Yadidathizz: The Bay to LA (Like Amoeba, Player)
I am sitting at a Peet's Coffee in LA and am on the verge of pissing myself but am in a huge pickle because I can't leave my laptop and go to the bathroom because I am sitting next to a person of questionable gender with a heinous bowlcut and we all know those are the sorts that cannot be trusted around unattended electronics. So I'm just gonna sit here and blog until I piss my shorts and get kicked out.
As you can see, I have relocated my ass to LA because I like to surround myself with people more delusional than I am. Needless to say, I miss San Francisco and all of it's freakish glory. Before I left, I stuffed myself with some the Bay's finest nom's and said my farewells to my various lovers.
Of course I had to bid farewell to my Giants. A proper goodbye meant smuggling in Safeway fried chicken, Firefly Sweet Tea Vodka, and lemonades into AT&T Park. Shout out to the people at the gate for overlooking the questionable liquids in my purse and platter of fried chicken in Tee Tee's sweatshirt.
The popcorn carts come equipped with the finest of flavored dusts. My favorites were obviously the RANCH and GARLIC PARMESAN. I brought my crab sandwich to the popcorn dust cart and dusted it with a delicate layer of ranch. The person at the stand really appreciated my aggressive use ranch powder.
This is where I like to sit and try to proposition Travis Ishikawa for sex with my bullhorn.
My homie, Joe brought me to this magical place on 16th and Valencia called Ti Couz. I was sexcited because their buckwheat crepes are on the 7x7 100 Things Eat Before You Die in SF list. This bowl of coffee did wonders for my digestive tract.
Sea creature salad popped off.
I am skeptical of anything that has the word "wheat" attached to it but these buckwheat crepes were off the hook! This one had sausage and a mushroom sauce, which completely cancelled out the wheatness going on. Yeah, fuck wheat but this shit banged.
GOOD LORD. I cannot remember what this is called but its got chocolate mousse, chantilly cream, and vanilla ice cream in it. Basically, I want to die and be reincarnated as this dessert and eat myself alive. I died a thousand times eating this bad boy.
We also hit up this crackin Ethiopian spot called Massawa on Haight Street. I have never really had Ethiopian food except for when I stole the Ethiopian foreign exchange students lunch in high school once and almost burst into flames. We started off with this veggie hot pocket-esque thing that was similar to a samusa.
I felt what the clouds of heaven must feel like when I touched this injera bread. It's so soft and luscious, its porous texture felt amazing against my sweaty palms. I molested it for what seemed like an eternity and as embarrassing as it was for my pal, I could not stop because it was just so inviting. I desperately want to lay atop a slate countertop naked and cover my body in injera for an entire week. Maybe for my birthday?
An enormous platter of beefs, chicken, lentils, and a yogurty substance that rivals Mexican crema. I officially love Ethiopian cuisine ten thousand times more than I love myself.
Gabby aka Little Brown put me onto this spot on Mission called Mi Lindo Peru, which is duh, Peruvian food. My absolute favorite part of this place is a little thing on the menu called "Salchipapa," which is french fries and cut up hot dog. BRILLIANT. I did not order it but the name and ingredients alone make it a winner in my book.
The halea, which is a fried platter of scrimps, calamari, fish, and yucca. GREAZY mothafucka.
I had the snapper with the garlic butter on it. I dare someone to eat this, make out with someone, and see if they survive because the garlic on this is fuckin BANGIN.
God, what I wouldn't do to walk up and down the streets of San Francisco with a tall boy and Mexican popsicle one last time.
This nerdy rap song pretty much encompasses my geographical situation:
As you can see, I have relocated my ass to LA because I like to surround myself with people more delusional than I am. Needless to say, I miss San Francisco and all of it's freakish glory. Before I left, I stuffed myself with some the Bay's finest nom's and said my farewells to my various lovers.
Of course I had to bid farewell to my Giants. A proper goodbye meant smuggling in Safeway fried chicken, Firefly Sweet Tea Vodka, and lemonades into AT&T Park. Shout out to the people at the gate for overlooking the questionable liquids in my purse and platter of fried chicken in Tee Tee's sweatshirt.
The popcorn carts come equipped with the finest of flavored dusts. My favorites were obviously the RANCH and GARLIC PARMESAN. I brought my crab sandwich to the popcorn dust cart and dusted it with a delicate layer of ranch. The person at the stand really appreciated my aggressive use ranch powder.
This is where I like to sit and try to proposition Travis Ishikawa for sex with my bullhorn.
My homie, Joe brought me to this magical place on 16th and Valencia called Ti Couz. I was sexcited because their buckwheat crepes are on the 7x7 100 Things Eat Before You Die in SF list. This bowl of coffee did wonders for my digestive tract.
Sea creature salad popped off.
I am skeptical of anything that has the word "wheat" attached to it but these buckwheat crepes were off the hook! This one had sausage and a mushroom sauce, which completely cancelled out the wheatness going on. Yeah, fuck wheat but this shit banged.
GOOD LORD. I cannot remember what this is called but its got chocolate mousse, chantilly cream, and vanilla ice cream in it. Basically, I want to die and be reincarnated as this dessert and eat myself alive. I died a thousand times eating this bad boy.
We also hit up this crackin Ethiopian spot called Massawa on Haight Street. I have never really had Ethiopian food except for when I stole the Ethiopian foreign exchange students lunch in high school once and almost burst into flames. We started off with this veggie hot pocket-esque thing that was similar to a samusa.
I felt what the clouds of heaven must feel like when I touched this injera bread. It's so soft and luscious, its porous texture felt amazing against my sweaty palms. I molested it for what seemed like an eternity and as embarrassing as it was for my pal, I could not stop because it was just so inviting. I desperately want to lay atop a slate countertop naked and cover my body in injera for an entire week. Maybe for my birthday?
An enormous platter of beefs, chicken, lentils, and a yogurty substance that rivals Mexican crema. I officially love Ethiopian cuisine ten thousand times more than I love myself.
Gabby aka Little Brown put me onto this spot on Mission called Mi Lindo Peru, which is duh, Peruvian food. My absolute favorite part of this place is a little thing on the menu called "Salchipapa," which is french fries and cut up hot dog. BRILLIANT. I did not order it but the name and ingredients alone make it a winner in my book.
The halea, which is a fried platter of scrimps, calamari, fish, and yucca. GREAZY mothafucka.
I had the snapper with the garlic butter on it. I dare someone to eat this, make out with someone, and see if they survive because the garlic on this is fuckin BANGIN.
God, what I wouldn't do to walk up and down the streets of San Francisco with a tall boy and Mexican popsicle one last time.
This nerdy rap song pretty much encompasses my geographical situation:
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