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"edo ergo sum"
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Location
San Francisco, CA
Yelping SinceAugust 2006
Things I Love Find Me Inlive in pac heights, work in embarcadero
My Hometownhillsborough
When I'm Not Yelping...i'm creating sensitivity tables for my accretion-dilution model
Why You Should Read My Reviewsholy crap i am awesome
The Last Great Book I ReadAHWOSG
My Favorite Movieold school, red violin, best in show, glory
My Last Meal On Earthyour mom
Most Recent Discoveryyour mom
Current Crushyour mom
Date
3131 Las Vegas Blvd S
Las Vegas, NV 89109
(702) 770-0097
Las Vegas, NV 89109
(702) 770-0097
XS Nightclub
Categories: Dance Clubs, Lounges
my life is ruined. over. i may as well give up now. life - 1, me - 0. you win, life, well played. this is what vegas does to you. let me explain.
was in vegas this past weekend for a friend's birthday. first night we're at XS, the club at encore. the place is large and spacious and over-the-top in just the right way for vegas. the birthday boy wanted to get a table outside, but i think things ended up alright because we were in a relatively high traffic area inside not too far from the dance floor that made it easy for us to spot groups of girls and bring them back to the table. sounds good right? problem is, we had this ridiculously hot bottle girl. long legs, nearly as tall as me (she must have been at least 6'0" in heels), cute face, bangin body, etc etc. so we sit down and she starts making our drinks. standard operating procedure, i ask for a greygoose cranberry. i've already got a good buzz going since i had been playing craps earlier, so i do what i always do when i'm buzzing - i smoke. so i take out a cigarette and start fumbling around for matches. then... disaster: while i'm standing there with a cigarette dangling out of my mouth, said ridiculously hot bottle girl then proceeds to reach in between her boobs, pull out a lighter, and then light my cigarette. let me repeat: this ridonkulously hot bottle girl take a moment away from making me an alcoholic drink to take a lighter out from between her boobs and light my cigarette. i didn't even ask, i was just standing there and all of a sudden there was a lighter in front of me. she just saw that i had an itch, and she scratched it.
i just don't know how much more awesome life can get than that. no matter what troubles you have in your life, your job sucks, the economy is terrible, you had both your arms torn from your torso in a freak woodchipper accident, whatever, all is somehow right in the world when a ridiculously hot girl wearing a halter top, shorts, and fishnet stockings interrupts herself from making you a greygoose cranberry to light your cigarette with a lighter that she keeps between her boobs for just that purpose. i honestly though her outfit was purely esthetic and for my viewing pleasure; apparently having her boobs pushed up and together is highly functional as well. i'll be honest, i came a little bit when she did that. not all of it, just a couple squirts, but my knees definitely buckled a bit and i had to sit down.
what's the problem then, you ask? the problem is, now that i've had a taste of a life where hot girls make me drinks and light my cigarettes with lighters procured from between their boobs, i don't know how i'm going to go back. what, go back to making your own drinks and lighting your own cigarettes?? surely you jest! once you've had filet mignon, how do you go back to arby's roast beef? once you've had a 1947 mouton-rothschild, how do you go back to two-buck chuck? once you've seen The Next Generation, how do you go back to the original Star Trek? the simple answer is, you can't. well, you can, but with each bite, each sip, each episode, you would know that you could do better, that somewhere, someone's jean-luc picard is mocking your james t kirk. i've peaked. no moment in my life, be it my wedding day, my first child being born, whatever, will ever compare to having this ridiculously hot girl in a halter top, shorts, and fishnet stockings interrupt herself from making me a drink in order to pull a lighter out from between her boobs in order to light my cigarette for me.
by the way, if you're reading this, i think i love you. i'm the tall asian guy who made the O face when you lit his cigarette this past weekend. call me.
was in vegas this past weekend for a friend's birthday. first night we're at XS, the club at encore. the place is large and spacious and over-the-top in just the right way for vegas. the birthday boy wanted to get a table outside, but i think things ended up alright because we were in a relatively high traffic area inside not too far from the dance floor that made it easy for us to spot groups of girls and bring them back to the table. sounds good right? problem is, we had this ridiculously hot bottle girl. long legs, nearly as tall as me (she must have been at least 6'0" in heels), cute face, bangin body, etc etc. so we sit down and she starts making our drinks. standard operating procedure, i ask for a greygoose cranberry. i've already got a good buzz going since i had been playing craps earlier, so i do what i always do when i'm buzzing - i smoke. so i take out a cigarette and start fumbling around for matches. then... disaster: while i'm standing there with a cigarette dangling out of my mouth, said ridiculously hot bottle girl then proceeds to reach in between her boobs, pull out a lighter, and then light my cigarette. let me repeat: this ridonkulously hot bottle girl take a moment away from making me an alcoholic drink to take a lighter out from between her boobs and light my cigarette. i didn't even ask, i was just standing there and all of a sudden there was a lighter in front of me. she just saw that i had an itch, and she scratched it.
i just don't know how much more awesome life can get than that. no matter what troubles you have in your life, your job sucks, the economy is terrible, you had both your arms torn from your torso in a freak woodchipper accident, whatever, all is somehow right in the world when a ridiculously hot girl wearing a halter top, shorts, and fishnet stockings interrupts herself from making you a greygoose cranberry to light your cigarette with a lighter that she keeps between her boobs for just that purpose. i honestly though her outfit was purely esthetic and for my viewing pleasure; apparently having her boobs pushed up and together is highly functional as well. i'll be honest, i came a little bit when she did that. not all of it, just a couple squirts, but my knees definitely buckled a bit and i had to sit down.
what's the problem then, you ask? the problem is, now that i've had a taste of a life where hot girls make me drinks and light my cigarettes with lighters procured from between their boobs, i don't know how i'm going to go back. what, go back to making your own drinks and lighting your own cigarettes?? surely you jest! once you've had filet mignon, how do you go back to arby's roast beef? once you've had a 1947 mouton-rothschild, how do you go back to two-buck chuck? once you've seen The Next Generation, how do you go back to the original Star Trek? the simple answer is, you can't. well, you can, but with each bite, each sip, each episode, you would know that you could do better, that somewhere, someone's jean-luc picard is mocking your james t kirk. i've peaked. no moment in my life, be it my wedding day, my first child being born, whatever, will ever compare to having this ridiculously hot girl in a halter top, shorts, and fishnet stockings interrupt herself from making me a drink in order to pull a lighter out from between her boobs in order to light my cigarette for me.
by the way, if you're reading this, i think i love you. i'm the tall asian guy who made the O face when you lit his cigarette this past weekend. call me.
301 King St
San Francisco, CA 94158
(415) 284-0111
San Francisco, CA 94158
(415) 284-0111
Tsunami Mission Bay
Categories: Japanese, Sushi Bars
Neighborhood: SOMA
tsunami, like strip clubs, is great in theory.
cool atmosphere, loud music, dark setting, and you're really excited to go for the first time.
by the end of the night you've spent way too much money, you leave feeling unsatisfied (and needing to go home to satisfy yourself with your hand / a hot pocket), wondering what all the hype was about, and you end up with glitter all over and smelling like stripper baby powder*.
well not so much the last one for tsunami, but you get the idea.
* btw if anyone knows where to get stripper baby powder please let me know. i don't know what it is but all strippers smell the same. and by the same i mean AWESOME.
cool atmosphere, loud music, dark setting, and you're really excited to go for the first time.
by the end of the night you've spent way too much money, you leave feeling unsatisfied (and needing to go home to satisfy yourself with your hand / a hot pocket), wondering what all the hype was about, and you end up with glitter all over and smelling like stripper baby powder*.
well not so much the last one for tsunami, but you get the idea.
* btw if anyone knows where to get stripper baby powder please let me know. i don't know what it is but all strippers smell the same. and by the same i mean AWESOME.
939 Stockton Street
San Francisco, CA 94108
(415) 982-6111
San Francisco, CA 94108
(415) 982-6111
Little Paris Coffee Shop
Categories: Vietnamese, Sandwiches
Neighborhoods: Nob Hill, Chinatown
being a first generation chinese kid, when i was little, i used to get the weirdest snacks and food to eat. while other kids would bring a bologna sandwich, an apple, and a bag of doritos to school for lunch, i got fried rice in a thermos, pickled daikon, and some shrimp chips. do you know how fucking hard it is to trade shrimp chips or pickled daikon for anything in middle school??? and trading food is a key foundation for social development.
them: wait, so you're saying you've got chips, but they're SHRIMP flavored??
little me: yeah, shrimp is expensive, it's seafood
them: ....
little me: i've also got some pickled daikon, it's fermented
them: ....
little me: will you be my friend?
them: ummm.... we're going to go over there to play kickball. you stay here
little me: ... i'm so lonely
anyway, one of the things my mom would fix me for a snack sometimes coming back from school or on the weekends was a vietnamese sandwich. i've already professed my love for a good cheap banh mi (ROTD bitches! http://www.yelp.com/bi...), so you know i'm a fan. but she would put her little twist on it. instead of using a baguette, she would use a croissant. she would spread pate over the croissant and, here's the kicker, instead of using vietnamese meat or chicken or something like that, she would use pan fried spam. now i'll be the first to admit that i love me some spam. put some pan fried crispy-on-the-outside-but-juicy-on-the-inside spam over some rice and i'm set. but this is a hard core coronary (croissant, pate, and spam????) for a 10 year old kid. just thinking about it right now is increasing my blood pressure a little bit. but let me tell you that shit is GOOD. especially if you use a toaster oven to get the croissant all warm and flaky.
and that's what they do here at little paris. you can get a toasted croissant sandwich (#8 on the sandwich menu, which will set you back $3.00), add pate (add $0.50), and substitute your choice of meat - i usually choose bbq chicken as they unfortunately don't do spam (add $0.50) and you've got yourself a big, hearty, rich sandwich for $4.00.
i don't know how many first generation chinese kids are like me, but i just can't eat white people food for lunch day after day after day at work. there's only so much subway or specialty's i can take. so 2 or 3 times a week i head up to chinatown from the embarcadero and get me some good, cheap, chinese food. i usually eat up there too, since bringing back any of the food that i get from chinatown would likely make me a social outcast and limit my career opportunities going forward. like just last week i brought back one of these sandwiches and some dim sum from chinatown back to the office.
them: wait, so you're saying you got a sandwich, but it's got pate, pickled daikon and carrots, cilantro, and vietnamese chicken in it??
big me: yeah, pate is expensive, it's duck liver
them: ....
big me: i also got some chicken feet. this place makes them good, the skin just falls off the chicken toes
them: ...
big me: will you be my friend?
them: ummm... we're going to go over there to talk about important deals and decide your bonus. you stay here
big me: ... i'm so lonely
them: wait, so you're saying you've got chips, but they're SHRIMP flavored??
little me: yeah, shrimp is expensive, it's seafood
them: ....
little me: i've also got some pickled daikon, it's fermented
them: ....
little me: will you be my friend?
them: ummm.... we're going to go over there to play kickball. you stay here
little me: ... i'm so lonely
anyway, one of the things my mom would fix me for a snack sometimes coming back from school or on the weekends was a vietnamese sandwich. i've already professed my love for a good cheap banh mi (ROTD bitches! http://www.yelp.com/bi...), so you know i'm a fan. but she would put her little twist on it. instead of using a baguette, she would use a croissant. she would spread pate over the croissant and, here's the kicker, instead of using vietnamese meat or chicken or something like that, she would use pan fried spam. now i'll be the first to admit that i love me some spam. put some pan fried crispy-on-the-outside-but-juicy-on-the-inside spam over some rice and i'm set. but this is a hard core coronary (croissant, pate, and spam????) for a 10 year old kid. just thinking about it right now is increasing my blood pressure a little bit. but let me tell you that shit is GOOD. especially if you use a toaster oven to get the croissant all warm and flaky.
and that's what they do here at little paris. you can get a toasted croissant sandwich (#8 on the sandwich menu, which will set you back $3.00), add pate (add $0.50), and substitute your choice of meat - i usually choose bbq chicken as they unfortunately don't do spam (add $0.50) and you've got yourself a big, hearty, rich sandwich for $4.00.
i don't know how many first generation chinese kids are like me, but i just can't eat white people food for lunch day after day after day at work. there's only so much subway or specialty's i can take. so 2 or 3 times a week i head up to chinatown from the embarcadero and get me some good, cheap, chinese food. i usually eat up there too, since bringing back any of the food that i get from chinatown would likely make me a social outcast and limit my career opportunities going forward. like just last week i brought back one of these sandwiches and some dim sum from chinatown back to the office.
them: wait, so you're saying you got a sandwich, but it's got pate, pickled daikon and carrots, cilantro, and vietnamese chicken in it??
big me: yeah, pate is expensive, it's duck liver
them: ....
big me: i also got some chicken feet. this place makes them good, the skin just falls off the chicken toes
them: ...
big me: will you be my friend?
them: ummm... we're going to go over there to talk about important deals and decide your bonus. you stay here
big me: ... i'm so lonely
301 Pine St
San Francisco, CA 94104
(415) 593-4000
San Francisco, CA 94104
(415) 593-4000
Equinox
Category: Gyms
Neighborhood: Financial District
the one thing that i am super picky about when it comes to gyms is cleanliness, especially in the locker room, and this place gets 5 stars for cleanliness. there's always a guy with a towel wiping stuff down and generally everything is pretty clean. the machines are decent, as is the free weight section. they have a bunch of cardio machines on both the first and second floor. i usually go later in the day around 7 or 8 and i've never had a problem getting a machine but i think it's a little harder right around 5:30, 6ish. my one gripe about the floor is that i wish they had individual tvs on each of the machines. for $124/mo (if you go once a week like i sometimes do then that's like putting down $30 each time you walk into the gym - ouch) this should be pretty standard.
the other, more qualitative plus for me is that i don't know anyone else who goes to this gym. this is key for me because i absolutely hate running into people out of context. i turn into an awkward, bumbling, social liability incapable of adhering to generally accepted social protocol (more so than usual). if i'm expecting to see people randomly, then i'm okay. for example, if i'm meeting up with people at a bar or lounge for someone's birthday, then my "social" switch has been turned on and i'm prepared to enter into light banter about the weather or how that bitch broke your heart. but when i run into people on the street or even worse when i'm sweating to a Friend's rerun on the bike at the gym, i turn into Bobo the Fucking Wonder-Idiot.
-- Actual Conversation --
me on bike: *good sweat, good sweat*
college acquaintance (she was a friend of a friend): ... hey! long time no see!
MOB: *fuck* ... hey! how are you?
CA: good good, i moved back to the city, i was in new york for a while. how are things with you?
MOB: i'm good, i'm good. you know, same ol', just trying to make a dolla outta a dime and a nickel.
CA: huh? what do you mean?
MOB: oh, sorry, nothing, that was just a rap song ref... nevermind. so... what are you doing here?
CA: ... you mean what am i doing here at the gym?
MOB: ... yeah
CA: ummm.... working out...? i'm looking for a new gym so i'm on a 1 week trial pass here. i just started at MoFo so i'm in the area. do you like this place?
MOB: yeah, it's not bad. pretty clean, not too crowded, lots of financial district folks so not a lot of older, gross people
CA: what do you mean?
MOB: you know, everyone's pretty young here, so when you're walking around in the showers and you're looking around you're not grossed out by sagging man-boobs or anything
CA: ... oh okay. haha, i guess that's true, you don't want to be staring at man-boobs all day.
MOB: not that i'm walking around the locker room looking at naked guys. guys' bodies are pretty gross to begin with. that's why guys' magazines have pictures of girls and girls' magazines also have pictures of girls, have you ever noticed that? everyone likes looking at girls' bodies.
CA: i guess......
MOB: i don't mean all girls' bodies, i guess there are some old ladies who are gross. but it's not like you have to worry, you have a really nice... ummm....... body...
CA: .... ummm...... thanks?
MOB: no, what i mean is, have you been working out more in general? you look thinner, weren't you, you know, thicker in college?
CA: ....
MOB: i mean, i'm not saying you were fat or anything. i'm just saying you look pretty good now.
CA: ...
MOB: not that i ever... i mean, i have a girlfriend... she has a nice body too... i don't mean like i'm bragging like it's a supermodel body... it's not that good. i mean it's okay. but i like looking at my girlfriend's body. well i guess in general i like looking at girls' bodies. especially if they're young.
CA: .......?!?
MOB: ....er but still over 18.
CA: ...
MOB: ....
CA: ...
MOB: ....
CA: i can't put into words how uncomfortable i am right now, i have to go.
so 5 stars for cleanliness, minus two stars for $124 / month, plus one star for the fact that i can minimize the number of times i have to interact with people, because apparently interacting with people is not one of my strengths.
the other, more qualitative plus for me is that i don't know anyone else who goes to this gym. this is key for me because i absolutely hate running into people out of context. i turn into an awkward, bumbling, social liability incapable of adhering to generally accepted social protocol (more so than usual). if i'm expecting to see people randomly, then i'm okay. for example, if i'm meeting up with people at a bar or lounge for someone's birthday, then my "social" switch has been turned on and i'm prepared to enter into light banter about the weather or how that bitch broke your heart. but when i run into people on the street or even worse when i'm sweating to a Friend's rerun on the bike at the gym, i turn into Bobo the Fucking Wonder-Idiot.
-- Actual Conversation --
me on bike: *good sweat, good sweat*
college acquaintance (she was a friend of a friend): ... hey! long time no see!
MOB: *fuck* ... hey! how are you?
CA: good good, i moved back to the city, i was in new york for a while. how are things with you?
MOB: i'm good, i'm good. you know, same ol', just trying to make a dolla outta a dime and a nickel.
CA: huh? what do you mean?
MOB: oh, sorry, nothing, that was just a rap song ref... nevermind. so... what are you doing here?
CA: ... you mean what am i doing here at the gym?
MOB: ... yeah
CA: ummm.... working out...? i'm looking for a new gym so i'm on a 1 week trial pass here. i just started at MoFo so i'm in the area. do you like this place?
MOB: yeah, it's not bad. pretty clean, not too crowded, lots of financial district folks so not a lot of older, gross people
CA: what do you mean?
MOB: you know, everyone's pretty young here, so when you're walking around in the showers and you're looking around you're not grossed out by sagging man-boobs or anything
CA: ... oh okay. haha, i guess that's true, you don't want to be staring at man-boobs all day.
MOB: not that i'm walking around the locker room looking at naked guys. guys' bodies are pretty gross to begin with. that's why guys' magazines have pictures of girls and girls' magazines also have pictures of girls, have you ever noticed that? everyone likes looking at girls' bodies.
CA: i guess......
MOB: i don't mean all girls' bodies, i guess there are some old ladies who are gross. but it's not like you have to worry, you have a really nice... ummm....... body...
CA: .... ummm...... thanks?
MOB: no, what i mean is, have you been working out more in general? you look thinner, weren't you, you know, thicker in college?
CA: ....
MOB: i mean, i'm not saying you were fat or anything. i'm just saying you look pretty good now.
CA: ...
MOB: not that i ever... i mean, i have a girlfriend... she has a nice body too... i don't mean like i'm bragging like it's a supermodel body... it's not that good. i mean it's okay. but i like looking at my girlfriend's body. well i guess in general i like looking at girls' bodies. especially if they're young.
CA: .......?!?
MOB: ....er but still over 18.
CA: ...
MOB: ....
CA: ...
MOB: ....
CA: i can't put into words how uncomfortable i am right now, i have to go.
so 5 stars for cleanliness, minus two stars for $124 / month, plus one star for the fact that i can minimize the number of times i have to interact with people, because apparently interacting with people is not one of my strengths.
1 Ferry Bldg
San Francisco, CA 94102
(415) 399-9751
San Francisco, CA 94102
(415) 399-9751
Mistral Rotisserie Provencale - CLOSED
Categories: French, American (New)
Neighborhood: Embarcadero
Ingredients:
1) 1 lbs pork ribs
2) 1 order potato confit
3) 1 order ratatouille
4) 9 lbs little brown dog who freakin loves pork rib bits and would gnaw off her own leg to get a piece
5) 1 ferry building walking distance from apartment
6) 1 table outside of said ferry building
7) 1 girlfriend (optional - adds flavor but complicates recipe)
8) 1 view of SF bay and bay bridge
9) 1 lazy sunday could be late morning could be mid-afternoon who cares the sun is out
mix well and serve. makes 2 servings of complete and utter happiness. repeat as desired.
1) 1 lbs pork ribs
2) 1 order potato confit
3) 1 order ratatouille
4) 9 lbs little brown dog who freakin loves pork rib bits and would gnaw off her own leg to get a piece
5) 1 ferry building walking distance from apartment
6) 1 table outside of said ferry building
7) 1 girlfriend (optional - adds flavor but complicates recipe)
8) 1 view of SF bay and bay bridge
9) 1 lazy sunday could be late morning could be mid-afternoon who cares the sun is out
mix well and serve. makes 2 servings of complete and utter happiness. repeat as desired.
235 Front St
San Francisco, CA 94111
(415) 397-6333
San Francisco, CA 94111
(415) 397-6333
McDonald's
Categories: Fast Food, Burgers
Neighborhood: Financial District
scooby doo. handball. double cheeseburgers. fruit roll ups. jem. micro machines. swings. hypercolor t shirts. big macs. kickball. thundercats. teddy ruxpin. snorks. chicken mcnuggets. duck hunt.
what do these things have in common? they're things that i used to enjoy with every bone, every fiber in my body. they're things that used to make me happy. they're things that gave me pleasure without any feeling of guilt or worry about consequences.
remember back in the day when all mcdonald's was was a good burger with some awesome fries? remember when 6 chicken mcnuggets was a full meal? remember the McDLT with the hot and the cold sides separated? remember that stupid happy meal box with the golden arches as the handles? remember when your metabolism didn't give a flying fuck what you ate? remember when you didn't even know what the word metabolism meant? it was such a simpler time. it was a time of transformers and mask and my little pony and tail spin and voltron and duck tails. it was a time when you thought when you grew up you would become either a ninja or a firetruck - but more likely a ninja since you had been practicing so much. it was a time when spinning around as many times as you could was not so much a just a pastime as it was a competitive sport that you excelled at - in fact the only competitive sport that you excelled at. it was a time when you had no idea how much of your daily allowance of sodium was in that mcchicken sandwich, or how many calories from fat were in a quarter pounder with cheese.
i don't know when it happened, but sometime in the 90s i lost the pure visceral and unadulterated joy of eating fast food. how did this happen to me????
401Ks. employer matching. healthcare savings accounts. credit crises. alternative minimum taxes. recessions. overseas conflicts. gym memberships. riding bikes that don't even go anywhere for an hour next to 20 other people riding bikes that don't go anywhere. blood pressure. FICA (who the fuck is FICA and why does that asshole keep taking my money?) credit scores. form 1099s. consumer confidence. mortgages. employee reviews.
when did i trade in mario and luigi for an animated paperclip? when did "spinning" and "daily allowance" come to mean such different things than what they used to mean? when did i make the conscious decision to eat a bowl of bran instead of crackers that i could spread artificial cheese onto using a rectangular piece of red plastic?
i understand that i can't eat like i used to and it's obviously not healthy to eat mcdonald's every day, but once in a while i do crave some fast food - and i'd like to be able to eat a big mac and a large fries and just really enjoy it. and this front street location helps me do just that, being right in the heart of the embarcadero financial district and 1 block from my office building. bonus, it's right next to harrington's and royal exchange - really nothing tastes as good after a couple (read: 4+) pints as a double cheeseburger and/or mcchicken sandwich off their dollar menu. this location is generally pretty clean and the people are pretty competent. plus it's one of the few places open around this area on the weekends too. 4 stars, here's a big middle finger for the responsible side of my frosted mini wheat.
reebok pumps. where the red fern grows. metroid. rainbow bright. he-man. ramona quimby. goonies. garbage pail kids. knight rider. donkey kong. heathcliff. oregon trail. inspector gadget. rescue rangers. LA Gear. trix. TMNT. smurfs. bridge to tarabithia. care bears. care bear stare. choose your own adventures. dammit i think i'm gonna cry.
what do these things have in common? they're things that i used to enjoy with every bone, every fiber in my body. they're things that used to make me happy. they're things that gave me pleasure without any feeling of guilt or worry about consequences.
remember back in the day when all mcdonald's was was a good burger with some awesome fries? remember when 6 chicken mcnuggets was a full meal? remember the McDLT with the hot and the cold sides separated? remember that stupid happy meal box with the golden arches as the handles? remember when your metabolism didn't give a flying fuck what you ate? remember when you didn't even know what the word metabolism meant? it was such a simpler time. it was a time of transformers and mask and my little pony and tail spin and voltron and duck tails. it was a time when you thought when you grew up you would become either a ninja or a firetruck - but more likely a ninja since you had been practicing so much. it was a time when spinning around as many times as you could was not so much a just a pastime as it was a competitive sport that you excelled at - in fact the only competitive sport that you excelled at. it was a time when you had no idea how much of your daily allowance of sodium was in that mcchicken sandwich, or how many calories from fat were in a quarter pounder with cheese.
i don't know when it happened, but sometime in the 90s i lost the pure visceral and unadulterated joy of eating fast food. how did this happen to me????
401Ks. employer matching. healthcare savings accounts. credit crises. alternative minimum taxes. recessions. overseas conflicts. gym memberships. riding bikes that don't even go anywhere for an hour next to 20 other people riding bikes that don't go anywhere. blood pressure. FICA (who the fuck is FICA and why does that asshole keep taking my money?) credit scores. form 1099s. consumer confidence. mortgages. employee reviews.
when did i trade in mario and luigi for an animated paperclip? when did "spinning" and "daily allowance" come to mean such different things than what they used to mean? when did i make the conscious decision to eat a bowl of bran instead of crackers that i could spread artificial cheese onto using a rectangular piece of red plastic?
i understand that i can't eat like i used to and it's obviously not healthy to eat mcdonald's every day, but once in a while i do crave some fast food - and i'd like to be able to eat a big mac and a large fries and just really enjoy it. and this front street location helps me do just that, being right in the heart of the embarcadero financial district and 1 block from my office building. bonus, it's right next to harrington's and royal exchange - really nothing tastes as good after a couple (read: 4+) pints as a double cheeseburger and/or mcchicken sandwich off their dollar menu. this location is generally pretty clean and the people are pretty competent. plus it's one of the few places open around this area on the weekends too. 4 stars, here's a big middle finger for the responsible side of my frosted mini wheat.
reebok pumps. where the red fern grows. metroid. rainbow bright. he-man. ramona quimby. goonies. garbage pail kids. knight rider. donkey kong. heathcliff. oregon trail. inspector gadget. rescue rangers. LA Gear. trix. TMNT. smurfs. bridge to tarabithia. care bears. care bear stare. choose your own adventures. dammit i think i'm gonna cry.
701 Mission Street
San Francisco, CA 94103
San Francisco, CA 94103
Yelp Holiday Party 2007
Category: Local Flavor
Neighborhood: SOMA
"the food ran out by the time i got there"
"there were too many people, it was too crowded"
"this porridge is too cold"
"she didn't cup my balls when she was giving me my free blowjob"
jesus. there are people who gave this free event fewer than 4 stars? wtf???
it's a free party. the two key words are "free" and "party". if you don't like the food or didn't get any, get your ass out of there and buy some fucking food. then you would have spent the same amount as if you had bought the food on your own in the first place because the party is FREE. unless a yelp staffer punched you in the crotch when you first entered the venue, do not give a free event that people obviously worked very hard on fewer than 4 stars.
i for one had a great time. i'm disappointed that i missed the elite event, as my plane was scheduled to arrive at SFO at 7:45 but because of delays at DFW didn't get in until 8:15, but the top shelf alcohol was still flowing when i got there. yes, that's right, good liquor (i had a 12 year old glenlivet in a little clear plastic cup), good wine (a sterling merlot, also in a little clear plastic cup), and good beer (you guessed it, plus there was no line for the beer). all FREE. bonus: i danced (and sang along) to bizarre love triangle for the first time in years. i don't know what it is about asian (read: AzN) people and that song, we just go crazy... it is to us what brown eyed girl or sweet caroline is to white people. i don't know why, don't ask me.
thanks to the yelp staff for a great party. as i'm writing this at 6 pm there's still some alcohol taste in my mouth. and what appears to be a pubic hair. that's really gross. plus a sure sign that you had a good time the night before. 5 fucking stars
"there were too many people, it was too crowded"
"this porridge is too cold"
"she didn't cup my balls when she was giving me my free blowjob"
jesus. there are people who gave this free event fewer than 4 stars? wtf???
it's a free party. the two key words are "free" and "party". if you don't like the food or didn't get any, get your ass out of there and buy some fucking food. then you would have spent the same amount as if you had bought the food on your own in the first place because the party is FREE. unless a yelp staffer punched you in the crotch when you first entered the venue, do not give a free event that people obviously worked very hard on fewer than 4 stars.
i for one had a great time. i'm disappointed that i missed the elite event, as my plane was scheduled to arrive at SFO at 7:45 but because of delays at DFW didn't get in until 8:15, but the top shelf alcohol was still flowing when i got there. yes, that's right, good liquor (i had a 12 year old glenlivet in a little clear plastic cup), good wine (a sterling merlot, also in a little clear plastic cup), and good beer (you guessed it, plus there was no line for the beer). all FREE. bonus: i danced (and sang along) to bizarre love triangle for the first time in years. i don't know what it is about asian (read: AzN) people and that song, we just go crazy... it is to us what brown eyed girl or sweet caroline is to white people. i don't know why, don't ask me.
thanks to the yelp staff for a great party. as i'm writing this at 6 pm there's still some alcohol taste in my mouth. and what appears to be a pubic hair. that's really gross. plus a sure sign that you had a good time the night before. 5 fucking stars
oh shit deb, you know alcohol too? he was my roommate in college. he was such an asshole. i don't know what his problem was, but he was always messing with me. like this one time i was walking home from a party on campus and he tripped me and i fell on my ass and looked retarted. thanks a lot alcohol. and this other time i was talking to a bunch of people and i could kind of tell that i wasn't making any sense but he totally convinced me that i was the smartest guy in the room and that everyone else was an idiot so i kept talking and talking. soon i was alone and walked home and cried myself to sleep. and who can forget that one time he convinced me that this girl who was staring at me at the end of the night was cute.
alcohol: dude those two chicks over there are totally checking you out.
me: seriously? two chicks? that's awesome. hey i don't think those are two chicks, i think that's just one big chick.
alcohol: whatever. my point is she's checking you out.
me: i guess. hey are you sure that's a chick? how come she's got an adam's apple? is she wearing overalls???
alcohol: you're just seeing things. go over there, be a man(1), talk to her. use that scottish accent i taught you. ladies love that.
me: what? scottish accent?? but i'm chinese... how... wha? i dunno. last time i listened to you it burned for 3 weeks every time i peed like freakin flaming angry razor blades were shooting out of my penis.
alcohol: yeah my bad on that one. this one's a winner for sure. trust me.
me: oookkkaaaayyy... alcohol, you're the best friend a guy could ask for. i hope we're friends forever. bff?
alcohol. i love ya man. now go get 'em!
+4 stars for telling me i'm good looking and smart and funny. -2 stars for being wrong.
(1) http://www.youtube.com...
alcohol: dude those two chicks over there are totally checking you out.
me: seriously? two chicks? that's awesome. hey i don't think those are two chicks, i think that's just one big chick.
alcohol: whatever. my point is she's checking you out.
me: i guess. hey are you sure that's a chick? how come she's got an adam's apple? is she wearing overalls???
alcohol: you're just seeing things. go over there, be a man(1), talk to her. use that scottish accent i taught you. ladies love that.
me: what? scottish accent?? but i'm chinese... how... wha? i dunno. last time i listened to you it burned for 3 weeks every time i peed like freakin flaming angry razor blades were shooting out of my penis.
alcohol: yeah my bad on that one. this one's a winner for sure. trust me.
me: oookkkaaaayyy... alcohol, you're the best friend a guy could ask for. i hope we're friends forever. bff?
alcohol. i love ya man. now go get 'em!
+4 stars for telling me i'm good looking and smart and funny. -2 stars for being wrong.
(1) http://www.youtube.com...
275 Battery Street
San Francisco, CA 94111
(415) 788-7687
San Francisco, CA 94111
(415) 788-7687
San Francisco Soup Company
Category: Sandwiches
Neighborhood: Financial District
$6.50 for a bowl of soup??? that's just crazytalk. crazy. $7.00 for a half soup and half sandwich? more crazytalk. my parents, being first generation chinese immigrants and all, would absolutely flip out if they knew that i was paying $6.50 for a bowl of soup for lunch. $6.50 is more than they spent on my entire wardrobe in the second grade. i wore, and i remember this vividly, this asinine multi-colored, multi-fabriced, patchwork jumpsuit that my parents had obviously purchased in chinatown. this outfit was horrendous. it was a red and yellow matching sweatpants/sweatshirt combo with sewn on blue pockets that couldn't really hold anything. the torso and the pants were red, but the sleeves starting at the shoulders were yellow. what made it worse was the cartoon drawing on the front of the sweatshirt. it was this picture of a bear and a rabbit sitting down having afternoon tea with the caption: "tea for two is good for you and me happy day". wtf??? that doesn't even make sense! while other kids were sporting GQ little outfits with little collared shirts and cordoroy pants and stuff, i was sporting this hot-air balloon looking clown suit that cost my parents the equivalent of a 6-pack of vitasoy box drinks.
let me tell you right now, you get absolutely no respect on the playground wearing shit like that around. i honestly think i wore this outfit every other day for a couple years (a couple years because, my parents being asian, i got the outfit two sizes too big and didn't retire it until it was two sizes too small) because i see pictures in photo albums and i'm always wearing this outfit. not only that, but my mom would make me do really stupid sissy poses. i think there was a period of about four years before i knew any better when, in every picture, i had my hands on my hips and and my left foot was slightly bent and in front of my right foot. this was my pose. you know those runway models, when they get to the end of the runway they do that blue steel pose before they twirl around and walk back down the runway? that's what i looked like. in every piece of photographic evidence for four years. i shit you not, if you go to the store that sells the pots and pans and backscratchers and shoes and children's clothing on stockton between clay and sacramento today, you will still be able to find this outfit, on sale for $5.95 (i.e. less than the cost of a large chicken mexican tortilla soup).
but you know what? i still come here for lunch. i work in the same building and it's just so convenient. the chicken mexican tortilla soup is quite tasty and besides, on the menu there's a little "L" that supposedly indicates that the soup is low fat. and considering the most exercise i get in on a workday is from hitting alt-tab quickly when someone comes into my office and i'm looking for porn (i swear someone told me that there's porn on the internet, but i can't seem to find it), that L sounds pretty good to me. $6.50 for a bowl of soup. did my parents even dare to dream that one day their son would be able to eat a $6.50 bowl of soup? i think not, my friends, i think not. i am: the american dream. god bless america.
let me tell you right now, you get absolutely no respect on the playground wearing shit like that around. i honestly think i wore this outfit every other day for a couple years (a couple years because, my parents being asian, i got the outfit two sizes too big and didn't retire it until it was two sizes too small) because i see pictures in photo albums and i'm always wearing this outfit. not only that, but my mom would make me do really stupid sissy poses. i think there was a period of about four years before i knew any better when, in every picture, i had my hands on my hips and and my left foot was slightly bent and in front of my right foot. this was my pose. you know those runway models, when they get to the end of the runway they do that blue steel pose before they twirl around and walk back down the runway? that's what i looked like. in every piece of photographic evidence for four years. i shit you not, if you go to the store that sells the pots and pans and backscratchers and shoes and children's clothing on stockton between clay and sacramento today, you will still be able to find this outfit, on sale for $5.95 (i.e. less than the cost of a large chicken mexican tortilla soup).
but you know what? i still come here for lunch. i work in the same building and it's just so convenient. the chicken mexican tortilla soup is quite tasty and besides, on the menu there's a little "L" that supposedly indicates that the soup is low fat. and considering the most exercise i get in on a workday is from hitting alt-tab quickly when someone comes into my office and i'm looking for porn (i swear someone told me that there's porn on the internet, but i can't seem to find it), that L sounds pretty good to me. $6.50 for a bowl of soup. did my parents even dare to dream that one day their son would be able to eat a $6.50 bowl of soup? i think not, my friends, i think not. i am: the american dream. god bless america.
3 Lists
1. Saigon Sandwich
all of the sandwiches…
2. Equinox
the one thing that i am…
3. Tsunami Mission Bay
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tsunami, like strip…
exhibit A: delfina. came here a while ago with my then-gf. decent ambiance, nice decor, it's got that there's-a-homeless-guy-is-that-bob-again-right-out side-staring-in-looking-really-hungry-but-my-furni ture-is-from-DWR-and-my-entrees-are-in-the-mid-$20 s-range hipster vibe that seems to permeate most restaurants in the area. girls seem to like that (i think they think that the ambiance of a restaurant is a reflection of how much we value a relationship), but it's just not my thing.
see, i don't mind paying top dollar for food, but if i do, you better not bring out half a dainty little organic, designer, free range anorexic chicken with squiggly lines made out of pureed organic, designer, free range peas shooting out of its ass. wtf?? everywhere i go it seems like i'm paying an additional 30% for each adjective that is used to describe the food (free range, organic), and an additional 40% if you tell me where it's from (prather ranch, frog hollow farm). i'll be honest, you could have kept the little guy in your basement hooked up to an IV and an oxygen tube, roided him up, and put him on a treadmill for 6 hours a day while forcing him to watch judge judy reruns, i don't care as long as he is succulent and tasty when i bite into him.
the tripe was actually not bad. the chicken was chicken. i didn't like the salt cod, which was their specialty. my then-gf, however, liked this place because, well, she's a girl and girls are stupid (see above). if i recall, the conversation we had that night pretty much summed up the difference between guys and girls.
--- at dinner ---
ex-gf: honey, what are you thinking about?
me: when you smell a fart, are you actually smelling little particles of poop?
ex-gf: *sigh*. you're so weird. how do you even think up these things?
me: ...i farted just now
ex-gf: oh
me: ...and now
ex-gf: ...
me: ...
ex-gf: ...okay there it is
ex-gf: would you still love me if i were fat?
me: no
ex-gf: what?!?!?
me: i'm sorry baby, i think i heard the question wrong. what was the question again?
ex-gf: would you still love me if i was fat?
me: oh... yeah i heard it correctly the first time
ex-gf: ...
ex-gf: wow, i can't believe we're in our mid-twenties. do you ever think about the future?
me: sure!
ex-gf: really?
me: of course i do, honey
ex-gf: me too. what do you think about?
me: killer robots. i mean, if everybody in the future had killer robots, then wouldn't you use your own killer robots to stop the other guy's killer robots? then it would just be a bunch of robots fighting each other. like robot wars. that would be sweet.
ex-gf: ...
ex-gf: you know what i worry about? i'm afraid that we're going to wake up one day and realize we don't love each other. wouldn't that be sad? what if we already had a family and everything? you'd tell me if you didn't love me right? what's your greatest fear?
me: killer robots
ex-gf: shut the hell up about the killer robots!
me: ...
me: babe, can i ask you a question?
ex-gf: sure
me: do you love me?
ex-gf: of course i do! what a silly question. why?
me: i was just thinking about how we show each other our love
ex-gf: oh honey! i was just thinking the same thing! i wrote a poem but i thought you would laugh at me. why? what are you thinking?
me: would you ever do a threesome with another girl?
ex-gf: ...
--- and later that night, post-sex ---
ex-gf: oh my god that was amazing! that thing you do with the twist and the crossover. wow!! you are the best lover ever! let's do that again sometime! what are you thinking about?
me: ...
ex-gf: you're thinking about those fucking killer robots again aren't you??
me: ... maybe...