ONE. I know Yelp already has this item covered, but I would just like to let the records show that I declare El Farolito on 24th and Mission to make some of the best burritos I have ever consumed in my short but glutenous life. For one, they use fresh avocado instead of gross guacamole that’s been sitting out for days, so that alone makes them a cut above the rest. Secondly, they’re not all runny with burrito juice so they stay in their foil wrapper and off my clothes. Which isn’t to say I’m above licking sour cream off my shirt in public, because I’m not, but it’s nice to have the option to not.
TWO. I need to seriously reconsider my decision to not have my car window repaired after it was broken into, because someone has taken up residence in my car. I’ve known this for a couple of weeks and have been pretty okay with it — nothing was being tampered with aside from the front seats getting pushed forward — but tonight my homeless beneficiary crossed a line. When I went to move my car for street cleaning earlier tonight, I found my back windows had been mugged up with fingerprints. As I cast my eyes downward to assess the damage, I saw a brown splotch in the shape of a labia smack dab in the center of my back seat. It was an unmistakable menstrual blood stain.
I was mortified and completely offended, but then I got over myself. What did I really expect from all this? My four years in Santa Cruz turned me into a self-effacing doormat for my block’s homeless community to wipe their tampons on. This is over. I am done. No more handouts. No more free reign over my car’s upholstery. NO MORE SYMPATHY.