You live in a tiny apartment with your tiny baby. Except that your baby is no longer tiny, and your apartment is now a straight-up death trap. What was once a newborn angel sanctuary is now a clusterfuck of destruction.

If you’re like me, your dad is dead so you’re off the hook this Father’s Day. But if you’re like everyone else, you’ve waited to the very last minute to get your dad a gift, and you’re broke as shit to boot. Relax. You don’t need something fancy from Ten

As 2024 winds down, we’re reflecting on another incredible year of sharing the stories, art, culture, and nightlife that make the Bay Area so unique. BrokeAssStuart.com wouldn’t be what it is without you—our community of readers, supporters, and believers in independent media. This year, instead of asking you to join Patreon

Is it just me, or is social media a complete babyfest lately?  Everyone is popping out kids.  Your boss, your best friend, your sister.  And shockingly, they’re all expecting a gift.  They might say they’re not, but they are. You’ll probably end up getting something uninspired.  Not because you want

Everyone knows that pregnant ladies are flush with hormones.  Not everyone knows that those hormones still rage for months after delivery…….and they can make you a crazy person. For example: Thanks to hormones, I no longer hate The Big Bang Theory. The Big Bang Theory was on roughly 78 times

You just had a baby and you’re cruising through maternity leave.  Five minutes ago your baby was a newborn — a cozy little blob of goo who slept peacefully on your chest between feedings.  Now she yells and laughs, she kicks you and yanks your hair.  She faces out in

You live in a tiny apartment and you just had a baby. You’re home from the hospital, trying to put that whole bloodbath behind you. Your partner is back to work. And you and the baby are in the apartment, alone. All day long. Crying. Pooping. Staring nervously at one

The baby industry is a total mind-fuck. You love your baby so buy our stroller, they advertise. But somehow they come off more like Buy our stroller or your child will drop out of high school and join Al-Qaeda. So you register for everything. Feels excessive, but you’re vulnerable. Maybe

You’re pregnant — about to pop — and you live in a tiny apartment. Soon you’re going to have to fit a baby in there. But how? You’ve Googled it. You’ve scoured Pinterest. Surely someone’s blazed the way for you. Where’s that don’t-take-no-shit Manhattan couple with all the answers? Or