Mission Mission

“I never go to the Mission, it’s so crazy there … it’s so boring, and they’re all assholes.”

This innovation allows for a pleasantly hands-free bus ride. Simple, elegant. I’m sending this to Street Use.

I used to live 1.5 blocks from Dolores Park in a converted garage apt. The ceilings were eight feet high, only one small window overlooked the dark breezeway, and the exhaust from our neighbor’s motorcycles (which were kept a few feet from my bedroom) would provide me with many hours of uninterrupted sleep. I kept my sanity by spending every waking moment lying on my blanket in Dolores Park. Now that I live in an Outer-Mission-giant-bay-window-and-15-foot-ceiling apartment, I don’t lounge in Dolores Park as much as I’d like.

Yesturday was one of those really warm February days and I spent the afternoon eating sandwiches, playing gin (I won 3/5), and soaking up the sun. Not only did the day make me daydream about summer adventures in the coming months, but it refueled my love for San Francisco. The Public Marching Band provided great pre-spring music while parading around the park with hats and instruments. Maybe I won’t move to Manhattan after all.

02-08-08_0924, originally uploaded by allanhough.

So now I’m doing some serious soul searching.

New meme? Link to official Semi-Pro site. Link to Kaiser Permanente.

Even though I have lived in the Mission for five years now, the first time I had a famous bacon-wrapped hotdog was last October. It was five beers in on a 12-beer night. It was deliciously disgusting. The mix of chewy bacon wrapped around beef entrails and smothered in mayo churns my stomach even today. Maybe it’s because girls don’t have that love for bacon that boys do. Or maybe it has to do with the fact that after eating said hotdog, I went to a friend’s dance party which led to the tell-all bacon-wrapped hotdog fart. Fortunately, most of the people at the party were vegans, so they couldn’t tell what or whom it came out of. But my bacon-wrapped-hotdog-eating partner-in-crime shook his fist at me from across the room. Maybe one day in an alcohol-induced trance, the smell will be wiped from my memory and I’ll be able to eat one again. Sigh.

Even before anything happened, I noticed this guy had a camera on his dash. Then as he’s merging back into traffic after making a stop at Mission & Valencia, some Dodge Durango douche cuts us off. Guy grabs his camera, fumbles with it, boots it up — whilst piloting an eighty-foot articulated Muni bus mind you — and starts snapping pics, presumably of dude’s license plate. So I guess, motorists, don’t mess with the 49.

WHAT IM SEEING published an informative feature on the Mission’s Clarion Alley today. 

(via Laughing Squid)

02-03-08_0038, originally uploaded by allanhough.

So wtf are these anyway?

Went to the Jessie Evans show at 12 Galaxies instead of the Hemlock or Gilman ones, with the express purpose of standing right above Toby Dammit. Watching him annihilate those skins was even bettar than anticipated. Jessie Evans did some stuff too.