There's a new Apple Store in town and it's not an Apple Store at all; it's a Thai Restaurant:

Welcome to a post-Steve Jobs world, in which everything is either prefixed with 'i' or exploits underpaid Asian workers or BOTH.

Our friends up in Bernal Heights have been enthralled (turned on?) for the last few months by a local resident jogging around the neighborhood in nothing but a bikini, letting her lady parts bounce around in the most photogenic of ways.

Naturally, the absurdity of such a thing generated all sorts of press and spawned a speedo jogger intimidator (which my heterosexuality/concern for human welfare requires me to classify as “ewwwww grossssss”).  However, other neighborhoods never really upped the ante with their own athletic fashion weirdos, much to the disappointment of the internet.

But now it seems there's another fleshy jogger to be reckon with—this time, gracing our city's crackhead corridor with full, unadultrated nudity, as captured by Josh J a few months back in video form:

While this blogger hasn't seen this neatly trimmed Yeti with his own eyes, I suggest listening for the catcalls “heyyyyyyyy lady” and “where you going so fast?” and “hey mommy, why don't you run over this way?” to find her yourself.

[Video by Josh J]

I'm not really sure why you'd want to eat a burrito like a salad in the first place, but if you are so inclined, Taqueria Cancún's 6th and Market outpost has just the thing for you: The Wetback Burrito.  It's just like the wet burrito you're accustomed too, only sprinkled with language rarely used outside of Texas.

So, how are the well-to-do Caucasian clientele supposed to order such a thing without getting a black eye? DIVE Food (a blog that sadly no longer sees updates) gives us a peak into what ordering a wetback in 2006 looked like:

Something about asking for a “wetback burrito” from a taqueria worker who may or may not have once dipped his gams in the Rio Bravo del Norte is a little unsettling, especially to a fragile, politically-correct gabacho like myself.

For a second, I thought about ordering the “er, uh, the you know, ahem, w-e-t back burrito”, but I just bucked up and said what I wanted, wetback and all. At that point, the guy behind the counter, apparently not amused with my reluctance, gave me a look so cold it could freeze blood.

I know he was thinking “Oh yeah? A wetback huh? Let's see who's a wetback after I bitch-slap your punk ass.”

I just know it. [link]

Ouch.

Is this thing just a joke put on the menu so the cashier can watch customers stammer and squirm as white guilt takes over?  Perhaps just a way to see if people are shitty enough to actually order something with “wetback” in its name?

No matter what the reason, don't hesitate while ordering, unless you want your punk ass bitch-slapped.

[Pic by SF Citizen]

Cocaine? What, what? Blowhole you say? Huh? Oh, BLOWhole. yuk yuk yuk

Anyway, coke fiends, next time you find yourself needing a bump but don't have any money, just dive into the Pacific and wrestle a giant beluga until a geyser of energy and septum damage comes gushing out the top of its head.