mating on top of the tunnel
March 29, 2008
i had seen it. i had walked by it. i had heard about it. why it took me so long to embrace all of the loveliness that is the tunnel top is anyone’s guess. yes, with its unassuming exterior and location describing name (it’s on top of the stockton tunnel after all,) i have taken to the tunnel top as a pig takes to slop, a prostitute to penicillin, or my shoe to homeless people turds (yes, i step in at-least one a day…)
they have chimay. they have djs who spin kick-ass tunes. they have tons of horny babes. niiice.
that pretty much covers all the bases. well, except that the bartenders also take turns sucking on a large, cylindrically shaped object which emits semen. yes, three out of the four with whom i’ve come in contact are rude and make lackluster drinks. this is why god invented beer. also, i think a prerequisite for being a bartender should be that you aren’t a dickhead. you know, that whole customer service thing…
but hey, you can’t always have everything and when you’re having hot chicks rub their shanaynays on you on the upstairs dance floor you won’t be thinking about the bartender, or at-least you shouldn’t be. i feel like a rock star every time i go there.
the wool-pull factor, at-least on the weekend, currently ranks as an ‘8.’ i’ve been during the week and the guy/girl ratio can be a little daunting, like most places on a weekday. friday and saturday though…watch out.
‘ r ‘ you horny?
November 19, 2007
r bar.
there is no bar in san francisco where i am more likely to be swimming in ’ass’ than r bar. let me say that again with special emphasis…
there is absolutely, no bar in san francisco where i am more likely to encounter girls intent on further tarnishing their surely, already questionable reputations, than (the) r bar. consider it a late night, all-you-can-eat, carnal buffet where if you don’t like something on your plate, just try something else. it’s that easy.
it’s like this for me even when there are only 2 girls in the place, along with twenty dudes, which, unfortunately, happens all too often. don’t worry. when it’s busy there’s plenty of food for everybody.
if i were trying to get my rocks off with marginally attractive girls who are willing to ‘throw down,’ i’d be in there 4x a week. fortunately, i am picking and choosing my ‘victims’ very carefully these days. i only even go in there because i’m friends with one of the bartenders, and the two owners, who occasionally work as well, are super cool dudes.
r bar has a wool pull factor of………………..8.5 why so low considering my rave review? due to the often insurmountable guy to girl ratio i am forced to make a deduction. also, a score of ten is reserved for an idealized state for whose existence in reality is a stretch, a la ‘heaven.’
pictured are vanessa and jessica, two of the coolest babes i’ve met, ever. they didn’t even mind my sweaty face. they DO NOT hang out at r bar so take those nasty thoughts out of your heads immediately. these are the kinds of babes we should all be so lucky as to impregnate. i just wanted to give them props….
a lounge of lushes
November 6, 2007
i remember the first time someone told me the lush lounge was a gay bar. it was an extremely hot girl who asked me “why are you hanging out in a gay bar?” honestly, up to that point i had never even considered the thought.
i scanned the bar. wow. there really were a ton of ‘dudes’ there. why am i hanging out in a gay bar?
just to prove i wasn’t gay, that night anyway, i took the aforementioned female home and i proved it to her all night long. he he he. nevermind, that i couldn’t take my eyes off of my own ass in the mirror. is it gay if you are attracted to yourself? i digress.
anyway, that silly girl. the lush lounge isn’t a gay bar. it is a diverse bar. with classic movies always playing on the three televisions, it’s location on the corner of polk and post definitely lends itself to attracting a most colorful crowd - gay and straight.
occasionally its crowd consists of four gay guys and me. other times it actually draws some pretty hot chicks. taking all factors into account, the wool pull factor of the lush lounge, surprisingly, ranks as a ‘7.5.’
i thought they said chicks with ticks…
November 5, 2007
i grew up in a pretty rural area of maryland where, on a scorching hot summer day, from off in the ‘not too far’ distance, one could hear the distinct ‘moo’ of dairy cows. awesome.
among the other sounds of summer was the sound of mothers yelling at their children to sit still as they checked their heads for ticks. ticks were a very real threat with cases of lyme disease reaching almost epidemic-like proportions in maryland in the late 90s. of course, now, houses stand in much of that dairy pasture and much of the forest where the ticks lived has been razed for houses that look remarkably similar to the ones in the pasture. i haven’t heard a real cow moo since the last time i drove up the northern coast of marin county and the only ticks i hear about now are tenancy-in-commons (tics.) imagine my surprise when i overheard two gentlemen talking about a bar which caters especially to tick-infested women - ”chicks with ticks” is how they phrased it.
i didn’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation but i couldn’t help myself. these women needed my help. now, i know i am not a doctor but i am very good friends with one - dr. leon rosenozzi, who some of you may recognize as an occasional contributor to livinlargeinsf. i immediately phoned dr. leon only to recall while the phone was ringing that my friend and cohort was going to be in emergency labia-lengthening surgery. “damnit,” i said under my breath. i couldn’t wait. i wondered if these women knew about lyme disease and its long-term ramifications if left untreated. did they know with what they were dealing?
i immediately jumped in my car. i was looking for post street, post between polk and larkin. i was driving fast, but not fast enough. lives were in danger. i was almost there. i knew it was on the right-hand side of the street. what was it called, again?
then i saw it. divas. “that’s the place with an epidemic in the making,” i thought to myself. i parked in the bus zone. i left my car door open as i ran up to the front door.
“that’ll be $18,” said the somewhat gruff-looking bouncer.
“$18?” i didn’t have time to argue. i pulled out my wallet, handed him a twenty and didn’t even wait for my change.
i ran inside. where were they? where were these ‘chicks with ticks?’ i didn’t see any tick-infested women at the bar but there were stairs leading up. i took them to the second floor.
“goddamn, that chick was butt-ugly,” i muttered under my breath. i lost focus. she was built like a dude, had an adam’s apple and a face only a mother could love. i knew i had to save lives. i hoped hers wasn’t one of them. i ran up the stairs leading to the third floor.
“jesus crappers, that girl is even uglier than the one from downstairs…focus,” i told myself. “focus. must…save…lives.” i ran up the stairs leading to the fourth floor.
oh my god…
never in my wildest nightmares could i have prepared myself for what i was about to see. suddenly, it all made sense.
on the fourth floor of divas i found a stripper’s pole and stage. on stage dancing, was a chick, a chick with a dick. divas, it turns out, doesn’t cater towards tick-infested women. divas is a trans-gendered joint.
silly me. i felt much better. there weren’t any lives in danger and those two butt-ugly chicks were actually dudes, sorta’. i immediately left as i vomited on my shoes. i love san francisco!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
the wool pull factor for divas?………………..‘-246′ or if you are really drunk….‘ 7′ of course you’ll have to not only pay but also have ass sex with a transexual…like i was saying ‘ -246′
look what the tide brought in
November 3, 2007
the high tide. what a strange, marvelous, little shithole of a neighborhood bar on the southern most edge of the ‘tendernob.’ inside this most non-descript looking watering lair lies a mecca of confused tourists, mexican coke dealers, service industry workers and a macro-cosmic spattering of every other conceivable person in the world.
i used to go there occasionally for a cold one until the bartender asked me if i wanted a shot. now, generally, when you’ve been having a good conversation with the bartender and she or he asks you if you’d like a shot, it is assumed that it is being offered to you compliments of the bartender. knowing what they say about ‘when one assumes,’ i walked right into accepting the aforementioned shot for which the bartender immediately charged me. i paid and then proceeded to sit there in disbelief as she ‘worked’ her way down the bar. i felt used. like a lot of victims, i blamed myself. i must have misunderstood. it must be me.
so i returned. i was once again having a great conversation with the very hot, very korean bartender, who has offered me her phone number twice and told me time and again how she wants to hang out, when she again asks me if i’d like a shot. deja vu. i hesitated for a moment and then agreed. she poured each of us a drink. we did the drill as i watched her body language. was she going to charge me? she motioned to me for money. i asked her how much. she told me $16. i fell off my barstool.
that sweet-talking, prostitute of a bartender charged me for BOTH her and my shots!!!!!!!! i never offered to buy her a shot. she offered me a shot!!!!! she simply assumed the sale and i went along with it like a putz. i left the bar with my tail between my legs. my ego was battered. my pride was bruised. i was also really horny because she looked all kinds of sexy as she was stealing my money…
i have since been in other bars in the neighborhood which employ asian bartenders and i have been swindled out of shots there as well, so just keep in mind that their customs appear to be much different than the western world’s. it wasn’t a huge deal but when your bar tab is $80 instead of $40 it hurts, especially when half of that is what the bartenders poured for themselves. i never agreed to pay for these goddamn shots is what i wanted to say. i did the next best thing and, once again, whimpered away like a lost puppy. pathetic.
i told myself i would never return to the high tide. i didn’t for a long time. however, i now live in the neighborhood. so, for convenience sake, i occasionally find myself washing up on shore. i am just a little older, a lot wiser and i always masturbate just before i go…
the wool pull factor for the high tide?…………. ‘6′
