It's two days after Christmas and I'm sprawled out on a plastic-lined chaise lounge, sipping fluoride and waiting for the blood to stop gushing from my gums so the doctors can get back to work. Beyond the noise of drills and X-ray machines I hear grunts from several other patients and the sounds of merchants outside hawking sombreros, sweetbread, bootleg Fendi bags, and pottery. Kind of strange, but I'm not worried anymore. This is my second day at Dr. Read more »
Within minutes of meeting Nicole Halpern, an instructor at the One Taste Urban Retreat Center in SoMa, I was naked and bent over with my ass in her face. In fact, in her naked yoga class there was nothing but penises and vaginas, dangling breasts and balls as far as the eye could see.
I'd come to the center to do research on what I'd heard was a sex cult, and by the looks of things the rumors weren't far off. In fact, as I'd entered the center on my way to class, I got the feeling my story was writing itself. Read more »
Spending time with your family over the holidays can be difficult. Are you a vegetarian atheist with carnivorous, God-fearin' folks? Are your grandparents racist? Then you know what I mean. But these special occasions don't have to suck. Step one? Stop playing on their turf. Why spend one more holiday giving them the home-team advantage, biting your tongue to make them feel more comfortable? Instead, tell your relatives to get their asses up to San Francisco for a good old heathen's ball. Read more »
It's a warm September night, and I'm standing in a crowded art gallery in South San Francisco, staring at a metal octopus that moves its tentacles when you press a button. In many ways, it's like every other reception I've been to: a table with snacks and wine, a healthy feeling of snobbery in the air, and a swath of hipsters blocking my view of everything. But as I walk around I notice some differences. Read more »
Our mayor isn't the only one who (allegedly) leads a Jekyll-and-Hyde life of steadfast labor and drunken debauchery. It seems most San Franciscans are highly productive by day, yet totally hammered almost every night. And we don't let all the booze stop us from staying in shape either. We are notoriously healthy and hedonistic at the same time. It seems impossible, but the facts are there. SF ranks near the top of almost every "healthy-smart city" list, and yet we allegedly consume more booze per capita than any other city in America. Read more »
When I got wind of the 40th anniversary Summer of Love Free Concert, I thought about the many ways I could torment all the burnouts, grandmas, and reggae fans who I knew would be smoking pot and flashing their titties in Golden Gate Park. Read more »
It may sound cliché, but there's no other way to put it: my nightlife sucks. With two shitty day jobs and a barely blossoming career as a freelance journalist, it's nearly impossible for me to find enough time or money to enjoy this city after dark. It hasn't always been this way: I used to spend my evenings gleefully cross-eyed, rubbing knees with random hedonists, pushers, and hell-raisers. I used to go skateboarding in night goggles and camp nude in the Tenderloin. Read more »
I'd never considered a career in smut until I got fired from my day job as a waiter. As a freelance journalist, my first instinct was to find a stable writing gig. But after hours of meticulously scouring Craigslist, I was a beaten man. There just aren't that many full-time writing positions available. And though the perks in freelancing are great (changing the world, getting free shit, etc.), the financial ceiling is pretty low. But thankfully, as I abandoned my job search that night, I found myself surfing the Web for free porn and thinking about my mother. Read more »
My girlfriend leaned over the table during brunch at the Pork Store recentlyand stared deep into my eyes. "Baby," she said, "when you're out there looking at all those boobies today, just remember that they're fake. And when you're petting asses and sticking money in G-strings, just remember that those bodies, unlike mine, are going to be saggy and horrible-looking in a few years."
Not exactly our ordinary breakfast conversation, but then again, it was no ordinary morning. Read more »
Swanky-ass bars, high-end restaurants, sex, drugs they're all great things to love about San Francisco, but they can be cruel and constant symbols of failure to the scrilla deprived. With one-bedroom apartments currently priced at about $1,600 a month, cell phone bills hovering in the $75 to $150 range, and PG&E. religiously raping us for half our salaries, it's amazing anyone can afford to live in this city, let alone enjoy its vast array of entertainment. But San Francisco has a secret. Read more »