Mission Mission

Our pal Lindsey took a bad tumble last night, and wrote all about it this morning:

Somehow while falling, my foot went through the spokes of my front wheel, and the wheel turned and smashed my foot through my fork. I called 911 as a bunch of people came to help me, and they eventually had to cut out two spokes to get my foot out of my front wheel. I hopped in the ambulance to get checked out, and they advised I go get stitches on a cut on my face. Hot. They let me sit on the gurney, and we headed to St. Luke’s. The paramedics were nice & played mid-90’s alternative while we cruised over. They thought it was funny when I asked them to take a picture of me for my blog, but like, optimism or whatever. Paramedic 38 was typing up my report & was nice enough to write “did not cry” on it. We got to the hospital & they were talking about Michael Vick getting a $100,000 contract. I said “That piece of shit can make six figures but I’m still a broke ass bitch?”.

Read on to hear about the shot and the stitches and the doctor with a TV on the Radio shirt.

I spotted these on Storts as he ran past our office window on his way to work, but didn’t get a very good look at them. Luckily he shared this pic just now. JEALOUS.

[via Storts]

Our pal TK went to a great show at the Independent last night. Great except that some loud talkers (not pictured) talked through the whole thing and bummed everybody out:

Standing by the bar was a group of four, two guys and two girls. And during the entire show, nonstop, start to finish, they were YELLING at each other. I don’t think they could have heard a single song. I really just do not fucking understand this. With service fees and everything, tickets to this show were around $22 apiece. Why would you spend $22 to go to a show that you have no interest in watching and then compound your mistake by bothering everyone else around you who IS watching it? Fuck you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck you.

After a couple of songs of that, we moved further up into the crowd and that fucking frizzy-haired bitch’s donkey-like braying receded, but I was treated to a fresh round of her shrieking every time I had to go to the bar, which was often. Fuck.

Read on for TK’s solutions to the problem.

Our pal Brittney (not pictured) just moved back to SF after a year or so in New York City. Here’s her first impression of things upon being back:

Your hair is so fucked up, white people in the Mission District. I love it. But your hair is seriously fucked up.

It’s matted and bedheady and wild, but in a super cool way that I could never replicate if I tried. You and your hair don’t give a fuck. You are far too into reading your friend’s new manuscript or teaching your adorable daughter how to play chess.

Read on.

College can be a pretty fun experience, and sometimes it’s a little tough to let go and embrace the real world when it’s all over.  That seems to be the case with this Craigslist post from a recent graduate:

Wanted: One big room, full of girlfriends – w4ww – 22 (mission district)

Trendy ladies of the Mission, listen up. I am at my wit’s end. I am a recent transplant to this city from Seattle (don’t I get cool points for that already?) and after four months of hanging with the same three people (also, all transplants), I am at a lost as to how to make new girlfriends. Listen up Carries, Samanthas, Mirandas and Charlottes of the world, I want one big a$$ room full of bada$$ girlfriends. I want to form the trendiest girl group that will knock all other Mission girl groups out of the park. I want us to form the trendiest group where we go biking, brunching, happy-houring, getting trendy a$$ coffee together-ing.

I want it all, and I want to be YOUR best gal pal.

Full listing after the jump…

(Thanks Carolyn!)  [Completely unrelated photo by Carina]

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2010

• Public radio dreamboat Ira Glass tagged a wall in what appeared to be some sort of viral marketing scheme for This American Life
• Janebook lamented about lame-o craigslist Mission rooms for rent, what with their no-boyfriends policies, weekly house meetings, and fucking chore wheels

2009

• Chicken John tried to sell his warehouse, but apparently he’s still there organizing Dolores Park vomiting parties
• The Ghostbusters moved to the Mission, ditched the hearse for a more economical station wagon

2008

• The droids you weren’t looking were muralized to promote “Iron Rich Foods”
• Phat Philly, the best place to score some imported Tastykakes, opened. Do their onion rings still kick ass?

2007

• Somebody couldn’t wait to get to the park and did 7 whippits on the J Church
• Mother nature left some unintentional dead rat street art

Boba Guys are back, for a limited time only:

Great news! Boba Guys are going to be open 3 days in a row this week! Th-Fri: 6-9 and Sat 12-3 @Kenkenramen: 3378 18th/ Mission

Can’t wait!

Birthday Pony explains:

I just saw the Cool Waitress from Jim’s walking down Mission with Dan Deacon. Then I saw this much, much cooler guy. [link]

We’ve been fans of Dylan Bigby’s photography for a long time now. Now he’s a part of this group called Full Frame Collective, and their first ever photo show is tonight at Mercury Lounge. There’ll be photos, video and beats, and probably a lot of bikes out front. The fun starts at 7:30.

RSVP and invite your friends!