Thursday, December 29, 2005

Locals Say Elm.


People, I just took "my" (read: Mom & Dad's) car on a spin down the coast in order to watch the sunset here, which was amazing. I stopped off of the newly re-named Carlsbad Village Drive (used to be called Elm, and most of us still do refer to it that way) at the fabulous Alejandro's for 3 rolled tacos with guacamole and cheese. I doused them in their homemade hot sauce, watched the waves, and blared David Bowie's "Sound & Vision" while parked at Tamarack (one of the many gorgeous state beaches within a minute of the folks' house). This is due to the fact that I found the box set of Bowie my Dad gave me when I was 15, when The Thin White Duke announced he was "retiring" (this was also when the Who and the Rolling Stones did their first rounds of farewell concerts way back when).

All in all, it was like being back in high school, except I wasn't ditching 6th period, tanned, wearing grey calf-high Ugg boots, my Dad's Levi's 501s that I made into cutoffs and a Beatles t-shirt over my purple string bikini. Oh, or prepping to neck with my 6'4" Mormon surfer boyfriend, who was, if I do say so myself, hot like fire. He sure was easy on the eyes. And the puss. Ah, thank you. Oh, Mom quit crying.

6 comments:

2na said...

Tacos - yes please

Brandy For Sale. said...

Rolled! Perfectly! Fried cylinders of shredded beef! They are so fuckin' magical, Ang. And not the kind of "magical" where you give me a face rake, either.

2na said...

oh my I forgot about the face rake... that was a new move for me... it is a sign I actually care... I think I will do this to my children when they act a roottie toot tootie kazootie when there is no choke hold or earring stabbing being threatened I must really really care

saraisloco said...

Yeah but how does Mike Burns feel about tacos?

Liam said...

Who's taking care of your cat, or did you get rid of it already?

Andy Borowitz at Lolita Bar January 16th, be there or be square!

Brandy For Sale. said...

McEneaney! How dare you try to roll a plug into a bribe for me to come stare at the Fresh Jew of Bel Air a.k.a. my future husband?!?

My cat's name is Nigel, ya jerk. And he is being cared for by one of my many scantily clad man-servants, the army of whom I have outfitted in tiger-strip-ed loin cloths. And a fuckload of Drakkar Noir.