Apr 072015

Being in the house has been hard on me this past week, and I have been lashing out at Henry and Chooch. Projection, you know? I am definitely grieving this death in a much different way than I have with the other cats. I feel like I have no control.   Luckily, it was a beautiful, sunny day, kind of chilly still, but who cares. I made the unilateral decision that we would get tacos and take them to the cemetery.

Sunshine helps. So do tacos.

I had been wanting to try El Burro for a few months now, once I found out that they have a vegetarian/vegan menu. Any food establishment that has the decency to cater to those of us who don’t dine on animals is immediately OK in my book. However, this place kind of left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Literally.

First of all, I didn’t feel “cool” enough to even walk in. And then Chooch was being difficult because he loves doing this thing where he’s only interested in eating things that aren’t available where we are. So of course he was whining about only wanting a sandwich. Luckily, the girl behind the counter was too busy staring at her phone and listening to Chvrches to notice that a meltdown was about to occur.

This all happened while Henry was outside putting money in the meter because he thought we were eating there even though I explicitly said, “And we will eat in the cemetery.” I said this like four times. FOUR TIMES! I was already irritated, so this helped a lot, thanks Henry.

Anyway, I got a sweet potato and cauliflower taco, which was excellent. But as a game time decision, I also blurted out that I wanted the vegan chorizo burrito, which turned out to be a mistake. It was TERRIBLE. It takes a lot for me to be disappointed with Mexican food (authentic, TexMex, Taco Bell — I’ll eat it all), but this made me super sad.

The tortilla tasted exactly like that Taco Bell grilled stuft thing, I don’t know what it’s called. Grilled Stuft? Which is whatever, I guess. But the inside was just terrible: bland, soggy rice and the vegan chorizo was dry as fuck. It was like eating something I had made for myself, you guys, like dining on actual dry rot. So disappointing and peppered with alarming flavors that you just can’t pinpoint. I even made Henry taste it and I screamed, “WHAT IS THAT WEIRD TASTE!?” and he was stumped. It takes a lot to make me complain about food, but that was enough for me to probably never go back.

But those tacos though. Ugh. I should have just gotten more tacos instead of that day-ruining burrito.

There is this local guy who reviews the FUCK out of the city on Yelp, and he is so goddamn annoying. He’s like the Oh Honestly, Erin of Yelp reviews in that they are way too long, didn’t read. But the worst part about him is that he has his dick so far inside a thesaurus that his reviews are actually sketchy to read if you’re the type of person who frowns upon becoming inseminated by jizz-coated 5-syllable words. Sometimes Henry will torture himself by trying to slag through an entire paragraph about the salt on a pretzel, and he has to pause after every other word to ask me, “What does this word mean?” and a lot of times, I don’t even know!

“He has no fucking life!” I cried after hate-reading a particularly War & Peace-ish review of pizza, to which Henry sneered, “Actually, he does. He’s always going places so he can write his obnoxious reviews.”

In one of his reviews about your basic bar food, he replaced “salty” with “saliferous.” SALIFEROUS! Even my phone was like “the FUCK is this?”‘ and tried to change it to “saki detours.”

UGH FUCK THAT GUY. There is a time and a place for smart würdz, and a Yelp review is not one.

Anyway, I only mentioned him because Henry was excited when he looked up El Burro on Yelp and noticed that our mortal enemy hasn’t been there yet.

Yeah so I totally pouted about my burrito and we left the cemetery after about 10 minutes. Luckily, the day was salvaged by a spontaneous trip to the Antique Mall on Rt. 65.    

There were no wheelchairs, but I had my eye (I only have one of those now) on some questionable art work.

My least favorite part of the day was when Chooch didn’t know some broad had entered the room with us and he came bursting out from behind the beaded curtains, saying some shit about “JUST DID DRUGS.” Great. I’m glad that his YouTube habit is teaching him to associate beaded curtains with drugs.

I should probably pay better attention to the shit he watches. Ugh.


We taught Chooch about these things called ROTARY PHONES and then some old man came over and told us a yarn about how when he was a kid, he’d put a nickel in his shoe in case he needed to phone home from the soda shop’s phone booth. Chooch had this shit-eating grin on his face the whole time, like this guy was lying to him.  I mean, what a boring lie.

Then we got gelattttoooo and I was sad because I got coconut cream pie gelato but wished I had ordered hazelnut. UGH. GELATO REMORSE.

I don’t think I was mean to anyone for the rest of the day. So, that was good.

We watched some more Breaking Bad that night and I was excited because Howard Jones’s “New Song” was playing very faintly in the background of one scene! I was like HOWARD JONES! I JUST SAW HIM! And Henry had that HOW CAN YOU HEAR THAT?? look on his face. (OMG HE’S ON THE RADIO RIGHT NOW TOO AS I’M WRITING THIS! I can hear him wafting down from my bedroom radio.)

And then it was Easter! We are guilty of falling into the whole Christmas Lite mentality. So this year we were like fuck it and just got him 2 CDs (Fall Out Boy & Ed Shereen—he LOVES Ed Shereen for some reason), a Grumpy Cat coloring book and the standard candy loot. Which is still more than Easter is worth, but oh well. Jesus is Risen, put on the Fall Out Boy CD.

Chooch didn’t seem to notice that we even downgraded the size of the actual basket. I guess he’s not as spoiled as I thought!

Then, family photos and a late afternoon frolic in South Park where Chooch ended every one of his actions with the obnoxious declaration of “LIKE A BOSS” except for when he fell and bit it, but don’t worry, I made the declaration for him.

Like a boss, Chooch.

After the park, we met Corey at Pan Asia for inappropriate, LOUD AS FUCK laughing which Henry haaaaates.

For some reason, Corey and I are still riding high on the time we went to Nemacolin Castle with Janna in December and Janna got in trouble for taking her mom’s car. Corey pointed at the frosted pane of glass behind the sushi bar and cried, “I’m picturing Janna behind the glass, getting beat by her mom!” And then I started cracking up too and Chooch yelled, “Is that all you two do is laugh?!” He was just mad because he brought an entire backpack of Pokemon cards and crayons and Corey was too distracted by his salacious thoughts of Janna.

And then somehow we started pretending that Janna was a coke head  and Henry was just like DISAPPOINTED SIGH. Sorry you’re so saliferous, Henry.

It was a nice Easter weekend.

  3 Responses to “Tacos, Saliferous Feelings, & Thoughts About Janna. ”

  1. Okay, not even kidding, we had a guy call in yesterday pissed as hell because our phone system won’t work for him because he has a ROTARY PHONE. What in the fuck, man? I can’t decide if he was ancient or just super fucking hipster.

    Sorry about Ed Sheeran (Shereen? Sheeren?). Chooch has the most eclectic taste in music ever.

  2. This is why I love reading your blog.

    Because this is what grief looks like.

    Waking up upset.
    Lashing out and bickering at the ones we love best.
    Relying on tacos.
    Relying on gelato.
    The gelato not helping.
    The tacos making it worse.
    Halfhearted Easters.
    Trying to slog through it anyway with inside jokes.

    You always tell the truth no matter what.

  3. Any post with tacos and burritos (or any kind of Mexican food, really) gets three big thumbs up from me. Sorry to hear your burrito was a huge disappointment. Maybe it just needed more salifer. Who can say???

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