Last night, my housemate and I were at the end of the block waiting for the trolley. Three young kids walked past. One of them said something about me and laughed. I took it in side and asked them wassup. One of the other kids turned to the one laughing and said, "That's not funny. That's Mr. Chris. He lives on the block." Fuckin cool.
We took to the trolley and got to see Cafe Tacuba for free. Cafe Tacuba is a part of Mexico's small supply of hipster irony. Later, we rolled twelve deep to Vesuvio and took over the rear pool table. The group was a big cross section of Mexicans in gringolandia. A computer guy bought pitchers for us and factory workers from Harrisburg. One of the guys lives around the corner from Vesuvio and knows everybody at the bar.
We took to the trolley and got to see Cafe Tacuba for free. Cafe Tacuba is a part of Mexico's small supply of hipster irony. Later, we rolled twelve deep to Vesuvio and took over the rear pool table. The group was a big cross section of Mexicans in gringolandia. A computer guy bought pitchers for us and factory workers from Harrisburg. One of the guys lives around the corner from Vesuvio and knows everybody at the bar.