Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

we arrived downtown, and immediately spotted a shithole restaurant that served french dip sandwhiches, and cocktails. it was off of 6th street, and los angeles street. so we hurried to find parking.

parking in downtown LA es muy dificil, because i have a ginormous two ton truck, due to the job that brings me home my bacon. anyways, i didn't find a parking lot until it was the third pitch, i almost struck out. the lot was located on 7th and Maple... just a block or two away.

along the way my homie was lured in by a joke telling rastafarian who was begging for a hand out, and after following us two blocks to the restaurant, the homie obliged and emptied out all their change into his smiling hands.

he asked me for change, and i told him i had none. so he assured me he would wait for us to come out, so that he could collect my change. i tipped my hat as i left him outside there by the stairs...

inside the restaraunt, it was cafeteria style, and we sat facing two overweight men who were sitting at the bar. i tried to watch the TV, but it was tuned to the California Lottery Chanel, and i really could care less about the keno results.

the old persian woman who ran the place got into a spat with an elderly man sitting in the booth next to ours. he had his head down and appeared to be falling asleep, so she asked him to not do that. he very indignantly stood up and proclaimed that he was a Hebrew Prophet, annd advised her, "you pray how you want to pray, and i'll pray how i want to pray, LADY!"

but really i think he was just embarassed that she made such a fuss in front of everyone. who knows?

i ended up helping him with his wheelchair as we left the place, bringing it to the top of the stairs. he offered to buy me a beer for my effort, but we were on our way, and wanted to walk around for a bit. so i thanked the Hebrew Prophet, and saluted him as we turned and walked away... turning right so that we were walking southbound on Los Angeles Street.

That's the fashion district, and we walked by a shit ton of stores that had the most pimp suits my eyes have ever seen. if only i was a millionaire.

we wandered up and down the streets, finding some cool stores, some less than cool stores, and a million things that were worth spending money on. it KILLED me that they didn't have the mexican wrestling mask tee shirt that i wanted. but i walked away with a new torch lighter, and a new desert storm camoflauge hat.

on our way home we decided to stop for dinner at the hustler casino. we had to pee as well, and well if you have to choose between the Arco Gas Station Bathroom, and the Hustler Casino Bathroom.... guess which one is cleaner?

i ate a cheese burger, and homie ate a grilled cheese on rye. and we even got in trouble for taking too many pictures of the casino. i think they might have suspected we were criminal masterminds, plotting are big shakedown. and i don't blame them, just look at us:

criminal masterminds, up to no good.

and then after that, we pretty much felt satisfied that we had a non-couch-potato day, and patted ourselves on the backs for it... and then we also decided:

we need to go bet on the horses at the hollywood park race tracks ASAP.


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Tony Pierce