The other day I told myself I was done with the city life. I was kind of getting tired of living in a 250 square foot studio surrounded by the Fillmore scoundrels that lurk the corner asking for dimes and quarters for their liqour diet. I’ve had my 4 years of fun and it’s time to throw in the towel to surrender to maturity.
Then I check the internet and see that this Sunday is the annual BYOBW event in Protrero Hills. City life just got awesome again and I begin to fall in love all over.
This is what you get when you pay about a good $70-100 for lower floor seats to a Golden State Warriors game.
This is what you get when you pay $30. See the difference? I think Celtic basketball players tend to be mistaken for actual nose boogers from here.
Lucky for white people, St. Patty’s Day landed on a Saturday this year. It pretty much gives people a chance to heal before going back to work on Monday.
I consider myself a pretty truthful guy and I don’t get off on telling things that make me more flattering then I actually am. With that being said, this in no way is a falsified story from what actually happened when I decided to go to a gay club with my girlfriend’s friends.
For my non-San Francisco readers out there that don’t know, the Castro is gay. I mean gayer then a bag of Skittles. When gay people fart in public on the streets, an actual black dildo ejects out of their butt. I kid you not, this place is makes straight men’s buttholes quiver. It really is that gay.
This isn’t even the place where my man card got violated. Add about four practically naked male go-go dancers in speedos, videos of naked men in the showers and you almost have something that represents the Edge bar. So I am minding my own business trying to get a drink when one of the go-go dancers comes up from behind me and asks if I want to take some shots with him. I religiously point to my girlfriend and tell him I can’t but he politely buys drinks for the both of us. So I shoot the shit with this Channing Tatum looking guy and I realize, this mother fucker doesn’t really know what it means when a guy has a girlfriend! I honestly don’t really get where this dude thinks I might be gay (well aside me being at a gay bar), so a sense of discomfort quickly comes over my body in wondering what the hell I am projecting to the crowd. I know wearing a A’s hat doesn’t get you far in SF but it was St. Patrick’s Day after all.
Our conversations quickly go from, “So what are you doing here?” and I tell him that I am with my girlfriend’s friends (you know those straight bitches that think it is a riot to go to a gay bar) and he gives me that deceiving nod with those rolling eyes and says, “Sure…right”. Mind you, this guy had at least 60 pounds more then me and looked like your average Joe that worked out at 24 Hour Fitness. Any God Hates Fag jokes could have put me in a coma where I am sure he would have stuck his dick in my mouth just to teach me a lesson. After our shots, I get the invite from him that he will be dancing at another club and if we still want to drink, to meet him there. Later my girl would tell me that he did in fact think I was cute and did question if she was with me or not. Saddest part of all, my girlfriend was pretty attracted to him and out of us two, I was the one that could have taken him home. Talk about your ego being stroked the wrong way.
I will have to say I did learn something. If I was to ever be single again, I know one of the keys in approaching someone is just plain confidence and taking control of the situation. Go for the gusto and if the girl doesn’t bite, move on to the next fish. It’s as simple as that and oddly, I learned this from a gay man of all people.
Sunday brunch at The Grove on the Fillmore. I think I had enough liquor for one weekend warrior. Time to do some laundry and shit on the toilet.
We can often get jaded in the land of giant buildings here in the city. Things can tend to get pretty monotoned from window to window if you don’t look too hard.
The uniqueness of San Francisco is within the small shops that seem to occupy themselves in unfamiliar territory. Amongst your Guccis, your LVs and your Marc Jacobs lies one of the most powerful street-wear brands to date called The Hundreds.
No one should really be unfamiliar with this brand by now. I think the success that makes The Hundreds so long lasting amongst the many that have perished is the strong branding that has been embedded to all our psyches. When we think of The Hundreds…we ultimately think of…well, “is HUGE“.
Today is pretty much fan appreciation day for one of our own superstars of the Bay Area. Not only has Too $hort popped my cherry with porno rap with seductive lyrics like “pussy got wet like Niagara Falls” but he’s also made me learn that you can use the word bitch in a positive context. Remember, just because Too $hort called you a bitch, doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.
And a big thanks to these two for making my visit that much more pleasant and easy. Without them, all these pics wouldn’t have been possible.
I am no Yelper. Actually I despise most of them and would love to be the bounty hunter to hunt these elitist assholes down that actually think their short lived life of an opinion on earth really matters. I’ve read them all. “Service was great, food was exquisite BUT the walls were yellow and it totally throws off their feng shui. One star!” They never make sense nor do they pass any kind of logical judgement that gives any insight to others that may want to come. Do you want my one time professional advice on a new joint on the block? Listen close then.
This is Holy Dog. First time visit to this fairly cheap wiener spot and lord only knows how I love to stick these inanimate objects in my mouth. Entering the complex, people would notice the lack of chairs which presumes this is some sort of take out spot. Not the case.
Above the raptures, where the cold air can’t seep in, are an abundant amount of chairs for anyone. Plus the employers were able to deliver our food to us.
My first meal ever here and I went for the tasty Katsu Dog. Exactly what it sounds. Light batter dog with melted cheese, banana peppers and topped with spicy ketchup with a chase of ice cold Sapporo on tap. The key word here as to be texture. At times you forget hot dogs aren’t supposed to be crunchy and then you realize that is the reason why this tastes so awesome. Add that all up, and you have a meal worth less then $8 (the beer was a $1.50!)
Take it from me. I am a cheap, less unfortunate soul that loves to spend money on nothing given the chance. That is how this place should be looked at. Don’t chalk this up as your next family adventure nor should you take some sort of pride in paying the tab here on date night. If you get some sort of urge to get drunk and stuffed on a dollars budget, come to Holy Dog. What they lack in flare ultimately benefits you in your wallet, and that is something we can all be happy about.
Missed the “Like A Tattoo” blog series I had with the tattoos on my arm? I think the season finale should be coming to an end soon in the next couple of months.
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