Mission Mission

Quoth zinzin:

there’s a lot of weird red goo on the street & sidewalk outside Bender’s this morning. the sewer grate on the corner, in particular, looks like the scene of a low budget horror film. very red, very splattery. soon it will be black and collect sticky garbage i am sure. maybe they’ll put a hose on it today.

that said, it’s much better than the car on my block whose entire passenger door is covered in an explosion of human feces this morning. it’s on the sidewalk too, which isn’t unusual…but on the car itself? couldn’t even bend over enough to get it all onto the ground?

i won’t post a pic here, i’m far too genteel as is the esteemed readership here, but that could make a frequently updated Mission blog in itself: glamour shots of human feces in my hood.

Sounds like a winner. Any takers?

Looks like Bender’s had a nice fifth birthday party. All photos by gretchen robinette. Click each to enlarge, or see full set here.

Photo by keightdee.

At Sunday Streets today, I put a bit of wear and tear on both my front wheel and front tire. Cruising all the way out to the tip of Heron’s Head Park might’ve had something to do with it. But I took it into Heavy Metal, and they fixed it right up, on the spot. Also, they have a badass website.

Becca wrote a love letter to them for us some months ago. It began a little something like this:

There was no school that day, and I was gleefully anticipating an afternoon overflowing with a bike ride which I intended to loop along the Bay, to glide past the Golden Gate Bridge, to wind south from the northern tip of San Francisco to Market Street, to coast victoriously back into the Mission by nightfall or, who knows, to see the sunset out at Ocean Beach. So the moment came to leave the office where I work mornings and out I went for about a mile of cycling as planned, until a screw laying innocuously in the bike path punched into my back tire. You know the sound.

Read the full story here.

Today in the park I had a pastrami, bacon and Swiss on wheat from Mr. Pickles, and it was really really good. I’d never thought to put pastrami and bacon together before, but Mr. Pickles did, and it was a capital idea. Their wheat bread is roll-style and flecked with little bits of oats and stuff. Texturally very good.

More important, this got me thinking about what the absolute best sandwich in the neighborhood might be. Any thoughts?

Update (Sunday night): Lots of responses already. A few votes for Lucca, a few for Bi-Rite, a few for some lesser knowns. Check the comments.

Update (Monday morning): Kate and Eve like Ike’s.

The centerpiece of Bender’s fifth birthday party tonight is a Jell-O wrestling tournament. The party’s already underway. The ribs are great.

Photo by gretchen robinette (click it to see the whole thing)

This week saw a couple of new Bodé pieces along Valencia, but this one’s particularly good. Alarming, right?

Although no one actually died last night at the Literary Death Match, I died a little on the inside when my least favorite competitor actually won the final prize, a cardboard crown. The night featured a whole host of characters – and the other three d. matchers (Tom Perrotta Tom Barbash, Rhea De Ross-Wiess, and Damion Searls), all of whom had written some extraordinary pieces provided a laugh a minute. Maybe next time the winner should be chosen based on merit rather than who can find an audience member with a belly scar. Just a thought?

I often forget how rewarding hearing authors read their own works can be. Promoted heavily at this event was Litquake when a Deathmatch that will rate even higher on the Richter scale will occur on October 6 and whose last hurrah, the Litcrawl, takes place in the Mission on October 11 and is FREE!

Anybody have a copy? How is it? Art by ORFN.

Previously on Mission Mission:

ORFN’s Feline Friend

One day last summer, Katie and I and our friend Malcolm were walking home after some dancing at the Knockout. This big drunken dude came marching up to us, mumbling in Spanish. He was jolly and seemed harmless enough, so we started making small talk and taking pictures.

The guy was mumbling and mumbling and cracking himself up. It was pretty funny.

Malcolm had just come back from a trip to a Spanish-speaking country, so he was able to communicate a tiny bit at least. The guy was very impressed, took an instant liking to Malcolm.

At some point he got a little rough, but still all in good fun.

Soon, we tried to say our goodbyes and get a move on. Especially Malcolm.

But before we could leave, guy reached down and took a big handful of Malcolm’s genital area, then whirled around and strolled away, giggling to himself. Ouch!

Anyway, Malcolm moved to another continent today, so we thought we’d share this story in his honor. We’ll miss you, buddy!

Also, sorry about the resless photography. Hopefully it gets the job done.