In response to this (strangely):
Anytime I hear someone sing praise of San Francisco, I get angry for some reason. I’ve never even been there, but there was this kid, "Jimmy", that transferred in the senior year of high school that dared to be both smart and popular and rebellious. Dammit, but that was my fucking niche, and I stood my ground and relegated him out of the popular circles. We almost fought once, but didn’t, girlfriends holding us back, “Stop it! Stop it!” By the end of senior year, I was nominated for prom court and Jimmy wasn’t so it all worked out. I didn’t even go to the dance (even though a girl’s parents offered to buy me a tux, but hello? Steve has already fucked her, which means she was already a slut so what did I want with her?) I know through that “People you may know” upper righthand corner ghost on Facebook that Jimmy is bald in a bad way now (not in the acceptable way I am), but I won’t friend him because we weren’t and aren’t.
Two friends of mine are moving to San Francisco, one this month to be a teacher and one next to skateboard or some shit. They’re both bangable (June moreso than July), but I haven’t, which means they are actually just friends. Both have offered lodging if I were to come out (”You’d love it out there.”) but I’d really prefer to go to Europe or Morocco (and I have always had a fascination with Key West).
So when I think of tacos, real tacos without Chamomille-filtered Angus-grade tofu, I’ll go to my local Taco Truck. Or Mexico (despite the risk of kidnapping). But San Francisco? San Francisco can go fuck itself.
