Haight
WILL FUCK 4 BIG MACTHIS IS WHY I LOVE THE SF WEEKLY. Up until last week, I had no idea that the sit-lie law was going to ruin dating and vegan eating in the Haight:
An author named Spencer Walker has written a new guidebook with a section apparently devoted to the San Francisco dating landscape. Titled "Hippie Harlots," the section claims to be a primer on the Haight Ashbury dating scene -- a scene that just may die if visitors aren't allowed to sit or lie down in public anymore.
According to Cook to Bang, the aforementioned primer on home-cooked meals prepared to entice potential dates, Hippie Harlots are found in San Francisco, at ultimate frisbee games, and at Burning Man. And they respond well to fried tofu, writes the author, who admits to "occasionally trolling Haight Ashbury for bohemian booty."
...
Should [Police Chief George Gascon's sit-lie law] pass, the resulting hostility and infringement of civil liberties may make the neighborhood a glum place for hippie hookups. And we might see a decline in Walker's style of cuisine.
So for the sake of everything that's organic and tasty, can't our top cop just leave the Haight be? (LINK)
Spenc sounds like a terrific dude. Cooks to get laid, trolls the homeless for sex. A real casanova. Also, why the hell is sit/lie being morphed into a foodie issue?
(photo by Brant Ward / The Chronicle)
Previously on Uptown Almanac
'The Haight has become a battleground over a new controversial ordinance, known as the Shit-Lie Law. This divisive measure has pit local business owners, residents and people with the slightest shred of modesty against those too inebriated or shunned by society to give a fuck.' ~KLIT News 47*
Found behind Magnolia Brew Co by reader Marquis, who swears to god that he wasn't back their looking for a place to shit but came back five pounds lighter anyway. *=Not a real news source. Or quote, story, or law.
Dolores Park
Army near 3rd
Imagine this: a grassy bike ride all the way to work*, the neighborhood name NOPA doesn't exist and SFPD wouldn't be able to ticket cyclists at the ARCO station. Well, apparently back in distant year of 1928, the city could have made this a reality. The plan was to extend the panhandle all the way to Market st. along The Wiggle. The plan called for demolishing housing along the route, indicating our politicians of years past actually had a spine.
I have no idea why it never happened, but I bet that Great Depression thing had something to do with it.
(via Wikipedia)
* a grassy bike ride to work for people who actually live in the western part of the city... and work.
Previously on Uptown Almanac
Saw this posted up by "jacob" on one of the various SF riding forums:
i know there was just a long thread about the wiggle and running stop signs...etc. don't want to argue that just want to give the heads up that (after i got a ticket last night) the cop who issued said ticket informed me that there is going to be a focused police/traffic cop presence in and around the wiggle cracking down on moving violations for bikes. the city has told them to do this because of the bike lanes that have been put into place there.
esp. it seems that they are parking a cop car a few parking spaces down fell next to the bike lane on fell between scott and divis and nabbing people turning left on the red from scott onto fell.
anyway be safe/aware...
This is likely a response to the new traffic plan that was just implemented at the Arco station of Fell. Even so, not sure why the city fells the need to go after cyclists who are not even cutting across traffic to make a left turn on a red.
(photo by David Gartner)
Previously on Uptown Almanac
Reader "mailorders" snapped this epic pic and shares this story:
This started out as a heated confrontation when the dog ran at the guy in the t-shirt, threateningly barking. This dog has a history of being noisy and somewhat unruly; I don't think that he's dangerous, but if somebody doesn't know dogs, they're bound to think that the dog is about to attack. His guardian, the guy with the buzz cut got mouthy and even as the guy in the t-shirt was walking away, the dog continued to follow him, barking all the time. I guess it escalated from there.
There you go people. Don't own a dog. Thanks mailorders!
Fuck this, kill all sea creatures!
(photo by Octoferret)
* A quick google on the flickrnets indicates that this Fillmore piece in the Lower Haight is at least a year old, but it's new to me.
Found on Modcult
What's also great about this is you know that this event was put on by a bunch of hippies, just as today a funeral for the hipster would be put on by a bunch of hipsters, and a funeral for the douchebag would be put on by me.
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.
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