My last day in the DF and, like so many mornings in this town, my eyes open to a criminal hangover. This cruda is beyond, and, suddenly, the cantina hopping and hanging in Toms Leather Bar until 4 am seem less legitimate without the strength of Ron Bacardi’s fortified

Photo by BAS contributor FBFE. Another bar food-cocktail parlour recently opened up in the Castro a few weeks ago to a less than warm reception.  Before its opening, Bandidos Consulting Chef Jamie Lauren mused, “I hate to call it white people Mexican food but it is.  And I think the Castro

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

In November 2005, after having lived in Mexico City for close to a year, I lost my appendix. By lost, I should rather say it violently decided to check out by causing me to wretch up my organs and writhe in pain ‘til a doctor cut it out of me