I fucking love San Francisco.  I think it’s impossible to have a bad day in this city.  Sometimes, though, I need to get out for a little R&R.  What I would really like to do on these days is go home and have my mom cook for me while I

A few weekends ago, I briefly forgot what vegetables were. My bf and I trekked up to Rochester to visit some friends. Sure, they took us to a public market with stands full of fresh tomatoes, spinach, peppers, apples, etc, but that didn’t match our “when in Rome” philosophy of

Um.  There will be beef jerky here. If, for some inconceivable reason, you need more convincing than that to go to the third installment of the SF Underground Farmers Market on Saturday night, how ’bout I  add pulled pork, fried chicken and andouille sausage gumbo, foccacia, homemade fresh ginger beer, Hawaiian baked

Neighbourhood designation is a debate that never tires in this town.  I suppose that’s true of most places, but before you know it you’ll be at a party where two people are squaring off over what amounts to a one block radius.  Old Todo guides are cited and people are

It’s that time again — no, not for the World Naked Bike Ride, you perv.  It’s the Divisadero Art Walk, and it’s happening Thursday night!  Starting at 6pm, a ton of businesses along Divis will open their doors for you to check out new art, really cheap drinks, and most

Hey, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with wanting to do good, I’m just saying that there’s gotta be a little part of you that’s wondering, “what’s in this for me?”. Right? Come on, you can be honest with Uncle Broke-Ass, I won’t tell anyone. Look, whether you admit it or not, I don’t really care. I’m just here to show you a few ways that being a goody-two-shoes can actually be beneficial to you AND your scrawny little bank account

Going out to dinner with a big group is always fun, until the check comes. Then, it turns into a cluster fuck of confusion while people try to figure out how much they owe, how much they should tip, etc. And then you get pissed when you have to pay

I don’t know why, but something about cupcakes makes them taste good like Daddy’s money.  Personally, when I eat a cupcake, the Marie Antoinette soundtrack cues in my head and I pretend like Sofia Coppola and I are in Versailles, holding flutes of champagne and wearing Alexander McQueen dresses made