Local bloggers frustrated in search for post-museum drinks

Went with Jessica and Stephen to SFMOMA today to check out some art. If you haven't seen "The Steins Collect," what the fuck are you waiting for? Do you hate art and beauty? What kind of fucked-up person are you? Go see it. Anyway.

We got out of there around 3:30 and it's a beautiful day out and so we thought we might grab a quick drink. THIS IS WHEN THINGS WENT WRONG.

First thought: B Restaurant, in Yerba Buena Center. I knew it had outdoor tables and you gotta sit outdoors on the 3 days a year it's warm enough in San Francisco to sit outdoors. No dice. They weren't open until 4:30.

New plan: We will return to the Mission and get some beers at Rosamunde and sit on their front porch. BZZZT it's totally full when we get there because no one in the Mission has a job so a bunch of deadbeats and losers had already filled up the whole porch. Dorks.

Next plan: But wait! The Liberties has like 10 or 15 outdoor tables! Perfect! Quick walk there. Maybe 3 or 4 of the outdoor tables are taken. Plenty of room! Finally! We will realize our dream! So we walk in and there's one guy at the bar and the bartender and that's it. We're getting ready to order and she says, "Are you guys planning to take these outside?" And we're all "Yeah," thinking we have to order from a waitress outside or something.

"You have to order food to sit outside," she says.

Wait what. "Do we have to order, like, a LOT of food?" Jessica asks, not unreasonably.

"You have to order one item per drink." So we were all "You have got to be kidding" and left.

Now, seriously, The Liberties, are you fucking kidding me? You just lost the business of three heavy drinkers in an empty bar with at least 10 empty tables outside. Is that a good business plan? I get that you want to capitalize on your outdoor seating when it's nice out, but seriously, why fucking turn away business when the tables will just sit empty? I mean, who does that?

Also, I've sat at those outside tables plenty of times before without ordering food. So that whole thing was fucked.

(As you may have gathered, I'm off work this week so I've been taking the dog to the beach and all over town so much that he basically thinks we're going steady now and I'm also doing things like going to the museum on a Tuesday. Yes, I am taking a few days off but not leaving town but DO NOT say that word, the one you're thinking, that starts with an "S" and ends with "aycation." Do not say that word.)

Special 40goingon28 Food Edition.

I'm not a food blogger because I don't like quinoa and don't take cell-phone pics of my dinner, but I am a blogger who likes food and so sometimes I write about food and restaurants and shit.

You guys all know how important brunch is to me, so when I find a new Brunch Situation it feels pretty important. On Saturday The Wife and I went to Farmerbrown for brunch. Been there for dinner before and liked it but LOVED THE BRUNCH.

First off, we had a rez for 12:30 but there were a couple of assholes who linger over their waters for about an hour after they pay the check who were totally hogging our table but the host guy was totally apologetic and then gave us free mimosas when it got to be 12:45 because he could see that I was a little tightly wound and might have FREAKED OUT or something if it went much farther. So that was pretty nice.

For some reason, I love a good breakfast buffet (shout out to the Hotel Monteleone in New Orleans, still the best breakfast buffet I've ever had, WTF did you guys do to make that so fucking good?) and they have a sweet buffet at Farmerbrown for $16.50 apiece.

(I should also say that I was enjoying my second mimosa but The Wife ordered some kind of julep and then wouldn't drink it because it has bourbon in it and she didn't know that juleps are a bourbon-based drink and so I chivalrously traded my mimosa to her and took her julep and it was OK but I would have rather had the mimosa. Give her a break, she's not from this country.)

So in addition to the usual scrambled eggs and bacon, this buffet also had GRITS (pretty good, not the best I've ever had), pancakes, biscuits and gravy. and fucking FRIED CHICKEN which was really, really good. I totally went in saying "I'm sure I won't eat any more than I usually do" and that was a lie. I had 2 full plates. That shit was awesome. Highly recommended. They also have bottomless mimosas but I think they're like $14 and you'd need to be there a while to get your money's worth with that.

I also like the art:
Definitely going back. And see, I got this whole thing without using the words "gritty" or "colorful" because it's in the TL (corner of Turk & Mason). I also liked the hip hop the DJ was spinning. GO THERE AND HAVE BRUNCH.

Oh, other food thing. Last night I made roasted chicken and brussels sprouts. You want some good brussels sprouts? Quarter about a pound of sprouts. Saute about 4 chopped up slices of bacon until crispy, add the sprouts, salt & pepper, then add about 1/4 cup of water and cover and simmer for like 5 minutes, then uncover and keep simmering until the water's gone, like 5-10 more minutes.

Roasting a chicken's no big secret. Just melt butter and olive oil and pour it over that thing and stick a lemon half up in there and put the whole mess in at 425 for about an hour-fifteen. Then watch this:



This has been the Food Edition of 40goingon28.

Four things

I have a lot of thoughts and feelings today.

First, I love this story:

Teen Discovers Promising Cystic Fibrosis Treatment

A 16-year-old from the Toronto area used a supercomputer system to find a new drug combination that shows potential in treating the genetic disorder cystic fibrosis, and won top honors for his work.

Marshall Zhang, an 11th-grade student at Richmond Hill's Bayview Secondary School, received first place Tuesday (May 10) in the 2011 Sanofi-Aventis BioTalent Challenge, a contest in which students conduct their own research projects with the help of mentors.

Impressive, no? But the best part of the story is at the end:

Now Zhang and a trio of Montreal students who took second place for their technique for making sorbet without gelatin move on to compete against U.S. and Australian teams at the International BioGENEius Challenge in Washington, D.C., June 27.

That's right. FIRST PLACE: CURING MOTHERFUCKING CYSTIC FIBROSIS. Second place: Making sorbet without gelatin!!! SCIENCE. IT SOLVES THE WORLD'S PROBLEMS.

Second, have you ever wanted to see the inside of the Old Mint? Here's your chance! This weekend there's some kind of art show thing at the Old Mint and you can totally get in there and wander around and do whatever it is you do. Our pals over at Dusty Modern will even get you in for free if you're too cheap to pay the $5 admission. SUPER COOL!!!!!!

Third, there is no fucking way you will believe this, but Debra Saunders said some more stupid shit! SHOCKING, I KNOW. In her latest inanity, "Was Sarah Palin done in by Trig "birther" story?", Debra postulates that it was the (admittedly insane) rumors that Palin pretended to give birth to Trig to cover up her daughter's teen pregnancy that tanked Palin's credibility with the American people.

Oh, yeah, Debra, that is definitely what did it. It couldn't have been the epically disastrous interviews she did with Katie Couric or her repeatedly blaring absurdities on those rare occasions when she was able to form an English sentence or her sneering approach to, well, everything, or maybe quitting her job as the Governor of Alaska for no coherent reason at all, could it? Couldn't have been any of those things. No, it was probably a rumor about her kid's birth that maybe - maybe - 10 percent of the American public has even HEARD. God, the stupid never stops with Debra Saunders.

[Oh, and one more thing - even if, in some alternate universe that Debra Saunders calls home, the Trig thing really did bring down Sarah Palin, she fucking deserved it. Lest we forget, Palin supported Trump's ridiculous Obama birth certificate nonsense. As ye sow, etc.]

Fourth, I can't remember the fourth thing.

Have a good weekend, errbody!

Please forgive this brief foray into football

I don't usually write about football because I don't watch as much as I used to, having converted to baseball starting about 10 years ago when I first joined a Giants season ticket group. I leave football to Daisy. But this was just too hilarious.

[NOTE: The rest of this post will only make sense if you're an NFL fan in general and a 49ers fan in particular.]

From a Q&A with new Niners Head Coach/Franchise Jesus Jim Harbaugh, in today's 'Gate:

Q: What is your prototypical quarterback?

Harbaugh: "First of all, a competitive guy that's a winner, somebody that has great athletic instincts, somebody who is very accurate throwing the football, a quick-minded guy who can think fast on his feet and can make decisions quickly, someone who has leadership ability, an understanding of timing and can make really good decisions."

Q: Is potential free agent Alex Smith someone in the mix?

Harbaugh: "Yes, Alex Smith is definitely in it."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Wait, does Harbaugh not know who Alex Smith is? The total fucking bust who everyone agrees has no future with the 49ers? The one who failed when given chance after chance after chance? He's "definitely in it"?

Let me translate for you, in case you're not a football fan. Here, I found this Q&A with the Director of the Museum of Modern Art:

Q: What do you look for when purchasing a work of fine art?

A: It must have a bold vision and something to say. It should be edgy and dangerous and challenge your perceptions of what art is, but must also have an inherent beauty that can't be quantified or explained. It must speak to the soul, as well as the eyes.

Q: Is art by Thomas Kinkade in the mix?

A: Yes, Thomas Kinkade is definitely in it.

I certainly hope this is some bullshit that's part of Harbaugh's master plan, because if he's serious, and you're a 49ers fan, be very fucking afraid.

Happy Valentine's Day, if you're into that sort of thing

Here are some cards you can print out and use. Just choose the one that matches your situation most closely:

The Bachelor: At least one of us had therapy to prepare for this nightmare

I actually wasn’t going to do this season until I realized that (1) it’s coming on during Sober January and because it’s SJ my life resembles that of a Bubble Boy with agoraphobia and there really won’t be much else to write about and (2) I don’t remember what 2 was. So I guess I’m stuck with it.

Chris Harrison tells us this will be the Most Shocking Season Yet! Does that mean they finally found someone normal to be on the show? Oh, no, it doesn’t. They found Brad, who’s been on the show before. That’s how bad it is. The selection of people who want to be debased on national television is so thin that we must resort to subjecting the same poor fucks to this treatment over and over.

Brad apparently “stunned and infuriated” people the last time he was on the show by – NOT MAKING THIS UP – not picking anyone at all. That’s right: America was driven to tears of rage by Brad’s refusal to marry someone he had known for 6 weeks on national TV. HOW COULD YOU FAIL US IN THIS WAY BRAD? The whole experience sent Brad into therapy. He’s better now or something.

Let’s meet some chicks! Dentist, Funeral Director, Nanny with Dead Father Issues, Executive Assistant who Has Live Father Issues and is Divorced, a self-described “Manscaper,” a Faux Vampire/Model/Obvious Child Abuse Survivor, and a Walking Lifetime Movie with a Dead Racecar Husband and a Girl named Rickie. Or Ricki. Or Rikki. This is not made plain. Because Dad was named Rickie. The Wife sums it up: “These are clearly the sociopaths from other seasons who weren’t picked to be on the show.” So mean!

Time for Brad to sit down with Chris Harrison and talk about his therapy. Blah blah blah his Dad was never around and said he was going to pick him up and then never did and then had him come live with him and then kicked him out. Brad, let me help you out:


Oh, here come the chicks he didn’t pick 3 years ago for a Fake Confrontation. They both sit with their massive engagement rocks proudly on display. As it turns out, he did not Ruin Their Lives. Chris Harrison looks a little disappointed. This shit is faker than WWE. He says they have made him a better person. That’s the Zoloft, silly!

OK, let’s meet the psychos. The first chick slaps him because America is Mad at Him and also she has anger issues and sees him as her Distant Father. I think. Nanny Ashley grabs his ass. She is a good influence on her young charges! Then we have some chick in Katy Perry shoes and a stripper dress. Ashley the Dentist flips her hair a lot and screams desperation. Madison has fake – I mean, I think they’re fake – vampire teeth. She is one big Bag of Fucked Up. I kind of love her.


Jackie the Artist wants him to pinky swear that he won’t break her heart. I’m guessing her “art” involves fingerpaints and gluing macaroni to construction paper. Desperita does a fake marriage proposal. That will make someone nervous!

Another round of 15. Jesus, this is a lot. Oh, it’s the Mortician! “I think you can make anyone look good,” Brad says. Especially the recently deceased! Jill leads right off with “I’m ready to get married.” Can’t believe she’s single! “J” says it’s her birthday. She is asking for a full name this year. Then more come. God they keep coming. Like locusts.

OK, time to meet and greet with the Ladeez. He has to explain the Last Show Bullshit over and over and over. SO FUCKING BORING. Oh, first appearance of the phrase “Here for the Right Reasons!” That’s a classic. I think I also heard “Not here to make friends” earlier. The Manscaper does a little Manscaping on his wrist. Thank God that was the extent of it. Horrific details about Male Waxing then follow. Artist Jackie is going to sing. This turns out to be not such a great idea. She is a Strong Candidate to be the Kasey of this season. Alli wants to know if her ass looks fat. Some chick keeps stalking Brad around and “stealing him away” over and over and it gets really creepy and depressing.

Lifetime Movie gets some alone time. She’s not willing to settle. Except for a loser with father issues on national TV, I guess! MADISON TIME!!!! She tries to come off as all normal which is challenging when you look like Count Chocula crossed with a Barely Legal model. She is serious about being here! And being demonstrably damaged.

OK, let’s cull some bitches. Nanny Ashley gets the First Impression Rose and gets to stay. Madison gets the Childhood Trauma Survivor Rose. Lifetime Movie and Manscaper and Dr. Hairflip and Morticia and The Slapper all get to stay. Sorry, if you have a Big Chin you will not be riding this ride. Britnee weeps openly. Believe me, Britnee, this is not the end of the road.

COMING UP THIS SEASON: We travel to exotic destinations to watch desperate crazy people hurl themselves at one another. Way to go, ABC!

It approaches.

Guess who's decided to come back for Christmas this year? MOM.



Now I don't want to say that she's a complete Control Freak or anything, but The Sister is picking her up at the airport at 1 pm on Xmas Eve and she has already informed us that she has quite a few things on the old agenda, viz:

I'm thinking since my flight arrives at 1:20, and my hotel is at Union Square I would enjoy first stopping at nearby Grace Cathedral to see the Bronze Door casts of Ghiberti's "Gates of Paradise." I saw the beautiful originals in Florence at the Basilica. They are depictions in bronze casts of 12 Old Testament bible stories (Adam & Even in the garden, Noah's Ark, Moses and the 10 Commandments, etc.)

Then, just a hop away is the Mark Hopkins. I would enjoy stopping there for a drink at "The Top of the Mark" to have a bit of time with you before joining others.

Jesus Christ, lady, that's a whole vacation you want to fit into an hour and a half. Also, if you saw the originals on your trip to Florence, why do you wanna see some cheap knockoff "Gates of Paradise"? What, the real "Gates of Paradise" didn't do it for you? "Hey, I just saw the Mona Lisa at the Louvre, but I understand this truck stop in Gilroy has a poster of it on the wall in the Ladies Room so I definitely want to see that!!!"

Well, it should be interesting. I'm sure she'll want to know why we didn't hang up that Electronic Dartboard she got us for Christmas 2 years ago and I'll just have to explain that we decided against going with a Dave & Buster's interior decor theme and that's why there's no Pop-A-Shot in the living room either. And then we'll have to hear about all our inheritance money taking fabulous trips to Tuscany and London and the fucking Great Wall of China for all I know.

Your Quick Reference Guide to Celebrity Rehab 4

THE PLAYERS

Jason Davis is a fat guy whose grandfather invented movies or something. He is addicted to heroin and Twix bars, which is understandable because both are delicious. He is enemies with FRANKIE.

Leif Garrett is a guy your Mom used to masturbate to. He is addicted to everything in the world. He is enemies with EVERYONE and is especially annoyed by FRANKIE and with good reason because she is annoying as fuck.

Jeremy London was on Party of Five and was in the news recently because he was kidnapped by space aliens and taken to planet Are You Fucking Kidding Me and forced to take drugs and have fun. He's a little puffy but seems like a nice kid. He has a wife who looks like a RealDoll and is friends with LEIF.

Janice Dickinson is a semi-preserved former supermodel who eats barbituates for fun and gets mad when people don't pay attention to her. She is enemies with RACHEL.

Jason Wahler is a normal guy who happened to walk into the Pasadena Recovery Center by accident one day and was never allowed to leave. On "Celebrity Rehab," he is played by himself, or the other way around or something.

Frankie Lons is the mother of either Keyshia Cole, Keisha Knight Pulliam, or Ke$ha. She enjoys using the word "motherfucker," which is bleeped out with some success by authorities at VH1.

Rachel Uchitel is not the least attractive chick Tiger Woods banged. In fact, she is not in the bottom 10. She is addicted to not wearing enough clothing.

Eric Roberts is a strange pothead. His "Eracism" t-shirt somehow survived the 80's intact.

EPISODE GUIDE

Episode 1: Blah blah blah everyone talks about their boring lives. Jason Davis is a dick.

Episode 2: Everyone freaks out a little when they can't have any more drugs. Jason Davis is a dick.

Episode 3: Jeremy London's wife is wheeled in so everyone can get a look at her construction. Leif Garret is pissed. Jason Davis is a dick.

Episode 4: Everyone goes to the beach! There are no drugs there. Leif Garrett is going to leave. No, he's not now. Eric Roberts cries. Jason Davis is not that bad. Rachel takes a cab to oblivion.

Episode 5: Rachel realizes she must stay on TV to become famous and comes back. Resident Tech Shelley would kill for just one hit of crack.

COMING UP THIS SEASON

Everyone leaves and starts taking drugs again.

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER ON THE SHOW

Resident Tech Shelley. How much fun would it be to go on a weekend-long bender with her? Fuck.

I did some marrying this weekend.

My friends Stephen and Jessica got married Saturday, and they thought it would be a good idea to have me perform the wedding. Stephen said they had put a lot of thought into it and finally decided to honor me with this position because I am "tall." So we all went to City Hall and I swore to defend the Constitution against all enemies foreign and domestic and then I *POOF* became a Deputy Marriage Commissioner. I was ready to get some fucking nuptials on.

The actual ceremony was at Stephen's store, Dusty Modern, over on 20th and South Van Ness. Everybody was standing there watching and so I just dove in and warmed up the crowd with a couple of jokes. People laughed because they didn't know what else to do. J&S wrote their won vows because they wanted to have at least one part of the ceremony that I couldn't fuck up. They did a hella good job on that part. But I needed them to wrap it up because I had more good material written.

Anyway, I pronounced them Husband & Wife and whatnot and then we had champagne and then we all (like about 60 of us) tromped on over to Foreign Cinema for food and more booze. Luckily they made arrangements ahead of time but I thought it might be a hoot to walk up to the hostess stand and say "Yeah, we got about 65. How soon can you seat us?" Alas, that opportunity never presented itself.

The reception thing was in this big private room at Foreign Cinema where they were projecting "North by Northwest" on one wall and then everyone had to Google and find out who the female lead is, and SPOILER ALERT it's Eva Marie Saint. Anyway, the food was really good and then everyone gave toasts and I think I did too but I don't remember what I said because I was pretty lit by that point.



I think this is the first dance or something. I don't remember what song it was but it was probably something obscure and not "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston or some Sinatra joint.

(UPDATE: I am informed it was "I'll Come Running" by Brian Eno. That's a nice song.)

That's "Life Aquatic" playing in the background there because "NxNW" ran out. I forgot how much I disliked "Life Aquatic" but luckily you didn't have to pay attention to it if you didn't want to.

At this point I made sure everyone knew that I could still marry people until midnight but nobody seemed into it although my offer did cause one awkward conversation between two members of one couple about Their Relationship. Ahhhh, my work here is done. The we all sat around and talked about how shitty it would be if Tumblr went down for a whole day. No, I'm shitting you. We didn't talk about that. We talked about other things. Like other films de Wes Anderson and Modern Air Travel and the like. Anything you talk about is fun after 6 or 8 glasses of wine.

At that point, people were talking about where to go after but The Wife and I were pretty tired because marrying people takes a lot out of you so we just took a cab home.

It was one of the best weddings I've ever been to. Everybody there was totally cool and nice and S&J are one of those excellent couples that make you think "Man, they're a better couple than [me & my romantic partner]." They're going to totally last longer than Shannen Doherty and Rick Salomon.

30 Reasons to Hate San Francisco

30. It's cold and windy almost all the time. While the rest of the country enjoys a pleasant summer day, it's Ice Station Zebra up in this bitch.

29. There's nowhere to park.

28. Too crowded. Why is everyone always where I want to go? Don't you people have anywhere else to go?

27. Hippies.

26. Homeless. Esp. the person who took a shit on my front steps earlier this week.

25. Everything is too fucking expensive. $1250 for that studio in the Tenderloin? That's like a 3-bedroom house anywhere else. BONUS: No whores.

24. Too many weirdos.

23. Too loud.

22. Earthquakes. How about a completely random event that can destroy your house and everything you own and kill you and your family? Great, where do I sign????

21. There's no Target. I know, I know, there's going to be one over on Masonic, if it EVER gets built, which brings up:

20. NIMBYs. Including people who never want to change anything or see anything new.

19. Hipsters.

18. Bros.

17. Marina chicks.

16. Gavin Newsom.

15. Pretentious, heavily-tattooed waiters who think you're scum because you're not working on a screenplay or art installation. Why don't you install that flatiron steak right the fuck over here, asshole.

14. Muni. These people shouldn't be operating the Little Puffer Miniature Steam Train at the zoo, much less the transit system of a major metropolitan area.

13. People who say "I'm a fourth-generation San Franciscan." I'm a fifth-generation Who Gives a Fuck.

12. 4 Non-Blondes.

11. The Incredibly Useless Board of Supervisors. If we've gotten around to banning Happy Meals, I guess all the other problems have been cleared up. Right? Right?

10. Tourists.

9. Bike snobs. People who say "I choose not to own a car."

8. Terrible drivers.

7. Too many hills.

6. Chris Daly.

5. Chevy's.

4. Drunks. People yelling outside your window at 2:30 a.m. after the bars close. STFU.

3. Foodies. Why have a pizza when you can have an Artisanal Crispy Flatbread with Burrata from Cows Massaged Thrice Daily and Locally-Produced Dry-Cured Prosciutto Seasoned with Herbs from the Chef's Special Garden for $23?

2. Rainbow Grocery. People who shop at Rainbow Grocery.

1. People who bitch about everything.

Shit, I forgot Burning Man.

50 Reasons to Love San Francisco

50. It was 81 degrees last Thursday. NOVEMBER 4.

49. It’s usually 60 degrees on July 4. TAKE THAT, REST OF AMERICA.

48. The view from Bernal Hill.

47. The view from Tank Hill.

46. The view from the 20th & Church corner of Dolores Park.

45. Ritual Roasters, Blue Bottle, Caffe Trieste, Philz, or any of the other hyperspecialized coffee purveyors you depend on.

44. Making fun of tourists. Giving tourists directions. Rolling your eyes anytime someone says “Fisherman’s Wharf.”

43. 6-hour brunches.

42. The Neptune Society Columbarium. (Seriously, go if you’ve never been. It’s amazing).

41. Fresh focaccia from Liguria Barkery on Stockton.

40. Irish coffee.

39. Walking/biking through Golden Gate Park on Sunday when the streets are all blocked off.

38. Bay to Breakers. In whatever incarnation it currently has.

37. Red’s Java House.

36. Going to the Attic for the first time in 10 years and finding out that the cute bartender looks exactly the same.

35. Finally breaking down and going to Alcatraz and finding out it’s actually pretty cool.

34. When you’re out of town and someone asks you where you’re from and you say “San Francisco.”

33. The endless amusement in bitching about Muni, even though it almost always gets you there. Eventually.

32. The Ferry Building. $6 tomatoes.

31. The Heart of the City Farmer’s Market at U.N. Plaza. 6 tomatoes for $1.

30. Arguing about Critical Mass.

29. It’s-Its. Especially Mint It’s-Its, the obviously most superior It’s-It.

28. Frank Chu.

27. Sunny afternoons in Dolores Park. Cold beer, cold water.

26. The roast chicken at Nopa. The shaking beef at Slanted Door. The salt & pepper crab at R&G Lounge. The cioppino at Caesar’s. The sand dabs at Tadich Grill. A burrito from El Farolito.

25. Burritos in general.

24. Anchor Steam. Speakeasy. Toronado. 21st Amendment. The incredible beer culture and obsessive devotion to, and interest in, beer.

23. Earthquakes. Earthquake stories. Knowing with absolute certainty there is going to be a massive, devastating earthquake and not doing anything to get ready for it. Except putting a battery-operated radio and a pint of vodka in a shoebox and calling that your “earthquake kit.”

22. Taking the ferry to Tiburon and having brunch at Sam’s.

21. Herb Caen. (R.I.P, and kidz, if you don’t know, go read his stuff.)

20. Walking across the Golden Gate Bridge (BONUS: It’s 58 degrees, the wind is 40 mph, and it’s so foggy you can’t see the water).

19. Beach Blanket Babylon, The Marsh, and one-person shows with 6 people in the audience.

18. As bad as they are now, the San Francisco 49ers. Remember 1994? How about ’81, ’84, ’88, and ’89?

17. The Embarcadero Center lights at Christmas. Union Square at Christmas. The fucking puppies and kittens in the windows of Macy's at Christmas.

16. Happy hour at Zeitgeist, the 540 Club, the Royal Exchange, the Hi-Dive, the Ha-Ra, or wherever you happen to be at 5:00. Or 4:00. Or 3:00. Or, fuck it, 2:30.

15. Seeing live music in the basement of Li Po, at Stern Grove, Symphony Hall, the Fillmore, the Independent, or any of the other hundreds of places you can see live music any night.

14. Watching the fog roll in and slowly take over. Fog in general.

13. Santarchy. (I know they have it in other cities, but it started here, so there.)

12. Street food, from the bacon-wrapped hot dog guys on Mission to the Crème Brulee cart to the Korean BBQ truck and on and on and on.

11. Corner stores. Your corner store might have a better wine selection than most American cities. You could walk out with a Watermelon 4 Loko, a wedge of camembert, a Philips head screwdriver, and a jar of olive tapenade.

10. Amoeba Records (and Aquarius too, for that matter).

9. The Pride Parade. The Dyke March. Pride Weekend in general.

8. Your urban family.

7. Street art.

6. Dogs. Dogs everywhere. Fort Funston. Crissy Field. Duboce Park. Dogs in bars. Dogs on barstools next to you. Dogs in cabs. Knowing more dogs personally than children.

5. The neighborhoods. The Lower Haight is less than 2 miles from Cow Hollow, but you could live your whole life in one and never visit the other.

4. YOUR SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS.

3. SF MOMA, the DeYoung, the observation tower in the DeYoung, the Palace of the Legion of Honor, the Cartoon Art Museum, and Specs 12 Adler. All important cultural institutions.

2. Never having to grow up if you don’t want to. (Don’t I know it.)

1. You know what? Be as weird as you want. Work on your rock opera about the Boxer Rebellion. Be a barista/dominatrix. Talk almost exclusively about your conspiracy theory linking albinos and aliens. That’s cool. Let’s grab a drink and you can tell me all about it.



(In response to "50 Reasons to Be Pretty Damn Euphoric You Live in New York City," which appeared on the Village Voice's blog last week.)

Mad Men #12: Why I'm Quitting Tobacco. Not personally, I mean.

Man, this whole operation is going down the tubes. Don's trying to scare up some Bean Business with Mr. Heinz, but they won't commit because SCDP might not be around in 6 mos.! That's some bullshit! But he's right about one thing. Pickles are funny.

The business consultant guy or whoever he is who looks like Dr. Bunsen Honeydew says SCDP should stick with what they know: delicious cigarettes. There's gonna be a new brand of Chick Smokes. Are we seeing the birth of Virginia Slims? Awesome.

HEY SWEET CREEPER GLEN IS BACK. He's chatting up Sally while wearing an Arizona Cardinals uniform. They talk a lot about Bets. WONDER WHY. But hey, any excuse to get Creeper Glen back in the mix. Later we see Sally playing Go Fish with Dr. Edna. My shrink never played Go Fish with me! Fuck, for $125 an hour I should have gotten fucking Baccarat. Then later Bets catches Sally hanging out with Glen and Glen bolts even though they're not doing anything. YET, anyway.

Don runs into Midge from the Village. Remember her? She was that boho chick he was banging in season 1 or 2 or thereabouts and smoking The Pot and reading Frank O'Hara and all that jazz. LITERALLY. Anyway, she's looking pretty good but she's on the smack. Let's go over to Midge's for some whiskey and chicken cordon bleu with her creepy-ass husband. She's running some kind of art for sex scheme. DD throws her some money and takes Number 4. Oh, Midge. You've really let yourself go. You know what else is like drinking 100 bottles of whiskey while someone licks your tits? Pride in a job well done! Not really.

Dr. Honeydew comes around again and tells everyone at SCDP there's no cig company business after all. FAIL. Shit is going downhill. Everyone freaks out. Peggy wants to change SCDP's name. They should change it to "BBDO"! Those guys seem to be doing well. They could probably get a ton of business just by accident. Oh wait, even better, how about just "Puppies"? Everyone loves puppies!

Back at Don's pad, he stares at Number 4 for a LONG TIME and then oh shit he's gonna write in the journal and here comes that awful voiceover oh wait no, it's cool, he's writing "Why I'm Quitting Tobacco" and publishing it in the New York Times and basically being a fucking GAME CHANGER and being DISRUPTIVE and all kinds of dot com startup bullshit. Um, the other partners don't like it so much. Bert hates it so much that he's taking his shoes and leaving. That's sad! I'll miss Weird Old Bert. Then that fucking Ted Chaughough calls up and pretends to be Mayor Quimby Robert Kennedy and HA HA HA I hope you get killed by a hippie who writes "KILL THE PIGS" in blood on your wall.

Hey, where did Don get all that damn money? He's walking around with $125 in cash, which is like $7,500 in today's money and he's paying Pete's partnership stake and basically he's just got gobs of fucking cash.

Next week's the season finale. I'm rooting for a "Who shot Ted Chaoughough?" cliffhanger.

Mad Men #7: The mouse symbolizes something. I'm sure of it.

Sorry this is a day late. No, actually I’m not really sorry at all. Yesterday The Wife and I went to Red’s Java House and had burgers and beer in the sun and then we went to SF MOMA and saw the “From Calder to Warhol” exhibit which is basically just a taste of the 1000s of pieces the Fishers are donating and it’s pretty fucking awesome. Plus it was a really nice day. Plus no one ever reads these anyway. I mean, I used to get huge numbers of hits for the Bachelorette recaps and I don’t get many for the MM recaps and that maybe says something sad about Our Society and Culture or maybe means nothing at all. Boo hoo poor me.

Oh, also last night I watched Bachelor Pad and let me tell you straight up, that shit is PAINFUL. Like Grade A excruciating. And this is coming from a guy who analyzed every episode of an entire season of the Bachelorette.

OK, where are we? We’re at the Samsonite pitch meeting. The kidz want to do something with Joe Namath and it’s all very confusing and Don doesn’t like it and frankly I don’t either. How about instead we see Anson Wong shoving snakes into a sturdy Samsonite bag and then he looks at the camera and says “I’ve got a SNAKING suspicion that only Samsonite bags work for me! Get Samsonite today!”

Now we see that Duck is drinking in his semi-darkened apartment and he has sent Peggy a birthday gift, which is a business card for a made-up ad agency. Duck says he’s “falling apart” and the only cure for that is a shot of Pegs. Don’t worry, we’re going to see more of Duck soon.

So for her birthday, Mystery Fiancé is taking her to the Forum of the Twelve Caesars, which was apparently a Very Fancy Restaurant on 57 West 48th Street.

But wait! Don’s making her work on her birthday! Now who’s going to eat the Oysters of Hercules with Mark? Oh, holy shit, he’s got Peggy’s whole family there! Apparently Mark doesn’t know Peggy very well, because this is not a selling point for her. Mark’s totally giving her a hard time and Peggy’s all “I have to work late” and Mark’s all “Waaaah, come on,” and then he breaks up with her over the Black Courtesy Phone! Good riddance, I say.

Thus we begin the Night of Peggy and Don. They start out with a good fight about who had the idea for Glo-Coat and then move on to the Roger tapes. Whoa, Ms. Blankenship was the “Queen of Perversion”! Ugh, try scraping that mental image form your mind. Roger’s memoirs may prove to be unfit for public consumption. Anyway, the night continues and gets a little rom-commy. There’s a mouse in the office and then it’s gone and Don says solemnly “There’s a way out of this room we don’t know about.” DUN DUN DUN!!!! This is FRAUGHT WITH MEANING. Discuss amongst yourselves.

Off to dinner at the Greek diner. Wait a minute, Don’s not drinking. WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS? They’re having a Deep Conversation. “Oh, wow, I saw my father die too!” It’s like the 1965 version of coke talk. Then on to a bar. Oh, I like this bar! It’s like Radio in Oakland but with the lights turned up. In the past, you used to be able to see in bars. Now that’s considered passé. That’s why I keep knocking drinks over. Sort of. Anyway, is Peggy drinking a Cosmo? She’s like the Ur-Carrie Bradshaw! Holy shit, there’s a grad thesis just sitting there. Go ahead and take it.

Back to the office. Don pukes violently in the SCDP bathroom. Nobody ever pukes on this show after drinking all day. It’s actually kind of refreshing. Oh shit, here comes the Duckster! He is fucked UP. This office is like the Grand Central Station of Drunk. Whoa, whoa, whoa, Duck’s about to drop a deuce in Roger’s office! Oh, Duck. I guess the fact that you’re in the wrong office is the least of your problems. Duck and Don settle this with a good old-fashioned Drunk Fight and Pegs shows him out.

Tim to pass out on the couch. The ghost of Fake Wife appears, carrying her trusty Samsonite suitcase into the afterlife, where she will appear in a guest-starring role on “Castle,” the worst show I have ever seen, even worse than “Bachelor Pad,” even worse than that midget dating show. Anyway, I imagine this scene is also Fraught With Meaning. The good news is, Don and Pegs don’t hook up because ew.

So the next day Don’s got a fresh shirt and looks marginally presentable but Peggy’s going to have to do the Walk of Shame even though she didn’t even get any. Now it’s time for the Scenes from the Next Episode, which every week reveal absolutely nothing about what’s going to happen.

I’ll tell you one thing that’s going to happen: Next Sunday and Monday I will be Out of The Local Area and so this recap will be substantially delayed. Please direct your complaints to the Managing Director. I want to eat a rare steak and watch two men pound each other.

Mad Men #6: It's a relief to see someone worse than me!

OK, before I get to the mondo weirdness that happened on the Men last night, let me first begin with an unhinged rant about the Claremont Resort and Spa in Berkeley, California.

It goes like this: fuck you, Claremont Resort and Spa. First of all, the room that we got for our discounted rate of $180 was almost smaller than any other hotel room I’ve ever stayed in, including in Lower Manhattan. The only potentially smaller one was in London, and I think it was cheaper. But hey, at least the closet was fucking huge! Should have pulled the bed in there and luxuriated. Also, the fuck is up with the $24 “facility fee”? The facility is the fucking hotel, which I just paid $180 a night for, you jackass. And $24 to park overnight? You guys just love the way “$24” sounds, right, because you just keep adding it. To sum up: blow me.

OK, on to the show. Jane’s brother or cousin or something is trying to get a job. He’s a weird little weasel who puts other people’s ads in his book. He’s an appli-can’t. See what I did there? PA-POW!!! Roger’s funny again and not as racist. “I told him to be himself. That was pretty mean, I guess.” Fucking ZING. How much fun would it be to hang out with Roger at Tosca or Top of the Mark for about an hour? Martinis are on me. Especially if they cost 25 cents like they did in 1965.

Oh, yay, it’s a flashback that doesn’t involve a mule or that goldarn truck that weren’t start or some other Okie shit. No, here we see The Creation Myth, in which Roger comes to Don’s fur store and is very mean to Don! He buys a mink for Joan, whose hair in this flashback is not really all that inspiring. It makes me a little sad. Anyway, Don’s going to totally stalk Roger for a while now. This is how people did it before Facebook. You had to do your stalking in person. Like a man.

One of our main plots this week is Peggy working on the Vick’s campaign with Edgy Art Guy, who you can tell is edgy because he’s wearing a leather jacket. He’s also a fucking tool. Anyway, Pegs and Edgy Art Guy are involved in the weirdest scene so far this season. Now, if I said “Peggy and a guy in a leather jacket and a stupid smirk get naked in a hotel room with some Vick’s Vapo-Rub,” you’d be thinking “safeword,” not “writing some killer copy,” right? But that’s what happens and that’s about it except for some small penis jokes. I wasn’t crazy about this whole plot in general but I’m sure it’s Very Important. Basically any scene without Joan in it bores me a little now.

Here we are at the Clios! The Clios take place in the middle of the day? At least it’s Friday. Oh, there’s Duck! Back on the sauce. That’s the Duck we love. He gives the Clios a good go-around and gets escorted out. Ted Chaouaough shows up with, oddly, a Major General in tow. Wouldn’t it be awesome if you could hire Generals to hang around with you and like go to Zeitgeist with you or bowling or whatnot? Anyway, the Sterling Boys win for the so, so weird Glo-Coat ad BUT WAIT we have to rush back to the office because the Life Cereal people are there!

Whoa, everyone is shitty drunk. Don has three hairs out of place so he’s obviously totes wasted. Mikey hasn’t been invented yet or killed in Vietnam so we have to make up a different campaign for Life cereal. Oh, wait, Mikey supposedly died from mixing Pop Rocks and soda. What? That's stupid. Mixing pop rocks and heroin, maybe. Anyway, Don suggests “Life is like a box of chocolates” but everyone looks confused because Tom Hanks isn’t a retard yet. Neither is everyone else who paid to see that P.O.S. Then Don totally steals the Appli-Can’t’s “Cure for the Common Breakfast” business and everyone loves it. This means they have to hire that little fuck. Wow, is he ever small! Small like a fox. Wait, that doesn’t mean anything. I shouldn’t inhale these Glo-Coat fumes.

Next we see Don and Roger and Joan in their Native Environment, which is a bar. Faye shoots down Don. He has Lost His Mojo and now has to sleep with the Cake Mix Girl to get it back. Roger almost picks a fight with General Demeanor, who points to his Ass-Kicking Ribbons and then has to leave because Ted’s leaving. But wait! Don obviously goes on some kind of bender because he goes to bed with Cake Mix but wakes up with Doris the Waitress who calls him “Dick.” Capital-D Dick. What the fuck happened here? Don is clearly Out of Control.

We wrap up the whole flashback thing with Don showing up for work and telling Roger that he said “Welcome aboard” when Roger said no such thing. This is just like on Seinfeld when George just showed up to work after Mr. Tuttle never told him whether he got the job or not! Except that George doesn’t spend all day drinking and banging waitresses. That would have made Seinfeld much, much better, though.

You know how people are giving their kids old-fashioned names like Rose and Mabel and Hazel? Dottie still hasn’t caught on yet, has it? Maybe this episode will do the trick! Gertrude’s not coming back either. Oh well.

If San Francisco neighborhoods were Impressionist painters and/or highly salted snacks

Over at Mock Duck, Dan helpfully points us towards his post comparing European countries to U.S. states. To wit:

Czech Republic = Ohio. Industrial, Midwestern, practical. Both have a tendency towards tiny bath towels– no, wait, that’s only Czech.

France = New York. Both have capital cities that were once the center of the world but are now of diminished global significance. Both tend to live in denial of this fact.

Netherlands = Massachusetts. Small, progressive, mercantile, weirdo. Similar strange mixture of ideological open-mindedness and conservative impulses.

This immediately made me think:

IF SAN FRANCISCO NEIGHBORHOODS WERE IMPRESSIONIST PAINTERS AND/OR HIGHLY SALTED SNACKS

The Marina: Renoir, Quakes

Upper Haight: Cool Ranch Doritos

Lower Haight: Funnyuns, Pissarro

The Sunset: Lay's Regular, Guillaumin

North Beach: Monet, cocaine

The Mission: Manet

Russian Hill: Monet, Rold Gold Classic Style Rods

Have a good weekend, everybody! I'm going to a wedding in Oakland (Caillebotte, Bugles). Weddings are good because everyone is trying to look good and there's usually free food and booze. And for once, it's not me getting married! Kidding. Sort of.

If you like furniture and art, you're going to love this

ADVISORY: This is a shameless plug for my friend's store.

My friend Stephen lives in the Mission and is vegetarian and edits Hacked IRL. Recently he decided to open a store dedicated to Mid-Century furniture and art, because that's his thing. It's called Dusty Modern and it's on 20th, near South Van Ness. It's like a block away from Shotwell's, if you're like me and relate everything to what bar it's closest to.



See? It's full of furniture and art. And Stephen, too, if you look very carefully at the back.

You should totally go by. Right now, he's open Fri-Sun, 12-6. When I went by, I got 2 beers. I can't guarantee you'll get 2 beers just for showing up, but I can guarantee that if you want to talk about Mid-Century furniture or Clyfford Still or Spoon, Stephen will most likely be happy to oblige you.

Thus ends the shameless plug for my friend's store.

Four haiku about today's Chronicle

Michael Bauer dined
On a somewhat dry pork chop
Bacco, "buzzing" yet.

Oh, look! There's that "Ø"!
A Norwegian firm, it seems,
Will expand MØMA.

Macy*s seems to think
People still buy the paper
To look at the ads

Jon Carroll, you old
Curmudgeon. What are your cats
Up to today? Huh?

Today's Power Rankings

Vuvuzela	▼	Is there any way we could add an annoying monotone drone to every televised sporting event?
Vuvuzela Twitter feed	▲	In the future, every phenomenon will have its own satirical Twitter feed
Gavin in Shanghai	▲	Bring me back a #23 and an order of green onion pancake
Vampires	▲♂	There has to be a "Lost Boys" remake in preproduction somewhere, right? I haven't checked, but it's gotta be happening, right?
World Cup officiating		Makes NBA refs look like…I don't know, really good refs or something
Sharron Angle	►☺	Put a little crazy in your Senate
New Bret Easton Ellis novel	▬	In other news, Bret Easton Ellis is still alive and writing novels, apparently
Treaty of Ghent	£▲	Still one of the best treaties
Lakers	▲	Kobe is the MVP. OF RAPING.
Watermelon	▲	The Miracle Food™
Oil spill	◙▼	BP has discovered an extraordinarily efficient way to move stuff that was inside the Earth to outside the Earth
Tagging the Buddha sculpture in Civic Center Plaza	▼	You people are assholes.
Jeremy London kidnapping	♣	Now me! Now me!

Boring travelogue, Part 6: You're not going to believe who I ran into in Washington DC

I'm positive there's a totally fun part of Washington D.C. where the cool kidz hang out and smoke Gauloises and listen to Animal Collective and spend all day hanging out in the cafe with their iBooks posting snarky things about selfsame neighborhood to their blogs. Statistically, it has to exist. We just haven't found it. In D.C.'s defense, we haven't been looking very hard.

So from what I can tell, DC is populated mainly by extremely preppy people wearing laminated keycards around their neck and engaged mostly in Very Important Conversation. Then every 10 minutes a brazilian cops roll up and shut down the intersection you're trying to cross and a convoy of trucks and SUVs and limos goes by carrying a lot of Serious Looking Guys in suits holding assault rifles and maybe The President. This happens so frequently it's boring and annoying instead of exciting and interesting.

There's some Nuclear Summit dealio in town, so maybe this doesn't happen every day, just every day we're here.

I love museums and DC is basically Museumland, so we're loving that. Let me nutshell it for you:

Museum of American History: Great. Really interesting, well-designed exhibits. Most people just want to see Kermit the Frog and the Ruby Slippers from Wizard of Oz, but I didn't care so much about that. Surprisingly good food in the cafe.

Museum of Natural History: Yes, all those stuffed animals are real. The dinosaur exhibit is a great place if you like screaming kids.

Air and Space: I liked it better when I was 13.

Last night we met up with a friend of mine from college and had a 4-hour binge drinking session dinner at this place called Posto and it was good and everything and here comes the best part of the story and damn if you aren't going to accuse me of burying the lede but whatever. We're sitting at the bar and this guy is at the end of the bar like 10 feet away anbd he's wearing a suit like everyone else in DC all the time and my friend goes "You know who that is?" and I was looking at a different guy so I said no but then when I looked at the right guy HOLY SHIT GUESS WHAT.

IT WAS MOTHERFUCKING RAHM EMANUEL. Hand to God, I shit you not. Talking to some chick at the bar and having a glass of wine.

My friend looks at his watch and goes "It's only 7 o'clock. Why isn't he working?" I was kinda wondering the same thing. I guess he doesn't watch "The West Wing."

Boring Travelogue, Part 4: NYC

I hate it when people compare New York to SF, because it's totally not fair and NYC has 13 million people and a lot more land mass and Donald Trump and all we have is 49 square miles and Dolores Park and Frank Chu, but I can't help it. New York is fucking awesome.



Since we got here, we've been running around like crazy, what with the Empire State Building and the Ellis Island and the Museum of Modern Art, but let me just share a few observations:

- The ratio of tourists to NYers on most major arteries (i.e., 5th Ave., Broadway, etc.) is like 1 to 1. There are a fuckload of British people here. I have never seen so many British people in my life.

- Tourists are pretty much the same everywhere. They love taking pictures. Yesterday, at the MOMA, I watched a Japanes girl methodically move from painting to painting, snapping a pic and then moving on, like she was boringly photographing her shit for insurance purposes. Hey, how about looking at the art for a change? Look at these fucking photogs:



(Incidentally, that famous Dali painting with the melting clocks is really small. I was picturing it maybe 3 by 4 feet, but it's like a foot square. Also, Jackson Pollock paintings are way cooler IRL than when you see them in books.)

(Also incidentally (and maybe obvs.) the people pictured above are not at the MOMA.)

- Oh, speaking of ratios, the ratio of very attractive girls to very attractive guys is like 4:1. NYC would be a great place to be if you were like an average-looking guy with any game at all.

- If you're ever in NYC, go eat at Five Points. So fucking good, I'm not even kidding. I had the line-caught sustainable swordfish, but that shit was so good that I wouldn't have cared if it were the driftnet-caught unsustainable Last Swordfish on Earth.

- Then we went to dinner last night with my cousin (or nephew or something, I forget) and his wife at Odeon, which was also completely fantastic and totally lacked the pretense and arrogance I was expecting. Liz told me that it was the place on the cover of "Bright Lights Big City" but I didn't run into anyone snorting coke in the bathroom.

- Only one celebrity sighting. At Five Points, The Wife said "That's Zachary Quinto!" and I said "Who's Zachary Pinto?" and she explained he's some actor guy from some show or movie or something. You take what you can get.

- Oh, and yeah, awesome about the 4-0 Giants and I love it and whatever, you know they're going to start sucking as soon as I get back.

- Going to Brooklyn tomorrow. I wanna see if their hipsters here are like our hipsters in SF. I'll try and get some pics.