The Millionize r.'s Profile

A while ago the Teebs and I wen to 515 (anybody who gives it more that 2 stars is a retarded douchehauser). When 515 opened we thought it was cool, but it quickly became apparent that it's a sham. It's a skeleton of an operation with pretty paint and sexy drapery. Everything is overpriced and the whole experience is just not worth it.

But it was a friends birthday and he wanted to go to here. So we went. We got there after everyone had already ordered. The waitress (server?) actively ignored us. We tried to order drinks from her. Like 8 fucking times. After (I SWEAR TO GOD) 30 minutes we gave up and ordered from the bar. We sat down with our drinks and suddenly she paid us all kinds of attention. She made a bee line and said, "If you want drinks I would really appreciate it if you'd order from me." The table looked at us as my jaw hit the table and I was rendered speechless. TBU took over and replied, "Well we tried but we got tired of waiting." She pursed her lips and walked away.

And that is why I am boycotting 515 because it sucks and it is full of itself. Buuuuuut last Friday a whole different set of friends, people I actually like, wanted to go there. I tried to convince them not to. I tried to tell them. I gave my speech and they all looked at me like I was over reacting. For emphasis TBU added, "The Millz wants to burn that place down."

But we still went. The waitress was weird and carded my friend even though there is a bouncer, because she overheard part of a conversation where "fake id" was mentioned. The mood lighting kept flickering on and off and, of course, the drinks were way overpriced. And there was some "fancy" bar mix on the table which just made me think of all the dirty hands that came before. The server apologized about the lights and explained that there was something wrong with the circuit breaker. We told her not to worry about it and that we didn't care if the lights just stayed off. We were in a private room.

Meanwhile our drinks came, TBU and I ordered desserts for the whole table. We were looking at a fairly pricey tab. There were at least 10 of us. We drank and made merry. La la la. More drinks. The Teebs and I were halfway through a beer when another waitress came by and started with, "Uuuuum." We thought we were being kicked out because it was pretty late. But no, she finished her sentence with, "There's a fire and we're all being evacuated." She told us not to worry about our bill and to just leave. TBU and I instinctively chugged our extravagant beers.

I was kind of surprised there were even any fire trucks left in Santa Cruz what with the 800 fires Northern California is dealing with right now. But three showed up. And we all kind of lamely watched with glee at the excitement of free drinks and a fire. The chainsaws were the highlight.

So that is how I got 515 back for all their shittiness. I'm not saying I started the fire I'm just saying it's awesome there was a fire.

As you may have guessed yesterday was a rough day for me. Saturday night I went to a party where I drank an entire bottle of red wine and 3 extra large, and consequently, extra strong vodka tonics. You know the universal sign for party, those red party cups you always see in movies? That was the size of my vodka tonics. All 3 (THREE!) of them. The decision to drink so much was not your fault and I'm sorry you had to deal with the consequences.

On the drive back to Santa Cruz from San Francisco the Boyfriend Unit thought it would be a nice change of pace to take the scenic route. This is where fate would have us meet. The scenic route adds a solid two hours to this voyage and the traffic didn't help. I made myself drink a gallon of water before I passed out early yesterday morning. And although I didn't wake up hungover, I had obviously not expelled all of the poison from my body. My intestines would make sure I knew it. After an hour of indescribable discomfort I asked the Boyfriend Unit to please, for the love of God find someplace suitable for exorcism. NOW. You, Tres Amigos Taqueria, you were there. Right there. Your well maintained exterior all but guaranteed that you had a restroom waiting for me. I even ventured that this was going to be a pleasurable experience. I would expell the demons and be glad I had a clean, well-lit sink with soap to wash my hands with. I thanked you in advance.

I walked into the ladies room and I was glad to be right, it was a single serving bathroom and your toilet actually gleamed. You were more than I expected or deserved, I locked the door and thanked the public restroom gods for my privacy. I had one of the most painful yet simultaneously relieving bathroom experiences of my life. You didn't bat an eye when it got loud or judge me when the stench hit you. After a several waves, two courtesy flushes (I got your back) and a wiping workout I was done. I lost all concept of time in there, I may have blacked out. You took me by suprise on the third flush. You rejected my foul gifts. Brown water bubbled up. I panicked, suddenly I felt like I had been in there for hours. I had to supress an anxiety attack and take care of business. If I was going to have to walk out of there, I wanted to be able to hold my head high, but believe me dying in your bathroom crossed my mind. I just kept flushing and slowly the water turned a clear tan color. But you still would not just FLUSH! Flush goddammit, PLEASE! Wait! I noticed your plunger dutifully standing by. What good fortune, I thought. I never see that, thank you Tres Amigos Taqueria, for being prepared for me. I plunged, I fucking plunged my little heart out. Nothing. You mocked me Tres Amigos Taqueria. I plunged so hard toilet water got on my arm. I didn't think anything of it I just kept plunging. When I finally realized you were not going to save me from my own mess I stopped. I washed my arm off and wiped the seat down. I looked at the water still recovering from my plunging efforts. It wasn't wholly offensive anymore. At first glance you couldn't even tell the toilet was plugged. Just little jelly fish bits of toilet paper majestically taking in the current.

Who knows how long I was in there by this point, but I do know that it was long enough for the stench to almost completely dissipate. I washed my hands again for good measure. I opened the door and saw a lady coming into the bathroom area a few feet ahead. Perfect I thought, we will cross paths and by the time she realizes that a massacre has taken place I will be long gone. Then I caught the glare of someone else. What is this, I thought? No less than 3 women were tapping there feet and judging me. I'm sure they noticed the residual stink. The woman poised to take her place on the throne rolled her eyes and GLARED at me. I was a little embarassed and expedited my escape. By the time I reached the waiting get away car I felt good knowing that the bitch was in for the surprise of her I have to pee right now and some freak is putting on a circus show in the bathroom life. Ha!

Please accept my most sincerest apologies Tres Amigos Taqueria in Half Moon Bay. You deserved better.

Umm their bathroom is great and clean (mostly). I've never eaten there.

Five enthusiastic stars for the best place I've ever lived. The proctors were assholes and the provost was a flake but they didn't compare to the amazing experiences I had while living in Stevenson, specifically House 7. Lower quad can't be beat, you've got the view of the bay and East field where the deer come out at sunset. It's enough to melt your heart.

Awesome experiences include:

-mushrooms: fuck is that a gnome village? why are my eyes so big? I need a drink
-unexplained bruises
-first rain: I've seen shit man
-living with your drinking buddies
-dormcest: yeah, we fucked
-nursing endless hangovers in Tim's room
-the entire freshman experience

Oh yeah and the knoll. The knoll is history, if those redwoods could talk...

Once, my boyfriend got banned from all campus housing and I kept sneaking him in. And since he couldn't just go to the bathroom he peed out my window and one of the proctors ran to my door and demanded him to come out. But it was too late, he had already jumped out the window and run to the knoll. I had to have a meeting with the provost and she was like who was that? And I was like that was my friend Ed, he goes to Berkeley. You wanna talk to him? And she was like uh, why was he peeing out the window? And I was like, uh because he was drunk. And then I immediately called Ed to the M and was like duuude if UCSC calls you, you were peeing out my window last night. And he was like, of course I was.

Also, I once pooped on Al the proctors car because he knew I was smoking weed and kept hassling me about it. Clearly poop was in order. House 7 knew how to deal with the man.

As the name implies this is a bicycle shop slash coffee shop. I already have a bike and can't really afford a new one so I'm just reviewing the coffee shop.

First off, this place has a windmill out front, which is adorable. Wait, does it? I think I might be confusing it with Star Bene. But they are close and the neighborhood charm is hard to miss.

We had hot chocolate (delish) and pastries (also delish). They have a sizeable menu for a coffeeshop, including sandwiches and heavier breakfasty stuff. The staff was super friendly and joked around with us.

The atmosphere is welcoming and comfortable. It's like what Perg would be if it weren't infested with hipsters and assholes. There is a piano and a couple couches for serious lounging.

The location is sweet too, right past Twin Lakes. Or before Twin Lakes. Depends.

Amsterdam is part bike shop (awesome!) and part coffee shop (awesome!) strange combination but it works. Amsterdam works outside of Yelp's categorization efforts. For shame, bicycles and coffee, obvs! You mostly see a lot of older, hard core mountain bikers after a ride. If you like man packages in spandex and existential conversation, this place is for you.

Yawn!

The only thing Woodstock's has going for it it the fact that there is a place to sit down. Otherwise do everyone a favor and support the way better, way cooler and way localer Rockers at the Catalyst.

My experience with Woodstock's dates back to UCSB. And from what I remember It was tasty. But to be fair, I was always drunk, hungover or recovering from an open facial wound caused by the oh so dangerous task of taking out the recycling with drunk people.

When I saw Woodstock's was replacing the old Erik's spot, I figured the boy and I should give it a try. I didn't remember the food but I remembered having a good time.

The crust is thick and tasteless. The entire thing was like eating a soggy english muffin sandwich, English muffins would have been tastier. There was no form, no technique, fucking pride man. It was so bland I added tons of parm to help it out and that was bland. I even added pepper, something I never do, and the pepper was the only thing holding the fort down. Great pizza, even good pizza shouldn't need to be dressed up like a drag queen. Please, everyone knows you're a dude.

The staff were too busy serving their underage friends beer to notice us even though we were the only customers there. Woodstock's is clearly trying to be the cool hang out spot with their TV's and large seating area and their beer, But it kind of falls apart and seems like a sad Round Table in the middle of nowhere on the way to Tahoe. That palpable desperation is not helped by the fact that everywhere you turn there is a suggestion card begging for your help. I have a suggestion, make some tasty pizza.

There is a reason Woodstock's is found in college towns, because they aren't good enough for the discerning palate. They bank on college kids being lazy and drunk and following the neon beer signs. That's fine, I'll just take my drunk pizza dollars elsewhere.

Oh yeah, and they don't start selling slices till 9pm.

Oh yeah! and you know what I re-realized? That Rockers Pizza is a blessing from the late night pizza gods. Oh my crap is that good. The crust is thin but fluffy but crunchy. The cashiers are cool enough to be cool but too cool to care. Plus it's made for drunk. All you have to do is walk up to a window on the street, exchange money for goods and then you walk to the next bar with your delicious pizza. Santa Cruz has really been missing an excellent pizza place since MCP got run out of town by pizza my crap. God that place blows. If you live anywhere near here you've seen their shirts, but don't be fooled. Do yourself a favor and get a better, bigger slice at Rockers Pizza.

Rockers Pizza is the best pizza Santa Cruz has going. There used to be a place at the metro, I forget what it was called so I called it MCP (metro center pizza) and THAT was seriously the best pizza in town. When I worked at Wells Fargo the owner came in and only had $19.78 in her account. I went home and told my boyfriend we should get our fill of MCP before it shut down. And then it did and I was sad. And then Rockers opened and Santa Cruz has pizza again. Hooray!

Oh! And the best part is that it is cheap like a new born chick. Like $14 for a large and 3 for a huge slice. Slices are big enough for two normal eaters and bound to satisfy one hungry eater.

You can get a slice or a whole pie, but sobriety is optional.

OH EM GEE, oh what up? That'd be so rad, we'd make the beast with two backs, till we both get whiplash.

Oh hai, I didn't see you over in your poopy party. I was too busy enjoying myself at Sushi Itto. I dunno what shade of shit you all had to bathe in to get such terrible service at Sushi Itto but I went with my mom after work on our way to the airport and it was perfect. The worst thing about it was the soccer mom ignoring her blond offspring and yelling into her cell phone. But you know what? It wasn't even that bad because the lovely ambient remixes of songs we all know and love made her barely audible.

Let's talk food. We ordered a spicy tuna roll that wasn't on the menu, "Veronica." And a fresh salmon roll that's the first listed under specialty rolls. Both were delicious and fresh. For appetizers we got edamame, grilled. Steamed is an option but we decided to go crazy with grilled edamame in a ginger garlic sauce. Next time I give a blow job I'm bringing that with me and everyone will have a good time. Because I'm pretty sure my tongue came. The miso soup was flavorful without being too salty and it included shitake mushrooms. I love mushrooms, even if they don't dilate my pupils and make me see a gnome village on the side of highway 9.

They let customers make their own rolls, if they think they're good, Sushi Itto will sell 'em. That's how we ended up with a Veronica.

How about the service you ask? I guess I can see where everyone else is coming from on the bad service front. But I have to say our server was so incredibly nice and helpful. I asked for a suggestion and she offered us something off menu that turned out to be great. She came over repeatedly to make sure we were OK, not just the obligatory one time check up. Since we ordered spicy tuna and really liked it she brought us out a bowl of their special jalapeno sauce on her own, we didn't even ask. And THAT was delicious too. You can substitute the jalapeno sauce for other sauces on your rolls if you like. We just dipped our rolls in it. We were sad when there was nothing left to dip. I could have tried to dip our servers fingers and platonically suckled at them, but that may have made my mom feel weird.

The one irritating thing though was the girl who filled our water. I think she and suicide had a date after her shift. We said thank you and smiled and she just ignored us to go cry in a corner. And we drank a lot of water, you think by the 3rd time she could muster up the courage to make some eye contact. She stole the last star.

I think Sushi Itto is one of those places people hate to admit they like. Like in high school when that jock begged to fuck you even though he bitched about how ugly goth girls were. And while you smoked your cigarette he kissed your piercings and wanted to fuck again. You snickered because he was lousy and knew he was just thinking of Marylin Manson in drag the whole time. I mean, like hypocrites.

Sushi Itto was started in Mexico City, so it does have a decidedly Mexican flair. But the tradition of tasty, fresh sushi was not lost, only enhanced by the Mexican eye for awesomeness.

If I didn't love Fred, I would be giving the 2 star salute. Fred Nunez is the best thing going at Hairspray. He's quiet and sweet then casually busts out with his love for leather and cock slings at the most inappropriate times. Me likey the inappropriate. Fred just made my hair the perfect shade of pink and he can do it for you too.

Hairspray's motto is something about not being snobby. If by not snobby you mean bitchy muscle queens with perfectly faux hawked hair judging you from the corner of their eyes, then yeah Hairspray is totally not snobby. It's really the flaming male hair dressers that are so catty. The lady hair dressers are more down to earth and willing to acknowledge your presence. Hey, maybe you're cooler and don't get this kind of treatment. The front desk girls (yes, always girls) are generally polite if unenthusiastic.

It's a great Hillcrest location, close to 5th and with a lot of charm. I like the art they have up because I could've painted it and I am awesome.

When I was in here a couple days ago there was a tranny getting her hair done next to me. It reassured me that I came to the right place. Because when trannies need to look good, they know where to go, guuuuhrl.

Hairspray is for you if you're too cool for school or are willing to be reminded that you're not cool enough for a great haircut from Fred. Peace betches.

One star for the vegan baked goods and one star for selling organic local products. However, if I could give negative stars, I would. This is the fucking greediest hippie store in a land of greedy hippie stores. Once I was in a food co-op and we bought all of our stuff from here and the farmers market. Staff thought they were so awesome by giving us a co-op discount card, 10% off. Every time I would shop there though I was like, "Where the fuck is my 10% discount?" I asked one of the anemic, dread locked employees and she allowed me to bother her enough to answer, "Oh, that's only for stuff that's not on sale." Well it turns out that fucking everything is on "sale" at this place. Yes $4.59 for a baby's fistful of cilantro is a STEAL. Staff is overpriced to match the egos of all the Patagonia sporting employees and the self satisfied customers with organic cotton and hemp clothing in burnt orange and other natural dyes. You KNOW what I'm talking about.

Hey, I'm all for local, organic, eco-friendly and re-using grocery bags, but I don't need a medal for it. If you want those things, go to the less snobby, slightly cheaper, more conveniently located and less full of itself, New Leaf.

Also, this place has the worst parking lot in all of Santa Cruz and probably North America. It's big enough for maybe four cars and you'd better be driving a subMini Cooper electric or YOU WILL BE JUDGED. My Honda has a hard time maneuvering this shit eating lot. "Hey, they're leaving!" And then you wait, and wait. I don't know what people are doing once they get in their car but they certainly aren't leaving. Smoking bowls, perhaps but not leaving. And if you've somehow managed to park AND shop you still have to leave, And leaving is the biggest bitch of all. Be careful because Water St. is not waiting for your ass and god help you if you want to make it to Soquel.

The level of stress involved with Staff is not worth the good for you produce they have inside. Staff of Life must refer to the staff that ass rapes you every single time you think it might be a good idea to go here.

Cost Plus is normally not my cup of vodka. It's for quasi-hippies with money, but not quite yuppies. It's mostly overpriced third world shit. They like to show you pictures of brown people making colorful textiles and what not like, "See! They love making your home decor for $0.40 and hour. Peruse our colorful wares and buy with glee!" But the cat has cancer and I've become obsessed with removing chemicals and toxins from the house and our bodies.

That's where Cost Plus comes in. I've been rocking the Nalgene since they were cool but apparently they leak deadly chemicals into the very water they are meant to contain. Whose grand idea was this?! Last time I was there, I noticed they had VOSS water, which comes in a glass container. And glass, my friends, is stable, IE it doesn't fuck your shit up. Granted, I could purchase a stainless steel beverage container but I didn't know where I could get one and I assumed they are out of my price range after being financially devastated by vet bills.

Cost Plus was a pleasant surprise tonight. The boyfriend spent no less than 45 minutes salivating over 50% off candy and I found glass storage containers that were also 50% off. Nice find. Everything was on sale so I'm not sure why my total was $45; that rum filled chocolate was probably more that I realized, and we bought wine, and other things somehow found their way into the abnormally small hand basket.. Oh yeah the hand baskets, c'mon Cost Plus do you want me to purchase multiple hand held items? Cuz, if so you need to make it so I don't need a team of people to hold several baskets of my shit. That's Soulless Corporate Chain 101.