7-Layer Burrito
After working tonight, I swung by Taco Bell and placed the following order:
Nachos Belgrande (for the wife)
2 7-layer burritos
1 Grilled Stuft Chicken Burrito
Simple enough, right? As I waited in the dining area for my order (#290 for those who care) I was accosted by a guy from Ohio who starting rambling on about New Hampshire. How do I meet these people? Do I have a sign on my back that says, "Nutjobs, talk for free?" According to the guy, the winters up north aren't as cold as they used to be- and the summers are becoming so warm that he had to buy an air conditioner.
Finally, I've discovered what people talk about when they're ready to die.
I wanted to tell him that it was a Taco Bell and maybe he should focus on the taco at hand but instead I nodded politely and made my way to the door. I didn't have my food yet, but I figured it would be an okay ruse. Once there, I noticed that the strip on the door that's supposed to tell the cashier the height of a potential or recent thief was about six inches too high. I know this because I barely made it to the five foot six inches mark and I'm at least six feet tall.
I pondered this awhile. Six inches off. How drunk or inept does one have to be to tape a strip such as this that far off? The sole purpose of the strip is now lost. Secondly, how sad is it that no one has thought to fix it?
Well, after pondering that little chestnut, I picked up my order. I thanked the man and then wandered out to my car. Along the way, I realized that I was short a 7-layer burrito. I turned back to go inside and saw the guy who had made my order standing outside with his shirt untucked, smoking a cigarette. I walked back inside and informed the lady that my order was short a burrito.
The guy from Ohio is staring me down pretty intensely right now. I feel his eyes boring into my scalp.
The lady looks at my bag and says, "You sure are. And I charged you for two." Then she looks over at Mr. Untucked, who walks in the back and makes me another. But not before giving me the LOOK.
You know, the look that says, "I-know-you-just-didn't-make-me-stop-smoking-to-fix-you-a-burrito." He throws one together while I'm not looking and them slaps it into my waiting hand.
At this point I realize that there's NO way in hell I'm eating that burrito.
Yo don't quiero that much, amigo.
Nachos Belgrande (for the wife)
2 7-layer burritos
1 Grilled Stuft Chicken Burrito
Simple enough, right? As I waited in the dining area for my order (#290 for those who care) I was accosted by a guy from Ohio who starting rambling on about New Hampshire. How do I meet these people? Do I have a sign on my back that says, "Nutjobs, talk for free?" According to the guy, the winters up north aren't as cold as they used to be- and the summers are becoming so warm that he had to buy an air conditioner.
Finally, I've discovered what people talk about when they're ready to die.
I wanted to tell him that it was a Taco Bell and maybe he should focus on the taco at hand but instead I nodded politely and made my way to the door. I didn't have my food yet, but I figured it would be an okay ruse. Once there, I noticed that the strip on the door that's supposed to tell the cashier the height of a potential or recent thief was about six inches too high. I know this because I barely made it to the five foot six inches mark and I'm at least six feet tall.
I pondered this awhile. Six inches off. How drunk or inept does one have to be to tape a strip such as this that far off? The sole purpose of the strip is now lost. Secondly, how sad is it that no one has thought to fix it?
Well, after pondering that little chestnut, I picked up my order. I thanked the man and then wandered out to my car. Along the way, I realized that I was short a 7-layer burrito. I turned back to go inside and saw the guy who had made my order standing outside with his shirt untucked, smoking a cigarette. I walked back inside and informed the lady that my order was short a burrito.
The guy from Ohio is staring me down pretty intensely right now. I feel his eyes boring into my scalp.
The lady looks at my bag and says, "You sure are. And I charged you for two." Then she looks over at Mr. Untucked, who walks in the back and makes me another. But not before giving me the LOOK.
You know, the look that says, "I-know-you-just-didn't-make-me-stop-smoking-to-fix-you-a-burrito." He throws one together while I'm not looking and them slaps it into my waiting hand.
At this point I realize that there's NO way in hell I'm eating that burrito.
Yo don't quiero that much, amigo.
posted by Yorick at 7:13 PM
1 Comments:
This is something I found in our sister's blog-
One of my favorite television quotes
PEGGY: You know, it frightens me to think that we've raised Bobby for twelve years without the Internet. Parents without the Internet should have their children taken away. (from King of the Hill)
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