People of San Diego: If you have to go to any bar in Pacific Beach, you should go to the Nite Owl.
No, you won't meet any sizzling, wasted, half-naked chicas resplendent in and tottering on five inch stillettos. (PS -- People of San Diego: have you ever noticed how belligerant and angry and frustrated and unpredictable the drunks of SD county truly are? Is it the military base? Is it something in the air? Is it all the buff surfer boys with flatbed trunks and whiskey hidden under the seat? Coming from San Francisco, originally, I'm used to black turtleneck bedecked young ladies with their classy European girlfriends/boyfriends gliding by and stopping at that oh so adorable sidewalk cafe in North Beach. The Paris Hiltonesque gaggle of females with that short, Guess, little black dress with the skirt in tatters screaming about the 15-inch-dildos at Hustler while grabbing onto some dude's arm is somewhat less familiar.)
So, no, no attractive young ladies to speak of. Just a chill bar, a chill bartender, a chill set of pool tables that's always open, and a very chill menu of drink specials that won't run you more that $2.50 or $3, and that you'll have to remind the frizzy haired bartender how to make.
So that's what I did with my Friday night.
Saturday my roommate and I did drugs. Yes, we are naughty young ladies. We went to the park and lay in the grass and talked about how everything echoed and everything looked like a cold, blue wasteland. We went to the dog park and played with the dogs; we dropped by our boyfriends and asked them for ice cream and cigarettes.
Yesterday, I worked a show and did homework and pissed off my boss by being (un)characteristically lazy as fuck.
Today? Who knows.
No, you won't meet any sizzling, wasted, half-naked chicas resplendent in and tottering on five inch stillettos. (PS -- People of San Diego: have you ever noticed how belligerant and angry and frustrated and unpredictable the drunks of SD county truly are? Is it the military base? Is it something in the air? Is it all the buff surfer boys with flatbed trunks and whiskey hidden under the seat? Coming from San Francisco, originally, I'm used to black turtleneck bedecked young ladies with their classy European girlfriends/boyfriends gliding by and stopping at that oh so adorable sidewalk cafe in North Beach. The Paris Hiltonesque gaggle of females with that short, Guess, little black dress with the skirt in tatters screaming about the 15-inch-dildos at Hustler while grabbing onto some dude's arm is somewhat less familiar.)
So, no, no attractive young ladies to speak of. Just a chill bar, a chill bartender, a chill set of pool tables that's always open, and a very chill menu of drink specials that won't run you more that $2.50 or $3, and that you'll have to remind the frizzy haired bartender how to make.
So that's what I did with my Friday night.
Saturday my roommate and I did drugs. Yes, we are naughty young ladies. We went to the park and lay in the grass and talked about how everything echoed and everything looked like a cold, blue wasteland. We went to the dog park and played with the dogs; we dropped by our boyfriends and asked them for ice cream and cigarettes.
Yesterday, I worked a show and did homework and pissed off my boss by being (un)characteristically lazy as fuck.
Today? Who knows.
My bro lives in Poway not to far from SD downtown and Del Mar, Oceanside...
Thanx if you can take 5 or 10min to list that.
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