I don’t often hit up sports bars. Not because I don’t care about sports, mind you, but I don’t always have the desire to watch a game unfold due to the usual ineptitude of NY teams. Frankly, I don’t need to watch the Knicks/Jets/Giants/Mets/yes, even the Yankees crash and burn

Today is the day where thousands of bespectacled music nerds (myself included) celebrate all things vinyl for National Record Store Day. More then just a music industry sales ploy, hundreds of artists have new special releases and re-releases just for the occasion. Featuring everyone from Bad Brains, Sonic Youth, Fleetwood

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

Unfortunately my wine tasting palette is limited to the descriptors “winalicious” and “alcoholey”–aka don’t take me to nice things–but for some reason I can lay down like a motherf*cker when it comes to beer. Which is why I am obsessed with the weekly tastings at Jimmy’s No. 43. For $10,

When I was working on my NYC book, a cat named Wade dropped some info on me about some of the strange and unknown things in New York. One of them was that there are seven secrets about Grand Central Station. He had seen a TV program about them, but

Until the internetz blesses us with a new spewy episode of Drunk History, it looks like we gotta take some learnin’ matters into our own hands.  Fortunately The Museum of the City of New York is not only a pretty awesome way to do this anytime, but right now they’re

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. It’s what mama always said, along with “hold doors open” and “always carry an extra sidearm.” Unfortunately, as we all strive for reinvention in this ever-swirling snafu known as life, sometimes we get a change we don’t need for the simple sake of

The Hairpin recently came with a Guide to Crying in Public, which (clearly) reminds me of all the dumb times I’ve cried in public. I would say about a quarter to one half of those times were dating-related– though pretty varied in terms of the types of “dating” situations. Here’s

Desperate times call for desperate measures. We are solidly into April, ie spring, but my winter coat is still on and my skin is still an “indoor kid” shade of pale. So off I go to where a lei and drink shots that have been lit on fire even though