Any good disco party is, from start to finish, a fleshy, hairy, glittery mess slick with sweat and your choice of several other warm liquids. Any good foray on roller skates is pretty much the same deal, if you’re doing it right. Meaning: combined, they make a gloriously hot pantsed

Really unfairly, Kwanzaa tends to be the butt of holiday-themed jokes. The multi-day holiday has been around for less than 50 years, honors African-American history and culture, and has, of course, way fewer participants than Christmas or Chanukah. It’s also nonreligious, making that last comparison meaningless. Not only is Kwanzaa

I’ve got some awesome news! We received a grant from the Civic Joy Fund to put out a literary magazine celebrating SF and acting to counter the stupid “Doom Loop” narrative. It’s a gift to the people of San Francisco. And after months of working on this project it’s now available

Maybe it’s the fleas I think are roosting in my bed, the five to three shift, or the lessening effects of sustained caffeine intake, but fuck, December is hard. Everyone seems to feel it. It’s like things are funneling really suddenly towards the New Year, the same New Year that

Long-gone, unfortunately, are the days when unwedded royals swapped portraits and sized each other up for marriage. Ringlets were ogled and dentures examined before anyone decided anything. And then, only then, were locks of hair exchanged. Now we have Facebook (yep, there was no middle ground there at all) and

  Padmapper, a nifty tool that’s basically a melding of Craigslist with Google Maps, comes in handy for those apartment searches with location, location in mind. And not only does it show you where your new home might be, it shows you where it sure isn’t. A vast, empty space

There’s no dearth in San Francisco of bicycle part jewelry, crocheted caps, or fingerless gloves that look somehow like pandas. While I personally own two of those three items, I recognize that they’re only a tiny and too-cutesy subsection of what’s actually a huge and worthwhile movement in San Francisco

A while back I wrote a little post on two then-promising pets I had just purchased who I was sure were going to not only brighten my life but provide me with calm, unwavering companionship in dire times. What ended up happening to Trent and Eileen is a sad story.

San Francisco is pretty much a huge fungus fair already, for better or for worse, from readily-available edibles to the stuff that teems on our young, lithe bodies. One of my friends (Sam) is host to a vehemently fragrant and tenacious foot fungus that seems only to worsen with his