Taco Truck, Two A.M.

Last night I made cookies with Mister WiFi because we are like that: Cookie Making Crazy Persons. They were oatmeal and raisin because we are like that: Healthy Cookie Making Crazy Persons.

Just when I thought I was an adult getting away with a cookie dinner, a lovely friend called and she and I kidnapped Professor The Beard and took him to The Echo, a local dive that features Monday night music and hair-do-clad boys in tight trousers with facial hair galore (Is it coming or going? Who's to say?)

Just when we thought we'd gotten away with it, we spontaneously combusted into a taco truck trek to try the "Best Tacos in Los Angeles" that we'd heard so much about.

If you think I can't make friends with every single stranger that crosses my path in front of a Two A.M. Taco Truck, you'd be wrong.

And if you think I'm not sure to already know at least one person at said truck (due to past friendliness with strangers) you'd also be wrong.

And if you think I actually ordered a taco (which was the whole point of the venture) you'd kind of be fooling yourself.

In the end, I would like to thank the basketball coaches of the local Dream Center for their kind support, the red-head who offered to fight me (for fun!) over a tub of green salsa, the cute boy with the over-bite whose name I can never remember but is in a friend's band, and, last but not least, the best taco truck experience in Los Angeles which I swear to god happened in front of the Von's near Alvarado and Sunset...

So there!