Saw this on the wall of the portable men’s room at SoMa StrEat Food Park, and I thought Ariel could maybe work a little magic on it, like that time I ate a cigar.
Saw this on the wall of the portable men’s room at SoMa StrEat Food Park, and I thought Ariel could maybe work a little magic on it, like that time I ate a cigar.
Alien semen.
Jesus I need to stop reading this blog. Why can’t I stop? Sure, I lived in the Mission, and sure, this blog is called “Mission Mission.” But that superficial connection simply can’t be enough. All you fucking post are pictures of garbage, people wearing ugly clothes from Goodwill, shitty cocktails, and meaningless doodles/mold you saw on the wall while you were taking a piss. It couldn’t get any less ambitious unless you just posted pictures of the lint in your belly button and the dirt under your toenails.
In fact, change the name of the blog, please. It’s an insult to the Mission. Rename it Mission: Mind-Numbing Banality.
But the Street Squid!
That’s why I posted so many pictures of trash and crap on my Mission Flickr page (see Blog Roll, right) — it’s what defines the Mission these days. In fact, it’s the Mission that should change its name — to “Mind-Numbing Banality”!
I’m on it, boss.
I can’t believe a commentor undermined my commitment to banality.