What are your Panhandler Rules?

If you're like me (and there is almost no chance of this, I realize that, it's just an expression), on your daily perambulations through the City, you encounter a variety of panhandlers, homeless and otherwise. As with most things in my life, I'm often perplexed about how to handle this fraught situation and so I'm croudsourcing this issue to find out what it is you do.



As I work in the Civic Center area, which is part of/maybe just immediately adjacent the Tenderloin, I see some of the same panhandlers every day.



There is the oddly well-put-together woman who I've written about before who posts up at the corner of Grove and Larkin during commute hours (she's there roughly 7:30-9 am and then 4 to about 6 pm) silently holding a sheaf of Street Sheets and who doesn't look homeless or even really troubled in any way; in fact, she would not be out of place waiting on you in a diner or something. NOT HOLDING THAT AGAINST HER; I'm just saying, it's kinda weird.



(I wrote that prior post about her in 2009. She's still out there, basically every day. I continue to be really curious about what her deal is but I really don't want to stop and talk to her because I pass her every day, usually twice a day, and I don't want to set up a thing where I have to stop and talk to her every day. It has nothing to do with her being homeless; I don't want to stop and talk to anyone twice a day. I'm not one of those people who hangs around their corner store trading neighborhood gossip or that kind of thing.)



(OH SNAP I just looked at the Google Street View for Grove & Larkin and thought I saw her but it's just some chick with a coffee. Goes to show how normal she looks.)



There's the Bearded Disheveled Guy Who's Always Reading a Paperback Book. He can be found in Civic Center Station pretty much all the time. I've actually given him money before.



There's a whole crowd that hangs out around the Main Library. One of them is a guy who wears Rollerblades all the time and skates around passing a football back and forth with one of his comrades. In all fairness, I've never seen him ask anyone for money, so maybe he just likes to wear Rollerblades and throw the rock around and hang out by the library.



UNRELATED: Check out the cool Street View Dog on the corner of Larkin and Golden Gate! AWWWWW, PUPPY!!!!



And so on. My point is, when you see your Regular Panhandlers, what do you do? Do you give them money?



Or I guess, what are your usual Giving Money to Panhandler Rules? I mean, in SF, you probably get hit up for money 5 to 12 times a day unless you're Richie Rich and live in Pacific Heights and drive your Volvo to work and your secretary brings lunch to you. So what are your giving money rules? When do you toss a buck at a panhandler?



(RELATED STORY - I remember reading somewhere years ago about an invitation to some fancy-ass party in a part of town where there were obviously panhandlers and the invitation asked guests to not give money to the "outdoorsmen." Outdoorsmen! FAVORITE HOMELESS EUPHEMISM.)



Have a nice holiday weekend at Burning Man or whatever it is you do. I guess if you're at Burning Man you're not reading this anyway.



Also, I'm still on jury duty but hopefully only for another week and then everything will be back to normal.



Also, we're trying out Boxing Room tonight and I'll totally tell you if it's good or what. Smoked Chicken & Andouille Gumbo! FUCK YEAH. Speaking of restaurant websites, THANK YOU FOR NOT AUTOPLAYING DIXIELAND JAZZ ON YOUR WEBSITE BOXING ROOM. I KNOW THAT MUST HAVE BEEN NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE TO RESIST.



OK, I'm done now.

Trip Report: Fresno!!!

A couple of weeks ago The Wife and I were watching the Giants lose again and they mentioned calling up someone from the Fresno Grizzlies and she said "We should go to a Fresno Grizzlies game sometime" and because we are People of Action and not just Big Talkers, on Saturday we found ourselves in a car driving to Fresno.



One of The Wife's work friends is from Fresno and I guess knows people associated with the team so we got tickets in what I assume is like Club Level here at AT&T Park and got some concessions vouchers and stuff like that. That's all nice, but the greatest gift we got was the hotel he recommended: The Picadilly Inn Shaw. I shall explain in just a moment.



Fresno is flat as a pool table and searingly hot, which felt great after the Non-Summer of High 50's in SF. When we got there it was 104. As far as I can tell, Fresno is comprised mainly of strip malls, chain restaurants, and chain everything else. So I guess it's like most of the rest of the country.



ANYWAY though. The Picadilly Inn! I don't know where to start. It was obviously built circa 1972 and NOTHING HAS CHANGED SINCE THEN. It is like visiting the set of a movie that's set in a hotel in 1972. I mean, look at our room!







That picture actually makes it look creepier than it was, which is sort of unbelievable. But it really did have that trapped-in-70s-amber vibe.



Anyway, our room was on the second floor and overlooked this garden where they were setting up for a wedding. We were kind of absently watching through the window when The Wife started to notice something. "I think there's 2 brides," she said.



GET. THE. FUCK. OUT.



So they're setting up and we decide to hit the bar up for a drink and guess what? THERE'S SOME KIND OF RODEO CONVENTION at the SAME FUCKING HOTEL and the bar looks like a slightly spiffier Deadwood. I mean, all they needed was a player piano and a bartender with a handlebar mustache and those arm garter things.







On the way there, we pass one of those little signs that tell you where things are in the hotel and it said something like "Congratulations Roxanna and Noemi"!!!! AWESOME!!! I mean, here we are being all Too Cool For School from San Francisco and we walk right into a Lesbian Wedding in Fresno. Fresno! I misjudged you and feel bad now!



We got the drinks to go and hustled back to the room to watch the wedding. I can report that both brides wore white. They looked amazing and happy. CONGRATULATIONS, ROXANNA AND NOEMI!!!



Then we went to the baseball game. The stadium is in Downtown Fresno which has obviously seen better days. Apart from the people going to the game, downtown was populated exclusively by homeless people. We walked through this pedestrian mall thing from the parking garage to the ballpark. It had obviously been an effort to get people hanging around downtown but didn't work. As we passed one older homeless lady, she greeted us by saying "Suck it, bitch." AND A FINE GOOD EVENING TO YOU, MA'AM! Anyway, nothing you can't get anywhere in SF.



The park was really nice and obviously recently built. It was a delight to sit outside at night and watch a baseball game in shorts and a t-shirt. It was 90 degrees at 8:30 p.m.





I don't have much to say about the game. Barry Zito - remember him? - started for the Grizzlies and was doing OK until he sprained something and limped off the field. The other Grizzlies pitchers weren't very good. They lost.



The next day we drove home. This was uneventful except for a stop at the Carl's Jr. in Atwater, California. HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS I have never seen a bigger collection of weirdos and freaks than at the Carl's Jr. in Atwater, California.



The Atwater Carl's Jr. has 3 Yelp reviews! If I were a jackass enough to post Yelp reviews, here's what mine would say:



"I'm not sure who was more impressive, the Charles Manson clone with a neckbeard and prison tattoos who stared malevolently at my wife the whole time we were there or the Tweaker Family featuring the kid was unusual facial hair and a topknot ponytail and Morbidly Obese Uncle with a definite Lou Albano vibe, but the crowd at this Carl's Jr. made the backwoods family from 'Deliverance' look like the Algonquin Round Table.



"Also, I'm not 100% sure if anyone here has ever assembled a hamburger correctly, but it usually involves something more than randomly shoving a meat patty and a bun and some wilted lettuce into a paper sleeve.



"It did have a bathroom, though, and also a parking space in front of the door which facilitated our very rapid exit."



So, yeah. Fresno. There you go.

TK's Better Tour of San Francisco

Got some of the Wife's relatives in town! It's her brother, who grew up in Ireland and now lives in New Zealand, and his New Zealander kids. They're all super-nice and awesome and everything. I volunteered to show 'em around SF this afternoon. Now, anyone could go see the sea lions at Pier 39 and whatnot, but where's the fun in that? I have my own tour of SF that beats the shit out of that:

Portsmouth Square

Kearny and Clay Streets

"The Sydney Ducks were this Australian gang, duh, that pretty much owned the waterfront around Broadway and Pacific. On May 3, 1851, one of the Ducks was seen running out of a shop on the southern side of Portsmouth Square just before the building started burning. The fire destroyed something like 2000 buildings, and was so bright you could see it in Monterey. They apparently set the fire so they could loot shit when people fled. A few Aussies were lynched a couple of months later and that seemed to have the desired effect."

Erno Tattoo

252 Fillmore

"That's where I got my first tattoo. I was drinking with my friend Jim at 13% on Haight, which was this bar where the Underground SF is now, and I stood up and said 'I guess I'm gonna go get a tattoo,' and I walked up there and sat down and got one. I was pretty lit. The less said about the tattoo, the better. Erno's is long gone now. So is 13%."

Church of Satan

6114 California Street



Wiki can tell the story better than me:

The Black House is a building that formerly stood at 6114 California St. in San Francisco, California, in the United States. Though the building is sometimes referred to as a mansion, photographs of the building taken just before its destruction show that it was a moderately sized single family home, considerably smaller than the two small apartment buildings on either side of the property. According to public records, it was listed at 2,205 square feet and constructed in the year 1905.

The house was used by Anton LaVey as the headquarters of his Church of Satan from 1966 until his death in 1997. LaVey conducted Satanic seminars and rituals at the house; one of the most notorious such rituals was the Satanic baptism of his daughter Zeena Schreck in 1967, punctuated by LaVey speaking the words "Hail Satan!" over the nude body of a female acting as the 'Satanic Altar'.

Public ceremonies were performed at the house until 1972. LaVey lost ownership of the house in 1991 as the result of a court settlement resulting from his separation from Diane Hegarty, but LaVey was allowed to reside at the Black House until his death.

Following LaVey's death, members of the Church of Satan unsuccessfully attempted to raise funds to repurchase the house, and it was demolished on October 17, 2001. A duplex now stands in its place.

A duplex! Man, Satan, that fucking SUCKS.

Imperial Palace restaurant

816 Washington Street

"Two and a half stars on Yelp. Tammie W. says that 'the selection was rather heavy on pork and shrimp and gone were the forays into vegetarian choices,' whatever the fucks that means. But we don't care about the food. This used to be the Golden Dragon, site of the Golden Dragon Massacre, a shootout between the Joe Boys and Wah Ching on September 4, 1977. 5 people got killed and 11 injured. Even more tragic was James Woods' hair in the 1989 film True Believer, which was loosely based on the incident."



Nightmarish.

The Furniture Mart

1355 Market St.

"This is the future home of Twitter. Twitter may be cool and all, but I bet you anything they will never, ever have a party like Jack Davis had on his 50th birthday at the Furniture Mart penthouse. Here's how Cintra Wilson described it:

In a nutshell, for those of you from points elsewhere, this Jack Davis guy, an openly gay and notoriously "outrageous" political consultant who is generally believed to have gotten the last two S.F. mayors elected and whose current client is the 49ers, who are trying to get the voters to approve a bond initiative to finance their new stadium, had his friends throw him a 50th birthday party that was attended by a slurry of big polyurethane-headed politicos in smart little suits and ties. The party, replete with multi-sexual go-go sluts and a glory hole wall, climaxed with a guy named Steve Leyba getting a pentagram carved on his back and being pissed on and sodomized with a bottle of Jack Daniel's by my old friend, vampire/lesbian/dominatrix/Satanist/junkie/poet/performance-artist Danielle Willis.

Top that, Twitter. Also, more Satanists! Yay!"

Corner of Haight and Stanyan

Haight and Stanyan Streets

"Let's stop here for some weed."

Corner of Golden Gate and Hyde

Golden Gate and Hyde Streets

"That's the Post Office where the homeless guys pick up their SSI checks. Luckily, they have multiple opportunities to spend them directly outside."

Pier 39

Embarcadero and Beach Streets

"I gotta stop at Krazy Kaps and We Be Knives and then OF COURSE we can look at the sea lions. I'm not heartless. Also, Red Jack Saloon is like 4 blocks away and it's probably been long enough that they wouldn't remember last time I was there and I could go in for a pint."

That's it. I'm beat. KMAGYOYO.

Bachelor Jesus: The Girls of Galilee

It’s only Week 2 and I’m already dying over here. Why did they have to put this on during Sober January? Only 2 more weeks. I know three weeks is the 31st but that’s close enough motherfucker. Don’t make me watch this show without booze any more please.

Time for some dating! Dr. Hairflip is up first. She dons some kind of Tinkerbell-meets-Lady-GaGa getup and off they go. He drives her down an isolated dirt road where he rapes and murders her. Oh, wait, this isn’t Lifetime. They come across some kind of electrical switch which she flips and sadly is not electrocuted but instead they are at some kind of Super Creepy Carnival of the Woods that would scare the crap out of Stephen King. I mean, there is blood literally dripping from the Tornado.

(SIDE NOTE: To confirm all your worst fears about carnival rides, please consult RideAccidents.com regularly. Thank you.)

So they have some wholesome-y type fun and a big makeout session and puke up wine coolers or whatever people do at carnivals. Dr. Hairflip has an alkie dad who’s MIA and is probably the guy outside Zain’s liquors on 3rd Street. This prompts Brad to whine some more about his Absent Dad. Oh, for fuck’s sake, every fucking episode we have to hear about this deadbeat. At this point I want him to appear and go “OK!!! I’M RIGHT FUCKING HERE!!! WHAT DO YOU WANT!!??!!” Hairflip gets a rose.

Next we have 15 Crazy Bitches in a Hummer limo for what’s either a group date or a rap video. It’s some kind of bullshit Red Cross thing to encourage people to give blood. I’ve already slit my wrists so Mission Accomplished. So they’re filming fake PSAs. Ugh, this is painful to watch. Britt says she doesn’t want to do the threesome scene because she’s a food writer from Woodinville, Virginia, but then she basically makes Girls Gone Wild look like Little Women and I guess Woodinville is more fun than we knew. Michelle is an Attention Whore because she’s not getting enough attention. This behavior is rewarded, just like in real life.

Now it’s off to the rooftop pool at the Roosevelt Downtown, which is a loft building that went bankrupt. Just like this show, creatively. BAM see what I did there? Anyway, Melissa the Crispy Waitress is embroiled in some kind of conflict with Raichel. Michelle wants to dissect him and peel away the layers. So do we all, Michelle. So do we all.

Solo date with Jackie the Emotionally Underdeveloped Artist Who Needs a Nose Job. It is to be her very own “Pretty Woman Experience”! Except getting paid to fuck strangers. They go to the Hollywood Bowl and have dinner on stage and talk. Jackie says she never had a boyfriend in college but can’t bring herself to tell him she was a LUG. She gets a rose for some reason. Then SURPRISE!!! Train appears. Now they have to listen to Train play. I know what you’re thinking: “This isn’t a commercial for something or the receptionist’s desk. Why is Train playing?” Oddly, they don’t kill Train and then themselves like any sane person would do. Man, I don’t get paid enough to listen to this.

Time for the Cocktail Party, a perfect end to a day of boredom and loathing. Michelle swoops in to grill Brad about his dietary habits and fave coffee. She’s crazy, which I like. Then some time alone with Lifetime Movie Emily. Blah blah blah. When are you gonna tell him about Racecar Baby, Emily? Spring it on him after the engagement, that’s the ticket.

More Crispy Melissa-Raichel fighting. Raichel says “Jesus does love me. That’s why I will stay.” She is apparently on a different dating show! Bachelor Jesus! “On this date, I thought we would feed all of Echo Park with this loaf of artisan bread and then take a ride on my magic carpet! I will grant you three wishes. You may not wish for additional wishes.” That’s how Jesus works. (NOTE TO ABC: THIS IS MY IDEA DO NOT STEAL IT.)

Oh hey, here come Roberto and Ali to see who is Here for the Right Reasons! Ali lost her dime store extensions and now looks like a Real Live Girl. They will interview the potential candidates for the job of Future Wife and see who measures up. Knowing Ali and Roberto, I imagine the first question might be “Can you help us with the TV Guide crossword? What is Cheers star Ted?”

Finally, God help us, time for the cuts. Bye to both troublemakers Crispy Melissa and Jesus-dating Raichel. Then Keltie, who admits she will die alone. This was her last chance. Apparently Keltie has never tried Walking Into a Bar Anywhere in America. Anyway, whatever.

TK's 12 Days of SF Christmas

On the first day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
A bottle of Balvenie.

On the second day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie.



On the third day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the fourth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the fifth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie



On the sixth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the seventh day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the eighth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Eight Ns not coming
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie



On the ninth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Nine Gettys inheriting
Eight Ns not coming
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the tenth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Ten baristas scowling
Nine Gettys inheriting
Eight Ns not coming
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Eleven mayors preening
Ten baristas scowling
Nine Gettys inheriting
Eight Ns not coming
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My Life Partner gave to me
Twelve neighbors drumming
Eleven mayors preening
Ten baristas scowling
Nine Gettys inheriting
Eight Ns not coming
Seven Supes a-banning
Six crackheads begging
Fiiiiiiiiive hits of E
Four iPhone 4s
Three startups
Two stolen fixies
And a bottle of Balvenie



And with that, I'm out. Looks like I could have picked a better day to drive to Santa Cruz for a Christmas Party, huh? See you on Monday, if we make it.

(Photo credits: Ario/Flickr, viaThe Eastsider LA; some drug website; Anna Conti/Flickr via Muni Diaries (with mad Photoshoppingz by the author); Passive Aggressive Notes.)

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.

Just a couple of pics from the parade and then I swear to God I will stop talking about the Giants until next year

Unless they sign Jayson Werth or something.

About a million people got together in San Francisco yesterday for a bigass parade and celebration thing in Civic Center. Pretty fucking amazing, considering the population of the entire city is about 800,000.

"Crowded" isn't the right word. It was fucking packed down there. Plus, it was 78 degrees, which feels like 95 in SF, because we're used to 57. (When you look at this picture, you have to imagine the overpowering scent of marijuana. The whole thing smelled like a Cypress Hill concert.)

The parade came down McAllister and then into Civic Center Plaza. The float with all the anthropomorphized snack products was bumping that horrifying "Fist Pump" song they played late this season at the park. The Salt & Vinegar Kettle Chips was way into it.

If Buster Posey was any more clean-cut, he'd probably ascend to Heaven right now, where Mother Theresa would say "Who's the square?" He saluted the crowd in his inimitable, aw-shucks way. Meanwhile, Brian Wilson was running around like a crazy person high-fiving and striking poses in the middle of the street. Closers have traditionally cultivated a me-so-crazy image, and B-Dub seems to love playing that role.

Then it was time for the Ceremony on the Steps of City Hall. Each player was awarded 10 virgins or something, I think. I couldn't hear very well. Then Aubrey Huff did a little dance and pulled a red thong out of his pants. Whatever, it's Civic Center. I've seen a woman taking a shit while smoking crack here, so pulling a thong out of your pants is nothing.

Everybody seemed to have a nice time. DPW cleaned up the place real nice. Let's do it again next year.

Travel Tips for Visiting Rangers Fans!

Welcome, Texas people! We are happy to have you in our Fair City. Please allow me to give you a few tips that will enhance your stay here:

1. Remember - gay people always want to have sex with you and will pursue you relentlessly. Also, they are everywhere. 9 out of 10 men in San Francisco are gay. How can you spot a gay person? They are wearing ascots and carrying small dogs in Vuitton carriers. They also lisp and faint if startled. BE CAREFUL.

2. We're all stoned out on The Pot 24/7. That's because we're all hippies, just like you read about! Groovy, man. If someone offers you The Pot, you can just say "I don't have glaucoma" and they'll leave you alone.

3. Everything is very expensive! That's because we don't have any oil wells here in the city limits.

4. Enjoy our colorful hobos! It's fun to dangle a dollar bill in midair and ask them to do a trick. This is normal and they expect you to do that.

5. For an authentic San Francisco Experience, make sure to visit Fisherman's Wharf! That's where real San Franciscans go for fun and for great, freshly-caught seafood.

6. Did you rent a car? Good move! You'll find plenty of convenient free parking all over the city. Just look for curbs painted blue and marked with a guy in a chair. This is Tourist Parking, and the guy in the chair is a lazy tourist who just wants to sit down. Like you!

7. The Transamerica Pyramid is where the Illuminati meet. When the light on top is flashing, they're having a meeting and Socialism is Coming Soon! Watch Glenn Beck for more details.

Illuminati meeting in progress. Expect your guns and/or Bible to be taken away soon. (Thx Wiggum03 for the pic.)

8. Those guys on the corner of Golden Gate and Hyde sell delicious rock candy, the Real San Francisco Treat! It's $20 for two rocks, but boy is it worth it. Just chew and enjoy! Your mouth might get a little numb, but that's totally normal!

9. Going to the game? Make sure and ask for your free chardonnay and cheese sampler!

Today's Top 5: Fast Food Restaurants in San Francisco

Come on, Mr. and Ms. Sustainably Raised Arugula and Organically Butchered Heirloom Pig. You know that you have Secret and Dark Cravings just like the rest of us, and when that happens, you clandestinely sneak down to the McDonald's that's 2 neighborhoods over so no one sees you and you order the #3 and eat it there in the restaurant while reading the USA Today someone left behind and hoping no one sees you. I'm on to you. And you know what? THAT'S COOL. No one can live on Day Boat Sea Scallops or heirloom tomato consommé all the time. Sometimes you need a Double Double, stat. I won't tell if you don't.

5. Arby's, Lakeshore Plaza, 1581 Sloat

There is something about the way the spray cheese melts over the Beef 'n Cheddar that is just magical, a perfect balance of flavor and texture, cushioned in a pillowy onion roll. Plus, you have to love the fact that Lakeshore Plaza is one big Chain-a-thon, a rare sight indeed in San Francisco. They've got a Petco, a UPS Store, a Supercuts, a Big 5, a Radio Shack. It's like being somewhere else in the country! There's even a military recruitment center! What is this place! Anyway, Arby's is the bomb.

4. KFC/Taco Bell, Guerrero and Duboce

You guys, when I found out you could mix and match the KFC and Taco Bell items it felt like I had learned something really important. Like you can get a 1-piece breast meal AND a Taco Supreme. Plus, proximity to Zeitgeist! I mean, come on! I just wish SF had a Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell (WARNING: Do not click on link if you plan on having something else in your head for the rest of the day).

3. Jack in the Box, Geary and 10th

You know what's great about Jack? He never sticks. He's always coming up with some new shizz. Like, you may go "I love the Sourdough Jack, but what else you got?" and Jack's all "WHY DON'T YOU TRY A CHICKEN FAJITA PITA MOTHERFUCKER" and you're all "Holy shit, that is a good fucking idea." Not that you would ever do that, though, because the Sourdough Jack is fucking nuts. I've never been to the Union Square location but the one on Geary and 10th is righteous every once in a while. You can sit up front and watch all the dorks going in and out of Lamps Plus.

2. In-N-Out Burger, Fisherman's Wharf

I knew if I didn't put In-N-Out on here peeps would FREAK OUT and be all "WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU PUT IN-N-OUT ON THERE" so calm down, here it is. I don't know, In-N-Out's OK, but not worth the mad hype it gets all the time. Plus, the last time I ate there (in Daly City, not at the Fish-Whar), the fries were totally underdone. Nevertheless, if you want a solid burger surrounded by smelly Germans and thugged-out kids from Modesto, this is your place.

1. McDonald's, Haight and Stanyan

Let's start out with 2 assumptions: (1) McDonald's is rock solid, and generally you can't go wrong there, and (2) the food at every McDonald's is about the same. So it really comes down to location. The McDonald's at Haight and Stanyan is awesome because it's close to Amoeba and it plays host to a constant revolving parade of serious freakshow humanity. You got your hippies, your crazies, your gutter punks, your retirees, your normals, your truck drivers, your speed freaks, your stoners who have to go to McDonald's because they're stoned, your tourists, and you. It's kind of the iconic San Francisco fast food restaurant. That's why it's Number 1.

RIP Wendy, who decamped from her last SF location on Market a few years ago. We miss you, Wendy.

Also, SF needs a Krystal, a Chick-Fil-A, and Bojangles. That would rule.

A semi-satirical imagined Rush Limbaugh rant

"And what about the handicapped? Riding around in those wheelchairs all day? LAZY-CAPPED is more like it. Hey, you big baby, get out of your damn chair and get a job! You don't see the rest of us wheeling around all day in our little motorized scooters! Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you go around and collect shopping carts that the fake homeless leave everywhere? You've already got a little scooter with a motor. Get a whole bunch of them and make a long train of them and motor them over to the grocery store. They'll probably give you a buck a cart or something.

"I am sick of these leeches lazing around a contributing nothing to society. Get out of your stupid wheelchair and work for a living, you loser. Why are my taxes supporting you? Why don't you support yourself for a change?"

"I'm hungry and I need to get married again. We'll be back after this message."

(In case you hadn't heard, this.)

My slate of ballot propositions

Film Commission? School Facilities Tax? BOR-ING. Wake me up when these are on the ballot:

PROP 5.2% ABV: Requires that the Giants offer at least one regular-sized beer priced at 5 dollars at AT&T Park. Can be Black Label, PBR, or Red White & Blue, if they still make that. Appropriates funds for a committee to investigate whether Red White & Blue is still being made.

PROP F: Makes it a misdemeanor to remove footwear on Muni or BART, punishable by fines of up to $500 and a requirement that the violator wear penny loafers the rest of the week. Flip-flops restricted to the Marina and Cow Hollow. Those found wearing flip-flops outside of those areas are issued visors and returned to Balboa Cafe.

PROP S: Each resident receives a free shot of their choice on their birthday. If he or she does not drink the shot, he or she must buy shots for everyone else within a 10-foot radius.

PROP W: No whining.

PROP B: All panhandlers must have a skill, such as singing or doing a magic trick. Having a clever sign is not a "skill." If a panhandler chooses to sing, they have to mix up the songs and not sing the same one every time, like those 3 guys in the BART stations who have been singing the exact same song for like 8 years now. No juggling.

PROP E: No small talk on elevators.

PROP E-2: For the LAST FUCKING TIME, it is STAND RIGHT, WALK LEFT on the fucking escalator. First offense results in being thrown down the escalator. Second offense is death. If the offender isn't dead already from being thrown down the escalator the first time. This includes you, grandma, so heads up and look alive. If you're too grizzled to hoof it up to 24th Street, stand on the fucking right side. Seriously people.

PROP F: Every other Friday off.

Oh, this is rich

Sayeth the Chron:

That's right, fitness advice from Pablo Sandoval. Pablo Sandoval seems like a really nice guy and he's a pretty good hitter (although in somewhat of a slump right now), but one word I would not use to describe him is "fit." He's listed on the roster at 245 lbs. which is completely hilarious and if he's 245 then I'm a buck fifty. He's MAYBE 260. I'd guess 270, but MAYBE 260. I know he can move and blah blah blah he's got quickness or whatever, but don't kid yourself. In no sense of the term is he "fit."

Here are some other stories the Chron is pursuing:

Take it from Bobby Sands - it's important to eat a balanced dinner

Take it from Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof - it's important to come up with a coherent ending to a television series

Take it from Julius Caesar - it's important to be suspicious of your political rivals

Take it from this guy I see on the way to work every day - it's important not to shoot heroin between your toes

I was at that game last night. What a fucking shitshow. I have very little to add to whatever everyone else is saying except that we already knew they hit worse than an anorexic girls' softball team. But when your Deuce Cy Starting Pitcher can't fucking pitch, well, it makes for a long fucking night. Hey, at least really good seats will be cheap as fuck in a month or so.

Beers are still 9 bucks, though.

(In other weight-related news, 50 Cent lost 60 pounds. Nothing else, that's just fun to say.)

Other than the Santa picture, everything in this post involves an open bar.

Let's get meta for a second.

I got this email invitation to attend the SF Appeal's Christmas Holiday Party, which is tonight. And at first I was all "THAT'S RIGHT THEY HAVE INVITED ONLY THOUGHT LEADERS TO THIS EVENT" and then I quickly realized that they were promoting it on their front page and it's free and there's free booze so basically anyone who can operate a mouse and read at a 5th grade level could figure out how to go and drink up all the free booze. Just imagine your party overrun with the people you see using the free Internet terminals at the library. I'm sure it won't be like that. Maybe.

Point being that I've been doing this blogging thing for about a year and a half now and I've got a pretty steady readership and have been linked to, in the past, by such local luminary sites as SFist and SF Citizen and Eye on Blogs and Beth Spotswood even put a permalink to me on her blog. So I'm sort of part of this community of local bloggers, I guess, even though it's pretty much just an online thing and so far I've kept my Real World and my Blogging World separate, save for one exception, when I met JohnnyO from Burrito Justice. Super nice guy.


So I'm like "Do I want to become public? Like actually meet some of these people for real?" And The Wife said, "What are you going on about now? I was watching Vampire Diaries." And I said "Never mind."


So I don't know. The Wife and I are going out to our Special Christmas Date Night Dinner and we'll play it by ear after that. I guess, worse comes to worse, it'll just be another party where I don't know anyone that I crashed for the free booze. We'll see.


IN OTHER NEWS, this is now my favorite Christmas picture of all time.

When I have kids, I'm going to blow this up to poster size and hang it behind the tree every Christmas. It is five kinds of awesome.

OH ONE OTHER THING I HAVE TO MENTION -

As you may have gathered, I'm not exactly the dance club type. Thumpa thumpa music kind of makes me want to kill myself. Thus, of course, I've never been to Suite 181 or any of its ilk. And THE LAST PLACE IN THE FUCKING WORLD I would go on New Year's Eve is a place like that.

But wait. I saw this ad and Suite 181 has limited $40 advance tickets available for theie NYE thing, which includes, according to them, "OPEN BAR ALL NIGHT."

WHOA. HOLD THE PHONE, BIG MAN. That means I pay $40 and drink whatever I want all night? I can make that $40 back in an hour. Are you sure? What's the catch? What am I missing?

Because if there's no catch, you might find me in an Ed Hardy shirt with a shitload of gel in my hair and covered in Axe body spray this New Year's Eve. When in Rome.

I would say "at least it's not Duluth," but then I'd get angry emails from Duluthians about how great Duluth is.

You know one thing San Franciscans like? Talking about San Francisco. And I recently read two blog posts about San Francisco, one by a guy who really seems to dislike SF, and one by a guy who seems to really like it.

Alex Payne works for Twitter and doesn't like it here much. He says SF is

"dirty. No, filthy. No, disgusting. Whenever I travel outside of San Francisco, I’m amazed at what a disastrous anomaly it is. Sidewalks are routinely covered in broken glass, trash, old food, and human excrement. The smell of urine is not uncommon, nor is the sight of homeless persons in varying states of dishevelment."

I'm not sure where Alex Payne lives, but my sidewalk has never been covered in broken glass, trash, old food, or human excrement. Maybe trash sometimes. But seriously, dude, if you live in the Tenderloin and base your entire view of the city on the way the sidewalk looks at Hyde and Ellis, you're not getting a fair representation of the whole city.

He goes on from there, pretty much bitching about everything in SF. I guess I could respond point by point, but really, what's the point? If one of your specific complaints is that there isn't much to do in SF, yeah, you're going to be happier somewhere else. I'm sure that Payne is a decent guy and whatever, but it's clear that this isn't the place for him. Anyway, more coverage at Valleywag, if you're interested.

Meanwhile, Matt Honan likes SF a lot. He's got some specific suggestions for how to enjoy living in SF that make sense, like getting a bike and making friends outside the tech industry (since his post obvs. aimed at people who move here to work in tech).

I mean, obviously I like it here (after 19 years, I better) and fall way more in the Honan camp than the Payne camp. Sure, there are a lot of problems in SF, but the good so far outweighs the bad that it's not even funny. It is what you make of it, anyway, in the end, and some people make themselves happy and some people make themselves unhappy.

ANYWAY. Mad Men post tomorrow.

What the Mid-Market area needs is a giant inflatable gorilla with "CRACK" written across its stomach

I'll freely admit I'm not the smartest guy in the world and I don't have a degree in urban planning or anything, but I cannot for the life of me figure out what's going on with the Mid-Market area.

For those of you not in the know, the so-called "Mid-Market" is Market Street in San Francisco from about 5th Street to about, what are we saying, 10th? Maybe 10th. It's characterized by boarded-up storefronts, a few janky camera shops, crackheads, and a couple of sad-looking strip clubs. Like the Market Street Cinema:

From Yelp: "This place is absolutly horrible! My girlfreind worked there for a lil bit, she quit when she found out that all the bitches there are prostitutes and will do anything for 200$! hah too bad they lost the baddest bitch they will ever have! nasty ass ghetto bitches!"

So there you go. A little slice of the Mid-Market. I would avoid the Market St. Cinema, as it seems they have lost the baddest bitch they will ever have.

ANYWAY, for as long as I've lived here people have been talking about how to clean up the Mid-Market and what to do with it and everything. There has been talk of Pedestrian Malls and Special Shopping Areas and European Style Whatevers, but I have never heard anything as crazy as the new plan to Save Mid-Market Via Ginormous Light-Up Billboards and Dancing Inflatable Men. To wit:

The Mid-Market corridor's been riddled with strip joints and empty storefronts for decades now, and the man who fancies himself a sort of Wayne family to Mid-Market's Gotham is David Addington. He owns the Warfield Theater— if you'll recall also the future home of a three-level Foreign Cinema sibling restaurant— and has gourmet sausage resto Show Dogs already under his belt. To top it off, he's signed Blick's Art Supplies away from its current spot on Van Ness, and is spearheading a proposition on this November's ballot to allow Mid-Market signage ranging from "dancing inflatable men" to digital billboards.

THAT SWOOSHING SOUND YOU HEAR IS THE SOUND OF PROGRESS.

I'm not sure exactly why someone would think that a sane person would travel to a dangerous and dirty area at night to look at some billboards and some advertising gimmicks usually found on used car lots and tire stores, but I will give him this: those giant inflatable men will SCARE THE FUCK out of the crackheads.

It's a living, right?

There's a woman near my office who I see every morning on the way in and every evening on the way out, standing on the sidewalk, selling Street Sheets and doing her best to look pitiful, I guess, which is kind of tough because she is always clean, wearing nice clothes, and generally looks to me like she could have just stepped out of a minivan.

[Ed. note - in case you're not familiar, Street Sheet is a newspaper thing that anyone can go pick up for free and then sell on the street. It's designed, I think, to minimize the weirdness on both sides that can happen when you hand someone money, because if you're buying a Street Sheet it's a business transaction instead of simply giving money to someone.]

Now, I'm not saying that you have to be dirty and scabbed over to be a legit panhandler, but it does make one go "Huh" when you see the same person every day in the same spot, but wearing different clothes every day and generally looking not all that different from the person behind you in line at Out the Door.

So I wonder, what's up here? How did this become her best option? She's not there in the middle of the day, only during commute times, so I wonder what she does all day. Some kind of addict, maybe? She never appears to be intoxicated. She doesn't look mentally ill, either, and appears to be having pleasant and normal conversation with the people who stop and give her money. Hey, maybe it's just the job she's picked.

There are around 6400 homeless in San Francisco (according to a 2007 count, the most recent I could find after 35 seconds of Googling) and we spend, as a city, 190 million fucking dollars on the homeless every year, or almost 30 grand per homeless person. Something is seriously fucked up here, because it sure doesn't seem like we're getting our money's worth. I bet it costs a lot less than $30 K to put someone up in an SRO for a year. I know that a lot of the homeless are mentally ill, and a lot are addicts of one kind or another, but it seems like we could be doing something to address those problems instead of just throwing money at them.

Look, if I knew how to fix the homeless problem, I'd be elected mayor or maybe even Emperor Norton II. And what the woman on my way to work is doing is perfectly legal. I just can't figure out why people keep giving her money.

What do Hastings' new parking garage and Gisele Bundchen have in common? Nothing.

Is it just me, or does the new Hastings parking garage at Golden Gate and Larkin look kinda like the SF Chronicle Building?

Here's the New Kid on The Block:

OH HAI. Law students and professors will park in me. I hope to have ground-floor retail too! In this neighborhood, I better sell crack pipes and 40's if I hope to survive!

And here's the Palace of Failed Media:

I used to be full of reporterz up in ur bizness investigatin ur stuffz but then craigzlist runed it. :(

You see it? Yeah? Oh, maybe it is just me. Hey, maybe the same thing will happen to the new parking garage that happened to the Chron and somebody will figure out a way to park cars on the Internet and it'll be obsolete too!

The garage actually has a contentious history, which is pretty much true for anything you try to build in this godforsaken city. For the whole 8 years I've worked in the neighborhood, it was a parking lot with a sidewalk frequented by rail-thin junkies shooting smack into their ankles. I would have thought that anything would be better than that, but hey, in SF everything's a fight. I don't even want to rehash the great American Apparel War of 2008.

Happy Friday, everyone!

I know that everyone will be interested in this fascinating article in Vanity Fair about the Bohemian Grove, just as I was when I clicked on it and OH MY GOD WHAT'S THIS PICTURE IN THE SIDEBAR HOLY SHIT!!!!!

I can hear you now. CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK.

Apparently VF has some photo spread with Gisele Bundchen and her faux-fetishy sleep mask or whatever. She's quite comely, I'll admit.

At least he'll have a cool scar

In Ancient Rome, oracles would attempt to divine the future by cutting open a pig and "reading" its entrails; that is, by looking for signs or meaning in the steaming intestines. Since I have a severe shortage of livestock, but still need some guidance about the future, I decided to use my iPod instead. We will select "Shuffle" and the first song that comes up will be today's message.

OK, here goes. First song: "It's a Motherfucker" by Eels. Sigh.

On the way to work today, I was approached by a guy who looked a little like a young John Cusack and was wearing a Comcast hat. He explained to me that he worked for Comcast and he had become stuck in the city and needed to get to Rohnert Park and, you know, could I help him out? I was like, "Dude, why don't you ask Comcast for the money?" There's always an angle, right?

I happened to be at the Giants game yesterday and therefore personally witnessed the biggest offensive explosion since they moved to China Basin. By now, of course, you've heard about the 10-run inning, which was pretty fucking awesome. And Nate McClouth getting hit in the face with a ball, which was not.

Anyway, nice day out at the park. Unless you're Nate McClouth.

Oh, they were giving away these lunchboxes with Looney Tunes characters dressed up as Giants, but you had to have a kid to get one. Super Hot Irish Girlfriend badly wanted one and was eyeing all the kids around us, hoping someone would leave one behind. Eventually she was standing next to some guy looking at his kid's lunchbox plaintively and the kid didn't want it and so the Dad looked at SHIG and I guess could see the desperation in her eyes and gave it to her. It instantly became one of her favorite things ever.

You can get one, too. There's one on eBay right now for $29.95. I hope that kid didn't mind giving it up.

Saturday night was dinner for The Sister's boyfriend at Chaya on the Embarcadero. The food was nothing to write home about - not mine, anyway - but the service was great. The Sister's boyfriend brought wine for us and they didn't charge corkage, I guess because we had a big group and dropped a lot of money anyway. Still, that sure was nice of them.

Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and some of the rest of the group continued on to Debaser at the Knockout, but I just couldn't take it. I just went home. Maybe I'm finally getting old. Or something.

A little pre-tox

- Walking through the Civic Center this morning, I'm approached by a panhandler, which is not at all unusual in the CC. Mid-30's, maybe, kind of a surf bum look, wearing a Washington State hoodie. So he tells me he's headed to Joe Healy's Detox and...he needs money for a drink! Wait, what?


- For The Sister's birthday, we supped at Spruce on Wednesday. Now, as I've said before, I'm no food expert or anything, but OMFG IT WAS FUCKING GREAT. I had the pork tenderloin, a couple of nice-sized slabs served with some kind of white beans and a little piece of crispy pork belly. DFL.* I hate to throw around superlatives unnecessarily, but it really was the best piece of pork I've ever eaten.

The crowd there is pure Pac Heights old money. You could almost hear the table next to us getting richer.

Happy Friday, everyone!

*DFL = de-fucking-licious, in case you're not hip to the acronyms. Also useful:

NFI = no further information. Usage: "So she left the bar around 12:30 with that Chad from the Marina. NFI."

HBD = Has been drinking. It's hospital shorthand that they use on patient charts. Usage: "When Erin started talking about how much she loved The Fresh Prince, I knew she was HBD."

OTS = Opportunity to smoke. "Let's just get to Coalinga and then we'll get off the freeway and have an OTS."

Oh, shit, I'm out of quarters

Maybe I'm missing something, but this whole parking meters to put in change for homeless people thing baffles me. If I put in a quarter, do I get 10 minutes of not being hassled? Seriously, who thought this was a good idea?

This is SF's "homeless czar" lovingly cuddling one of the new homeless parking meters. If this is the best the homeless czar can come up with, we may need a homeless Russian Revolution.

In Giants news, Fail started again last night and actually didn't do that bad. But the real scream was when Yabu tried some kind of obscure glove-fu ninja signal to Bowker that he was about to attempt to throw out the baserunner and, of course, since Bowker is not a ninja, he didn't get the signal and the ball sailed past him and a bunch of Astros ran around and around and the Giants lost again.

Oh, and Super Hot Irish Girlfriend was there and she was on TV. Some big guy in an orange shirt got a foul and they were showing him and she walked right past him and sat down and thereby kicked off her international fame. I don't have any screengrabs, so you'll have to take my word for it.