Life Tastes Better In Conspiracy.

The weekend was packed full of lame as I contemplated the constant yo-yo ride of bouncing back and forth between Seattle and LA.

Compadre and I went for a walk to Taco Time on Saturday. Bitter cold with only slivers of sunlight. The promise of crisp bean burritos and mexi tots keeping us moving. We get there and the parking lot is eerily empty. We cautiously walk up to the glass doors to read the notice which advises us that this Taco Time location (one I have frequented for over 10 years) is closed and that we are welcome to try the next nearest Taco Time located square in the middle of the ghetto. This is quite beyond puddles. This has me seriously contemplating a move. I mean even if I were to go to the ghetto to eat there are a lot better places than Taco Time. They haves a Taco Bell!

I mean I understand the fine dining, seafood, and food snobs in Seattle put Los Angeles to shame. That and they actually stand in line for Intelligentsia coffee on Sunset?? But where is the King Taco? The El Pollo Loco? The Del Taco? The La Salsa? The Best Fish Tacos in Ensanadas? The Machos Tacos? That place on wheels that used to park in front of my office? Where where where? I mean Rancho Bravo Taco is fine I suppose, but the last time I ordered a vegetarian burrito it came bursting with shredded carrots and what I shudder to think might be baby bok choy. Seriously. This may call for a reassesment of the circumstances.