for a cup of Stumptown and freshly-baked Pepper, Pear