The spectacle of the Oscars is just as much about what people wore, as it was about who actually won. Everyone has their best and worst dressed lists and it’s all about the ladies. Who wore what gown, what shoes, blah blah blah. While I enjoy snarky comments about ruffles

Award shows can be a very laboring affair to watch. The Emmys are pretty meh, the MTV awards are a fucking joke but sometimes people show up wearing pasties, and the Grammy’s are just another opportunity for my ears to be assaulted by the Black Eyed Peas. But everyone always

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

New Yorkers are obsessed with instant gratification. We’re completely spoiled by having limitless places to eat, shop, and entertain us that stay open at all hours. One of these luxuries I take complete advantage of is going to the movies.  Yes we get Garfield 2 and all the rest of

After reading Anna’s hilarious post about farting on the first date, it reminded me that no matter how much we try to present this perfect, polished version of ourselves to the potential partners, our real selves always manage to surface sooner than we hope. While it’s great to be blissfully

There’s nothing quite as satisfying as finding that hidden gem in stacks and stacks of records. Whether you’re a music snob or just looking for something new to add to your collection, record shows can be a treasure trove of musical findings. While I’m constantly finding new uses for my

Hot wings may have gotten their claim to fame in Buffalo, but upstate New York pales in comparison to the Korean fry masters at Mad for Chicken. Having gone to a state school, I’ve eaten my share of fried chicken wings. I also grew up in what was voted multiple

I’ve always harbored a serious addiction to magazines. There’s just something about those glossy pages, slick photography and snappy writing that has me stockpiling just to las  a long Sunday afternoon.  I get ReadyMade when I want to pretend I’m crafty, Interview for great features, and any fashion magazine when

When I say the words “water ice” outside the city limits of Philadelphia, people look at me like I’m some backwards hick who just crawled out of the Schuylkill River.  Better known as “wooder ice” to Philly residents, and Italian ice to the rest of the civilized world, this simple