Anh "Double Bruin Penetration" T.'s Profile

How many Home Depot workers does it take to make a copy of a house key?

Three.

One to lose the original key in the machine.
One to take the whole machine apart.
One to ask the others to go on a smoke break.

I spent 45 minutes in hell, STILL had to pay, and I never want to go back.

An hour after paying the $1 admission fee, I was already:

1) Covered in dust from the uncovered park grounds
2) Sweating profusely through white shorts (lucky for that wax!)
3) Listening to geezer musicians aka The Heist cover old rock classics
4) Picking $2 corn and out of my teeth with the skewer from my $4 chicken
5) Getting ready to kick the little children who run straight into my crotch
6) Passing by booths full of cheap merch, sad ponies, and fervent Jesus lovers
7) Contemplating death on classic carnival rides, such as Super
Slide, Gravitron, and the Giant Swing
8) Stealing licks from the J.Lo's $3 cone purchased from the disgruntled ice cream man
9) Trying to get the attention of the high school football players with my low-cut shirt
10) And most importantly, trying to figure out how many more slices of FREE WATERMELON I could eat without pooping in my pants

I am quite a classy lady.

Located across from my alma mater, this is a favorite Vietnamese dining destination for my manwhore. It never fails to remind him that my people are good at something other than gambling - we make awesome spring rolls.

Our regular course often includes little dishes of banh beo, steamed rice cakes topped with dried shrimp and chopped leeks. I tend to drench it in the nuoc mam (fish sauce) provided and slurp it up like a whore at a Navy Homeport. Moreover, the manwhore loves the do-it-yourself platter of grilled pork spring rolls, which also includes some crunchy taquito-esque eggrolls and fresh veggies. I don't know what it is with him and big long rolls, but he loves to vigorously shove em down his throat. Pretty hot if not so gay IMO.

So yes, the combinateion of a slurping woman-whore and deep-throat manwhore do make for a pretty wild night. It's okay, be jealous.

I fed a cute Russian boy his first fish taco here.

There was some screaming and kicking, but it wouldn't have been very good if there wasn't.

Yeah, I'm that kind of girl.

I normally love F&E. There's one right by my work in Hollywood, and I've managed to save a ton on lunch every day.

However, this location blows.

One weekend, I wanted to make my boo some breakfast and decided to trek out to closest the F&E in my hood for all the right fixins. Not only did the fluorescent lighting and emptiness of the store make me feel like part of a sci-fi thriller, but most of the produce was old and wilted. However, the freshness date showed no indication of expiring. Had I run into a zombie or flesh-eating ostrich there, my trip could have been a bit more worthwhile. But no avail.

Saddened that I couldn't make my famous veggie omelet, I ended up picking up some eggs, pretzels and ice cream instead. In my book, dessert comes after EVERY meal! Especially when it's pigeon brains a la mode. Wait, what?

Ninjas are hot.

They are fit, flexible, and fearless.

Drunk pirates can't speak without slurring, much less keep up a stiff sword.

I'm telling ya...it's not the size of the sword but how you use it.

And boy, do ninjas know how to use it!

FINALLY.

After months of reading drool-inducing reviews, I came to Shin-Sen-Gumi to test the highly-acclaimed ramen noodles of SGV. I was ready to have my socks knocked off by the "authentic" broth flavor and "perfectly cooked" noodles. I wasn't, however, ready to have my eardrums blown out by the overly excited waitresses. Though very friendly, I didn't feel the shouting of every syllable was necessary.

Somewhat unnerverd, I marked off the order checklist for my preference of the oiliness and saltiness of soup, as well as firmness of noodles. Not sure where their standards were set, I selected "medium" for all. I also ordered a side of spam musubi, seeing that the Colombian wasn't there to make faces at my love for salty excess pork parts.

The spam musubi was disappointing and heavy on the rice, forcing me to make a mess by picking out the innards. Though the ramen noodles were perfect, the soup was a bit watered down for my taste. Considering the lack of ramen options in SGV, I'll probably be back to order a stronger broth. But if they open a Daikokuya in the neighborhood, you can bet that I'll be the first to show this place my flat behind.

Feeling guilty for missing my cougariffic coming out, my lesbian lover offered to plan my birthday dinner instead. And this is where we ended. Not in thong panties amidst a feather pillow fight, as I'm sure some would have hoped.

Most of my friends tend to be on the casual/ghetto side, so no one expected the restaurant to be very fancy. But when the owner chastised some for wearing shorts to Sunday dinner, we had a strong feeling that we weren't very welcome there. If the restaurant wasn't so dim and empty, I'm sure they would have considered turning us away. But everyone needs to make some money, right?

Originally a party of 12 became The Hungry 16, forcing them to separate our tables into 3 lonely islands. I wasn't very peeved, however, until the crotchety owner told us that we had to limit our selection of entrees to 3 or 4 in order to avoid confusion with the staff...Bullshit, yes. Luckily, our very nice waiter ended up telling the owner that he was more than capable of serving individual entrees for 16 people...and saved himself from the fury of an unhappy Yelper.

Being the birthday ho, my boo and I shared the most expensive dish on the menu - a medium rare chateaubriand with all the side trimmings. Apparently, this is a very special cut (a level above filet mignon) that requires cart service. Seasoned well and grilled to a perfect pink, it was indeed a savory slab of tender meat.

Friends who ordered the filet seemed to prefer our cut because it was better seasoned, not necessarily because of the meat's quality. The prime rib was pretty good and juicy, but I've also had better. The lasagna was well praised, though the cheese tortellini was "eh." Apparently, the veal was not even good enough to warrant a taste offering.

Being in my new uber-trendy neighborhood, I'm likely to come back for the bar/live music portion of this establishment. Though the restaurant didn't make it to the top of my steakhouse list, I had a fantastic birthday. Hell, with my awesomely ghetto group of friends, we'd probably still manage to find a good time at Sizzler's.

After a night of rambunctious debauchery, everyone thought it was a good idea to soak up the alcohol in our bellies with some food. Seeing that MPK generally has the best late night eateries, it was a done deal.

KT is another usual HK style cafe, but seems much cleaner and roomier than most. It probably has to do with the high ceilings. The bathrooms were decent enough for my friend to bow to the porcelain gods...twice. But then again, she probably didn't have much of a choice.

I split a plate of filet mignon cubes and red rice with a friend. She seemed to like it but even as a drunk ass, I thought the rice was too dry and the beef tasted like it was doused in black pepper. My ex-roomie ordered the chicken steak, which was pretty decent for a slab of dark meat in gravy. I didn't taste the lobster and pork chop special, but by the way it was devoured, I would guess it's the best deal for $12.

Overall, it was a typical drunken late night grubbing experience: sub-par food, semi-annoyed servers, and awesome friends. I wouldn't change a thing...except for the food and servers, anyway.

After at least a year of following Judy W's tantalizing reviews (http://www.yelp.com/us...), I've had donuts on my mind. Unfortunately, not everyone can survive a swim in Sugar Heaven and maintain a svelte figure as she does. Yes, I'm quite bitter!

The beautiful memory of a spongy mass of sugar, flour, sugar, oil and even more sugar taunts me on a regular basis...and I...must...resist.

Until, that is, last weekend.

Waiting to get a gangster tint for Ceci, I found myself on a bench at Mr. Bill's door. My mouth was watering, as I whiffed the sweet donut-y aromas from inside the shop. Suddenly, I thought I heard something call out my name. Or maybe someone just saw a friend and said "What's going ON?" I hate that.

I glanced into the display of donuts and found myself almost immediately entranced by the beautiful glaze on an apple fritter. My thumbs stopped in mid-twiddle. Damn Gina, it's sexy time.

Within moments, I found myself being handed the warm and soft danish on a sheet of wax paper. For a minute, I examined the little pieces of cinnamon-y sugared apples winking from underneath a gooey crust. One bite, and I was in Sugar Heaven. Then of course, I had to wave at Judy as I swam by.