Mission Mission

In a, what I consider somewhat valiant, attempt to promote the local economy, buy local to help the environment, and to get fresher vegetables, I have begun to buy the fruits and vegetables category of my life at a local market. The one on the corner. I wish I had a photo but I don’t. Just imagine a store with produce. As I pranced around the store getting peppers, carrots, green beans, and eyeing some nasty looking apples, out of the corner of my eye I saw a woman squeeze a cucumber, shake her head, and examine the mushrooms approvingly. Curious, I drew closer. Another woman glanced at the cucumbers, said something in Spanish to another woman who then molested the cucumber with her hand, and drew back in disgust. All three women had now moved carrera obstaculos hinchables onto different vegetables. I quickly reached out a grabbed a cucumber, wondering what was wrong. I pressed it, nothing happened. It felt solid and delicious. Now, I am of some good British stock, land of the cucumber sandwich for goodness sake. I know cucumbers. My ancestors had cucumber juice running in their veins. I knew these cucumbers were top quality. But I was spooked. And so I walked out of the store, cucumberless and alone.

And my salad that night was less delicious than usual.

Last month, after the Black Lips‘ set at GAMH, singer/bassist Jared was chauffeured over to Beauty Bar for a DJ set sponsored by Vice and Dewar’s. It was pretty good, and it had me thinking my preconceived notions about the bar might be unfair. I was going to write about it, but I was waiting on photos from Misha Vladimirskiy. Photos were never published, and I never finished my post.

Last night, an even better DJ changed my mind once again. And I took my own photo so I wouldn’t have to wait. Bravo, DJ.

El Rio, everyone’s second favorite Mission District bar with a patio, is included on this morning’s Gridskipper feature titled Find That Special Someone For Your Threesome. They note that the crowd is “a little horny” as well as “sexually flexible”.

universal language 001, originally uploaded by calmenda.

Whoever reads my posts in the blogosphere might think that I am a mean, pretentious person. But I’m truly not – many things I call out tend to be true! Just two days after posting “Bars in the Mission: Beauty Bar & Delirium”, I received a text message from my co-worker who recently moved from her home town of San Diego to San Francisco. I quote: “We’re going to Puerte Allegre for margaritas and Mexican food, then we’re going to hit up a few bars.” Now, I keep my blogging hidden from parco acquatico gonfiabile my co-workers, for fear they might discover my awesomeness, so I doubt she read my blog post. However, I must make a slight retraction in regards to the Beauty Bar. I have been there a few more times since the post (for Black Lip Jared’s DJ set and Detroit Soul Thursday), and I must admit that before 10pm, the bar is pretty cool. The people are decent, the bar is not crowded, and the place isn’t stinky. They also have some cool music. The shitty DJs and the “mission ghetto” (as some of the regulars call the clientele) arrive after 10pm. So Katie’s Love-Hate relationship summary: go for Happy Hour, but not for a night out.

Bender’s after their fire. (Don’t worry, they’ve remodeled and reopened.) Originally Uploaded by mission75

Bender’s Bar is a bar in the Mission that is normally overlooked because of its “far away” location at 19th and S Van Ness (it’s around the corner from Beauty Bar). This is the perfect place for curing those Happy Hour Blues. Happy Hour Blues are when you and your coworkers go for a drink at a bar you would never set foot in if you weren’t going to happy hour with your coworkers. It’s hard to all go out for drinks at these places because: 1) either you’re a dive-bar drinker (Bud, Fat Tire, Jack Daniels), or you’re a beer nerd (Death & Taxes, Celebration, Old Portrero) and most happy hour places only cater to one or the other; 2) Happy Hour Bars also are usually cramped in the first place, but 3) then you add 4-8 people in your crowd trying to talk over and to one another, crawling over people to get drinks, and you ultimately end up sitting cramped in the corner talking to only one person instead of a few — and isn’t Happy Hour a team-building experience?

Bender’s is nothing like a Happy Hour Bar, but it would be perfect for Happy Hour crowds. For starters, it’s HUGE. There’re lots and lots of booths, tables and long booth seating. There’s a great selection of divey and beer nerd drinks (Johnny, the owner and bartender is a long-standing and respected employee at the world-famous Toronado). There’s also good cheap bar food! I hate when you wake up after a happy-hour drink-turned-binge-drinking night with rot gut.

I propose that Happy Hour crowds travel just a little to a great bar instead of the closest, mediocre financial district/SOMA blah. Bender’s is only three blocks from BART, and if someone doesn’t want to walk those three blocks, you probably shouldn’t be drinking with them.

Over at Disenchanted Princess, Lola describes sidewalk dining in the Mission:

Halfway through dinner a parade of weirdness started. This is why I prefer to eat outdoors, whenever possible, especially in the Mission. It’s like dinner theater. First was a typical homeless spanger. The kind who has perfected the ability to interact with you so skillfully that you can’t ignore him, but neither can you remember him later. The kind of guy who understands deeply the rules of homeless person behavior. The only part of him I remember aufblasbare spiele is his hand. He approached our table, extended his hand, and opened it conspiratorily. Inside was one shiny dime. 

“That’s a nice dime you have there,” I said, choosing to remark upon the literal meaning of the gesture rather than the implied meaning. 

Link.

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.

Beauty Bar, San Francisco originally uploaded by charlotte.wright

I’ve noticed the droves of young females who spend their nights at Beauty Bar. It’s mainly young undergrads who’ve recently migrated from Southern California to a three-bed share in the Tenderloin. Their version of the Mission is meeting friends at Puerto Allegre for uninteresting margaritas and enchiladas, then shaking their shoulders with some date-rape shirt to some sub-par DJ at Beauty Bar. A few months go by, and they’re standing in the cocaine line at Delirium wondering if the douchebag in the corner with the purple kerchief sitting pretty on his scruffy, smelly neck is checking out her American Apparel sangria-colored tights. Do these tourists make the Mission, or does the Mission make the tourist?

[I did this feature for the Bay Area print edition of The Onion. They ran a trimmed version in their summer double issue last month, but since they don't put anything online, here it is. --Allan]

If your best friends live in Oakland, you’ll probably be spending a lot of time in the East Bay this summer. Today, the A.V. Club presents a guide to making the best of it.

First, try to think of every trip to Oaktown as a mini-vacay to a bustling mini-metropolis. Stroll Lake Merritt’s shoreline and you’ll swear you’ve landed in some tiny little bastard version of Chicago or something. Enjoy the view for a bit, then walk a couple blocks down East 18th Street and finally see a movie at the Parkway Speakeasy (1834 Park Blvd., 510-814-2400, www.picturepubpizza.com). As you’ve surely been hearing for years, it’s an historic movie house full of couches and beer and pizza, and it is every bit as fun as it sounds.

For slices and pints sans cinema, head over to Lanesplitter (4799 Telegraph Ave., 510-527-8375, www.lanesplitterpizza.com). It’s somewhat less polished than your beloved Little Star, but it has a longer draught list and equally mouth-watering pies.

Speaking of long lists of beer, on August 11th you can all take a mini-road trip down to Hayward for the Bistro’s 10th Annual IPA Festival (1001 B St., 510-886-8525, www.the-bistro.com). India Pale Ales will be ferried in from microbreweries all over the world, so designate a driver and drink up.

On your way back north, go to an A’s game. A’s games are great because you can enjoy the Great American Pastime without all the Bonds-related drama and T-Third-related transit confusion. Plus, the Coliseum is doing that cool thing where instead of sending you tickets, they just text you an image of a barcode.

Now that you’re back in Oakland, if you’re not familiar with the Oaklandish organization (www.oaklandish.org), read up. They sponsor subcultural events throughout the year, including this week’s shadow-puppet production of Sinbad the Sailor by Teatro Penumbra at the Parkway.

Suppose one of your friends just graduated from Mills and is in need of a place to host a celebratory barbecue. Redwood Bowl in Redwood Regional Park (10570 Skyline Blvd., 888-EB-PARKS) is an ideal place to grill up some bockwurst and toss around the ol’ Frisbee. The meadow’s uneven terrain means barefoot Ultimate can be hazardous, so be careful.

In the evening, check out one of those fabled warehouse shows, perhaps at a place like Ghost Town Gallery (2519 San Pablo Ave., 510-393-1876, www.myspace.com/ghosttowngallery). They’re cheap and laid back and charmingly sketchy – welcome respite from the too-familiar routines at the city’s proper rock clubs. You might meet local superstars like Brian Glaze and they might regale you with advice about how to get rid of clingy groupies (tell them you have AIDS) and how to pick up girls you actually like (tell them you’re friends with the Time Flys).

If local superstars aren’t enough, plenty of international ones play in the East Bay too. Canada’s Fucked Up will grace the stage at Gilman (924 Gilman St. in Berkeley, 510-525-9926, www.924gilman.org) on June 30th, and Daft Punk and the Rapture will rock UC Berkeley’s Greek Theatre on July 30th. Either of these would be a great sendoff for your friend that’s moving to Germany or somewhere the following week.

Lastly, if one of your friends tries to drag you to Ikea, there might be a sick view of the melted 580 connector from the parking structure, but other than that, leave your wallet at home and resist, resist, resist.

Whatever you end up doing, the looming question all damn night will of course be how the hell to get back to the city. Inevitably, we all end up sprinting toward a BART station at 12:26. That sucks, because you find yourselves sweaty and winded, and half the time you don’t even make the train. Alternatively, you can search the cryptic maze of schedules on 511.org for info on the All Nighter bus, but you’re drunk for goodness’ sake.

Instead, just opt for a sleepover. This way, you can drink ’til the bars close, stumble over to Taqueria Sinaloa (2138 International Blvd., 510-535-1206) for some carnitas, and then go home, watch Moonwalker again and pass out. In the morning, maybe you can all go to the city together…

East Bay kids are perfectly adept at coming to the city an Amoeba run and a show at the Fillmore, so be sure to turn your friends on to something new this summer! Show them Thrillhouse (3422 Mission St.) and Force of Habit (3565 20th St., 415-255-PUNK, www.forceofhabit.com) in lieu of Amoeba, and then drop into Rite Spot Cafe (2099 Folsom St., 415-552-6066, www.myspace.com/ritespotcafe) for a much more intimate concert experience (The A.V. Club recommends Ash Reiter‘s girl-with-a-big-electric-guitar crooning on June 25th or Toshio Hirano‘s little-Japanese-man country twang on June 30th).

By the way: Since your friends have nothing but a tape deck in their ’92 Acura Legend, be sure to have a few choice cassettes (think NPG-era Prince or the Ghostbusters soundtrack) ready to go for their ride back to Oakland. They’ll appreciate it.

 Browse more Mission Mission coverage of music, travel, food and drink, Muni, and The Onion.

walzwerk, originally uploaded by MissionMission.

Taken in the urination station at Walzwerk.