Danny Boy Part Deux – Carne Asada Party – Labeled as Fake News


I’ve talked about writing fake news. I wrote real news. And I got labeled as fake news from a most likely Trump supporter. Why do I think he is a Trump supporter? Because he called it fake news. Inaccurate, poorly written, non-sensical, lack of research, or many other things would have insulted me more. Actually, he said it’s “hack journalism” which kinda hurts. But at the end of his comment he said “fake news.” Which felt liberating. It just means that if you don’t write what they think is reality, you are just fake.

But it wasn’t fake news.

A shitty flimsy fence went up right after Trump signed the executive order. A place that has not had a fence in many years and you could easily walk through the wall. It could have been two workers and just a coincidence. But seriously. After 8+ years there was no fence and suddenly there is a fence? And call someone at the Department of Homeland Security…. HAH! Like they would talk to anyone. I’ve tried before. It’s fruitless. And now with Trump in there, hah! Like they’ll answer calls from any journalist.

Rant over

Danny boy part 2.

It was fun times again. I took him to Playas de Tijuana. To check out the same fence and the border wall and because he loves COCONUTS. So we needed to get a coconut on the beach. Almost like a gay double date. But you know my drift. Tj adventure. Got to show the people the city. But I feel bad for two things.

  1. I had to charge him to hang out with him. I hate doing it. It was fun times and he is a very smart kid. But hey. I got to appreciate my time. (at least I gave him a discount).
  2. I was wrong about the border twice in a row. When he was coming in, I thought he was going to have more trouble than he did. When he was going north, I thought he was going to be waiting for at least an hour. I was wrong in both. Fucking border. I’m usually right about it. But Danny has traveler’s luck on his side. The border was smooth as fuck for him. And good.

After dropping him off, went to Nelson bar to see my team lost. YEP! Gallos Blancos de Querétaro hasn’t scored a goal all season. 360 minutes of nothing. They lost 0-1 to Chivas de Guadalajara. They should have bought more midfielders. There is no midfield game. Both Neris suck balls. I miss Dinho. I miss Zinha. Gallos needs a creative play maker. Fucking spend all your money and get Guardado. They need someone that gives accurate long passes from any position. Then have Pajaro and Sanvezzo run like motherfuckers and Tito poach the goals.

Whoa, I drift from place to place. After Gallos lost, I put some sad songs on the jukebox. This one to be precise:

And other sad Beatles songs.

While the game was still on, a random young chick with black curly hair sat next to me and started ordering Especiales. “She must be waiting for someone,” I thought. Nope. She was drinking at Nelson by herself.

Of course it took me forever to break the ice. She probably sat next to me for more than an hour until I was like “HEY! WE ARE DRINKING NEXT TO EACH OTHER!” Yeah. I think that was my opening line….

After drinking for a while with her, I walked her to her taxi home. Then I went to the CARNE ASADA PARTY!

Carne asada party by Danger Dave and Wily Chris. It was great. They actually had a grill going (for a second I thought they didn’t). Tons and tons of shitty beer (and one good one that wasn’t mine but I wanted to steal). Friends. Music. Meatsies. Beersies. Pico de Gallo and other salsas. Cheese. Tortillas. Big bags of Doritos nachos. What else do you need?

In the middle of fucking Zona Norte at ground level. That place still feels weird. But them crazy kids love living there.

Close to midnight, we started jamming. And jamming LOUD! I grabbed the bass. I’ve been wanting to play WAY more bass than guitar. And drums. The drums weren’t even set. It was just drums. Keyboards by Szavio, dude from Minnesota. And a left-handed guitar because Danger Dave is a weirdo.

I jammed the fuck out on that bass. I’ve got blisters on my fingers.

Then I jammed the fuck out on the drums.

And around 2 am (I actually have no idea what time it was) I decided to go home. Just a few blocks away walk. Great fucking party.

This post needs a picture. So here’s a picture of Chimba, my parent’s kitten.


Because apparently not only am I writing around 1000 words everyday in this daily word vomit (I’m still having fun). I’m also posting a picture everyday so the blog has this nice featured picture consistency. Which btw. It’s fucking early on a Sunday and 11 people have visited my webpage. But one of them has clicked in over 100 pages cuz I have over 150 views for today. It might be my brother. I think. Hi Gabo!

It’s Sunday. So I’m not working. I’m not sure what to do today. But next week I know what I’ll be doing. Also. I might have another Tijuana Adventure soon. I should work more on that.

MANNNNNN It’s so early for a Sunday and to already be bored. I’ll play Pirates! GOLD! That’s what I’ll do.

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