You'll Never Find a More Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy
3-10
Here I am at the night school class I teach at Pio Pico Elementary at Pico and Arlington. I've just come from the library. I checked out a video of "Ishi, the Last Yahi" to show to my class this week. I haven't done any handwriting since Friday. We went to Rosarito, B.C., Mexico on Saturday. We went in the LeBaron. It was silly. This Cuban Jersey deadhead dude named Roberto, who the Thing knows from his comic book shop, came. He was a little irritating. I typed about him yesterday, so I won't go into it again here. The main dumb thing was, I, me, I let a puta have a hundred dollars. I wound up getting played by still another and the first one took my dough. When the cab first dropped us in Rosarito after the Jehovah's Witness driver gave us a brief history of the different cultures in Mexico, like the Tarascos, and the Chiapenos, we went to the bar at the Hotel Rosarito. They were refurbishing the one bar I like, so we settled for another where a Santana-like band was coaxing couples to drink. At this point, I'd already had several beers while we were playing Monopoly back at the condo. To these I added two margaritas at the bar while making small talk with a woman who was frank and unperturbed that her eighteen-year-old daughter was upstairs banging her boyfriend. Thing, Berto, and I moved on, popping our heads in one place, then the next. Ate some tacos, fish, chicken and carne asada at a sidewalk stand. Rock n' Roll Taco was the hip, bumpin' spot, loud and hard to see in with dark and ever-changing multi-colored lights. We didn't stay long, but I had another nasty margarita. Then we went to Papa's and Beer. I had a scotch and a few more beers and played pool on a scarred table with some Navy people and some cool fucks whose jugulars I wanted to tear out. I kept having my quarters snaked due to my own lack of attention. Though I did finally play six games. Won three, lost three. We went to another bar and had nasty maggies and danced to dead eighties tunes with chicks who didn't know we were there. We moved on. We went to a place called Cuatro Caminos because the guys wanted to go where there were whores. The place wasn't to out satisfaction, so we caught another cab to a place called Endless Summer where they wouldn't let us in, but sent out una puta gordita, who, you know, took my dough. She came with us to another bar, but none of us wanted to talk to her.
The hangover the next day was vicious.
Here I am at the night school class I teach at Pio Pico Elementary at Pico and Arlington. I've just come from the library. I checked out a video of "Ishi, the Last Yahi" to show to my class this week. I haven't done any handwriting since Friday. We went to Rosarito, B.C., Mexico on Saturday. We went in the LeBaron. It was silly. This Cuban Jersey deadhead dude named Roberto, who the Thing knows from his comic book shop, came. He was a little irritating. I typed about him yesterday, so I won't go into it again here. The main dumb thing was, I, me, I let a puta have a hundred dollars. I wound up getting played by still another and the first one took my dough. When the cab first dropped us in Rosarito after the Jehovah's Witness driver gave us a brief history of the different cultures in Mexico, like the Tarascos, and the Chiapenos, we went to the bar at the Hotel Rosarito. They were refurbishing the one bar I like, so we settled for another where a Santana-like band was coaxing couples to drink. At this point, I'd already had several beers while we were playing Monopoly back at the condo. To these I added two margaritas at the bar while making small talk with a woman who was frank and unperturbed that her eighteen-year-old daughter was upstairs banging her boyfriend. Thing, Berto, and I moved on, popping our heads in one place, then the next. Ate some tacos, fish, chicken and carne asada at a sidewalk stand. Rock n' Roll Taco was the hip, bumpin' spot, loud and hard to see in with dark and ever-changing multi-colored lights. We didn't stay long, but I had another nasty margarita. Then we went to Papa's and Beer. I had a scotch and a few more beers and played pool on a scarred table with some Navy people and some cool fucks whose jugulars I wanted to tear out. I kept having my quarters snaked due to my own lack of attention. Though I did finally play six games. Won three, lost three. We went to another bar and had nasty maggies and danced to dead eighties tunes with chicks who didn't know we were there. We moved on. We went to a place called Cuatro Caminos because the guys wanted to go where there were whores. The place wasn't to out satisfaction, so we caught another cab to a place called Endless Summer where they wouldn't let us in, but sent out una puta gordita, who, you know, took my dough. She came with us to another bar, but none of us wanted to talk to her.
The hangover the next day was vicious.
posted by johnz at 11:29 AM
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