| rev:text
| - Central Phoenix. CenPho. Cennypoo. What am I going to do with you? Every time I think I can't possibly fall any harder for you, you surprise me with something new and unexpected that blows my mind. No, you don't have the stereotypically sexy look at first glance that Manhattan or San Francisco or Chicago do. To be honest I can barely remember our first date, which I think was when I stopped at Majerles in '98 before walking on to Bank One Ballpark to watch the fledgling Dbacks. Admit it, you weren't even trying to impress me back then, were you? I walked you back to my car hoping for a lil' somethin' after the game, but you barely even looked at me and I had nowhere to go. So back home I went, to that hot sexy young thing I was with at the time. What was her name? Oh yeah. Tempe. Wow. She was something. Back in the day, all the other cities would see me with her and glare with envy at how good she looked strutting her stuff on Mill Ave on a Friday night.
Slowly but surely, you began to wage your subtle campaign of charm on me. Even a jaded guy like me began to notice all the little things that really matter in life. I woke up one morning and there you were with a tray in hand and, on it, Matt's Big Breakfast. I'll never forget that other time when you tricked me into wandering up Central Ave and "accidentally" stumbling across Lux. Need I go on? It seems like every other time I'm with you, I make a new discovery. The more I get to know you, the more tiny bursts of elegance and grace and uniqueness shower my senses. No, not all of them are on one street tightly bunched together like those snooty runway models New York or San Francisco, which are so uppity that I'd have to be a multimillionaire to even have a chance to really enjoy them anyway, much less afford property. No, you make me dig a little deeper, look a little closer, and do a little exploring before I'm rewarded with your precious gems. A good seductress knows how to maintain an aura of mystery about her. And you, darling, are good.
So here I am, already having developed a pretty huge crush on you. And then you up the ante by another notch. Cafe Barrio. Barely visible, in a nondescript strip mall by 16th Street and Thomas. On a Wednesday night I walked past a crackhead through the run-down parking lot to enter through a backdoor, my suspicious mom in tow. And once again, you blow me away. The place is packed. I hear laughter, engaged conversation, people with grins on their faces, people on dates, another dude also with his mom (who actually smiled knowingly at my mom as we walked by). An entire world of urban happiness that's invisible to the commuters whizzing by outside on 16th street. What is this food? It's not traditional Sonoran, that's for sure. Ohhhh, I see: it's "modern Mexican with a heavy French influence," as your waitress put it. Sure. Find two of the kinds of cuisine I love most, and somehow find a way to combine them in one, all in an unpretentious setting 6 minutes away from my house. Damn, woman, you are good.
I don't say this lightly. When you came out with a tray, cut open that avocado, and mixed up various fresh ingredients in front of our very eyes to make the tastiest guacamole me or my mom have ever tasted in our life, I knew the moment had arrived. I'm ready to take the plunge. I'm ready to say that I don't want to ever live anywhere else, because there is no way I could get to know someone as intimately, as closely, as sweetly as I do you. Yeah yeah, there are other fish in the sea. I know that. But you're my fish, Cennypoo.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)
![[cxml]](/fct/images/cxml_doc.png)
![[csv]](/fct/images/csv_doc.png)
![[text]](/fct/images/ntriples_doc.png)
![[turtle]](/fct/images/n3turtle_doc.png)
![[ld+json]](/fct/images/jsonld_doc.png)
![[rdf+json]](/fct/images/json_doc.png)
![[rdf+xml]](/fct/images/xml_doc.png)
![[atom+xml]](/fct/images/atom_doc.png)
![[html]](/fct/images/html_doc.png)