Best burger in town.

Right across the street. At 1720 Central Ave SW -- Route 66 Malt Shop. Little diner type place with all the kitsch to match its name. Run by an old hippy who asked me where I work and said he played one of his first gigs there like thirty years ago. Always felt Foxes would be a decent live music venue -- apparently it already has been. He also seems to run the pedicab company next door that does luminaria tours.

You simply *must* try their blue cheese green chile burger. It's right up there with the Owl Cafe in San Antonio in terms of sheer distinctiveness -- I've never encountered anything like it before. Made to *perfection*, through and through. Danish blue and fresh-ground meat on a toasted bun from some little local craft bakery. Not too fancy, not too plain. Perfect. What diner food *should* be.

Homemade root beer, too.

Some lady backed her brand new fancy jeep into my car, denting the driver's side rear passenger door and exchanging a lovely maroon stripe on my white car for a white one on hers. Flipped into doorman mode and flash memorised the license number, but she stopped and got out and said she was so sorry. I just opened up my car, checked to make sure the door still opened, and it did. If she had dashed off I *so* would have called the cops on her right then and there. But she didn't, and my car's pretty trashed anyway. I smiled and laughed and said "it's just a piece of metal, no worries". Not worth the wear and tear on nerves, and now it's like my birthmark people think is a black eye -- a conversation piece that makes me look like I've been through worse than I have which keeps people from messing with me.

I'm going to get a little sleep now. Considering running down to El Paso for a couple of days if I can get Alex to cover for me Monday night. If I do that I'll need some rest beforehand, 'cause I'll be leaving right as I get off of work.