Archive for the ‘Whatever’ Category

Neighbors are dicks

December 13, 2011

The Elvis/Prince/Dolly house has officially burned down.  Last week there was a dangerous fire in the top flat of a building that did not contain working fire alarms.  It left two people in critical condition.  This sign was placed outside the building the day after the fire:

Hey Kids "Don't play with matches"

Pointy tongues are the worst

Levity in the face of tragedy?  Hogwash.  This sign is heartless and crude and should not be tolerated in a civilized society.  Not only that, it is just plain rude.  Downstairs neighbors, you should be ashamed of yourselves.

If you’re feeling charitable, head on over to the donation site and join the trio of donors to this very worthy cause.

wecaused.it/24thstreetfire

If you feel like the correct response is combining alcohol and smoking instead, the victims are having a benefit this week Thursday December 15th at El Rio.  The event will go until 4:30am to memorialize the two week anniversary of this fire.

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KRUA = Suck A$$ Club

December 6, 2011

Oh em gee, Mish-Fish, we are back and… WTF? There are approximately 7 jillion new restaurants blowing up the ‘hood, people with bad clothes are happier than ever, and you still can’t wear red past Cesar Chavez.

Robby and I decided to dive into some Mission mayhem this weekend, so we went to check out the new nightclub, KRUA (just a stroll away at 16th and Guerrero.) Apparently this used to be some lame-ass Thai resto, but we heard that the owners got hip to the needs of the neighbs.  They are def gunning to be the next A1A Steak Lounge.  Natch.

Image

Xanax does NOT REQUIRE SILVERWARE, PPL. ( I can't sit down in this dress ne way.)

Geared up for some srs J-Pop, I decked out in my best six inch sling-backs + tiny tube shirt-dress, picked up Mr. Aberdeen (crucial accessory) and started getting crazy sloppy on those whiskey-filled chocolate balls. (It’s XMAS BIA!) When we got to KRUA, though, I was all “Where’s the line?” For reals, people, there were approximately negative five humans in the place. Maybe has something to do with the fact that they are totes crowding the dance floor w/ weird-ass tables. (Or weird ass-tables?)  Oh and NO LIQUOR? WTF? How am I supposed to get crunk and make out with hella strangerz?

Verdict: KRUA Thai is NOT where the party is at.  Unless you are into free ice water and cracking your shins on aluminum chairs while you get your freak on.

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BREAKING: FREE SHINGLES SHOTS

April 10, 2011

Walk-Ins Welcome.

Apparently we’ve got a bunch of do-gooders at 26th and South Van Ness.  I bet they got the syringes from the guys at Vic’s Grocery across the street.

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Looking for a place to watch the Final Four while maintaining your sense of ironic detachment? Try The Phone Booth.

April 1, 2011

That festival of beerdranking, debauchery and gambling is upon us.

No, not Punks V. Hipster Fight Club night.  It’s the FINAL FOUR.  Real sports fans head out to places like Kilowatt and The Phoenix to catch the end of the tourney, but what if you’re the kind of person who thinks that Butler is the school that Jeffrey from the Fresh Prince went to, or want to watch some roundball with a tall can of Tecate while wearing a shiny 70s Hoosiers jersey and a rainbow headband.  What about you?  Where can you go?

The USPS takes a liquid lunch

The place for you is The Phone Booth.  Since the 2010 Giants World Series run and historic victory for beards, The Peebs has transitioned from a place where you can ironically listen to “La Roux” and smoke cigarettes indoors to a place where you can ironically watch “The Super Bowl” or “Glee” and smoke cigarettes indoors (but not at the bar).

Much like love, watching college Basketball is a battlefield. And much like Pat Benetar, girls at the Phone Booth are not afraid of the Leotard.

These Phone-boothers bask in the blue tint of another San Jose Sharks victory.

So no matter which type of animals you like (Huskies, Rams, Tar Heels or Wildcats)  the Phone Booth is a great place to enjoy the end of March Madness and maybe wake up in a ditch afterwards.

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Social Climbers: From Pimp to Pirate

March 31, 2011

Last Halloween, Robby peeped some tiny pimps gracing the window display at Siegel’s Zoot-Suitery.

One little homie particularly caught our eye, due to his killer ‘stache and straight up “I don’t give a fuck” attitude.

"Life ain't nothin but bitches n money."

Well look what Bling-Stache is up to NOW:

 

“Avast. Ahoy. I’m a fucking sellout.”

This arrogant little poser thought he could ditch his Mission St. digs for THE PIRATE STORE?  Upgrade to Valencia unnoticed? Swap out his cream cruising-suit for a crisp necktie and still have an ounce of street cred?

Enjoy your bougey new setup, Bling-Stache. We’re onto you.

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Posted in Fashion Passion, mishteries, Whatever | Leave a Comment »

Triple North Face: The New “Double Rainbow” ???

March 29, 2011

 

It’s so intense.

2 bros + 1 bro-ette walking in stride to Anthony’s Cookie Shop for 3 matching snax.

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“Same Name, Same Mission”, or “PBR on a wire”

March 28, 2011

Ok, it's the same name, but now it's IRONIC. Or is it......

Hi everyone.  It’s been a year or so since we started this blog.  We were feeling a little blasé about it.   For the first time in a while I saw something vaguely blog-worthy, so we decided to kickstart the blog back into motion.  It should have been a tumblr from the beginning, but whatever, here it goes.

I was walking along 24th all hum-dee-dum this morn waiting for something interesting to happen and ran into the following:

Don't you try to trap me, yo. I know where you live.

PBR on a wire.  Probably connected to some sort of Rube Goldberg machine inside the building above causing a chain of events leading to a robot giving a dude in the bathroom of the attic a tattoo of Miley Cyrus in bondage gear.  Kind of weak if you ask me.  What kind of self-respecting missionite is going to jump up in the air for a PBR unless the streets are empty and someone’s snapping black and white photos from an angle that makes them look like they’re skybound?  And plus, everybody knows that it’s Old Milwaukee cans now.  Psshaw.

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