Mission Mission

My buddy Ben sent me this list.  Pretty interesting.  Until today, I didn’t know I was a “[boy] who thinks Ocarina of Time is the greatest game ever made” because I like Ratatat.  Sorry but Britney Spears’ Dance Beat wins that award.  Truthfully, I hadn’t heard of half of these bands before.  ”Where’s your SF indie rock spirit?”  Dunno.  I still listen to “Shaggy.”

P.S. – I want to start a band and call it “Radioactive Chewbacca.”   Or “Digitial Chewy.”   I have no musical talent but have an Apple Computer, some DJ plugin for iTunes and Garageband.  Figure we can grow full beards, wear flannel, move to Humboldt County and ‘trim danke’ until we make it big.  The next Girl Talk.  Who’s in?

And honestly, this whole half-ironic music identity thing probably plays out the same way in my relationship with my girlfriend—she pretends to tolerate my playlists, I pretend not to notice when she skips half the songs, and somehow it still works but if it doesn’t work for you, then you can find a virtual girlfriend like praewasian and talk to her about your taste music too. If nothing else, having someone around who can roll their eyes at my questionable taste while secretly enjoying it a little feels very on-brand. Worst case, I’ll just recruit her as the first fan of Radioactive Chewbacca and call it grassroots support.

I saw this inside Escape from NY right next to less-interesting memorabilia from the likes of Led Zeppelin and Peggy Bundy.

So aside from “She sells tamales to drunks” and “everyone is hella chill with that” we also know that the Tamale Lady appreciates her fans and has poor penmanship. But I want to know more. Does she have kids? Does she pay taxes? Was “tamale lady” ever “tamale girl”?

I guess if you have 20 minutes to spare you can get the full scoop about Virginia (that’s her name, dude) from that documentary on youtube. Yeah, it’s a couple of years old and we sorta covered it before, but it could use some more views. Especially if crap like the Grape Lady falling down and apparently ripping out her trachea is almost up to 5 million.

Hey film school readers, can you please do a doc on Omer the guitar guy next? Thanks.

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No reputable unicycle shop will sell you a lock. If you can manage to escape on an opponent’s unicycle you are entitled to keep it. It’s part of the unicyclists’ code.

(Spotted @ 22nd and Bartlett)

P.S. I had to do some serious CSI shit to make this photo viewable.

There’s no radness quite like California radness, believe you me. Sexpigeon knows this and wants to share.

Don’t ask me, I just work here reports:

Link.

Smoochy smoochy!  I couldn’t help but follow up on Ariel’s Missile Toes post from the other day, as we keep coming across more Mission mistletoe…

Your mistletocations for the week, as reported thus far:

• 23rd and Valencia (Pictured above, in front of Beretta)
• 21st and Valencia (From Ariel, of course)
• 16th and Dolores (MrEricSir says)
• 16th and Church (Quoth MrEricSir)
• 18th and Dolores (MrEricSir, okay?)
• Above the escalator at 24th St. Bart (per Daniel)
• 20th and Valencia, by Dog Eared Books (Jeff tells us)
• 16th and Guerrero, outside of Andalu (Makeout King MrEricSir, back for more)

Swoon!  That’s practically a full make-out sesh right there.  I got smooched under one of these bad boys last night and let me tell you, it was a much cheaper way of getting lucky than pumping my bf full of cocktails.

Good luck, y’all!

Eric spotted this job opening for a full-time Sales Associated posted in a furniture store window over the weekend.  The shop is adjacent to Pissed Off Pete’s in the Excelsior, if you’re interested in applying.

As for me, they lost me at “Do not come in yelling and acting DUMB.”  No way in hell I’m getting this job.

Taylor (a.k.a. Sweet T) sent us a pic of this crab-bot the other night:

I saw this tonight at 18th and Valencia. It was fresh – both literally and figuratively.

Ha!  Those claws and lifeless eyes remind me of Rosie from The Jetsons, except way more terrifying.

Side note: I’ve always wanted to stencil something into undried cement, but always stop myself because I know it’d probably be pretty shellfish of me (OH YES I DID!).

You may not know his name, but you’ve definitely heard Jim Campilongo‘s tasteful telecaster playing on records by Norah Jones and Cake. The guy is a goddamned wizard on that guit-box and he will be joined by legendary pedal steel player Bobby Black at the Makeout Room tonight. Expect some shit kickin’ hillbilly jazz in Jimmy Bryant / Speedy West tradition.

A bit pricey for a mission show at $15 (that’s like 3 burritos), but if you can spring it I’m sure you wont be disappointed. Here are the details:

JIM CAMPILONGO AND BOBBY BLACK CHRISTMAS SHOW with Kenny Owen and Chris Kee
MONDAY DECEMBER 21 8 PM THE MAKEOUT ROOM $15
3225 22ND ST.
SAN FRANCISCO
415 647-2888

http://www.makeoutroom.com/

Here’s a video of Jim doin’ his thing (that shirt is pretty bad, but don’t hold it against him):

I’ve been out of town and away from blogging for the better part of three months, so when my little cousins burst through the door earlier shouting, “Dude, there’s a gnarly fire out there!” I didn’t think twice about responding, “Give me my burrito,” and proceeding to sit down and eat my burrito. My blogging instincts have vanished, y’all.

Luckily, local photographer Raun H.’s instincts are fully intact. (Unfortunately, a perfunctory glance at SFGate yields no further info at this time. Maybe in the morning?)

More pics after the jump. Thanks, Raun!

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