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.

Did I ever mention that I'm a professional photographer?

I've been meaning to check out Panchitas #3 (22nd st. btwn Capp and SVN) for ages since it is an empty 40 toss from my house.  But it's always empty and they've had a “grand opening” sign hanging up pretty much since the day I moved into the Mission, so I figured it was just some shitty drug front and never bothered until the other night.  Turns out they actually make good, cheap food.  I got 3 plates of food, chips and decent salsa, and a drink for $25 (including tip).  Their pupusas are solid and the fried plantains are among the best I've had.  This place is a prime example of Location, Location, Location, because if it was on Valencia, this place would be packed on the reg.  Of course, it's next to El Trebol, so it's dead and the sidewalks are covered in piss.  I give it 4 pairs of neon green Raybans out of 5 (one point lost for not having PBR on tap and indoor bike parking).

Best of all, there's an lul wut? picture of a nude model holding a baby above the Men's Room toilet.

Back in the day when I fed myself by way of being a bike wrench, I once referred to a riding of one my new bikes as “better than sex.”  One of the other mechanics responded by saying “either you have never had sex or you need to find a new bitch.”  ‘though that his smack-down was so epic that I rarely refer to as anything as “better than sex” anymore.  All that said, Bender’s cheesy tater tots are better than sex.  Okay, not literally, but these tots are no Capp Street Hooker of the culinary world.  Four kinds of cheese melted on top of milf fucking tater tots.  As you can see from my crappy picture, I nearly finished the basked before I figured the internet might care about what I had for dinner last night.  So good I put something ahead of the internet.  That’s some serious shit right there.

Be sure to pour a little bit of your Czechvar out for our bovine brethren.

The soy milk at Boogaloos. Also, this made me miss Frisco Disco at the Transfer. That was the most fun! Even that night where everyone’s shit got stolen by some dude who looked like Hello Kitty THAT WAS STILL A GOOD NIGHT. Where is the new Transfer? Let me know, I’m older and fatter now but I still gots to move! I’m like a shark, if I ain’t swimming, I’m dying.