There is no better way to unload your family holiday baggage than to throw a Friendsgiving Party for all your besties. Especially if you spent the first 25 Thanksgivings of your life gagging down dry turkey and bready stuffing while sitting in an old lady living room full of doilies.

Chorophobia or fear of dancing in front of other people, who will obviously be pointing and laughing, is a real thing for many people. I have long suffered from this condition which can make weddings, clubs, and other festive occasions even worse than they already are. Sometimes even an open

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

November is fast approaching and in the nerdy Bay Area that means novel writing season. This is the time of year when National Novel Writing Month-ers attempt the heroic and seemly impossible task of writing the first draft of a 50,000 word novel in a single month. It’s a time when

In San Francisco where many relationships don’t last more than six weeks, the third date is a significant milestone. For some it marks the date count that allows them to engage in sexy time without feeling too slutty

Why do “dog people” seem so frick’in happy all the time? Dog owners always seem to hanging out chatting and smiling at each other in the park, with while cat people are home alone listening to folk music. Not even touching warm bundles of poop can bring dog lovers them down. Social

I’m on my way to NYC and I will not be looking up the skirt of the Statue of Liberty, shrinking my pupils at Time Square or going to the tippy top of the Empire State Building. Though I’ve always tried to do things that were less touristy, I’m now

How I learned to stop judging and start loving my fanny pack When I told a friend of mine I was really digging my new fanny pack and had even worn it on a date, she rolled her eyes and replied, “We have to break up now.” Such is the

It’s hard for me to write this because I’m still pretty embarrassed and ashamed of “the incident.”I cruised up to Pop’s, my favorite dive bar, flushed with the glow of a good first date and the warm buzz of a few Dolores Park drunk beers. In short I was awesomeness, and