Mission Mission

From the HMS Beekeeper twitternets: “A 6 y/o girl and her 13 y/o brother just sold me their Dolores park ‘honey from the hood.’”

Damn, I wish I had been badass enough to milk bees when I was 6.

Just spotted this (hopefully) hipster-ironic post on Ohad’s photoblog and couldn’t help but note how slutted the use of the word “Hipster” has become lately.  I mean, I was downtown the other day and two 30-something bodybuilder types in Armani suits were cackling that some dude that didn’t have his light-blue button-up tucked in was a hipster.  ”Hipster” has become a meaningless, all-encompassing term for everyone in this town.  Let’s just rename “Hipster Hill” “Tallboy Terrace” and be done with it.

You know this was scrawled by some 20-something art-school dropout (“cuz prof couldn’t teach me shit.  I mean, look at my hella tight typography dude”), who wears plaid and listened to Kyle Andrews before he was on NPR.  No worries duder, “hipster” doesn’t apply to you.  You’re in a league of your own.  When all the cultural weekend warriors move along, you’ll still maintain your 100% unique identity.

Spam and sugar for a healthy urban forest.  I guess trees are not vegan after all.

(photo and title by Kati Jackson)

After living on Capp St for two years, I rarely do more than glance at what people abandon in the street.  But then there’s this: a perfectly good wheelchair just chilling on the side of SVN, begging to be raced down a slalom of trash at The Park.

(photo by __SB__)

I’ve been digging Dirty Thieves lately.  First off, it is the only place I know of in the Mission that has Stranahan’s Whiskey, which is some of the best goddamn whiskey that I’ve ever had.  Then there is the subject of their death trap of a men’s bathroom.  Not only will you do a face plant walking in there if you are rolling a few PBRs deep, but someone drew a giant vagina on the trash bag covering the urinal.  Even more troubling than the fact someone put their hands near that piss bucket?  There’s actually a glory hole in the middle of that vagina.

Mission Mission advisory to women: you probably don’t want to sleep with any guys that spend more than 60 seconds in that bathroom and look particularly elated leaving it.

All this city-mandated sidewalk repair is creating an infinite canvass for street art that cannot be painted over.  This is the cream of the crop: besides being sullied by “Eat Battery Acid,” I love people’s complete indifference for the soles of their own shoes and that some pendejo, fresh on a trip of not giving a fuck, turned his car around in the fresh cement.

(photo by phxpma)