http://www.uptake.com/blog/feelin-broke-travel-on-the-cheap/nyc-cheap-vacation_428.html 

stuart

At the Booksmith, 1644 Haight St., San Francisco, CA.  7pm.

Broke-Ass Stuart has been called “an SF cult hero” (SF Bay Guardian blog), “Best Local Writer” (SF Weekly) and “the pimp daddy of budget travel” (Everywhere magazine), but to those familiar with his work, he’s just “that  douchebag who writes books about cheap stuff and drinks a lot”.

Having already penned guides for Lonely Planet, Stuart has now (with the help of Falls Media) turned his self published zine “Broke-Ass Stuart’s Guide to Living Cheaply in San Francisco” into a book of the same name, and is currently finishing up a guide to New York City. 

Come out and bring your friends on August 1st to get your books, boobs, or butts signed and listen to Broke-Ass Stuart read from his SF book.  You’ll also be among the first  to hear him preview excerpts from his upcoming NYC edition.

After the event many drinks will be had at the nearest bar.

• Food
• Sleeping arrangements
• Ground transportation
• A river rafting trip
• Bungy Jumping
• Massage
• Mountain biking
• Spa
• Tours of religious sites
• Canyoning
• And a trip where you bring school supplies to a needy school

 
Sounds dope right? With the Broke-Ass Stuart discount, you get everything mentioned above and more, for $900. The only thing it doesn’t cover is your airfare. Please let me know if you are interested, and I will put you in contact with Jon. Take care.
 
Stuart

http://everywheremag.com/blog/

-Stuart

vile low dirty nasty hetero narcissistic self-aggrandizing ugly inferior overweight squalid disgusting vicious homophobic cunt.
GAY PRIDE WORLDWIDE 365 DAYS A YEAR. TOMORROW BELONGS TO US. NOT BIGOTS LIKE YOU.

 
Hey Todd-

Vile? Not Really. Low? Occasionally. Dirty? More like foul mouthed. Hetero? Can’t help it, I was born that way. Narcissistic? Absolutely. Self-aggrandizing? Yeah, I’m the shit. Ugly? I’ve seen worse. Inferior? To whom? Overweight? I call it a beer belly. Squalid? When left to my own devices, yes. Disgusting? In a charming sort of way. Vicious? Almost never. Homophobic? Come on dude, I’ve got the gayest family in the world. Cunt? Sure, why not?

Honestly Todd, if you’ve read anything I’ve ever written and not picked up on the immense amount of sarcasm and tongue & cheek humor, maybe reading is just not your thing. Seriously man, chill out and laugh a little; the world is a funny place.

-Stuart

Then go vote for me as “Best Writer” in the SF Weekly’s “Best of SF” issue.  It’s really easy, just follow this link: 

http://sfweekly.com/php/polls/san/bestof08/index.php and vote!

If you’d like some more suggestions as to who else deserves your vote, just email me and I will gladly give you some ideas.  Thanks for your support!  

I’m sitting now in my Bushwick apartment coming to terms with the realization that my time here in this strange and brutal city is quickly coming to an end.  I maintain that, no matter how much you love New York, this city fucking hates you.  Don’t take it personally;  this bitch is just badder than you are.  Her game is tighter, her mind is quicker, her swagger is more believable.  She’s not the one who got away, she’s the one you never had a chance of getting, and this is what makes just being near her so exhilarating.  There’s a quote from Thomas Wolfe that goes something like, “One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.”   And I think old Mr. Wolfe was on to something; New York will never be yours, you will always be hers.  She’s got you pussy-whipped and you fucking know it.   

But me, I’m leaving.  Two and half weeks and I’ll be gone.  I’m filling my days (and notebooks) wandering through these streets, getting to know them as well as a one gets to know a lover met on vacation.  I’m getting to know and admire the creases, cracks, and character of these thoroughfares, but I’ll never know what it’s like to be with them forever.  This has just been an affair and I’m heading home to my wife in California, San Francisco; the one who takes the love I give to her and repays it in spades. 

I’m gonna miss this city.  I’m gonna miss the electric fervor of summertime rooftops and the girls who wear next to nothing on the humid and fetid subway.  I’m gonna miss the snow that sneaks in while I’m dreaming and piles itself up on the cars while they sleep in the street.  I’ll miss the little badge of pride that goes along of with saying that I live in Brooklyn, not in Manhattan.  I’ll miss all the beautiful people who have nothing to say, and all the ugly ones who say too much.   

Thank you New York, you’ve been a sweet and charming mistress who deals out pleasure and pain equally the way a blackjack dealer can just as easily give you 21, or make you bust.  I’ll be back, probably sooner than you’d like, but this is it for us kid.  This affair is over.  I want to ask you to never change, to stay just the way you are, so that when I do come back you’ll be just as you are now.  But you and I both know that can’t happen.  At least I’ll have my book, which will let me pin you down to exactly who you were, to me, for the past 10 months.  Just do me one favor after I leave: tell all the developers they can suck my dick.