Local Mission Eatery is opening in the next two weeks just a few doors down from Philz on 24th.  All dishes will arrive 1 day late and be a minimum of 1,000 words.  I kid.  The name sure is stupid but it does look well lit inside, meaning you can see just how ugg your date is.  I’m told they are going to source local organic food and do cooking classes in the back, indicating this place will be a hit with dull white people holding dSLR cameras.  AND LUNCH.  WE NEED MORE LUNCH PLACES.

I feel like if this place wants to ‘keep it real,’ they’ll let you order beer by the glass or bottle.  Shit will be like ordering a bottle of wine, only the most cracked-out waiter will come over with a white towel on the arm holding a 40.  The head of the table will inspect the Born On Date, swirl a taste around in the glass to get the fizzy Colt 45 taste we all crave, throw it back and start mumbling Ol’ Dirty Bastard lyrics about whores with herpes in their assholes.  DO IT.

(real news on Tablehopper)

— Jay Sennett

“I’m not a great writer, but I’ll do my best to describe my ride Tuesday morning, and maybe you’ll see what I mean.”  (link)

Okay, I’m also not a great writer.  Being a bad writer makes life hard.  I feel your pain.  But there is a few ways to make the banalities you typed on your semen-encrusted keyboard better.

1) Own it.
Do your best to make fun of your bad hair and handwriting as much as possible because, hey, if you cannot laugh at your inadequacies, you might as well be an alcoholic. That said, why the fuck would you say “I’m not a great writer but I’m going to do my best.” No, bad writers never do their best, they just post pictures of graffiti and drink alone in their apartment. If your post isn’t as amateur hour as fucking possible, you’ll look like you’re trying to be a good writer and that’s when ‘teh suck’ hits warp-speed.

2) Never Have Sex.
Going ‘balls deep in dat tramp’ leads to self-confidence, and we can’t be having any of that.

3) One More Drink.
All the best decisions are made while drunk.  Like hitting that “publish” button.  For example, I woke up this morning, saw that it might rain, poured myself a pint of Captain Morgan and mixed it with a thimble of Coke, and now I have gift of bad grammar and long-winded sentences running through my bloodstream.  Trust us, booze powers 75% of the blog entries on this site.  ‘shits like meth for bloggers.

4) Don’t Live in the Outer Sunset.
It takes 60 minutes for your post to arrive via horse and buggy to the masses downtown.  People need to be instantly aware of your latest suck.

5) Don’t Have a Number 5.
A good writer would be witty enough to come up with 5 good ideas.  You’re a bad writer.  Don’t stretch it.

 Ladies, gather round. From 7x7 (again with the 7x7 bashing! What can I say? They can’t do anything right. 7x7’s mom shoulda had an abortion LAURA OMG):

That’s right, learn about drinks that GUYS LIKE. Guys like whiskey, aged run and anejo tequilla. Man, I’ve been really fucking up over here, trying to woo dudes with Pina Coladas and shit. Also, I’m curious, what is the masculine side of cockails? Are we gonna meet cocktails with penises? Or who are day traders? I’m so confused.

BEST PART?

That’s right, this all takes place right before the Rocket Dog Rescue fundraiser that Uptown Almanac is bartending at. Expect some epic pictures on the blog tomorrow. SO EXCITED.

Eye on the Bay now has some kind of bullshit ass flea market friday where people sign up to be on tv selling their retarded crap like barbie dolls, chicken coops, lamas, toy plane sling shots and all other kinds of worthless garbage. I don’t know how long this has been going on but fuck this blows. Not that I look to CBS 5 to enlighten me with cool shit but fuck this, tell me where to get a sandwich in a town I will never go to instead of how to get salsa lessons from some white girl who can’t dance. This kind of television should be on sunday mornings at 6 am with that dude who tells you where to buy ugly sofas for the cheap.

I should call them and sell them my dumbass torchlamp that belongs in the bedroom of a 12 year old from 1992.

while I’m at it, am I the only one who wants to drop kick Malou for that bullshit ass infomercial of sucks that is Malou Review?