It’s hard not to get into beer living in San Diego. It seems like a new brewery opens up weekly. And far be it from me to not check out every single place to make sure their brew is top-notch. It’s not uncommon to be out and about with K on a beautiful San Diego Saturday and decide, “Shit. We better check out that new brewery in Mira Mesa before it gets packed out.” So what was a hectic day fighting crowds off at Fashion Valley because, “We needed something and only the mall has it UGH!” becomes an awesome day of trying new beers and a whole lot of smiles. There are two truths when it comes to breweries and craft beer hangouts in San Diego:
- It’s impossible to be unhappy while drinking good, local beer at the place it’s brewed.
- Only assholes get drunk on good, local beer at the place it’s brewed.
That said, aside from the beer itself, I have come to really love the logos of all these awesome breweries in San Diego. Here are a few of my fave.
Adding “High Performance” to a product name is somewhat the equivalent of adding “Quality” or “Luxury” to the name of an apartment building. It’s usually useless and pretty much indicates that this is a place that was once luxurious or desired in the 70s, but gentrification has not happened to the building and it’s full of cats and meth heads…
Hell yes. Fall is basically here. It’s probably already fallen in some other places across the country, but here in San Diego, it’s still a billion degrees and this heat wave is showing only slight signs of dissipating. Still, there’s something to be said of Fall looks and donning them when the proverbial weather gets cooler here. With that said, here’s a few items I am stoked on this Fall. Granted, putting this entire outfit together will set you back a great deal $$-wise, but pick and choosing a few pieces never hurt anyone right? Treat yourself to some new gear this Autumn with the Momentum’s little Fall guide to what’s good.
I was reading the latest Esquire recently and there was a snippet in their, “How to Dress Like a Man” section, or some reasonable facsimile, that said something along the lines of, Totes are the new backpacks and backpacks are the new fannypacks. (It might have been longer, but I don’t have the issue in front me of.) Anyway, it struck me as odd given all bags and packs serve quite different functions. But I see the point I think they were trying to make This is probably more urbane-centric, highlighting that a stereotypical “professional” man prefers the classic look of a tote or briefcase versus the bulky backpack that causes back sweat wrinkled shirts. So, hey, leave it to Topo Designs to just go ahead and combine the two via their new Backpack Tote.
“There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning.”
Living in the land of perpetual sunshine and positive vibes is a thing of beauty. The days are long, the surf is usually always up, the girls are pretty, the dudes are cool, the tacos are aces, and the rays are constantly tanning skin a nice olive hue. Given this, the call for sunglasses is quite great. And there’s no shortage of companies churning out shades here in SD, or anywhere else for that matter. But you have to have a “thing” nowadays. Something to set yourself apart. Anyone can knock out another pair of Wayfarer-style eyewear. No problem. And for beach days, a cheap pair of shades can be ideal, given sand can be a lense’s worst enemy.
I remember my first fixie. It was a blue Motobecane I bought off, hell I don’t even remember now, while I was living in NYC. This huge fucking box got delivered to my office in Soho (watch your feet), and of course everyone in the office was all, “WHOA BRO WHATCHA GET OPEN IT NOW YEAH!” I peeped in the box, checked out the shiny blue frame and promptly sealed that thing back up. I was still somewhat new to NYC so I didn’t want to be that asshole on the train hauling this huge box. No, instead I lugged the box with the bike inside, from Grand and Broadway in SoHo, across the Williamsburg Bridge, through through Williamsburg, up to Greenpoint, and into my third floor apartment at Manhattan and Green. (Pretty sure I hit up the Mark Bar for like 45 $2 PBRs and all the free popcorn I could handle after that.) I remember sweat, too. Lots of sweat. It was awesome. Continue Reading
I came across Muttonhead awhile back when I was first trying to find cool shit for CampWell. Granted, I never got their products on the shelves, I still became an instant fan. Muttonhead, forwhateverreason, is doing something, IMHO, super likable. I can’t quite put my finger on it. But it’s like when you find a favorite restaurant, ya know? And it’s not super concrete why you like this places enchiladas more than anywhere else. They aren’t revolutionary, but they are classic and super fucking tasty. Maybe it’s the red sauce or how they dice the onions. Whoa… mind trap of mexican food (now I’m hungry). Continue Reading
Sitting around a campfire, drinking beer and whiskey, cooking up brats, and trying to avoid the smoke that seems to only follow me is probably one of my favorite past times. I remember being 16 years old and driving my 1990 Toyota Camry to Stanza Lake is Sedalia, CO, without packing a damn thing, and doing almost exactly that. Yeah, yeah I was a little under the drinking age, but I was in nature, and I wasn’t hurting anyone. Except myself of course, because I forgot to bring anything except my sweatshirt. I woke up in the back of my car at about 2AM with blue lips and spasming like crazy. I was freezing. Luckily, a friend noticed and got a sleeping bag on me right quick so I wouldn’t, ya know, die out there.
I’ve never been to Cuba. I had a friend once living in Guatemala that said, “Come down here, then we’ll fly across to Cuba so you can avoid any interference from the US Government.” I almost did it, but alas, my toes have never dug into Cuban dirt. I had a lawyer friend at the time that strongly urged me to not see this idea through. But, dammit, the allure of the largest island in the Caribbean remains. It doesn’thelp that i have this slightly warped vision of what Cuba is like: Stuck in the past, killer old cars driving around everywhere, the sounds of flamenco and Buena Vista Social Club just coming from everywhere… (I can be idealistic, right? Or is this just ignorance?)