I know I read about this place somewhere; maybe chowhound or yelp? But that was some time ago, and now I can’t find the comment that made me want to try it. Yes, even I sometimes throw darts onto my computer to find a new place for breakfast. Don’t hold it against me. All I remember is that someone claimed they had some really good HR’s here, so I showed up to find out.
End of the month, start of the moving headaches. Can’t afford to stay, can’t afford to go. Deposit, security, and first month to be paid upfront. No credit cards, no friends with trucks. How to get this couch across LH? The old tried, true, and free method: via the multi-purpose, common property that is the shopping cart. Load it up with tv’s, clothes, furniture, bathroom supplies, records, or as in this case, living room couches.
Push it along the avenues, people will look. But nobody will stare. We’ve all done it. We all know the need. The necessity of things. The route of only options.
We trudge along, making our way through this existence, getting to the next station. Hopefully with some accessories to make the next stop a bit more comfortable.
There is no shame in comfort.
I’ve driven by this place on Beverly a few times, and I could never figure out the name of this eatery, but they usually had lots of people eating outside. I figured it’s some new gimmicky icon-instead-of-a-name, kinda like all those lame places with one word names, cuz nobody can be bothered to use some creativity these days. But once I saw it closely, it’s actually three letters: bld = breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I bet they paid some fine money for that name too.
The first time I ate breakfast here, I walked inside with a Chicana friend and was waiting to be seated. The greeter/seater whatever you call them, was helping someone else. One of the Mexican busboys walked over and looked at us for a few seconds, in that “what do you need” sorta way, as if maybe we had some other business there, a delivery or something. “Solo dos, para comer.” Oh. Ohh! You want to eat here! He didn’t say it but it crossed his face, which was actually pretty funny. It wasn’t rude or anything, he was a really friendly guy but obviously wasn’t sure what to make of us. Which makes sense, cuz in this part of town, the Latinos are all either A.) gardners, nannies, some other type of servant that wouldn’t normally be eating here or B.) your typical obnoxious Fresas with money and that fashionable air of conceit. Pretty much. And everyone eating talks loud, like you want to hear their fucking riveting tales. But I digress, I came here for you dear reader, to size up one plate only: The Huevos Rancheros! Let’s see how they fare.
I was in a car for much of today, going around different places in LA on business. And I saw a lot of trees. As a freelance banker that cares about the community, I help bail people out from financial “situations” with some much needed cash infusions. Pay me back whenever you want homie, but make sure it’s by the end of the month. Hmm, yer not answering the phone anymore, I wonder why? Time to pay a visit! Let’s get cracking!
I was up in the Bay Area last week for the annual Anarchist Bookfair, always a fun event to see the latest stuff in print by those that hate the Church, State, and a few other ideologies. One of the best quotes of the weekend was when I was asked “Do you want to help kick out the Bolsheviks?’, which one of my friends thought must be a joke. At the @ bookfair, it happened to be very true.
In any case, I was in the Mission District during a Cuaresma Friday, so I figured I’d see if they have tortas de camaron up North. Surely not all the Mexican food here is burrito catering to the single non-cooking class? I expected to not find any, so we went on a happy hour bar tour instead. But lo and behold I spot the sign above, surely a hopeful sign.
So it’s a Friday, your plane doesn’t leave til tomorrow, and you are stuck hanging around Lincoln Heights. The travel books say nothing about this common situation, so what to do? Relax kiddies, I’ll show you the way! Move over Loser Planet, there’s a new travel guide in the big LH!
Let’s assume you got woken up by one of those annoying police helicopters which have been buzzing incessantly lately, which is likely the case unless you paid extra for a Bed and Breakfast y Gallo. In any case, you’re up, let’s get exploring!
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