Mission Mission

Aw, fuck.  Unrelated to Trauma filming, Andy writes in with some news from Valencia:

Its kind of a sad and haunting story but on my way home 16th and Valencia was closed off because there is a jumper sitting on the roof.  I hope to god that he doesnt jump and that he is able to work things out.  Its really a bummer and is kind of scary to see in real life.

Oy.  Have also heard people on the scene are taking cell phone pics and cracking jokes.  Quit being assholes.

Wha?  What are you doing here?  You should be off reading Burrito Justice, a blog that does actual RESEARCH.

This morning, B.J. did a bang-up job of outlining the past 123 years on Valencia/Mission, in honor of El Rio’s 31st birthday.  I suggest you take a look at this fantastic post, especially if you love San Francisco history (HELLO!  Remember how much you loved  Milk?).  Thanks to Burrito Justice for picking up our slack.

[Note: The bar in the image above is totally not El Rio.  What, I have time to comb through archives all of a sudden?]

What’s my favorite thing about Herbivore (Valencia at 21st)?  Everything!

Besides that, I’m pretty into this:

Did you catch that li’l trompe l’oeil (heh!  sorry.) on their menu?

Both the Sweet & Sour and Coconut Noodle soups have the exact same ingredients listed, with a few items in a different order and distracting line breaks.   Those sneaky herbivores!

Fortunately,  the soups are different, and delicious.  The Sweet & Sour tastes like hot Skittle soup, in the best way possible.

But to end on a sour note (hyuck hyuck!), if you got your hands on that coupon from Chase Bank a few weeks ago, the thing unfortunately expired last Sunday.  I found that one out the hard way.

As someone without a tap-tap-tap smartphone, I often use GOOG-411 to dial up local establishments while away from the www.   Boop beep bamp bompbomp… I’ll connect you!

This past weekend, unfortch, attempts at reaching Beretta (Valencia at 23rd) were all sorts of messed.

Voice search pronunciations carried out included: brrrr-eh-tah, bee-reh-duh, beh-re-TA!, and so forth.  Attempts were made by three parties of mixed age, gender, and socioeconomic status.  No dice!

Goog did, however, pull up the following results:

• Goodwill (wha?)
• Baraka (almost!)
• Piranha (eh.)
• Ghirardelli Square (pronounced: grrr-ARRGHHH… delisquare)

Sure, okay, I’ll dine at Goodwill.

READERS: Try this one at home! If you figure out the correct way to pronounce “Beretta” for GOOG-411ing purposes, make me a reservation. The caponatina with burrata (#56 on the 7×7 list) makes eggplant relevant again (sorry, eggplant).

I live on Albion, near 16th and Mission, and so I find it odd, cute, and ridiculous when people act as if they live in some comfy suburb, expecting their neighbors to behave accordingly. Even when those “neighbors” are homeless crackheads who use our street as a shooting gallery and then bathroom.

Those same people tend to get especially touchy when it comes to dogs. These are the people who find dogs unleashed to be a menace to public safety. Who, when sitting at Dolores Park, feel that their personal space has been violated when a dog wanders onto their blanket. And then there is the cardinal sin of dog ownership: leaving the poop. It could be that you forgot to bring a baggie. It could be that your dog has the runs and his excrement is impossible to pick up. It could also be that you’re a selfish asshole, and this seems to be what most people assume first when it comes to dog owners. Hell, let’s be honest. That seems to be what most people assume first, period.

I’ve stopped trying to predict what kind of doggie behavior will offend Missionites, but there is one steadfast rule that I’ve found always applies: on every street, there is one guy who rabidly defends the bush in front of his house from being peed on.

He lies in wait for you. When he sees you pass by with your dog, he either runs out of his house or leans out of his window to reprimand you for allowing your dog to urinate on a living thing. His living thing. Invariably, his junkyard dog approach to communication makes you feel defensive. It puts you on edge. You respond, rightfully if unhelpfully, that his bush or whatever is on a public sidewalk.

It could go lots of ways from there, but most likely the interaction will slide into the realm of threats. He’ll call the police, he’ll kick your ass. In one such situation, a guy even threatened to poison my dog if I didn’t leave his bush alone. No doubt he felt that was fair. An eye for an eye. After all, my dog’s urine was poisoning his bush, or so he thought.

Until now, I have been highly disinclined to yield to such ruffians, such cads. Anyone who would treat another person so hatefully, especially without even trying to ask nicely in the first place, did not deserve to get what they wanted.

But now I’m tired. I just want to walk down the street in the morning without worrying if this dude is going to jump out from behind his gate and hassle me. So I dealt with the most recent incarnation of this situation differently, especially since I now have two dogs to shepherd. I muttered my usual, “It’s a public sidewalk,” retort, then went home and drafted a letter in true passive-aggressive style and stuck it on his gate.

Since then, I have walked down the street in peace. Some might say it’s because my letter was so carefully worded. Others might say it’s because I’ve elected to walk down the opposite side of the street from now on.

Who really knows?

And, for your pleasure, dear readers, I give you The Letter:

Dudes,
I’m the girl who walks her dogs past your house in the morning. You have come out yelling at me twice but have not tried the kinder approach so far. If you had come out and asked me nicely, and kindly, to just bypass your bush, I would have agreed. Not because I agree with you but because I believe in neighborliness.

Secondly, please take a moment to imagine how it would feel if you were a young woman walking alone in a dodgy neighborhood and all of a sudden there are two confrontational guys yelling at you and following you across the street. Do you think this would make you feel amenable to a neighborly compromise? Or would it make you feel physically threatened?

Next time you want to talk to me, how about you try the nicer way? And please be more considerate of my position. I promise it will get better results.

P.S. Imagine how you would want someone to talk to your sister or daughter.

And one last thing. Let it be known that the dogs inspiring such venomous reproach were these:

webebathroom, originally uploaded by Mission Mission.

Detail of a very curious piece of art in the shitter at the We Be Sushi on Valencia between 21st and 22nd Streets. Click on the photo to read the notes!