Taco

SAN YSIDRO - Two eternal truths about crossing the Mexican border: It's worth the drive to Rosarito Beach for Tacos El Yaqui. And coming back is hell. In the last several years, crossing the border from the Mexican side has become a test of nerves. Two-, three-, even four-hour waits are typical. As you burn gas, jockey for position in the lanes and swerve to avoid the vendors and begging children who weave on foot between cars, you are consumed by feelings of helplessness and rage that cannot be assuaged by all the striped blankets, Sponge Bob piñatas and plaster Last Suppers in the world.

It was supposed to be a brief stop at the Primadonna casino, 43 miles south of Las Vegas, but one poker game led to another. By 3 a.m. May 25, 1997, Jeremy Strohmeyer and David Cash were tired of hanging around the arcade, waiting for David's dad. Bored, the two 18-year-olds decided to urinate on two coin-operated games. David chose Big Bertha, whose polka-dot dress flared when players hurled balls into her gaping red mouth. Jeremy selected a helicopter game. Then a wall socket.

Gap Inc. 's Athleta is ushering in 2012 with its first national ad campaign urging female empowerment under the new slogan "Power to the She. " The campaign, which will encompass print, TV and Web, is celebrating the idea of women who are juggling it all -- and still manage to be stylishly togged up in comfortable clothing from the sports apparel brand. "Athleta customers want to do it all -- they lead extremely active and busy lives," Tess Roering, Athleta's vice president of marketing and creative, said in a statement.

The call came on the eve of his Los Angeles concert, just as he was leaving his home in Mexico. We have your son. Follow our instructions. Don't make trouble. It was a year ago, and Vicente Fernandez was about to headline four sold-out shows at the Pico Rivera Sports Arena, his annual Memorial Day pilgrimage to the Eastside suburbs of L.A. Now this voice, saying his 33-year-old son, his namesake, was being held for a ransom of millions.

In a city of thousands of humble taco stands and family-run Mexican restaurants, El Tepeyac Cafe in Boyle Heights gained legendary status for the gargantuan, chili-spiked pork burritos created by owner Manuel Rojas. In the kitchen at 3 a.m., seven days a week to prepare for the 6 a.m. opening, Rojas spent a half-century serving up his famous Hollenbeck burrito and the hulking "Manuel's Special" - five pounds of roast pork, rice, beans, guacamole, cheese and chile verde stuffed into a plate-sized tortilla.

Taco Bell fans have spent the last week wondering what's really in their meals after a lawsuit was filed alleging that the popular fast-food chain's meat contains a whole lot of mystery. Some consumers cringed at the term "taco meat filling," which is how the lawsuit says Taco Bell should advertise its seasoned beef. It alleges that the product contains mostly substances other than beef. Taco Bell Corp., a Yum Brands Inc. subsidiary based in Irvine, has fired back, refuting the lawsuit's allegations and defending its menu ingredients.

Orange County will soon join Dallas in the limelight of a television series. The success of the new series, however, will not be measured in Nielsen ratings but in the yen it can attract; the show is targeted for Japanese businessmen. The three-hour, three-part series portraying Orange County's business and investment potential is scheduled to air early this summer in Los Angeles on Channel 18's Japan News Magazine and later on two major networks in Japan.

It's 3:30 in the morning and you have no particular destination in mind, and you're at J&S because you're in Montebello and everywhere else is closed, and J&S kind of exists to be the place to go when there's no place else to go. Aren't there 24-hour Hong Kong cafes just a few minutes north in Monterey Park? There are, but it's not a baked pork chop kind of night. The standard call at J&S is a bean and cheese burrito, which usually makes people's lists of the best burritos on the Eastside, although rarely, it must be admitted, right at the top of those lists.

I step out the door of my Los Feliz apartment and head to the parking lot where my rust-colored bicycle awaits. Strap on the helmet. Key open the bike lock. It's another sunny morning in L.A. The pavement rolls by under my single-speed bicycle. Commonwealth Avenue. Talmadge Street. And finally, Sunset Boulevard. Dodge, roll, brake, roll. Shattered windshield glass. An opening car door. A downed branch of a palm tree. Sun in my eyes, I pedal my way downtown, glancing with schadenfreude at the traffic backed up on the freeways.