Bernalwood recently came across this ridiculously rad logo for the now-defunct South of Army Mission Merchants Association on an empty storefront on 30th and Mission.  Just look at the damn thing: mighty, classic drawings of some our favorite SF landmarks, bold typography, and that line He Knows You-You Know Him?  Gold.

But it also reminds me of something that's been bugging me for some time now: can we stop calling Cesar Chavez Street “Army” already?  I get that you've been living here Before the Boom, and that's nice and much respect for that, but this isn't exactly a town known for supporting militarism and other such macho bullshit.  And it's not like Cesar Chavez was a bad guy.

Can't we all just be, you know, happy we no longer have to salute the Army every time drive to BevMo?  I live in San Francisco and buy shit whiskey by the crate to forget about the woes of the greater world, not remember we're fighting four wars.

Dearest nerds and pervs, did you know that El Rio has a monthly all-girl lube wrestling competition? No? Okay, well now you do and you should probably put the next one on your calendar.

See, I'm not going to lie guys.  I'd like to offer you a subjective, puritanical review of the evening that's free of sexual charge, but I just cannot do it.  This event ruled for so many reasons: the rockin' DJ, the jokes from the MC, the lubricated thumb-wrestling contest, wrestlers with names like “Hella Kitty”… even the costumes were off the charts.  But, at the end of the day, this lube wrestling match is a must-attend for a reason I'm sure we're all familiar with: titties.  I mean, who doesn't like titties?  Seriously people.  Girls love titties.  Guys definitely love titties.  The internet loves titties.  Titties titties titties.

That's not to say the party was all lube and boobs—quite the contrary.  There were venerable athletes getting into the mix, some of which looked like they could bench press a bus with one arm.  And the looks of horror from the front row as they got whipped in the face with a lube-drenched ponytails was simply priceless.

However, the event was not without its drawbacks; namely, the rows of creepy lurkers in the back (of which I was a part of, naturally).  Sadly, I was not allowed to take a photo to show you what the crowd looked like, and the idea of getting thrown out of a lube wrestling competition in a lesbian bar was a certifiable pervy rock bottom from which my pride and dignity would never recover.  But the back four or five rows were packed with whack dudes in backwards baseball caps grinning like virgins.  And then there was that 40-year-old couple making out a little too hard, which grossed me the fuck out but, from the looks of it, almost caused the guy to my right to pull out his dick right there and give himself a fistful of blisters.

Did I mention titties?

Anyway, if you RSVP with Red Hots Burlesque (who aids in putting on the show) ahead of time, you can reserve yourself a seat in the front, lube-soaked, pervert-free rows.  So do that.

Go Deep! goes down on the first Thursday of every month at 9pm.  $15 cover, but all the money goes to the performers.

[Photo by Red Hot Dottie]

Glorious Bernal Pizza Hut pic from Yelp. Thanks, Kevin Y!

Newbie food blogger Dave MP only arrived in San Francisco a few weeks ago and has already taken on the ambitious task of eating at every single restaurant in his new neighborhood, La Lengua. 

Since I like exploring food options in my neighborhood, I've decided to embark on a little project – eat at every restaurant on Mission Street between Cortland and Cesar Chavez. I finally got around to making a list of all the places I have to try, and will be reporting on all of them. The aim is to have this completed by December 31st, 2012.

There are a lot of delicious and pretty unusual cuisines located on that stretch of Mission between Cortland and Cesar Chavez, so it seems weird that Pizza Hut and Burger King made it onto his must-try list. Props to him for creating a comprehensive list, but seriously, you're living in the neighborhood that boasts SF's only Indian pizza restaurant, and the city's only Cambodian place. Take Pizza Hut off the list and make an extra trip to El Zocalo or something, would ya?

You can keep track of his progress as he reviews every restaurant on the Chowhound discussion boards under the title La Lengua Chronicles. Good luck, dude! Don't forget the Pepto!

[Bernalwood]

Hey Bernal!  Yeah you, I see you there.  Look man, we gotta talk.

You're cool and all, with those breathtaking views of San Francisco n' shit.  But you've been playing the same tune for thousands of years and people don't wanna hear that no more.  Yeah man, I'm talking about your grass situation.  The pants stainer.  The original weed.  The green menace.  Whatever you wanna call it, 'shit's played out—business as usual.

But, dude, check it: I got the fix for you.  Art-a-ficial grah-ass.  You heard of this stuff?  No?  Oh dude, it's the fucking shit.  We take your old, crabby-ass grass, dump it in some abandoned lot in Bayview, and then we cover your ass in plastic.  Plastic!  It's modern, man—real cutting-edge shit. All the kids are playing soccer on it, it stays green year-round, and I heard it drains real well because, you know, sometimes rains in San Francisco.

Dude, think about it, if we level out some of those hideous deformities of yours, kids could be playing soccer on you.  Soccer, Bernie, soccer!  Have you seen some of the soccer moms around here? Yeah yeah, those mega-babes could be standing on you buddy, and just think about your vantage point… Heh heh heh, yaaa now you're feeling me.

I know you're looking at the price tag and, yeah, this shit ain't cheap.  But looking good was never cheap.  This isn't some thrift store garbage, no man, this is fresh off the runway.  You'll be the envy of every other broke-ass park in town.  You'll be cruising the streets in a Range while they're stuck trying to find parking for their penny-farthings.  “Move over, Twin Peaks!  Bernal's king of this town!”

Did I mention the babes?

So, dude, why not show off your million dollar view with millions of dollars in turf renovations?  They'll be looking at you, they'll be talking about you, they'll want to be you.

Plus, Golden Retrievers just love the shit.