- I usually try to avoid Boogaloos for brunch because of the punishing wait times. Now, I know that Boogaloos has its fair share of detractors who claim the food isn't any good, but that's just sour grapes. It's perfectly good hangoover brunch food. So when The Wife wanted to go yesterday, I agreed, since I hadn't been in a while. It went like this:
11:30: Arrive @ restaurant, put name on list. Looks bad, but hey! I'll keep a positive outlook.
11:50: We're getting there! This isn't so bad. We'll be seated soon, I'm sure.
12:00: This is kind of taking a long time. I'm feeling a little hangry. But hey, chin up. We'll get there soon.
12:15: WTF? Those people were after us, I'm sure. What the fucking fuck is going on with the list?
12:20: I want to kill someone. Come here, you with the white sunglasses, so I can stab you in the fucking face. DON'T LOOK AT ME, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE.
12:30: (Stangled noises). Don't talk to me.
12:35: Seated. Just bring me a pile of whatever. Why is the waitress smiling? What is she, retarded?
12:45: Finished. Let's get out of here.
The food was actually pretty good.
- I know this has been said before, but being a Giants fan is like being in an abusive relationship. They get drunk on Monday night and knock you around pretty good, and you go ahead and pack a bag and you're resolved to leave them, and they come back all crying and promising they can be different, and then they go and bring you flowers by sweeping the Rockies at home and you actually start to believe things will be different and hey, your black eye is hardly visible any more and you say to your friends, "No, they've changed, really, I believe it this time" and your friends just shake their heads and look sad but fuck those bitches because you're in love.
- I love the 6 hot days in SF we get a year. Love love love them. And this time around, 96 was nice enough to show up on a Friday, when you could enjoy it, instead of a Monday.