The 55th annual Monterey Jazz Festival runs from September 21 to 23, with a terrifically varied roster of mainstage performers, from soignée chanteuse Melody Gardot, to iconic figures including Tony Bennett and Bill Frisell, to the Agenda’s pick for the most entertaining contemporary jazz musician on the touring circuit, Trombone Shorty. Over 500 artists will perform on 8 stages throughout the weekend-long event

On Thursday the 20th, the night prior to the festival opening, Jack DeJohnette will be honored at the non-profit festival’s fundraising Jazz Legends Gala. The evening’s host will be the Invisible Chair Whisperer himself, former Carmel mayor Clint Eastwood. The gala festivities will take place at the Hyatt Regency Monterey, home to one of SF Agenda’s favorite Bay Area escapes, the Accista Spa.

The deluxe couples’ suite at the Accista Spa in Monterey

If you like to feel jazz hands all over your bod, its well worth taking a break from the weekend’s concerts to treat yourself to a customized Accista massage. You’ll be asked to sample four different scents—from an almost medicinal herbal blend to a warm, sunny citrus—and select an aroma that matches your mood and the tone of the treatment you’d like to receive.

The spa’s most extraordinary offerings are its lavish couples suites, with private sitting areas, fireplaces, side-by-side massage tables, wine and cheese service available, and—in the largest suite—a hydrotherapy tub with room for two. Even if you don’t reserve a suite of your own, Accista’s hushed, sprawling post-therapy relaxation areas are arrayed with comfortable daybeds, encouraging dreamy naps to extend the spa experience (If you look drowsy, an attendant will likely offer you a soft blanket to snuggle up in, you little jazz kitten, you.)

Wake up! There’s a fierce Trombone Shorty video after the jump! Read more…

I’ve never been the sporting sort, but your SF Agenda editor must admit that he’s taken a fancy to the occasional round of disc golf on the impressive free course in Golden Gate Park.

I used to say that the only golf course you’d find me on was the kind with a windmill and an 18th Hole clown face eager to swallow your balls. Now, while I cannot vouch for any ball swallowage, I can say that you’re likely to find some of the friendliest, most laid-back scruffy hipster dudes hanging out at the disc golf tees waiting to whiz their plastic platters at the chain basket targets placed throughout a stretch of heavily wooded terrain. They often bring refreshments—quaffable and smokeable—as should you. And bring enough to share. It helps take the competitive edge off of a sportsman’s afternoon, turning it into quite a nice, casual social event where you’ll find yourself chatting with folks you might otherwise never cross paths with.

Now, don’t be mistaken. To many, this is a serious sport as well as a pastime, but there’s a leisurely collegiality to the scene that makes it feel entirely reasonable for the spazzes of the world (yours truly) to seek some more expert advice on throwing skills from the more advanced players.

One preparatory note: While disc golf doesn’t require greens fees or caddy tips, you ought to have a minimal amount of proper equipment. Large Frisbees of the sort you might throw on the beach don’t offer the kind of control you need here, so pick up a basic mid-range golf disc, available for $10 or less.

Earlier this week, we introduced you to the year’s greatest gift idea: mink penis bones.

In the future, they may be harder to acquire if minks take up after their fellow woodland creatures and begin wearing protective apparel, such as these sweet tighty whities we came across at an outpost of Therapy, the groovy seven store Bay Area mini-chain.

Next year, opossum thongs!

Which reminded us…the biggest SF skivvie disco of the summer is next weekend’s Underworld, on Saturday night at 525 Harrison Street. As Daniel Day Lewis once said: There will be nuts.

Larger animals may want to do their partying over at the Rickshaw Stop on Fell Street, where Bearracuda will take over for the evening.

Squirrels, otters, and the occasional wombat partied at last Labor Day’s Underworld. (Photo: Marques Daniels Photography)

Before you scurry along to seek more nutritious internet fare, please enjoy the official Squirrel Underpants video, after the jump. Read more…

Two things you’re pretty much guaranteed to spot on an afternoon stroll through the Castro: gay fathers with kids in tow, and gay boutiques displaying novelty t-shirts that should never be worn around the little ones.

What self-respecting gay father wants to provoke questions like “Papa, what does  ’It’s Not Going to Suck Itself’ mean?”  or “Daddy, what’s a ‘Three Beer Queer’”?

Designer and daughter

Enter East Bay graphic designer and stay-at-home father of two Josh Beatty, whose new line of 24-7 Baby-Daddy tees, offers a more child-appropriate approach to gag shirts  (‘No Gag Reflex’ is not amongst this collection). Beatty says his shirts are for all the men who are shrugging off Mr. Mom stigmas, “from the 24-7 Baby Daddy that has just discovered he can fall in love with a baby, to the 24-7 Big Kid Daddy who’s running around and playing almost as much as his active squirts.” (There may be a crossover shirt that somehow incorporates the words “active squirts”).

24-7 Baby Daddy is offering a 15% online discount to San Francisco Agenda readers—just enter GLADDADDY15 at check-out.

When the Drifters sang “Up On The Roof,” they surely weren’t imagining a scene as luxurious as the one you’ll find atop the Hotel Vitale. Along with a series of interconnected, astro-turfed decks that allow you to take a slightly disconcerting stroll above the Embarcadero, the Vitale’s in-house spa offers a signature rooftop “Bathing Ritual”. It’s a one-of-a-kind urban indulgence that leaves you feeling utterly relaxed and gloriously spoiled.

Step off of the Financial District into the serene, earthtoned environs of the Vitale (Chosen as one of the World’s Best Business Hotels by Passport in 2010) and ascend to the penthouse level. After changing into one of the spa’s incredibly comfy robes (Yes, all spas seem to have comfy robes…but these are actually worth mentioning), you’ll be escorted to one of two outdoor tubs surrounded by natural privacy walls of tall green bamboo.

Slip out of the office and sink into a tub atop the Hotel Vitale.

While set within raised wooden structures, these are hardly hippie-style Northern California hot tubs, but full length polymer bathtubs, scrupulously cleaned and refilled for each guest. Its a strange, soothing feeling to stretch out in a lotion-infused outdoor bath in the midst of the city, nibbling your tubside snack of fresh fruit and sipping a warm cup of herbal tea. The Vitale’s carefully curated soundtrack burbles from surrounding speakers, muffling the street sounds down below to help create an oasis of solitude as you stare up at  shifting clouds and drifting seagulls, letting the cares of the day slip away.

Before or after your soak, put yourself in the strong hands—and forearms, and elbows—of Kyle Woolley, or one of Spa Vitale’s other licensed massage therapists,  for one of San Francisco’s secret spa bargains. In a city where hotel spa massages generally run $120 and up, 50 minutes at the Vitale are $105 (and 10% less on weekdays before 3 p.m.).

The Bay Club provides an escape from the office from early morning to late at night

Alas, the San Francisco Agenda’s restaurant coverage doesn’t only show up online.  It also shows up on my waistline.

Which led me to visit Bay Club San Franciso, one of the city’s swankiest gyms.

Frankly, “gym” doesn’t cut it. With five squash courts, 11,000 square feet of yoga and pilates studios, two indoor pools, a full-size basketball court, and a relentless schedule of group exercise classes, this sprawling, light-filled facility at Greenwich and Sansome near Levis Plaza is a daily vacation of sorts for many of its members, who avail themselves of the club’s free shuttle services that zip Financial District workers to and from the club on a regular loop that runs from 6:15 am to 8:45 pm.

If you bus over to the Bay Club for a work break, you may find it suits you to spend the rest of the day here. The enormous locker lounges offer sitting areas with plasma televisions running stock tickers and sportscasts, and there are quiet, glassed-in cubicles where you can plug in a laptop and get some work done between laps in the pool and shvitzes in the steam room. The spacious café has soundproof glass walls overlooking the squash courts where you can enjoy a light meal. And with wifi that flows as freely as the sweat here, you may find the Bay Club more conducive to accomplishment than your office space. Watching the constant parade of ruddy post-exercisers certainly provides far more inspiration to work out than the jellybean jar on your receptionist’s desk.

Pilates and yoga are offered one-on-one, and in group classes

Once you’ve succeeded at knocking out both your work and your workout, reward yourself with a treatment at the club’s full-service Sanctuary Spa. Spa services are also available to the general public…and if you get a facial or massage, you get full access to the Bay Club’s facilities all day.

Our Bay Area neighbor, Berkeley-based Cleis Press, is a leading publisher of GLBT erotica. And now they’ve come up with a new series that’s dedicated to the best in aural sex.

The image you associate with the phrase “in one ear and out the other” will never be the same after you check out the new audiobook versions of Cleis’ annual Best Gay Erotica and Best Gay Romance anthologies.

Drake Stone—whose name suggests porn stardom as much as audiobook narration—will seduce listeners with his warm, flexible baritone that easily transitions from cocky fratboy to middle-aged-man in love in stories that run the gamut from walk-on-the-beach mushy to locker room grungy.

Erotic anthologies used to be referred to as “one-handed” reading material.  Cleis has just moved them into  “Look Ma, no hands!” territory.

On second thought, let’s just leave Ma out of it.

Tickle your eardrums with an outrageous audio excerpt here.  And get a full list of Cleis’ audio erotica here.

Blue me!

Full disclosure:  This week’s San Francisco Agenda is being remotely blogged from one of the world’s other great coastal metropolises, Rio de Janeiro. As I wrapped up business at home last week, I wanted to prepare myself for the boys from Ipanema. While a Brazilian waxing was definitely not in the cards, I asked the cheerful crew at Castro Nail Salon go to town on my toes. I’m gonna look sandalicious on the beach with these blue chrome cuticles, no?

Even when I have no big holiday on the horizon, a session at the Castro Nail Salon makes for a great mini-getaway—or a vacation within your vacation if you’re in SF as a tourist. If you can finagle a midday break during the work week, CNS offers a terrific special: manicure and pedicure for $29. And this is no rush job—you get a good hour in the vibrating massage chair, sipping on a complimentary glass of white wine (or iced green tea, but what the heck, midday drinking can be as therapeutic as blowing off work to get one’s nails done). On Sundays, mimosas flow freely.

Last Thursday afternoon, I had my nails Smurfified amidst a gaggle of sexy servers from A16, a shmancy Italian eatery in the Marina District—they were having a polish party to celebrate one of their birthdays. They gossiped about a French model named Florian who was dating one of their roommates and was alleged to have what is referred to in Paris  as un grand bite. The young lady in the chair next to me massaged my shoulder in empathy after my left foot went into paroxysms of cramping while stuck in the toaster-oveny contraption where my digits were drying.

I set out into the evening with nothing but new flip-flops on my mind. I still had another day of work ahead, but it felt as if my vacation was already underway. At the Toe-pa, Toe-pa-cabana…