The food: Sacramento likes to Americanize ethnic food. Actually, America likes to do it in general, but Sacramento is like one of those celebrity impersonators whose potbelly makes him possibly more loveable than the real thing. We had exactly one conversation in San Diego when we talked about what we missed about home. There were four of us. We went to the same middle school. The conversation went like this:

First girl: "I miss Jimboy’s Tacos."

The rest of us (in squealing unison): "Oh my god me too!"

I guess you can’t call Mexican food ethnic food though.

Jimboy’s Tacos is so popular that when a branch opened near my high school, only the dance royalty and members of student government could get jobs there. When class let out the drive-thru would back up into the street. If you weren’t driving, you had to know someone who worked there to get a table, because everyone there was popular, and you can’t just walk up and sit next to the prom queen or she'll give you that cockroach look that super social hot chicks give to people they want no part of. The prom queen was probably not without a car though. If she was inside, it was so she could scope out the people working there (her coworkers). It was a good show, with the burrito grillers and wrappers grilling everything to perfection, beautiful hair spilling lazily out of their hair nets, white-pressed pants held up with a skater belt below their ass cheeks, and the petite blond girls taking orders in pink sparkle lip gloss.

Me? I worked at McDonalds.

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