I don't know how I made it through Saturday. After a very late night out with my cousin and her boyfriend, I woke up on my couch without an alarm ready for a full day....and a half-eaten Tostito on my chest, fresh from this spread I made Friday evening:
I was in a weird daze all day. After my 2 and a half hour writing class, which I participated in more than I ever have - sharing my thoughts about other people's work and describing my own writing process - I trekked downtown for my "me day." I was ready to pamper myself with an overpriced 5-hour appointment, complete with a pedicure, highlights, and haircut.
I love going to this particular salon because I feel like such a fish out of water. While I sit like Weezer from Steel Magnolias in my chair (sans tomatoes), I am surrounded by Gold Coast middle-aged women and uber-tan teenagers. I feel like I don't really fit in but ironically somehow I love it.
After the very long appointment, which included countless jerky reflexes from my extreme ticklishness and falling asleep in the shampoo chair - only to be woken by Kelvin, who not kidding, I thought was my angel at the gates of heaven because of his glorious eyes, Spanish accent, and bright track lighting behind his beautiful noggin - I walked down Rush. During this trek, which included accidentally telling an Asian tour group the wrong way to walk, even with a map (aren't they supposed to be the smart ones?), I spotted the place my mother and father met. Behold Pippin's.
On a trip home from his then-home of California in the late 70s, my father rolled into Pippin's on his Harley with the rest of his buddies and met my mother, who worked here after her nursing shifts. Without this joint, Keeks and I wouldn't be here.
So sad for you.
After taking 20 pictures of this place, I stopped into Qdoba. It was kind of busy so I sat at the table facing the street. Wow, did I feel like a hippo at the zoo. Everyone who walked by stared at my food, wrinkled shirt, new hairdo, whatever. A man in a wheelchair even talked to me through the glass telling me that my food looked good.
Besides feeling like a caged animal, sitting at this table was pretty entertaining. I saw an underaged boy driving a black Cadillac Escalade into the McDonald's drive-thru. No joke, he must have been 12. Guess it was time for his Happy Meal. And I saw too many people carrying doggie-bags from Cheesecake Factory. Aren't there better places to eat in this city?
...says the girl eating Qdoba...
Speaking of dogs, I also saw this old gem walking his chocolate Labradoodle:
I don't know if it was his muffs, sweater coat on the dog, or bewilderment that I was blatantly taking a picture of him, but this was the best way to end my day.
