Events, Happenings & Scenes

REMINDER: We're Getting Shitfaced For Charity TONIGHT @ Shotwell's

I walked into Shotwell's last night shortly after tweeting that someone was willing to give The Bay Citizen $300 if I bartended without my shirt on, which was an obvious attempt to subvert my sex life but whatever, and was immediately told that “Neither you, nor Zach, nor Kristen, nor anyone can do this without their shirt on.”  So, my dreams of making Shotwell's into an unattractive hipster Coyote Ugly for a night is shattered, but we'll still be raising 'mad money' for The Bay Citizen, because if they keep paying their CEO $400,000 a year, they're going to go broke.  We'll also be chanting BEAT LA until the Celtics take home the gold and then my inner Boston will come out.  See you at 8pm!

The Dirty:
Thursday, June 17th, 8pm-11
Shotwell's
3349 20th St. @ Shotwell, 94110

There's also a facebook thingy here but whatever.

Uptown Almanac Guest Bartending at Shotwell's to Fundraise For The Bay Citizen!

The Bay Citizen is the Bay's latest non-profit journalistic enterprise and we wanted to welcome them to the neighborhood and try to make amends. Therefore, we'll be guest bartending and raising funds for The Bay Citizen THIS THURSDAY (the 17th) at Shotwell's from 8-11pm. That's right, all the tip money you give us as you get sloppy off Shotwell's selection of delicious beer will go straight to helping The Bay Citizen stay in business. For every $200 we raise, we cover the CEO's salary for an entire hour OR pay one of their bloggers to write 8 posts!

Alternatively, if you would rather just drink with us at Shotwell's but not give The Bay Citizen any money, you can just give Shotwell's staff all your tip money after 11pm. Aren't you a nice person!

See you there!

The Dirty:
Thursday, June 17th, 8pm-11
Shotwell's
3349 20th St. @ Shotwell, 94110

There's also a facebook thingy here but whatever.

Former Indie Rockers / "Cool Dad" Band Weezer Release US World Cup Theme

Weezer reminds us that it DOES matter if you win or lose.  BEAT ENGLAND!  Lets do this for the Brits taxing our forefathers, British Petroleum spilling oil onto our shores, and for Radiohead snubbing Miley Cyrus last year.

All the cool kids will be at AT&T Park tomorrow at 11:30am for the USA vs England game, Fun Cheap SF has the details.

Weezer's 'Represent' is available to download for free on iTunes.

Gentrifying Gringo's Guide to Watching Mexico vs. South Africa in the Mission

24th is the best place for Soccer.

If you want to start a race war, rooting for South Africa tomorrow at 7am in the Mission is probably the most effective way to make that happen.  But if you just want to get drunk, watch an event as rare as a leap year and join in some global brotherhood, fill that flask full of tequila and/or strawberry smoothies (Cape Town has the most wonderful strawberry smoothies) and slosh around the Mission.  Chavitas #2 on 24th is probably a solid bet for continuing your thursday night bender/starting your bar crawl.  It's the best unpretentious breakfast place in the Mission, has plenty of beer to compliment your free chips and salsa and has a nice tube of a television.  Considering this place is always dead when I go there, I have no idea if it will actually be packed or not, but whatever.  The food is awesome and there is beer.

From there, you should ditch your weapons on the curb and head to El Trebol on 22nd and Capp.  The security guard will feel you up, which may tickle but deal with it, and you can order a bucket of Corona for PBR prices while getting hustled at pool.  Best of all is that you can urinate/puke/shit on my stoop afterwards.  It's a win-win for everybody.

Or you can just read Mission Loc@l and find out where you can rail lines while “watching” soccer.  I kid.  Delirium sounds like a great soccer venue.

Block Party to Raise Money For a Community Market Yo!

If there were a farmer's market off of 22nd st., I probably wouldn't have scurvy.  Let's do it people!  Go eat pizza!  Go drink wine on the sidewalk and get Revolution's beer/wine permit revoked!  Let's get those veggies!  Mark your calendars because this is a little ways off!  Exclamation point!

(link)

Escape From New York Pizza, The Club

After the security guards graciously informed me that “Sir, you're standing in the middle of the street,” they went on to tell me that this was in fact an open and operating Escape From New York Pizza during the day.

Seriously? Just how fucking big is it in there??  As crackin as the scene may have been, I didn't pay the cover to find out.

And so I invite you, dear readers, to caption this photo.  Here are a few to start you off.

 a.) Two topping minimum.

b.) Cover costs more than a slice.

c.) Greasiest stripper poles on the West Coast.

d.) (…fill in the blank with your comment…)

 a.) Two topping minimum.

b.) Cover costs more than a slice.

c.) Greasiest stripper poles on the West Coast.

d.) (…fill in the blank with your comment…)

Summer Mini Vacation #2: The nude side of Baker Beach

Yesterday my friends & I got up bright and early (read: around noon) and mobbed out to Baker Beach … after making a quick pit-stop on Clement for some mimosa-making supplies. It was foggy when we got there, so we spread out our blankets on the clothed side - among dudes in Polartec vests walking golden retrievers and a Russian wedding with no fewer than eight inches of clip-in hair extensions per bridesmaid - and ate our lunch.

An hour or so later, the sun broke through the fog, the sky cleared and my friend and I managed to talk everyone else into a mass migration to (dun dun DUN) the Naked Side.

While obviously I can't put naked pictures of myself and my friends frolicking in the ocean on this blog, suffice it to say it was an invigorating experience.

There is truly nothing like climbing on rocks barefoot, seaweed between your toes, as the waves crash all around you, nothing like running naked through the surf with a 40 of High Life in your left hand and a carton of Tropicana in your right. I can't help but throw out a really trite reference here, but … I've sometimes wondered what it's like to be on one of Ryan McGinley's infamous naked roadtrips. If yesterday was any indication, the answer is really, really amazing.

For real though, readers, you all should do this! Maybe you can't afford to jet off to the Ligurian Riviera for topless sunbathing, but it is fully possible to create a little piece of Cinque Terre right here in San Francisco. I'm not a hippie by any means, but being naked in nature is straight-up fun.

Guest Commentary: "Union Street Fest: The Most Pointless San Francisco Festival"

(Editor's Note: this was authored by reader Neb, resident of Alamo Square, “The land halfway between the Mission and the Marina.”  Frankly, I'm surprised anyone reading this blog would have gone to Union St. Fest, but whatever.)

Having the cultural depth of an MMA arena crowd in Ed Hardy shirts, the Union Street Festival managed to degrade my expectations of the SUV Strollerfest of babies who were conceived at Circa. Held just blocks away from the Marina, the bridge and tunnel crowd gave the people of Fremont an excuse to rival the Jersey Shore cast in the daytime. Rushing over 5 hours earlier then their normal blowout voyage in a race to the bottom, proving Union Street as the most pointless Festival in San Francisco.

While the rest of San Francisco was enjoying the sunshine by biking through Golden Gate Park, debating the merits of bros icing bros while drinking equally lame New Belgium in Dolores Park, or perfecting their papercraft wizardry of blunt rolling, B&T managed to cram together in Gary Coleman-sized, walled-off beer gardens in the middle of the street.

Outsourcing the arts directive to Sausalito photography galleries with the appeal of new tourist markets, the booths consisted of crafts too American Apparel for Indie Mart, Yupster corporations targeting people with actual jobs, and a get your picture taken with Gavin “Batman” Newson photo op. The rest of the tents consisted of generic overpriced festival food found at any event but this time hungry patrons were only constrained by their muscle shirts, not Outside Lands border fences.

A Marina acquaintance described their turn at the overrun, Union Street shit show as “horrible. So overwhelming with drunken douchebags.” (Her words, not mine).  Look for next year's festival to be sponsored by orange spray-on tanfriendly zero percent interest rate ING. See you next year, Circa 2011.

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