These are my resort-themed Mom capris: They’re covered in colorful hibiscus-print, and have the names of exotic locales like “Martinique” and “St. Lucia” stamped all over them, in a font that can only can be described as “Tiki-esque.”  They’re high-waisted and saggy-legged and cut at the most unflattering part of

I work at a restaurant that happens to be situated in the Marina;  “Happens to be situated” because neither it’s concept, cuisine or clientele are emblematic of said District.  It’s a qualification I find myself adding when mentioning my workplace to friends or acquaintances. Part of me wants to be

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

I realized this past weekend that I come from a long line of Broke-Asses.  My grandfather used to drive 5 miles outside of town to save 10¢ on gas.  My other grandfather would buy fifty rolls of toilet paper every time it went on sale (Although he did have at

Last week on “Your Home Bar,” we outlined your basic liquor necessities to begin mixin’ drinks at home like a pro. So by now, you’re probably staring blankly at your bottles of Rumple Minze, Baileys, and Everclear, wondering, “What on earth do I do now?” Two options: 1) SHOTS (what

I’m shocked no one has talked about this yet, but it’s high time we discussed drinking at home in more depth. Getting hammered in bars is all well and good, especially if you can get someone else to buy your drinks. But then you always end up owing somebody something.

Any time we broke folk can get our hands on FREE or cheap booze we take advantage. You are probably thinking, “Yeah, but it’s usually the cheapest of the cheap.” Well, not this time. The Regency Ballroom will be serving as the location for The Macallan Scotch Tasting and Class.

The answer to this question is easy:  smear on massive amounts of lipstick, back-comb your wig into voluminous perfection, climb up onto a table, and shake your thing because hips don’t lie, honey!  Oh, wait.  So you just want to learn how to dance like a pro, but don’t have

Believe it or not, this morning marked the second time that I saw someone clip their nails on the subway.  At least it wasn’t their toenails, like the first time around.  That incident happened during the summer, when it was hot enough to wear sandals– the thick, B.O.-pungent air, and