Drugs
After pounding back 23.5 ounces of Lemonade Loko after the Dolores Park Four Loko flash dance, this dude completely falls apart. A warning for all you cool kids out there.
(mixed with News 12's youth ad campaign for the malt beverage)
Previously on Uptown Almanac
I love the new 7x7 website! Today I went to visit one of my favorite 7x7 blogs only to find out that they 404ed that shit. Normally the axing of their entire blog network would be news, but they upstaged themselves by getting the most confusing 404 animation I've seen to date:
7x7's mascot, Robby the Roasted Red Rooster (??), can't seem to fly for shit and hits a tree on the way to San Francisco. Apparently Robby is up in Mt. Sasta because the last time I saw that much pot near a snow-capped mountain I was picking up a 62-year-old hitchhiker that smelled like he slept in cow shit for warmth.
Previously on Uptown Almanac
Reader Selbst recently found this schedule scribbled down on paper (UPDATE: and has provided us with more details on the find):
FOUND this on my doorstep in the Mission with a heap of sodden blankets and clothes apparently jettisoned from a gypsy RV after a "domestic". The question is, did she complete the plan and throw out the list or lose the list and the plan and get hooked again?
Front:
Back:
John Waters, Hollywood Smile Train, 2009. C-prints, edition of 5, 26 3/4 x 20 3/4 inches framed. Courtesy of Rena Bransten Gallery, San Francisco, CAJohn Waters' fourth solo exhibition at Rena Bransten Gallery entitled, Rush, is now on view through July 10th. The exhibition, aptly titled after Rush liquid incense, the alkyl nitrites inhaled for recreational purposes (more commonly referred to as "whip-its" by the kids I roll with) gives you just that.
Rush boasts a comical fiberglass mixed-media sculpture of Ike Turner forcing his puppet, a fur coat and pink dress clad Tina Turner to perform a sassy dance. Other memorable works are the film stills of Hollywood stars appropriated onto butts, poking fun at the filmie technique of Rear Projection (the works title) and appropriately finishing the sequence of photographs with "the end," a perfect double entendre! The piece, Hollywood Smile Train, is composed of images of Tom Cruise, Hitchcock, Meryl Streep, and other celebs with harelips, and not in that hot Joaquin Phoenix kind of way.
The exhibition also incorporates a series of photographs taken from the movie set of Pecker, the 1998 comedy written and directed by Waters about a young photographer plucked from Baltimore and promised to become a New York art star. The stills challenge the contemporary idea of the art worlds relationship with celebrity, its obsession with the next big thing, and the excitement and sadness it all incorporates.
The exhibition is an insiders peek into the film and art world as seen by Waters, but manages to keep outsiders in on the joke too. The exhibition ends July 10th.
This also happens to be the most effective way to stop Sublime from touring.
Last week I was in Brooklyn and stumbled across Bond No. 9's latest scent "Brooklyn.'" The Brooklyn perfume consists of a combination of grapefruit, cardamom, cypress-wood, geranium leaves, juniper berrie, cesarwood, leather and guaiacwood, (wtf is that?) and for a mere $220 you can actually "smell like" Brooklyn. Don't really know where they came up with this weird ass combo to encapsulate the scent of the "edgy metropolis." To me Crooklyn smells like wasted youth and decaying bodies but, I guess that really isn't marketable.
If San Francisco's neighborhoods were bottled up into different perfumes, what would these neighborhoods smell like? And what is the price you'd have to pay to smell like them?
Mission: Taco trucks, piss, cheap beer, expensive coffee, trustafarians. Price: One call to your parents to please, please, please let you use daddy's Amex one more time.
Haight: Drum circles, midwestern runaways that didn't get the memo that punk is dead (see: dirt, b.o., and dreadlocks), bong loads, DMT. Price: Panhandle for 48 hrs straight and pray some unwitting tourists feel bad for your 3 dogs.
Marina: The scent of entitlement, hair product, fake tanner, axe body spray, shame, chest bumps! Price: The cost of running for mayor.
Tenderloin: Crack, garbage, meth, cheap blow jobs (see: rotting teeth), poor life decisions. Price: Eagerness to give cheap blow jobs.
Noe Valley: Upwardly mobile snobbery, babies, french bulldogs (read: shit), the new car smell. Price: Raising 2 kids, paying for private school, a vasectomy
Sunset: Isolation, depression, pseudo suburbia. Price: Moving anywhere else in the city
Castro: Rainbows, unicorns, leather daddy's leather, lube. Price: An evening at Boy Bar.
Chinatown: fish, lost tourists, the dirty 30, dumpsters. Price: Shitting yourself.
North Beach: Pizza! bros, day old strippers. Price: One lap dance.
If you have anymore ideas go ahead and throw them into the comments, and if you want to add anymore neighbs that I didn't cover, i.e. Pac Heights (I'm not sure what rich smells like) go ahead and do it.
Bro was the highlight of my 3 o'clock hour at Carnaval. Just jumping from car to car. Smashing in their hoods. Shaking his ass. Thought about 'doing the right thing' and stopping him but I hate cockblocking fun.
As you can see in the evidence below, he has the vocal chords of a God.
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