Mission Mission

Different times. Let’s play a game: everybody close your eyes and spend a few minutes imagining what your life in SF would’ve been like back then. Just zone out and theenk about it……………..

[via Emily Proud]

…The Bold Italic made you a list. Here’s what they have to say about the Upper Haight:

Street Taco is such a breath of fresh air in a neighborhood that shouldn’t have to suffer from burrito mediocrity! The Upper Haight is already home to El Faro and Zona Rosa, both aggressively average taquerias, with Zona as the slightly better option. At Street Taco, the tables are clean, the chips are warm, and the Al Pastor comes straight from the spit. Enjoy some Mexico City street food from an establishment where you won’t have to avert your eyes from the health rating on the wall.

Read on for lots more recommendations. (Or just stay in the Mission.)

[via Gray]

Another gem by Ticklefight (author of Elbo Room Rap and Muni Rap):

New Year Rap Up
The year is here, my check just cleared
Cook my burger, make sure it’s seared
I like my Vienna wieners with catsup packets
Went to Thrift Town got 5 new jackets
The streets are ruff, the ladies are tuff
4 a.m. poker, don’t call my bluff
Stroll down Bayshore get some Jack
The Box is hoppin, tacos 2 to the pack
All in all the triple five is alive
My ponytail is loose and I gotta hot wive

[link]

[Photo of Lou Reed jacket at Thrift Town by Mission Mission]

What the heck

[via Jane]

Former local blogger (turned NYC-based blogger) Ramona (not pictured) tells us all about it:

Breaking up is so embarrassing now. Instead of the person just dying at 30 like they did on the Oregon Trail, they stay alive until like 70-plus, and you’re forced to know all about it because you are physically incapable of not looking at their and their friends’ and their coworkers’ social media accounts.

[...]

One night you have 16 glasses of sparkling wine and check his Instagram page online. What better time to maybe run across a picture of him laughing in front of a sunset than when you’re already overdosed on depressants? There is nothing you love more after a breakup than trying to make yourself feel great! You see that he spent at least part of his weekend at a beach. This seems wrong somehow, that he should still be alive. But when you double check the date stamp, it would appear that he is in fact still alive. Somehow, and you don’t think it’s just the Walden filter, his beach looks cooler and more intellectual than the one you yourself were at last weekend. The kind of place where everyone has seen the latest series at BAM and would never ask a guy who worked at The Paris Review how much he loved living in Paris. Well maybe it shouldn’t be called The Paris Review then! Maybe it should be called The New York Review?!

Read on for lots more, particularly Ramona’s profound conclusion.

[Stock 'gram by Rice Paper Scissors]

[via Stokemonster]

Lower Haight-based blog anadromy relates a tale:

I live in an historically African-American neighborhood. Unfortunately, the “historically” part of that phrase is becoming more and more the reality but it is still one of the last predominantly black neighborhoods in central San Francisco and to my chagrin I just walked by some motherfucker in an NYPD sweatshirt. It’s a nice day and I was in a really good mood coming back from the gym listening to cumbia music on my iPod and enjoying the sunshine so it didn’t register at first but as I passed this clueless dweeb I got pretty angry and stared at him with naked disapproval.

Maybe it was an NYPD Pizza sweatshirt?

Read on for the dramatic conclusion.

:/

[via Emma]

This post by my esteemed colleague Andrew Sarkarati was the first I’ve heard of it:

I’m not really buying it. (Sick comeback though, Sark!)

Now let’s boogie: