Bag of Lint, culled by artisans from an authentic "Speed Queen" for over 8 months. Soft and supple, Bag of Lint makes a perfect gift for the collector, looking just fantastic alongside stacks and stacks of newspaper. You will never find lint so fine at a price so reasonable.*
Introducing the Mangroomer, which claims to "opens to a staggering 135-degrees so you can reach all areas of your back from different angles with ease." Guys, I think you know what all this flexibility really means. No more embarrassing trips to the salon for your bi-monthly Boyzilian.
Red Starbucks cups. Visions of shiny red-and-green packaging lining the Walgreen’s candy aisle. Gift baskets filled with shrink-wrapped sausages and $40 pears crowding the office kitchen counters. Oh yes, the holidays have pounced upon us once again. And that means it’s time to break out the plastic and spend, spend, spend! Buy until you can buy no more! Literally! Go for broke! But what to get for everyone??? Well, we wouldn’t be Finders if we couldn’t find the perfect holiday gifts. So that is exactly what we have done. Over the next few weeks we will present you with the ultimate gifts for the holiday season for everyone on your list—and more! 
When you look at this picture you are struck with a natural question: Is her hair standing on end like this because the photographer caught it in movement, at just the moment when it looked like a kooshball-like sea creature, or is this hair A-bomb the handiwork of her hairdresser and her 'do was just like this even when she was standing very still? (Let's not even consider the possibility of it being a wig. Because that is just so not funny.)
Wtf? Nobody told me about this site with all the funny-ass pictures and videos? What do I like better, the magical hat-wearing frog with the most perfect fucking comment, or the Head-On spoof with the Silence of the Lambs reference? Fuck!
If you ever have a kid, you want it to grow up special and unique, like a snowflake. There is no better way to accomplish this than by buying this chair. The first step is learning how to sit in an unconventional way. This opens up all kinds of possibilities of things to do while straddling cheap upholstery, from (apparently) playing video games backwards, to praying to the Lord as part of a kool-aid cult that worships Hasselhoff as Our Savior. The next thing you know you're kid's a little "light in the loafers", as they say, and your corporeal work on this earth is done.
I can't help but compare TV shows when so many are biting off eachother. Man vs. Wild is the new survival show starring Bear Grylls. First of all? What kind of stupid name is that. That's like naming your child Wolfenstein 3d. A quick look at his bio reveals he has a son named Marmaduke. I am not making this up. Not only is his name pretentiously EXTREME, everything about him is too. Case in point: this video of him peeing on his shirt and then wrapping it around his head. You know he thinks he is totally sexy even with a smelly, urine-soaked rag on his head. You know it!
Now let's look at Les Stroud of Survivorman. Unlike Bear Grillz, he is a human being. Instead of army-crawling through rainforests and wrestling boars or whatever, he has different priorities such as water and shelter. Also unlike Bear Grrls, Les does not have a camera crew with him, therefore he could actually be in danger. And even though he has to survive for a week armed with just a leatherman and a harmonica, he still takes the time to set up the camera, walk down a long hill, then walk back up the hill to get the camera. Why? Because Les cares about you and wants to you learn! Meanwhile, Bear Grylls' show isn't about survival. It's about being super manly, and I can't think of anything less manly than watching a TV show about being super manly. Also, he hates you and said stuff about your mom.
I'm like a bear when it comes to sake (fresh salmon) nigiri. Put me upstream and I'll just stand there with my mouth open and a paw ready to stuff it in. Sake nigiri is what I always like to end a sushi session with, from the heady days of Sushi Club (Rule #1 of Sushi Club is you DO NOT talk about Sushi Club. Rule #2 is .. you get the idea) to my new venture, Sashimi Club (Motto: Rice is for Pussies). But I'm announcing there is a new sheriff in Fishtown, and its name is Shiro Maguro. Translates as white tuna but you might know it as albacore. Had it last night and it was like floating on a cloud of heavenly fish. A FISH CLOUD, PEOPLE. I think i might have left my body. Consider youself TROUNCED, salmon... just kidding salmon you know I still love you!!!
If bad hair equaled good music, Badfinger would have been the BEST BAND EVER. It is hard to say which of the four has the worst hair. Maybe it's pinecone head in front. But at least his is bad guy's hair. The three others have girl hair. There's the girl who ran for student council when you were in high school (and lost--big-time) on the left. The weird bus driver who washed her hair with beer to make it all scratchy and puffy on the right. And then your mom in the back. It's incredible that this band was able to produce some great music. But it's clear that after a while their hair started doin' the talkin' and that's when you get songs like "Desperado."
Right as I was buying this I thought, this is the slippery slope, isn't it? This is it, people. But you know what? Sometimes going cheap is OK. Woodbridge is not fancypants. It is not cool. But it doesn't taste like piss either. In fact, it's easy-drinkin'. I don't really need to drink expensive wine at home in front of the TV. Woodbridge is not sophisticated, but neither is my palate. Plus, it's 2X the tipsy for the money. And that's math you can take to the bank!
So you're out with 8 or 12 people for somebody's birthday or some similar occasion. Someone raises a glass to toast the birthday person, a lovely gesture that focuses the attention of the group and sets a festive mood. Then it goes bad. Somewhere along the line Raise, Toast, Clink, Drink has turned into this elaborate mess where everyone feels that they have to touch the glass of everyone else at the table. So what are we talking about here, 72 individual clinks? Sure, you can knock off 5 or 6 in the first cluster, but then the over-under, oh-did-I-get-you, reach across the apps extravaganza begins. And then you got the guy at the end of the table that feels the need to get up and walk over to the opposite end. Throw in the look-into-everyone's-eyes-as-you-drink thing and by the time you're done your beer is warm or the best third of your martini is dripping from your elbow. There must be a better way.
I've identified 16 locations for the shootout. We'll first discover which is the best in its neighborhood, then pit those against eachother for an Eastside/Westside showdown. Finally the last two will battle for the ultimate title: The Best Bánh Mì in San Francisco. Keep watching for Findings on the subject.
Gestalt is a new bar in the Mission, on 16th between Valencia and Guerrero. It advertises Beer, Brats, and Bikes. That's like, say no more. I am there. But to make a long story short, we go check it out and they're kind of jerks to us.
Does your restroom frequently go out of order in exciting and unexpected ways? Does your ventilation system sound like the deck of an aircraft carrier? Does the morning security guy follow you up the elevator to promote his club nights? Does the afternoon guy sing little songs to himself while picking his nose and cradling a king size beer? Is your fire escape door broken, blocked by a ladder and then padlocked to said ladder to ensure your death by burning? Are your elevators nicknamed "Death Box 1" and "Death Box 2"? Do pigeons invade your restroom over the weekend, coating every surface with pigeon shit and feathers? No? Really? Well then, congratulations. Your office building is a palace compared to mine.
There is a special kind of crazy person that is indigenous to San Francisco public transportation. This morning I'm riding the F market which never fails to deliver. This dude is wearing BOTH tie-dye and camouflage, which is a look that tells people you're both militant and a softie. I wish I could have gotten a picture of his face but he's not the kind of guy you want catching you take a photo of him. He looks kind of like Henry Rollins if Henry Rollins was dead drunk at 8 in the morning and his face was a ball of hamburger meat.Henry: You seen Paul around?Wow! I could wrap that up and sell it at Tiffany's.
Woman (bristling): No, he died.
Henry (incredulous): He DIED?
Woman: He died.
Henry: What about Larry, Moe, and them?
Woman (getting pissed): Look, I DON'T wanna talk about it with you.
Henry: I'm just askin', cause, those guys got pretty violent with me.
Woman: That's because you're UGLY.
Henry: Yeah.
Woman: You got an UGLY disposition.
Henry (agreeing): I'm bad, I'm bad.
Woman (suddenly getting off the bus): You are.
He has had it three times this week alone. The ladies at the pho place love him and allow him to refill his own tea. He eats the basil stalk and all. I guarantee with money you cannot finish a giant bowl of pho ga with this much freaking GUSTO. His glasses are so steamy, he can't see, but he don't care. He loves him some pho.
You always have this running monologue in your head. It goes something like this: oh if i go to the gym and work out that will be great i think maybe pilates today and then some cardio and stretching oh wait are you going for a drink maybe just one and then okay one cigarette and one pizza. fries too, yeah that would be great. well if everyone is staying for another one I might as well. sweet. The next morning at work, your throat hurts from smoking, drinking beers innumerable, and shouting at the top of your lungs, even though it was dead quiet in the alley you were getting wasted in and you're like, I am a total dumbass. Wouldn't it be better to just embrace your demons? Know thyself, I say.
This was the scene this afternoon, when local schoolchildren came upon the remains of what appeared to be several hundred candy wrappers in Lauren Smith's office trashcan. Upon further investigation, witnesses said the pair ate candy after candy until their eyes rolled back into their heads. They then were heard to gasp, "the gym..." while their body tissue was replaced with caramel, nougat, and "mounds". Police are searching for this man in connection with the events:
Trolling for bargain furniture today on Craig's List, I stumbled over this perfectly hideous eyesore. So I was all, "what up, ugly ass? You so ugly, when you entered the ugly contest, they said 'sorry, no professionals!'" But then the couch said all these mean things that made me feel pretty bad about myself and ponder the futility of life.
In Reykjavik, Danger J and I met two Icelandic guys named Vikingskur and Davide. Davide was drinking a White Russian and we started quoting from the Big Lebowski, their favorite movie of all time. Vikingskur said, "You are blowing my mind right now." And that's how we partied with the locals until half-blind from drinking and laughing all night. Good times, good times.
Sure, it's Halloween. Sure, the 364 other days of the year you're at the bottom of hippie hill, PLUR-ing your brains out. But this is your night to shine. You're going to set up camp right outside my fucking flat and drum into the night.
