How do things work anymore?

[Hugh]

Nothing's like it used to be. Tonight I went to an all-night Mexican food place and it has transformed into something like a dance club. They have a DJ in there playing music, he cuts the song off before it ends, and then goes through some routine yelling about someone's birthday, and then starts another song, which he interrupts with his yelling again.

I got my carne asada quesadilla to go and went home, leaving the young and the good to party the way they want to.

I don't understand anything anymore. I'll just sit in here dirty and stinking eating my greasy food while the good people of the world are out there partying it up.

[oettinger]

Millenials, gender shit, political correctness, a lot of retarded stuff I don`t care about going on.
When was the last good hard rock album released? 90 something?

[Rye and Coke]

Yeah, I've found I don't really involve myself with popular shit anymore.

I don't listen to the radio, for example. When I drive, I drive in silence because I can't be bothered with what people are talking about nowadays. I barely go to movies because nothing speaks to or for me anymore. Maybe it never did, I don't know. Maybe it's just my ego talking; sad because I always expected the world to fold around me.

I barely watch TV anymore. I watch Anthony Bourdain and House M.D. reruns. It wasn't until recently that I realized I only like those shows, probably, because they center around alcoholics and addicts. That made me smile. Outside of that, I've found my one true occupation is drinking alone in my house, while the world crackles and burns, white hot and annoying outside.

When I was young, I thought I was going to save shit. Now I realize shit was doomed from the start.

[oettinger]

When I was young, I thought I was going to save shit. Now I realize shit was doomed from the start.

Very dark outlook but spot on

[Savage]

Nothing's like it used to be. Tonight I went to an all-night Mexican food place and it has transformed into something like a dance club. They have a DJ in there playing music, he cuts the song off before it ends, and then goes through some routine yelling about someone's birthday, and then starts another song, which he interrupts with his yelling again.

Sounds like AM radio when I was a little kid. I could hardly wait until I saved enough $$ to buy a stereo, to listen to unmolested music.

As for food, let me tell you a sad story. In 1980, Grumpy and I began patronizing a wonderful little Mexican restaurant in Oceanside. We didn't meet until three years later, but we may very well have eaten at adjoining booths at some point. For years it was our little treat. Payday? Go to Anitas! All the delicious food you could eat, free pickled carrots, onions, and jalapeno. Free chips and the best salsa in the whole world. I could lap that up by the quart. Even when I was pregnant and could hardly keep anything down, nothing there upset my stomach.

We traveled far and wide, but always, when back home, we went to Anita's. When we were stationed there, it as a weekly ritual. Our oldest loved the pickled carrots. When I became ill, every hospital doc visit was an excuse to eat on Hill St.
Then, one day, when I went to Balboa for a post op clearance kind of scan, we detoured to our favorite old spot. We found the little house closed. A sign directed us down the road a bit, to a cheerless cement floored space. The food was so-so. The salsa was just meh. It was kind of chilly, since the industrial windows were jacked open to the cold wintry sea air.

You can go home again, but there ain't no rule that they gotta feed you.

[Malkor]

They dont

[Dirty Diamond Lou]

When I was young, I thought I was going to save shit. Now I realize shit was doomed from the start.

Very dark outlook but spot on

I get you two. Save for the grace of alcohol, I hate knowing the nutshot that humanity brings. Pardon me, I need to vomit at the thought.

Besides that, yo soy Mexicano. We just do that. A DJ showing up to spin at an 8yr olds party? Yup. When the taco guy shows up and starts arguing with his nephew over the setup. Yep, got that. That cousin... is she distant enough?

You were at a restaurant, which is cool. Until closing time and you accidentally wander to far into the shadows of the parking lot. Where you catch a glimpse of streetlit romantic lighting and witness pure passion beside the dumpster.

[Hugh]

Nothing's like it used to be. Tonight I went to an all-night Mexican food place and it has transformed into something like a dance club. They have a DJ in there playing music, he cuts the song off before it ends, and then goes through some routine yelling about someone's birthday, and then starts another song, which he interrupts with his yelling again.

Sounds like AM radio when I was a little kid. I could hardly wait until I saved enough $$ to buy a stereo, to listen to unmolested music.

As for food, let me tell you a sad story. In 1980, Grumpy and I began patronizing a wonderful little Mexican restaurant in Oceanside. We didn't meet until three years later, but we may very well have eaten at adjoining booths at some point. For years it was our little treat. Payday? Go to Anitas! All the delicious food you could eat, free pickled carrots, onions, and jalapeno. Free chips and the best salsa in the whole world. I could lap that up by the quart. Even when I was pregnant and could hardly keep anything down, nothing there upset my stomach.

We traveled far and wide, but always, when back home, we went to Anita's. When we were stationed there, it as a weekly ritual. Our oldest loved the pickled carrots. When I became ill, every hospital doc visit was an excuse to eat on Hill St.
Then, one day, when I went to Balboa for a post op clearance kind of scan, we detoured to our favorite old spot. We found the little house closed. A sign directed us down the road a bit, to a cheerless cement floored space. The food was so-so. The salsa was just meh. It was kind of chilly, since the industrial windows were jacked open to the cold wintry sea air.

You can go home again, but there ain't no rule that they gotta feed you.

Do you remember a liquor store in Oceanside on Hill St. called Hill Street Booze? (The name was a takeoff from the television show Hill Street Blues.) I haven't been in Oceanside in twenty years. I heard they renamed Hill Street to something nicer to get rid of some perception that Hill Street was a seedy place.