Monday, March 21, 2005 :::
the anarchist hippie and I went out for tacos this afternoon.
and it was ~great~ fun.
the anarchist hippie messaged me as soon as my status went from *asleep* to "I'm at home. the door's open 'till I fall asleep. feel free to come by." asking if I'm at home (I laughed) and then disconnected.
he was in my living room when I got out of the shower.
we decide to go out for tacos, since he loves tacos... and I chose rosita's, since he'd never been there.
we proceed to drive all the way down 4th st to Ave A, then hang a right... and I've never tried to get to rosita's this way... so I'm not sure if it'll work... or if they're even open...
we see a train stretched across the street, and I'm thinking I should've gone down 19th or 34th instead of 4th, but then we noticed it's on a bridge so we keep going.
a few blocks later there's a semi unloading at some building, but he's stretched across half the street. we get in the suicide lane to drive around him... and there are 2 sheriffs just cruising around along w/ us.
finally we find the place.
when we walked in, there's this mirror behind the register... and the anarchist hippie said, "tina there's this chick that looks just like you, and that d00d's got my tshirt!" I call him a tool and we go sit down.
when we got served our chips and salsa I asked our waitress about the seasoning... and she went into detail when she was telling me about it.
then when she brought us our tacos I said, "TACOS!!!!" kinda louder than I had intended...
I made a complete mess of eating my tacos. the anarchist hippie was giving me garbage - saying I look intently at my taco as if telling it I'm going to eat it, then I look intently at him as if telling him I'm going to eat it, then I look back at my taco intently and proceed to eat it.
Then halfway through his second taco, when he bites into it... a stream of goo - possibly a mixture of tomato guts and lemon juice - launches out of it, across the table and narrowly misses me. I proceed to almost spew lettuce out of my nose.
then we get to the register to check out, and the waitress launches into a pop quiz about the seasoning she'd told me all about when we'd just gotten there. thing is, I'd completely forgotten. I just kinda stand there w/ my lips parted and say... "salt?"
when we were walking out the door the anarchist hippie notices the vending machine in front of the register, and that it has cigarettes for sale. he about flips out ('cause he'd been ~dying~ for a cigarette all through the meal) and then runs out of the restaurant bitching about how I didn't tell him they were there.
so yes. great fun.
/me loves the anarchist hippie
::: posted by tinafish at 4:26 PM :::