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EL GUAPO: Like An Angel Standing in A Shaft of Light
By Giles
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This is where a magazine would include a photo of one of the Hot Waitresses from “El Guapo” (and we mean “hot” on the inside too.. nice gals!)
After a brilliant Giants victory over the Dodgers, we went to El Guapo to beg one the waitresses to put their picture on the website.
While our waitress obliged happily, a tragedy occurred.
We found out our photographer was an inept moron who didn’t bring enough batteries to snap even one picture.
Ironically enough he was arrested yesterday after an anonymous tipster informed the cops that he had a kilo stashed in his infant daughter’s crib.
How’d that get there?
Karma, huh?
So this will be a “Theater of the Mind” piece, until some El Guapo waitress takes pity on us and sends a snapshot to Crackpot@crackpotpress.com
Thanks,
-CP
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I just returned from an unbelievable ten days on the east coast -- an account of my journey will be posted here under the title "The Red, White, and Blue State Shuffle" soon.
It's a perfect Southern California night -- a light cool breeze is whipping through the open windows. The sun is dipping behind the roof tops and palm trees of my neighborhood. I have just eaten lots of food. My beer is full and cold. The All Star Game is on (shocker -- the National League is getting their ass handed to them on a platter). I have the place to myself. It just seems too nice of a night to toss people into The Inferno -- even though the holding pen is bursting with candidates. You turn your back for one second and so much bile oozes out the world you don't want to believe your eyes and nose!
But it’s way too nice of a night already to spoil now. That's why we're going to talk about my favorite sports bar in Los Angeles. Los Angeles is not a sports town like Chicago, Boston, New York, or Green Bay. The average guy’s L.A. “sports world” is a fractured community of sports lover expatriates from all over the country. You never go to a sports bar and have the whole place pulling for one team. Every die hard enemy of your team in every sport will be present in roving drunken and blood soaked bands everywhere you go. It is chaos. Beautiful chaos.
The only athelete we can all always pull for is the AVP’s RACHEL WACHOLDER.
Now I've been to 87% of all bars in Los Angeles county, and for years our collective nightmare was being forced to leave the comforts of own evil domicile and venture into the thin sports bar world of Los Angeles to see a game we "don't get" with our $500 digital satellite cable missile launcher service. You rush out because you don't miss the start of the game, and you hit one lame sports bar after another that can't conjure up the game you want to see on one of its sixty obstructed view televisions. It's like drinking yourself through a ghost town. But that's okay because the beers are only eight fifty and the servers are openly hostile to you for asking for something because -- don't you understand? -- THEY are going to be a STAR! It makes you want to scream and run home to read old NUDE FAT MAN posts for renewal of purpose.
Then El Guapo Cantina opened. They have TV's with team pennants on them to tell you which game you're watching -- key after you've downed three to seven of their ginormous margaritas. The beers on draft are a pint and are the same price as most of the bottle beers. They have great Mexican food. They have an outdoor patio in the sun. They have people who play music and sing on that patio on Sundays during the summer. They have ridiculous mid week food and drink specials. They have "almost clothing optional" events on holidays. They play great music. You can rent out the Don Julio room -- your private diabolical sports bar palace fiesta with liquor on ice at 10:00 am, four televisions, and your own adjoining table on the outdoor patio. I had a birthday party in the Don Julio room on opening day of the NFL season last year. Our waitress/goddess prevented me from overpaying by three hundred dollars because apparently I can't do math after drinking liquor for six hours. I saw Judd Nelson here whacked out of his skull. But I digress.
Yes, El Guapo has everything someone would want in a sports bar. But that's not why I love El Guapo. I love El Guapo, and its subsequent effect being El Guapoed, because El Guapo has the most outstanding assemblage of heart wrenchingly beautiful women on its staff -- the hostess, the waitresses, and the bartenderesses (if that isn't a world it is now) are some kind of mutant breed of hot, sexy, and cool that should not exist in reality. Sometimes I take binoculars.
Now I've been in 97% of the bars in the state, and every joint you hit is overflowing with wondrous California dreams -- staff and patrons alike. The gene pool here is stupid. So what makes the women of El Guapo different? I don't have an answer to that question. I really can't say. I just know that I love them. True love. True unbreakable love that spans generations and hotel rooms.
Here is how the equation works: you arrive thinking you will watch the game and drink a couple of beers. After you see the hostess you immediately upgrade to a couple of "drinks." After you see the other waitresses and the bartenderess you graduate to tequila. You are now on the road to being El Guapoed -- or getting real drunk because the women are fire goddess hot -- all in their own unique and devastatingly perfect yet evil way. A good time will be had by all and you will over tip them on principle alone. Not to mention the other women who venture off the street.
In an otherwise barren sports bar landscape, El Guapo, and specifically the women of El Guapo, are, as the song goes, angels standing in a shaft of light. And they're right down the street. God bless America.
EL Guapo Cantina is at
7250 Melrose (3 blocks west of LaBrea)
Los Angeles, CA
CLick Here for more Info
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