I was humming a tune from an old Greek movie as I sauntered into Centro, changing the “but never” lyrics to the more apropos, “…but only on a Sunday, a Sunday, a Sunday…”. I was meeting up with my buddy Andy, my eat-just-about-anything buddy Andy. On separate...
So there I was, walking down Hernandez Macias, on my way to Kenny’s for some Buffalo wings and one of his fully-loaded caesars and in the distance I see a sheep. Could it be, I thought, could it really be? I’ve been lamenting a lot lately, desperately missing El Pato,...
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