If this is the first time you’ve seen this offense against God, you probably thought “what the hell am I looking at?” I know. I thought that too. It’s macaroni and cheese, fried, and possibly dunked in Cheeto dust. Much like the historic and horrible KFC Double Down of olde, it seems like it was created solely to push you into a heart attack. Or win you that next siege in World of Warcraft. Or both. I’m not trying to limit you.

The rumors are not true! We are not closing. Due to circumstances beyond our control we will be closing the doors at our current location, 2575 Mission Street (Mission and 22nd), and moving one block away to 2417 Mission Street (Mission and 20th). Luckily, we have found a new landlord who wants our friendly neighborhood bar in his building.

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

Every now and again we ask YOU our fine readers a question on facebook. Sometimes its about your Worst Public Transit Stories, sometimes its about the Weirdest Places You’ve Had Sex, the responses we get are amazing, we are lucky to have such a creative and hilarious readership.

OFF MENU IS SPONSORED BY EMPEROR NORTON’S BOOZELAND THE TENDERLOIN’S NEWEST HISTORIC DIVE.  HAPPY HOUR NOON – 7PM   The sound was heard round’ the world by all the foodies and epicureans of the land, Lucky Peach was shutting the fuck down. How could a periodical that had shook my core so hard in

Here are some notable San Francisco burgers on a very exact rating scale:

10 means I’d gladly murder my brother (if I had one) to eat it once a month and 1 means it’s basically the hamburger-shaped cardboard they serve in middle school cafeterias.

San Francisco resident peregrine falcons are a sign of spring. That means that it’s almost time for the worker bees of the FiDi to hear shrieking sounds from 300 feet above, or catch a glimpse of a Peregrine Falcon diving from the skies at up to 275 mph.

Ice cream isn’t just summer’s game anymore. There are too many flavor combinations to try and too few fucks I have to give about silly things like calories or diabetes or what time of night it is. When I want ice cream, I want it now.

While there are plenty of bars in this city that could be called “a giant ball pit,” I’m talking about something completely different here.