cafe felix

went here for a drink. not dinner. a drink. can't eat here ever since i had a worm in my cod. scratch that--one dead worm, then one alive worm. two separate worms. two separate stages of existense. both in my cod on my plate.

but it is still a cute place for a drink.

this is gabriello, or gorgonzolo, or something. whatever he had made, i was eyeing and drooling over. apparently it's his own recipe of victoria hot sauce from mexico, black pepper, and god knows what else and he cooks his flat, thin steak in it.



it was better than that feeling you get when a guy returns your texts in less than one minute change on your cell phone.



i ate it. so did the other guy at the bar who i didn't know, and neither did gabriel/gorgonzol.



met the owner alain. he loved me after the conversation revealed that i had stayed at his friends hotel in cap d'antibes. that's in the south of france for all you idiots. the hotel is the eden roc. that's fucking high class for all you idiots. cash only high class. treated me like his best friend after that. i don't even know what integrity means anymore.

this place is cute, fun, high ceilings. excellent burgers, good to watch soccer. just stay away from the fucking fish.