i shoulda made this picture bigger, but i didnt wanna make people hungry.
my favorite burrito place is closing
the LA Times said so yesterday in a feature so big it’s gotta get prominence in the Food section on Saturday or my name isn’t HR Puffnstuff.
the writer did a good job on talking to the owners and getting some good stories out of them but she didn’t say much about the neighborhood, the food, the vibe, the movie that was shot there or what it was like pre-pandemic.
it was a wild mix of every culture, sexual background, type of fashion, and level of sobriety. it is exactly what you’d want in a spacious big city taqueria where the prices are reasonable and sometimes the food is outstanding.
anyway i was working on one thing, trying to get another thing done before today, and worrying about a third thing when i read about this and i spent the rest of the night working on it.
shout out to Apple Photos who lets you search things by where they are on the map. I have over ten years of pictures from that place.
something i left out of the piece but maybe i should toss in there but nah is this
sometimes i would take dates there to see how they reacted. it’s a divey joint. freaky at times. despite the signs, occasionally shit goes down there. it’s nice to know who you’re dealing with and a place like that will elicit responses, let me tell you.
but ultimately the food wins you over every time.
LA has maybe 10 million taco joints. but losing this one hurts.
heres the hard thing about blogging: keeping it real.
we live in polite society.
we also live among humans and humans love gossip.
so on your blog you can either have no friends no job no life and 100% keep it real on your amazing blog and be perez hilton – and noone wants that
or you can say nothing in heres true but still withhold like 99% of your life
or you can somehow tip toe around everything and attempt to make general stories that could apply to anyone. but seriously how many of us are the Brothers Grimm?
so when your blog cms changes and you cannot revert back safely, you feel as though you were already floating in space, but now you have been detached from the space ship.
its just you and your suit against the world. and you may stop breathing soon.
which is exactly what they want you to think.
the agency thought i could do something last minute on a saturday right before i was supposed to be jetting to the airport
and i was all, double, they were all, forget it. i was like syanarya. they were all thats not even how you spell it.
because i am toooooo nice for my own good i did it and got the greatest uber driver to take me to the airport andelay. super cool. i asked him where he is from he said, i am from mexico my friend. i said where?
and listen to this he told me he was nervous about trump. i said hes not gonna win. he said but im nervous and heres what im thinking, so he deports us. good. maybe thats the best thing to make mexico strong. maybe the mexicans like me in the US work hard. maybe we are smarter. maybe we have learned english. maybe we have learned skills here. maybe if we bring it all back to mexico in large amounts. maybe we can kick out the criminals who run so many things in mexico and maybe we can make it a great country. a strong country.
i said, a better version of canada?
he said, our food and weather are already better.
and then we talked about tacos for the rest of the ride. being from Michoacán he was all about the carnitas. i was all, how long have you been in LA? he said, 12 years. i was all wheres the best carnitas in LA? he said, in my belly, thanks to my wife.
mark johnson has been crashing with me. today he wanted breakfast, so i called up emilo and said we’ll be in DTLA in 25 minutes. we all met and went over to Cliftons which has great breakfast and who knew it, a jazz band. dude played flute, clarinet, sax. really good jazz too. then we wanted a beer to wash it all down so we went to the former LA Brewing Co. which is now Beirgarten LA. and who do we run into, Mr. Ben Sullivan and his fiancee and her amigos.
as Dov would say, “that’s Los Angeles.”
why? well because all they have in vancouver is professional softball and semi-pro ping pong
and lord knows they dont have Super Dodger Dogs
thanks to a fascinating dude who went to camp with Rebecca, we got incredible lower level seats (for free) that were perfectly situated in the shade and yet pretty much right behind home plate
the dude is named Preston and he travels around the nation where he creates art based on baseball stadiums. he also draws Disney princesses sporting the baseball jerseys of the park he’s at. he tweets where he is sitting and his fans come running to collect free art.
it was a hot day on Saturday so we walked around the park to take in the sights. it was Keira’s first MLB game.
it was also my first Dodger game of the year, so when we bought beers i was so shocked that it cost $17 a beer that it didn’t sink in until yesterday that the Dodgers were gouging their fans that horribly.
$17 is more than i pay for a half a tank of gasoline.
how is one beer equal to half a tank of gas?
Magic Johnson and the Dodgers should be ashamed.
to protest we drove over to Echo Park and drank MexiCokes and ate real tacos
then we went to Mohawk Bend and drank actual beers
and then we went to Tony’s Bar in DTLA and ate actual pizza next door.
along the way we even picked up Emilio Reyes (not pictured) and had a delicious brunch.
everyone went to Disneyland yesterday. today and tomorrow expect to see some pool party action.
and i saw my old boss signalling me from the salsa station.
my old fbi boss.
i excused myself and met him in the men’s room.
“long time, agent.”
“not that long, really, seems like yesterday.” i said.
“hows the xbi treating you?”
“ok, well, whatever. tony we want you back.”
“we miss you and we need you.”
“you cant afford me.”
“what, are you suddenly materialist? has the xbi spoiled you?”
“it’s not money that i want.”
“figured as much, what do you want then?”
my old boss wasn’t much of a negotiator, especially with me. all he would ever say is “no.”
“i want my old flying car back and i want to be a superagent, and i want my old territory back.”
“sorry kid, no can do. santa monica is taken.”
“yeah, i know, by your son-in-law. is he still in the hospital?”
“hal is back, he’s fine, thank you.”
“well, those are my terms, my fish tacos are getting cold.”
someone knocked on the door, my boss yelled, “one sec, buddy.” then he said, “we could get you your car.”
“and i want to pick my partner,” i added.
“next you’ll be telling me that you want to pick your boss.”
“get me santa monica back, and let me pick my partner and i’ll be happy with you as my boss.”
“boy, that’s a change.”
my boss always liked to get close to me and whisper in my ear. that never sat well with me, but i understood his motives.
he said, “i’ll see what i can do, agent. but your partner has to be someone from the bureau. none of those xbi hoodlums.”
i washed my hands with hot water and soap. my boss looked at his male pattern baldness and primped. i dried off with the papertowels and threw all but one in the trash and used the remaining towel to protect my soon-to-be fishy fingers and opened the door.
like a gentleman i allowed my boss to exit first.
he said thank you and as he passed, i attached a bug to the collar of his suit coat.