Mission Mission

That’s right, EME for this weekend:

The last moments of the Bay Area National Dance Week! Free classes and events scattered thickly over the Mission District.

The Cinco de Mayo celebration at Dolores Park! We all know that Saturday isn’t Cinco de Mayo. It’s the Kentucky Derby. We’ll be celebrating Cinco de Mayo anyway, because this is the Mission of San Francisco, and maybe we’ll bring along a Mint Julep in honor of my horse-country past.

Dear Recycling Bin Nazi,

Let me just say, I am sorry about the other night. During the week when I carefully checked the bottom of every plastic tub searching for those three little arrows, and painstakingly cleaned out my empty peanut butter jar (which as you may know is quite difficult) before tossing the containers into the recycling, I had no idea I would be causing such controversy.

Try to put yourself into my position (much like Anne Shirley asks Diana’s Aunt Josephine to consider her position in regards to the sparest of spare bedrooms) and pretend, just for a moment, that you are me. Imagine my dismay parque hinchable when I walked out to my recycling bin and found it, lo and behold, completely full. Chocked to the brim with pop cans, cereal boxes, and office paper. What was I to do with my humble recyclables?

It was, as you can see, a difficult situation. And your recycling bin was right there. It was almost full, but there was just enough space for my paltry items. And then you appeared. Where did you come from? You simply began to scream obscenities at me- why? Why did you immediately assume I was out to get you? Why did you call me a thief when I was in fact gifting you items?

I would have understood if you had more recyclables to place in your bin- that would have been fine. I would have understood if you are simply overprotective of your bin (and given that it was under constant surveillance I assume you must be). I would have even understood if you had asked nicely. But you didn’t, instead you spouted crazy.

You yelled I was costing you money as that vein throbbed on your forehead. I didn’t appreciate you snapping, “It doesn’t matter!” when I calmly asked if the city charged by the quarter bin. You knew you were being irrational. And you obviously hadn’t checked with the city, because all recycling and composting is free. But my household called the city. We chatted today about recycling practices, and the city told my household we didn’t do anything wrong.

Shouldn’t we all work together to promote recycling? Shouldn’t we be neighborly? I would gladly lend you a cup of sugar should you need it to sweeten your sour disposition. Did you not want me to recycle because you don’t care about the environment?

I bet you loved watching me pick each of my items out of your bin as down the street a homeless man picked items out of my recycle bin. As I marched back down to my house head held high, the homeless man gave me the nod of a comrade. He had taken enough out of my bin that I could now fit everything in. I know the city says to report recycling theft, but sir, I salute you!

And as for you my contemptible neighbor, you are so trashy you don’t even deserve to recycle.

That Anne Girl,
Lael

The other day I mentioned how Mission Mission is getting a lot of traffic these days, and someone responded that half of it probably comes from people at Ritual Roasters. I don’t drink coffee, so the fuss surrounding Ritual is kind of lost on me. Consequently, this remark didn’t really register.

Then last night Brittney Gilbert at Eye on Blogs published this photo (credited to hotlead) of the shop’s somewhat funny “Please, No Blogging in line” sign, which got me thinking again. Link.

So, readers, do tell. Are half of you at Ritual?

Previous Mission Mission Ritual mention here.

She was really tearing it up, making rock-god faces and stuff, out in front of Weird Fish.

More junkies on Mission Mission.

I usually take BART to work because it’s much faster structure gonflable than the bus, but since I forgot to get a new Muni pass yesterday, this morning I got stuck with the 49-Mission, where I saw this colorful cartoon snail.

Photo page.

There is a new mural up outside Mission Pie. Whenever I walk by these signs, they remind me of some sort of prospective student college brochure where current students and kindly professors try to charm me into sending in an application. These posters are convincing, “Yes, now that you suggest it, I will attend Pie University.” All freshman would enroll in either taste testing or pie baking. Exams would probe my understanding of the subtle differences between Reddi-wip, Cool Whip (which now comes in a can!) and actual whipped cream. School uniforms would be aprons; pie tins would fly parcours obstacle gonflable whimsically through the air, tossed by the ultimate frisbee team; and although old, our teachers would be “crusty” in a good way.

The murals were created by Anne Hamersky who details her art here. Here’s to desperately hoping that her last name rhymes with “pie.”

That’s right, DJ Katie has a regular gig now. And it kicks off tomorrow! See the official event page on Facebook here. I had the following chat with Mission Mission pal Dyan M. the day after Katie’s last performance:

Dyanimal: Beauty Bar was so much fun
thanks for inviting me
me: oh i’m so glad
thanks for coming!
Dyanimal: yea tell me next time too!
ps im so hungover
wanna cry

So if that (+ great music and lots of toboggan aquatique gonflable dancing) sounds like a good time, stop by Beauty Bar tomorrow from 7-10pm.

More Mission Mission mentions of DJ Katie here.

More Mission Mission mentions of Beauty Bar here.

The second installment in the San Francisco architecture series on Imsooconfused features a touching tribute to the Women’s Building‘s beloved murals.

Previously on Mission Mission: Vertical Earthquake Could Hit the Mission District, Destroying View of Mural

Since we get a lot more traffic now than we did when this first ran, we thought we’d give it another go. A while back, Lael had an unsettling experience at a neighborhood corner grocer:

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 parc gonflable molested the cucumber with her hand, and drew back in disgust. All three women had now moved onto different vegetables.

Link to the full story. Or tell us what’s wrong with those cucumbers.

(Photo by reelgeek)

This post was published last week by Lola over at Disenchanted Princess, but there was some kind of malfunction with the video. Now it’s up and running. Cute puppies!

Link to video.