How'm I supposed to cure a hangover NOW?
Son of a bitch. The inexorable gentrification of the Upper Upper West Side has claimed another victim: La Rosita.
Internets, back when I was in skool there, it was less than four dollars for a big-ass plate of yellow rice, black beans, two eggs, Cuban toast, a thimbleful of OJ, and a damn fine cup of cafe con leche. It saved many a bag-o-dicks hungover morning, and fueled many an all-night paper-writing marathon, and it was a must-hit destination every time I've been back to the East Coast since graduation. It fucking RULED.
And it fucking kills me to use the past tense here. FUCK.
Internets, back when I was in skool there, it was less than four dollars for a big-ass plate of yellow rice, black beans, two eggs, Cuban toast, a thimbleful of OJ, and a damn fine cup of cafe con leche. It saved many a bag-o-dicks hungover morning, and fueled many an all-night paper-writing marathon, and it was a must-hit destination every time I've been back to the East Coast since graduation. It fucking RULED.
And it fucking kills me to use the past tense here. FUCK.
posted by Gleemonex at 4:59 PM
1 Comments:
The taqueria across from Allsups by your hood was the best local hangover cure, back in the day.
In the Hub, its all about green chili Migas on a bloody Mary mornin. Pay wiff cash!
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