Munchi Coffee

Last night I wanted to leave early to watch the primary results, but I ended up staying until 2:30 am. “Obama’s gonna get shot the first week he’s in office,” Andres scoffed. “You all think Americans are all racist.” “No, it only takes one crazy guy with a gun.” (Jesse Forester became a life member of the NRA in May of 1986. He received his Social Security Card in September of 1986.) Independence Day is coming up, and there is a pair of black-face painted dolls in our neighborhood confiteria holding the Argentina flag. I don’t know the significance of the dolls. Jenny calls them the N word, and it hurts my heart to hear anyone call them that.
I wasn’t planning on going to a bar last night, but after Damian and Annemarie left, Jesse assured them “Oh, we’ll get her home.” I assumed it would be on a bus, not two cab rides. Oh well, it ended up being a free night. And I might have myself a ten-peso-an-hour waitressing job. Could be fun. Might make a few bucks in tips. I never mentioned that I’ve never held a waitressing job in my life. And Matt is already calling me “Blondie.” “You’re one of us now,” Andres said as he slapped me on the back and poured me a margarita. (I didn’t ask for it.) So today’s agenda is basically: breakfast, run, coffee, groceries, and lunch at Bio. But I never thought to look up Bio’s schedule. I hope I can make it for a late lunch. My run was definitely abbreviated to a mile log run/walk. Alright, finish my Munchi’s coffee and banana-nut budin then go. The bar Sugar is very red inside. It’s right next to Bartok and it looks like a red grotto. They had a pretty good crowd for a Tuesday. The staff was nice. Even the people on their off nights stopped by. It could be nice to have a group like that, aside from the people I already know here. Branch out. I wouldn’t be working for the money but the experience. Could be fun. And if I hate it, I just don’t go back. Might as well try it for one night. The Brits were saying the nights were long, but they couldn’t believe they were getting paid to do what they do.

The dollar’s down. Now it’s only 3.120:1. I don’t know what’s going on in The States, but that can’t be good. A 0.155 drop in one week? That’s big. I should’ve exchanged more cash back when it was up. Now I figure I’ll save myself the 45 minute wait and pony up $6 bucks in bank fees to get money at the cajero automático, or ATM.

Jenny’s visiting friend Andrea (pronounced, after much debate, ahn-DRAY-uh) seems nice. I let them do their thing though while I slowly but surely check things off my to-do list. I figure it’s my job to be hospitable, but she doesn’t need me as a tour guide. She’s spent more time in Buenos Aires than I have, studying abroad for a semester after the UNM “El Caminito” summer program she did with Jenny and Annemarie.

Munchi’s coffee is a bit weak, and the budin was a bit dry. I was hoping for something more like Mom’s banana bread, it turned out to be a dry elongated muffin. I suppose they’re known for their ice creams though. On Wednesdays (today) they have a promotion: 1 kg for $25 pesos. Whatever that means. I suppose that’s to take home. Maybe delivery. (Argentines love their delivery…)