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

As much as it would have been really terrible to be an 18th century political prisoner – what with the iron shackles and festering musket wounds and your dungeon’s unforgiving stone floors – that bread and water deal couldn’t have been too bad. Maybe it’s just me, but a thick

Berlin-style ping-pong is blowing up. Not only has it been the subject of a great essay by the Bold Italic, it’s been explained, over and over again, by Youtube videos  and holds a devout group of paddling proponents throughout the city. If you didn’t read the essay or just watch

Farley’s, a staple of the Potrero morning scene, makes me realize that for better or worse I feel most comfortable around middle-aged people. They’re not the only ones in the cafe. But compared to San Francisco’s hip and swinging spots for a good cuppa, the numbers of comfy slacks in

One of the things that’s great about Bike Party is that you can ride as a seven-year old fresh off training wheels, a seasoned cyclist, or as a mid-twenties layabout spilling Jameson all over your messenger bag while flailing at a Dolores Park party stop. It’s pretty inclusive, and while

At the end of that bustling Irving Street strip sits Sakura, a tiny little Japanese discount store run by a husband-wife duo. San Francisco has made a snob of me, I realized while initially walking past the store. I’m so over ramen (now I just make a whole can of