Mission Mission

My vote goes to Mission Laundromat on 22nd right next door to the Latin American Club.  You’ve got $2 basic machines, $4 and $6 heavy-duty units, and 7 minutes of drying per quarter.  Ample seating has been introduced to augment the jury-rigged wire bench pictured at the front here, making for a nice lounge in which to catch up on that Milan Kundera novel you’ve been putting off (as long as you don’t mind the hospital-bright fluorescent lights, rhythmic drone of overloaded washers, and frequent visits and appeals from panhandlers).  Best of all, your friends on their way to a quick drink next door will often spot you and invite you to come along!

Anyone else have any suggestions?  Until I hear about a better one, I’m declaring this one the winner.

[Photo by Sangroncito]

Found at The Secret Alley.

Found on 18th near Dolores.

We’re going to end this week’s examination of dating and friendship and flakiness in San Francisco and California with this sober rap by reader Al:

Here’s my theory, (note: huge generalizations will be made): Our grandparents grew up during the Great Depression thus rearing their children (our parents) to value hard work, decorum, conservatism. As a result we have the buttoned up, squeaky clean 50′s and then the revolt of the free lovin 60′s. Unsure of how to raise us, our parents padded our cribs, fed us on formula of “you can be whatever you want to be” “everyone should go to college” “be an astronaut, honey” “be a ballerina” and it’s left us, as a generation, completely floundering. We can’t make decisions period. About career paths. “Let’s all be designers!” or what the fuck to eat. We’re all looking for the bigger, better, EASIER, next thing. This includes again jobs, lovers, friends, weekend plans. We like to keep all options open, hoping that someday our shot at “space” or “prima ballerina” will fall effortlessly in our lap.

Totally. If only I could be a ballerina without having to practice my pirouettes all that much.

But I have to say, there are advantages to this trip: Last weekend at Handlebar in Chicago, right after LCD Soundsystem’s epic set, my cousin Jono, a designer (he came up with that great Verizon “Rule the Air” logo), couldn’t decide whether to get nachos or fries. So he got nachos and fries and had no complaints. (See the fun after the jump.)

[Above photo by Elisa Hough.]

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Some mystery bombadier seems to be  pelting random passerby with barrages of eggs as they make their way down Valencia approaching Pica Pica, that newish Venezuelen place across the street from Little Star.  My buddy Eric described his first encounter:

Heading home from practice, I started to notice this peculiar smell, like it was breakfast or something.  Then I saw that it was emanating from this huuuuuge pile of broken eggs on the sidewalk.  At that moment, I felt something whoosh past my face . . . sure enough, an egg.  I looked across the street to see who was throwing them, but didn’t catch anyone, so I just got out of there as fast as I could.

Then, a few days later, I’m walking down the same street and this girl about 10 paces ahead of me gets nailed out of nowhere.  I hurry up to get out of range before the ambusher can reload, but I still can’t tell where they’re coming from.  Be careful when you’re getting arepas!

Does anyone have any idea would could possibly be motivating this dairy-hurling poultry-slinging villain?  Any word on if they’re organic or cage free?

[Photo by Craig Hunter]

We’ve been talking all week about how rough the dating scene is around here. Yesterday, reader afroblanco explained why it’s not just dating that’s tough, but friendships too:

Yes, without a doubt, this is a city full of flakes. People do NOT follow through on plans. This is most painful when it comes to dating, so I think we notice it more in that situation. But actually, I’ve noticed this exact same tendency for friends and hanging out. You make plans with somebody, and (as somebody upthread said) you have like a 50% chance they’ll follow through. WHERE DO PEOPLE GET THE IDEA THAT THIS IS REMOTELY ACCEPTABLE!?

Later, reader SRK retorted:

And all this shit about San Francisco being full of “flakes” that, as well, is complete shit. We hang out with our friends when WE WANT to hangout, we’re not constantly looking for some new thing or new acquaintances. This is a lifestyle city, enjoy it or leave. It’s not a fucking rat race and we’re okay with that. Hopefully, you’ll get there too someday.

Who’s right? I know I’ve been flaked on, and I know I’ve done some flaking (sorry, you guys!!), but is it really because we’re San Franciscans? Is it an epidemic? Or are we okay?

Anyone who commutes down Valencia or Market on the regular no doubt has come across this fellow at one time or another.  How could you possibly miss his grey grizzled flowing beard and locks, or his duct-taped battletank of a Schwinn Sapphire that he pedals around so furiously?

This morning I finally decided to say a little more than “what’s up?” and managed to have quite a nice rolling conversation with the guy (I’m sure the fact that I was wearing the exact same jacket helped too), starting on Valencia at around 17th and lasting all the way to the end of Market.  Here’s a paraphrased transcript of our “interview” while in motion:

On how long in the biz:

I’ve been a bike messenger in SF for 35 years.  The last 28 of those years have been on this Schwinn Sapphire, except for about 3 months when it was stolen in the Mission.  Luckily, a friend spotted it about 3 months later at Bay and Gough.  The jerks couldn’t even get the U-lock off (they had cut through a skinny pole to which it had been attached to get it), so they just dumped it!

On Critical Mass:

It all started when a bunch of drunk bike messengers got tired of SF police handing out $20 tickets to cyclists all the time for bullshit minor offenses, like not putting your foot down at a stop sign.  $20 was a big chunk of your take home pay way back then, so they decided to shut down some key intersections around the city and show the cops they couldn’t just fuck with them.  Seems to have gotten their attention.

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Here’s the thing. Many property owners in San Francisco seem to think that life size owl statues placed as if perching on the edge of the rooftops will be a deterrent to the local pigeon population. I can go along with that as an idea. The scarecrow, right? Sounds good. But does it actually work? Internet people, via search engines, seem to think that they don’t work unless they’re selling them.

I decided to do something similar to what an actual journalist would do and took a look around.

Here we find a little trio (they’re not a “gang” just because they’re chilling together) relaxing on some garbage cans under the watchful eyes of the owl. No threat here. No thought that the “owl”, a natural predator, would ever swoop down and snatch them up. Are they co-existing or do they even notice?

Here we see two pigeons hanging with two owls. No problem. Everyone’s cool. Jokes on us, they’re actually having a good time together. They enjoy the company.

My thought, the pigeons (Rock Dove sounds nicer) are such urban creatures that they don’t recognize that the owls are supposed to resemble another bird. They think it’s part of a Community Thrift pickup that was left behind. They’d no sooner expect it to come down upon them like a fierce beast of fury than they would cower under an old broken Mr. Coffee.

What do you people think? In any case, I enjoy seeing fake owls around. I think we should mix it up, though. A vulture here and there. Maybe two swans to make pigeons fall in love. A dodo to make them feel superior. Then a peacock to bring them back down to size.

Well, according to the stats, some of you aren’t just sucking down content from us using Google Reader. For you, we’ve added a two-day forecast widget to the sidebar. Why? Because your window is soo far from your bed.

The inaugural forecast? “73F mostly clear”

HELL YEAH.

(thanks for the suggestion, Scott B.)

Are you sick of hearing about how awesome Sunday Streets was? I sure am, after being hungover and stuck in a car for a 2-hour drive to Salinas during the actual event. In any case, Postcards from SF posted a short video showing some highlights.

Mission yo-yo genius Doctor Popular is featured prominently, performing music on his iPhone (hope he’s holding it right) alongside cellist/songwriter Unwoman. There’s also a little girl exploiting her adorableness to shill lemonade. I’m going to guess it was made from concentrate, but can anyone confirm? Please give a full review if so.

Some shots from this Sunday.  (As usual, click to zoom.)

Watching the World Cup final in the Valencia Street garage of the Mission tricycle stereo guy — thanks! (Sorry, Orange.)

The Ferocious Few on Valencia:

The lead singer telekinetically tuning his guitar:

Another rockin’ band on 24th…

…so rocking, in fact, that their house was doing that Flight of the Conchords wiggle:

Hey, look, another bike band Fossil Fool!

And my personal favorite: French Tacos! The Croque Monsieur (Croque Señor?) was particularly l’awesome.

All and all, a good day (but we really need it to go until at least 4 or 5 PM).  We can do this once a month, no?

On the downside, there was a curious lack of food vendors.  And while I’m sure it’s a permitting nightmare, I’d like to see the city help our favorite food carts get in on this.