I just cheated on my girlfriend.
Everyone is probably like, “oh stop it with your shitty clickbait.” But I did.
She’s doing errands for the job that she is getting. She is probably getting the job, right? I mean… why would they make her do all this shit and at the end be like “no job for you!”
She’s going to have that job and start next week. The only shitty thing is that it doesn’t really pay much. Barely okay for Tijuana. Not for the way we like to live and want to live. Travel? With that money… yeah right.
And I don’t make much either. I also don’t work much either. I should work more. Freelancing is tough.
I was going to make business cards yesterday.
I ended up doing nothing.
Oh shit!
My girlfriend came home. Everything seems to be in order for her job.
She brought me a mango/chamoy popsicle. And kisses.
I didn’t tell her I cheated.
I told her that I couldn’t work on this word vomit with her in the room and kicked her out.
She found out I cheated before I could tell her through here.
“Te compraste tacos bitch, ya no te voy a cocinar nunca mas.”
That’s what she just told me, slapped me, and walked away.
Yes.
I cheated.
In that I ate tacos without her. I felt guilty when buying the tacos. But I was hungry. And I didn’t know at what time she was going to make it home. And I haven’t had those cheap tacos in a while.
And yes. I clickbaited the fuck out of this.
The numbers on the blog have been down. And this is post #300!!!
PARTY TIME
Excuse to drink beer.
Because I already feel like drinking beer and playing Street Fighter with my girlfriend.
Roommate is supposed to be home today. I don’t believe him.
A while earlier, my brother hit me up that he needed a favor. He needed $200 to pay for his new workshop space. His screen printing factory got robbed for the fourth time (in like more than 7 years he has been there, but still). They stole shitty cables and hoses that don’t even amount to $50… but still.
So finally he said fuck it. I need a new space. And apparently found one very near where he lives.
Because he is at work in San Diego, he asked the favor. And I was like, “sure, give me a couple hours, go to the bank and shit, and get back.”
Went to the bank, got the money (which leaves my account with not very much….) and on the way back I was like OOO TACOS!
“Tres tacos dorados con todo para llevar por favor.”
It took for fucking ever. Those birria tacos are very popular.
They were good. No picture.
Money flies. Money is scarce.
I took money out on Monday. It’s all gone. Got to pay the electric bill. Have to pay the internet soon. And shit. Almost a new month. Which means rent. And the roommate might be gone, which means more expensive rent. And we talk about moving out closer to her work, which means more expensive rent and deposit. And I need a car. And we go out to drink and eat a lot.
Fucking money.
At least I get paid this weekend. And she has a job now (well… 90% sure she does).
I don’t have any upcoming photo missions. Which I was really enjoying.
I don’t have any upcoming Tijuana Adventures. Which is always a good time and extra cash.
I don’t make any money from typing this bullshit. I just do it for the kicks.
I only have a lot of writing ideas that I should do. I pitched the majority of those already. I should re-pitch. Send a short article. And re-pitch.
New issue of the Reader came out today. The last issue had a bunch of my pictures and some of my writing. This issue has nothing.
Ahh… I lied. There is one picture. And they chose the one I liked the least… In this article. I should send the other couple of headshots to that guy. He was cool.
The writer of that article is also cool. I worked with him a couple of months back on a story about Haitians. He also got the cover story on this issue. So he got a double whammy. City Lights and Cover story.
Tijuana is on my mind.
And all that is going on. Tijuana 2017.
That’s sort of the thing I want to write.
I mentioned a web page hit me up that they wanted me to write an article and “let’s see how much he will charge.” I can probably get $300 from them. Or who knows. They wanted to re-issue an article of mine before and I high-balled it and they went for it. So who knows how much I can get for an original.
The thing though… they asked for something that is exactly the opposite that I have in mind.
And what I have in mind would fit perfectly with what the Reader wants and what the editor would like.
Editor is on vacation now. But that article is on my mind. So I think I’m just going to go for it and hope for the best. If not. I’ll have a back-up.
Walking around the city helps me think a lot. After all, I write about the city more than anything else. And the border life.
The border life truly is a weird fucking life.
My friend Carlos got his Visa for the first time in his fucking life. That fucker is like 37-years-old. The only time he crossed the border was when he was a kid. When the Visa requirements weren’t that serious.
I want to cross with him and buy him a beer. Capture his reactions. His feelings.
Fucker studied philosophy as well. So I’m sure he has a lot to say.
It would be a great article.
Alright. Feeling a tad more inspired.
These were the tacos btw.
It’s an old shitty picture. I took that with my old shitty phone. And I remember I uploaded to the Tijuana Adventure’s Instagram account. I don’t remember the password of that fucker, so I should restart it. The account is pretty horrible. I shall revive all of it. Post blogs over there. And get more clients. Because that board is empty.
A picture of the French toast sandwich she made me this morning is a tad better. I didn’t even want a French toast sandwich, she just decided to cook me one.
It was pretty good. Not as good as other stuff that she has cooked for me that have been great. But I mean… I’m not going to fucking complain. It’s a good breakfast and I didn’t have to do shit. Just be her boyfriend. Fuck she’s great.
And she wanted to cook lunch as well.
But I cheated because of tacos.
… birria tacos.
I’m getting fat.
And I’ll end up doing nothing again today, like yesterday. Yesterday… we went out for pizza and beers because it’s cheaper on a Tuesday. On the way to pizza, I left a PS3 controller to be fixed for $12. She was feeling drunkish after two beers. Came home and already had beers here. Played Street Fighter now that I have a fixed controller. Owner her ass. She had blamed the controller before. And yes, the controller was extremely shitty… but… I’m going to destroy her forever! She’s training to become better… and I’m still going to destroy her forever…
Bowling, pool, Scrabble, Magic the Gathering, other shit she can probably beat me at…. but Street Fighter or Marvel vs Capcom… not going to happen.
Matingas 