It's that time of year when we can get away with saying cliché shit like, "Geez, has it really been a year already?"

But, honestly, has it really been a year already?

This year was pretty great to San Francisco. In 2012, we were ranked America's Best City (take that, San Diego, aka America's Finest City, which, to be fair, you are pretty fine). Woody Allen made a movie in our hood. Twitter didn't break up with us. We learned that an avocado was a fruit. (Just me? Just me.)

As you head into the new year, here's a list of all of that 2012 stuff that happened to San Francisco. Just read it and imagine everything in slow motion. Or, when all else fails, play some Explosions in the Sky in the background. (Trust me. Game changer.)

Without further adieu, here's a little bit of 2012 in the city.


The San Francisco Giants won the World Series.

Did you hear anything about that? It was the greatest moment ever, besides the part where everyone lit everything in San Francisco on fire afterwards. Hey, guys: stop doing that. When you win Monopoly, do you go outside and break your car? No, you don't, because it’s a board game that doesn’t have much to do with your vehicle. Next time we win the World Series, just mumble "Monopoly" to yourself. So, you know. Next year.


Businessweek ranked San Francisco America's Best City.

If anyone told you about this (most likely on Twitter or Facebook), it was presumably the first time they had ever read Businessweek in their entire lives. It was like people all of a sudden loving broccoli because broccoli said you looked like you'd been working out. (Thanks, though, Businessweek, we're totally going to read you now. At least until 2013, because we swear to God, if you f*%king pick New York …)

Girls broke up. This time, not with you. (Well, actually they did, sorta.)

SF's favorite "you know they're from here, like, they live in the Mission, right?" band Girls called it quits. Fittingly, they did it over Twitter, because, you know, San Francisco. We were all pretty bummed out, until, like every other breakup, our parents told us that we'd meet plenty of other Girls and we'd be friends with them again someday (when they meet and perform with someone new, which Christopher Owens is already doing).

To make up for it, we saw the rise of a new "you know they're from here, like, they live in SF, right?" band Geographer. And their 2012 album Myth was voted "The Bee's Knees" by Drew Hoolhorst this year.


Twitter didn't break up with us, though.

When other tech companies were threatening to quit us, San Francisco begged Twitter to give the relationship a chance. Bless their hearts, Twitter stayed in SF and moved to mid-Market to try to revitalize the "AHHH DON'T GET STABBED" area, or at least make it a place where you could tweet "AHHH I JUST GOT STABBED" and get a pretty quick retweet or two. To be fair, Twitter got insane tax breaks, so it was essentially like your girlfriend trying to break up with you and you countering that you'd pay the rent. And, you know, her taxes.


Where's Woody?

Woody Allen, everyone's favorite neurotic Jew filmmaker, made a movie in SF over the summer that's probably going to be really good because, you know, Woody Allen. What was more amazing was the Where's Waldo-like fever pitch it turned into on Twitter. People took pictures of anyone wearing high-waisted pants and a hat and started a commotion (which, by the way, is a great word that we should all use more often).





We got a double rainbow.

Sure, this probably happens a lot or whatever. But did you see it – there were two rainbows, guys. But what does it meeeannn?

Facebook bought Instagram for one billion dollars.

And everyone was really pissed that they didn't listen to that guy named Kevin at the party they were at a few years ago when he was like, "Yeah, I'm just gonna put filters on pictures. If you want a job, we're hiring!" Instead we went to work at Zynga. ZING! (a?) (Get it?)



We saw the rise of cars with pink mustaches on them.

This has to be the year of small, opportunistic David tech companies scaring the shit out of the Goliath taxi cab industry and Municipal Transportation Agency. We couldn't get a cab, so we started making our own, and so far SF has been like, "FUCK THAT, THAT'S SMART AND CONVENIENT. WE'RE GOING TO MAKE UP THINGS THAT SAY THAT THIS IS ILLEGAL." Hey, here's an idea, SF: MAKE A GODDAMN BUS THAT COMES ON TIME, OR DEPLOY MORE THAN 4.2 TAXI CABS. Thank you and good day.


Guys. The San Francisco Giants won the MOTHERF*%KING World Series.

I MEAN. Right?


Rent started averaging around one billion trillion dollars. Which was nice.

It's never been cheap to live in San Francisco. If you live here, there's no doubt you rationalize the fact that your bedroom is actually just a broom closet because you live near exotic ice creams. However, it officially got real this year when San Francisco became the most expensive place to live in America. According to a report released by the Low Income Housing Coalition (as seen in The Huffington Post), the average rent on a two-bedroom property in the city is $1,905 per month. The report found that someone would need to make at least $76,000 a year to be able to afford rent without spending over one-third of his or her income for their apartment. If you're clinically depressed after reading that statement … um … exotic ice creams?

Ross Mirkarimi went from "Hooray!" to Chris Brown in about five days flat.

Five days after being sworn in as sheriff of the County of San Francisco, Ross Mirkarimi was charged with domestic violence battery, child endangerment, and dissuading a witness, which was in no way concerning. You know, because these are all of the things you'd like your sheriff to be arrested for.


In one insane weekend, SF hosted Fleet Week, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, a San Francisco Giants (ahhhHhHhh WHO WON THE WORLD SERIES, GUYS) playoff game, and a Niners home game.

It was like the biggest bro head explosion ever. So, yes, 50% of my head exploded.

You know what? I'm an asshole: It was everything everyone loves about this place.


Pinterest sort of officially became a "thing."

And half of us still have no f*%king clue how to use it, because we're not passive aggressively planning a wedding or desperately seeking out every DIY craft, ever.


We all have to officially put our pants on.

SF officially passed a public nudity ban. If it's anything like the "Hey bums, don't smoke crack" ban, I'm pretty sure it's gonna be easy to get around this one.

Happy New Year, San Francisco. Hopefully I'll run into you in 2013.

Wait, but seriously, is anyone going out tonight?