I was curious as to what PBR was doing with the $5,000 I've given to them over the years (give or take $5,000), so I took a look at their 'totally fresh' internet website.  Turns out PBR has been busy making an iPhone app telling you where you can 'get PBRed ASAP'.  If you ever thought that PBR was not marketed to you, dearest starry-eyed Missionista, time to get real: this app is straight-up reppin' that bodega known as Elixir.  My favorite feature has to the direct link to call your local bar to find out if they have PBR.

1) *grumble grumble* Hey this is Pop's, why the fuck are you calling us?

2) Hi, I'm looking for a place to drink Pabst Blue Ribbon, would you by chance have any in stock?

*Dead Air*

2) Hello?

1) Sorry, I was just loading the shotgun. 

I gave the app a run on my phone.  Turns out every bar in the fucking Mission has PBR.  Who knew!  But now I have a PBR icon in my phone dock (I decided a PBR locator was more important than that stupid 'telephone' app I had down their previously), which pretty much makes my iPhone the most unique iPhone ever.

In other news, PBR is now selling branded mittens.  You can thank me later.

Hater Tuesday is a blog that makes no pretenses. It is not trying to be your friend. It is not trying to support your scene. It is, without a doubt, an unstoppable force of hate and comedy that has been keeping it real since at least 2004, and apparently even a few years before that. Back when no one had even heard of Dolores Park. I don’t even think they’d built it yet. I bring it to your attention now because Funky Bitch has unleashed her hate on us this week and it’s fucking hilarious. I’m just disappointed my personal blog didn’t receive a link in the venom, as I’m guilty of much of the stuff she calls out in her latest entry:

The Mission: Listen, I like burritos* and cholos as much as the next gal but enough with the fucking Mission blogotumblrfashionogrampahers already. We are officially at capacity people.
1. Photos of handwritten signage:  You think you’re the first asshole to notice shitty grammar on a store front sign? Give an immigrant a break you fucking dick. No, it’s not worthy of a blog post.
8. Fashion: No more pictures of dirtheads in cut offs, flannel and dirty, err vintage shoes, please.

Past targets have included: Uppity Pregnant Women, Balloons with Words on Them, Fake Pigeon-Toed Hipster Hoes, and, of course, Pussy Triangles (“My pussy does not need a strapless eye patch”).

Are you feeling less cool?  Is that pretentious hipster hoe not ‘droppin dem drawers’?  Well now you can go get in on the soon-to-die fashion trend for cheap.  So take that Dolores Park Chiller on Caltrain down to your Palo Alto tech office to show the 6.4% female workforce just how cool light-blue button-ups can be.

My sophomore and junior years of college, I rode my bike 10,000+ miles every year, was at my physical peak, and had to eat something absurd like 4,000 calories a day just to maintain being 20 pounds underweight.  Then I discovered $9.99 handles of Gordon’s and 2 liters for $1 bottles of TD Select Orange Soda.  Now that my top three life priorities have become alcohol, the interwebs and finding neon iPhone cases that match my ‘sick kicks,’ I’ve only managed to muscle out an epic 300 miles on my bike (the majority of which have been to and from sources of Old English).  But today I had one of those rare mornings when I woke up stone-cold sober and clear headed following a Saturday night of not getting faced, so I decided to blow off my Dolores Picnic + 24s plans and dust off my Principia for a lovely Christ-My-Knees ride around Marin.

Well, I guess I missed some epic shit.  Like goddamn a giant inflatable King Kong in the park.

And sleeping santas.

(photos by mrupert84)