Had a terribly awful workday. Wanted to punch a client directly in his mean fucking face. Also wanted to give my boss’s boss the what for. And I do not normally openly acknowledge this type of pure sincere hostility. So you know I mean it. Had it not been for my scheduled lunch with coworkers Stephen and Helen, former coworker Jenny and her 6-month-old jewel of a baby, Ashlynn, I might have gone ballistic and screamed obscenities at my boss. Or my client. Or at least knocked over a pencil holder.
But thankfully I had the lunch date. Not only with brand new Ashlynn to oooh and ahhh and poke and prod and make faces at, but also a new place to eat. El Mezcal, on Union. Pretty typical low-rent Mexican food, tasty but not earth-shattering, surprisingly fast service (“suspiciously fast,” as Stephen said) and super-cheap. I’d go there again, for shizz.
Things got better after work. Had a good dinner (Mexican again!), saw some good friends, had some good drinks and now am minutes away from a good sleep. Goodnight.
el mezcal is an incendiary device (the bomb). their guadalajara lunch special thing is like 6.50 for a humongous pile of food, nigh on unfinishable.
what’s the deal with us and twice-a-day mexican?
Um, we treat a body good?