Pump this, bitch!
I really wanted to go to Ibiza this summer, as the sort of last summer before I turn 30. I’ve wanted to go ever since I enviously read about the party island abroad in the damned British dance music magazines back when I was a wee lad. But looking at hotel rates, it seems I’d need a good couple thousand just to stay for a week and, ya know, eat and drink. Pity.
I want to start a band called The Whom. Care to join?
I discussed with J. Co that we should commit to dine out in North Beach on a biweekly basis. It literally looks like a slice of Italy at night, and just can’t be beat for its charm.
