Most nights I’m out, I have one goal — getting a burrito by the time the night is through.  There’s just something about that meaty, guacamole-y, floury goodness that seems to soak all the alcohol right up — or at least appease the hideous, hangry monster the alcohol has turned

I remember seeing Rogue Wave as a college freshman in my school’s tiny multipurpose room, the then four members barely fitting on the makeshift “stage” and me wondering the whole time if any of them would consider banging a just-turned-legal fan.  Back then, Out of the Shadow was the album

You know how on most Sundays you sit at home getting day drunk on a mega bottle of wine and watch reruns of Tosh.0 until it gets dark out because there isn’t nearly enough sun to coax you off the couch, and then there’s those Sundays where there’s a million

You’ve probably heard of The Monk’s Kettle, the 16th St. Mission bar/restaurant with arguably the best beer list in San Francisco and the notoriously long wait to get in for dinner, but you may not have stopped in because it’s not exactly broke-ass friendly. Or so I thought.  Though I’ve eaten

You know how you live in a city for a long time, but never do the super touristy things in that city?  For example, I’ve never done the double-decker hop-on, hop-off bus tour, been across the water to Alcatraz, or had sex with a hooker-tranny in the ‘Loin. But today

Friends, I’m not gonna lie.  I’m not really into club-y, lounge-y type places.  I much prefer the dive bars that are so dark and filthy that none of the other patrons can see — literally — that I haven’t showered in days and wouldn’t give two shits if they could.

A while ago Stephen told us about a late-night, Nob Hill staple — Bob’s Donuts & Pastry Shop on Polk.  I’ve had the privilege of eating the most delicious apple fritter of my life here (okay, it was 2am and my blood was probably made up of pure tequila at