They Told Me They Lost It.

Waves! Actual perceptible waves of Latino hotness crashed over me as I was waiting for the bus this morning. For a second I didn't know where I was or which way was up, but they were all packing stuff into the Coastal Kitchen. That coupled with the "just too dreamy for words" line cook they have working mornings and this place has become my sanctuary. Sanctuary you hear. A place where I can hide from the oceans of pale alterno-twit feral hipsters with ill-fitting clothes. Utterly un-fuckable in their comportment and their posture celebrates this flaw. Anyway, enough about the self-impressed ugly amongst us.

This is why I could never yelp to save my life. I go somewhere to eat and I stare at the staff. I go somewhere to shop and I examine their wallpaper. I go to the local Farmers Market, and then I rush promptly to the psych ward. It would never work.

So last night after work Compadre and I discovered that being 86ed from a bar does not survive transfer. Once the property is under new ownership and management one is welcome once again. Long story, but certainly nothing I would ever yelp about. Sleeping dogs and dead horses you know.