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Before the invention of WhatsApp and underutilized fish, San Francisco was an obscure gay hamlet, notable mostly for its colorful characters and sourdough bread. The advent of high-concept eateries with in-house foragers and on-site barrel-aged drinks had not yet begun, so the village residents were still quite dull and basically ate whatever shit was put in front of them. Apparently, there were fewer colon-cancer deaths as well as assholes.

Then one day, something extraordinary happened: a Shelf.com was born. And soon throngs of war-worn Wall Street grizzlers and unique and special Millennials, armed with tightly coiffed, totalitarian lacquered haircuts and…


Many of us in San Francisco are transplants from more suburban locales, with childhood memories that include summer nights at the local drive-in, ice cream pit stops and glimpses of the Big Dipper in our backyards.

And while urbanites can still enjoy these simple pleasures, where might one go to stargaze besides on a roof? Don’t fret — San Francisco and the surrounding Bay Area are home to a variety of places to experience all-star constellations (and even to discover a few new ones).

A word to the wise: try to take full advantage when Karl the Fog is out…


A couple of years ago, my husband and I were at a bar with some friends we hadn’t seen in a while, when one of them turned to us and asked, “So what’s it like to be married?” We both glanced at each other, a bit bewildered. “We’re not aliens,” I said laughingly. We may as well have been. Apparently, being married in San Francisco is like being a hipster without Warby Parkers. It just doesn’t exist. …


I am writing this on breaks between bathroom visits.

Having an iron stomach (a lifelong claim that I have now rescinded), I thought it would be funny to find five of the worst-rated Yelp restaurants to see if the outspoken people of the Internet were fair in their judgments. For those unfamiliar with Yelp (is anyone in SF unfamiliar with Yelp?!), it’s a website/app that lets diners and patrons rate and comment on the quality of the businesses they visit. …


When California wine is mentioned, it’s natural to immediately think of Napa and Sonoma. But these household names aren’t the only areas in the state burgeoning with vines. California is snaked over with grapes that wind through hidden valleys and Sierra cliffsides. The dry-sounding initialism AVA — or American Viticultural Area — refers to a designated wine-growing region, meaning both the vineyards and their geographical vicinity. There are dozens of these underdog wine-growing regions in parts of California that produce wine that very few people know about. …


Five years ago, the office lunch scene was very different. Employees navigated through processed, unexciting food from a fast-casual joint or else were members of the brown-bag crew, hastily packing sandwiches or leftover Thai food to reheat in the break-room microwave.

Fast-forward to today, and the office lunch scene looks very different. Large cafeterias with global menus, healthy snacks and kombucha on tap are the norm rather than the exception. Companies proudly tout their culinary offerings, while friends make excuses to drop in to other offices to see for themselves what the fuss is about. …


Brittany Maynard accomplished more in one year than most do in one lifetime. She wasn’t a celebrity. She wasn’t an innovator. She was a schoolteacher who faced an unrelenting brain tumor. She jumped through Olympic-like hurdles to battle it, and she wanted to make life easier for others in her situation. Now, within a year of her death, and with the steadfast dedication and efforts of her husband, his family, her mother and others, California governor Jerry Brown signed the End of Life Option Act into California legislation. …


Greetings from the emergency room, where I just arrived after ending a first date early. My date’s dad is a doctor, and after I showed up with a mysterious lump in my neck, (moments after meeting him, I asked him to touch it for a potential diagnosis), he recommended that I go to the hospital.

I’d never left a date to go to the ER (but I’ve thought about trying to get out of a date with that excuse), and this quick exit luckily marked the end of a week of marathon dating.

I’d gone on exactly one online date…

The Bold Italic

Celebrating the free-wheeling spirit of the Bay Area — one sentence at a time.

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