Sparkle Skates, quite possibly my new favorite San Francisco character, was rolling around Folsom Street Fair yesterday, preaching the gospel of Jenna Jameson, who gave a glowing endorsement of Mitt Romney last month:

Sold!

They open for real next Tuesday, but you can catch a sneak peak this Friday for $15.

Here's how they're describing the new bar:

The Armory Club is a social escape from the normalcy of everyday life. A chic and edgy barroom invites you to wind down at the amber lit bar or melt into a vintage sofa for a long night of revelry and excess! Our talented bartenders offer a creative, handcrafted cocktail menu alongside award-winning local beers and an exciting wine list. Ultimately, The Armory Club is your San Francisco destination for all the best a bar should offer: thoughtful drinks, attentive service and comfortable design with the right amount of kink to make a night of it!

And what they have to say about the drinks:

Weekly cocktail menus marry small batch spirits with handcrafted ingredients to produce delicious and thoughtful drinks for your enjoyment.  House-made bitters, fresh squeezed juices, natural sweeteners, clear ice and a general abhorrence of prefab mixers are standards we apply to every drink.  Our beer menu combines small batch, local brews with imported selections that are well-loved examples of their specific styles.  Wine is not to be forgotten with a smart selection that leans towards crisp whites, softer reds and a bevy of bubbles.

Sounds fancy! (And what a departure from the old Ace Cafe…)

If anyone wants to take a closer look at this, it's tucked beneath my mattress with all my other street porn.

Mission girls—you know the type: lurking around Pop's, Uptown, The Attic, and Delirium, turning our buses into bathrooms and Tumblr into reality television.  For better or worse, they seem to be doing just fine, but UA reader “Jane D” shares with us a brief bit of advice for the indifferent generation:

Remember graduating from highschool, the apple of your family’s eye, and knowing that you were strong and beautiful and intelligent? The world was your Oysterfest. And not with this year’s weakass lineup, but Oysterfest 2k10 when Cake and The Ravonettes played. That was the world and you had a backstage pass.

But this year we are at The Phone Booth and you are not making eye contact with me. Your focus seems to be split between monitoring the door (you are waiting for someone who has maybe a medium likelihood of showing up) and the pool table, where dudes with assorted hair lengths and scruff stand around smoking and looking single.

What have you been up to since we last hung out? Oh, the skater-ey dude wound up suggesting a threesome with one of your friends. It’s lame, but you’d consider sleeping with him again. And Dude Who Might Show Up Later… well, might show up later, but he’s anti-relashe.

You are so many young (and frankly, not so young) women that I know in my neighborhood. You are all beautiful, well-educated, potentially interesting people who, instead of being awesome, sit around vying for the attention of marginally literate turds who likely don’t have all that much attention to pay in the first place: smelly skateboarders, band dudes, bike messengers (bless their souls). These guys, cool as they may be, probably aren’t going to add much to conversation or interact with you in a mellow, adult way when push comes to shove.

(Trust me. I’ve slept with all of them.)

I’m not saying don’t sleep with dudes. For christ's sake, sleep with dudes. Or whoever. I’m saying, this shit shouldn’t be the only reason you live and breathe. I’m not trying to fly some sort of high-horse feminist flag, but you guys are so much better than obsessing over these shitheads. If nothing else, it’s really unattractive.