After a glorious weekend with friends and family, it’s Monday.
And … BUSHWACKER LIPSMACKER! YAY! See some of you at 5 at Chainsaw!
In other food news… i have a GIANT bone to pick with Burrito Boyz – and i’m going to air it here… passive aggressively.
Ok… so it’s Saturday night.
It’s been a lovely nite out and about town … housewarming at the adorable lovenest of D & B and then out for a berry mojito at Bauer… it’s 1ish… and P, Alana and I head to get a late night delicious burrito.
So we go – and Alana is like, awestruck by the topping heaven that is Burrito Boys. I order a small steak on white… and I am assigned the number 44.
i patiently wait my turn behind 3 VERY drunk female froshs who are telling the maker of their burritos how much they love her. “YOU’RE THE BEST. HIGHFIVE!” So then, I order up my toppings… which are very minimal, because i seriously think i’m a super-taster or something and I pretty much hate sauces. i like flavourful things – don’t get me wrong here. But 9/10 I’d just like to eat pasta with butter, or a hamburger with a bit of mustard. I don’t know how i got this way… but i like it.
So, i get my burrito with rice, cheese, sour cream and steak. boring? maybe. Deal with it.
So my burrito is grilling away beside P and Alana’s fully dressed burritos (number 1 and number 43)… and this ridiuclously drunk, tobacco chewing idiot behind us… who also got a “works” burrito with spicy salsa. I’m sure you can see where this is going…. his number is #4.
So… one burrito comes up… it gets wrapped up and the dude behind the counter either says 4 or 44… the drunk tobacco chewer instantly grabs it and heads for the door… Alana, being the best friend ever yells at the guy to check if that’s actually his burrito and he drunkenly pulls out his crumbled receipt, and spits some disgustingness into the water bottle he’s carrying… we’re pretty much grossed out enough to not even WANT burritos anymore… but I ask the dude grilling these puppies up “which number was that?” and he says #4. BUT….
IT TURNS OUT IT IS ACTUALLY MY BURRITO. GODDAMMMMMMMIT.
But of course, i don’t find this out til we get home.
Sigh…
Late night snack fail.
Anyways, there are two lessons to this story:
1. Burrito Boyz : You need a better system for getting people THEIR Burritos. I mean, i get home and open my deliciously plain, custom made snack and it’s a fucking fully dressed spice nightmare!!!!!!!!!! AWFUL!!!!!!!!!! WTF!?!?
and
2. If you are a patron at Burrito Boys, and I encourage you to go, because it is ridiculously good – watch the path of your burrito carefully – and don’t let it out of your sight! Demand your personalized burrito!
ok. that’s it. sigh…
i just needed to tell someone and get that off my chest.
H.
ps. total # of times i say burrito in this post = 18
ps. yeah, in case you were wondering i went to bed starving and cried myself to sleep… i may never get over it. And yes, i am glaringly aware this is BEYOND a firstworldproblem. More meaningful posts to follow, as soon as I recover.