Click Bait Title Work – Sorry, We Did Not Break Up – In San Diego Wasting My Day

Well… Starting my day already in bad shape. I got on the wrong bus, sort of knew it and still did it.

Now I am waiting for the trolley on Iris Station, typing on my iPad. It smells strongly of a cheap hot dog. The remnants of a 7-eleven big bite are nearby. The garbage can is only 15 feet away. The fucker that ate the hot dog did not have time to fucking put the trash where it belongs. How fucking hard is that?

Shitty people.

My brother’s car broke down which thwarted my plans of borrowing it for work. I am stuck with public transportation. But at least I am not going anywhere far. And I have all day to do it.
I need a car.

Also, Andy is not in the office, but at least he left me a wide angle lens. I need to talk to him not only for an upcoming non-bachelor party but about the job. The job of pretending to be Andy.
The new cover of the Reader is out. My pictures should be a part of it on the inside. I think. I already have several missions that I am forgetting when is what. Just shoot it, and on to the next one.

That is what I am trying to do today. Shoot pictures for the upcoming cover weeks from now. And this time the cover will actually be a picture. My picture. Good thing I have a bunch of time so I shouldn’t be that concerned about it. Still, anxiety woke me up early in the morning.

My blog had shit tons of visitors yesterday. The most it has had without cheating since I started the daily word vomit.

Great. Now I stand in the trolley and type because there are no seats left. And I am hungry. I crave extra shitty American egg breakfast. Like an extreme sausage from Jack in the Box. I have the shittiest guilty pleasures.
Anyway. You fuckers need to read beyond the title. It was a clickbait title. And it worked.

Almost 300 visitors clicked yesterday to see what happened. It’s like people love to read misery. I wonder what will happen when, and if, we really break-up. For that person that commented, I am sorry I scared you. I didn’t really think people read or follow this. But more and more seem to do so every day. I still find it hilarious that my roommate reads it. Or skims it. Whatever. Fucker clicks.

And yes, it did feel horrible. Her email was painful for me to read. At least it got resolved in around an hour. And yes, it sounds shitty that I have a girlfriend that writes a break-up letter, sends it, then immediately regrets it saying she never meant to send it. And yes, I believe her when she says she loves me and that was accidental.
I guess I left some parts out that she wrote she was losing me. It wasn’t like a real break-up letter. More like a super emo email afraid of what life is and what we are doing together. Feelings, they happen. Dark feelings. Happy feelings. We all get both. And she panicked because of work and Tijuana and relationship, wrote some shitty things, and sent it. She claims to have written a happier one that got lost. Oh well. I will never get to read that one. But she does do that. Just randomly email me love notes.
It is lovely.
And it was lovely yesterday.

And to recap, WE DIDN’T break up!

After playing a bunch of Zelda and ignoring work, I took the longest fucking walk towards Public House while waiting for her to get off work. I caught shit tons of Pokemon and shit on the way. And I waited and walked, and waited and walked. And caught pokeys. And waited and walked.

I sat here fighting the pokey gym for a while. I never really sat at this park.

I made it to Public House at 7 pm and she still didn’t message me. I was very hungry after the long walk that I couldn’t wait anymore and got me an appetizer. A so-called pretzel that wasn’t a fucking pretzel at all. It was more like three-day-old bread, warmed up in an oven, lightly salted, and with some chopped cilantro on top. Not pretzely whatsoever. It came with a side of standard dijon mustard. I chased that down with a double IPA from society? The board wasn’t clear where the beer was from, but it was your standard IIPA.

She finally called me while I was eating the pretzel that wasn’t a pretzel. I told her to meet me at Big Boy. I calculated exactly 10 minutes, couldn’t finish the IIPA, but told the bartender, and went to meet her. We both arrived at the same time. BAM! I am good at calculating distance and time.

She liked Public House. Like always, I ordered the beer for her (IPAs again). The menu had one of her favorite things, a portobello sandwich. It also had some of my favorite things, mother fucking hot dogs. So she got the portobello and I got the Italian sausage.
Portobello sammy was massive and pretty good. She loved it.
The Italian sausage was not in hot dog form but chopped up on the side, served with a similar stale ass fucking bread. Sausage with its green/red peppers and cheese toppings was good. The stale mother fucking bread wasn’t.
Got a couple more beers. These ones I remember because they were Tijuana beers. Perro del Mar by Wendlandt (so I guess not Tj, but Baja) and a sour second anniversary by Ludica. The sour wasn’t very good. Perro del Mar is on the top 5 IPAs of the area (according to me).
It started raining. We ubered back home. We watched silly youtube shit. And passed out early. We were in bed by 10:00 pm.

Now I am about to arrive at City College. I need breakfast. And more coffee. I will get that and stop by the office, then just waste my day in San Diego while trying to get the pictures needed. I will be doing the same tomorrow. It would be much easier if I had a car, but it will do by foot.

Oh yeah. I somehow need to post this. I wrote it all on iPad notes because there is no lag when I typed compared to WordPress, but I still need to format it all for my blog. And get a picture.

Shit. I have mostly been ignoring this trolley ride while I type this non-sense, but I just looked around for a few minutes and fuck. The trolley is full of insane people. There is more than a 50-50 chance you will see some shit while riding the MTS. Crazy trolley people talking to themselves. This guy just yelled, “mother I am home!” Now he is barking and singing while he inspects a bag of trash he has. And it is an old white dude that looks fairly normal. Crazy comes in all shapes and colors.

Ok, my stop is next. Word vomiting on the trolley, done! Success!

I just wished I could do push-ups like I do daily, but that would look weird as fuck.

Yay! Now I am at Krakatoa Cafe, I just ordered a breakfast sandwich and some coffee. Too bad no one in SD wants to hang out or are too busy to do so. And the two girls behind me sound annoying as fuck.

Oooo breakfast sammie is here. Until tomorrow word vomit!

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