This I miss.
Balboa Island runs two trusty, ancient ferries. $1 a person or $2 a car. Manned by summer camp counsellors wearing things like Vans and logoless windbreakers. While I sit wondering if taking the ferry really is the quickest way to the Old Spaghetti Factory across the bay, and that I should wear my Vans more, I sink a little watching our doppelgängers nestle in the oddly warm air.
Butters was no help curled up on the passenger seat snoring. It takes her three seconds to fall fast asleep. And me three seconds before I give in and yell at her to stop. I just yelled at my absent husband's dog. She looks up at me. I scratch under her chin. Tell her to go back to sleep.
So I food reviewed this.
If you're not from around an In-N-Out, learn more about underground items to order like 'animal style' and 'the flying Dutchman', 'extra toast' and 'the choco-vanilla shake,' with this guide to In-N-Out's Secret Menu.
And since I can't be in Cola-town to try something like a catfish burger 2x4 with, and glisten alongside, the Care-Bear for another two and a half weeks...
paper gangsta for his best friend's wedding.
Driving north by California cows to the venue in Paso Robles, I remember the double-doubles. Tasty. Worthy? Moderation was my only somewhat viable conclusion.
Just a tad longer, my dear mannequin boy and my slowly saddening self, and we'll be able to nestle and do food reviews and attend weddings together. And then we won't. Such is the cycle of our new lives. I have to say your friends can be pretty entertaining when you're not around but with your head on a stick.