The last time I felt this nauseated, angry and anxious was when I had morning sickness. I never threw up over homework assignments in high school. Not even when I was a sleep deprived, hormonal, overachiever taking an absurd amount of AP classes. I’m not pregnant, I don’t have the flu,

I just spent the last few days in bed, sick. In that time I watched three seasons of “Sons of Anarchy” on Netflix and agonized over what to do if it was more than a little bug as I am currently uninsured. I spent a lot of time on the

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

Sore throat, congestion, a cough that sounds dangerously whooping, and more phlegm than you can shake a stick at comprise my current state of existence. I’ve basically been dying since Monday, but I’m using all my energy to emerge from a mountain of used tissues and Halls wrappers and help those

I am sick. It sucks. I feel like I have been thoroughly bitch slapped by whatever demon virus has invaded my body and after three days of quarantine, I see no signs of relief. Pity me now, please. The first day I started to feel it coming on, I hit