burritos and goosebumps

 

 

now playing: jimmie spheeris, “lost in the midway” 

 

at this moment, i am standing at the pinnacle of occupational cuisine – i am eating a half pound beef and bean burrito, and relishing it. 

no shit. really. 

i stand here upon the mountaintop, looking down from my throne upon the little .0034875 oz. cans of fruit cocktail and the primal scream sausage sandwiches and the bacon, egg, and cheese muffins with my prize clutched firmly in my grasp…feeling the heat seeping through the plastic wrapper and savoring how it feels on my hands… 

…knowing full well that no matter how long i let this bastard cool down, that at some point i’m going to bite into it and scald the inside of my mouth. it won’t be the first bite, and likely won’t be the second…it’ll be the bite that i take right after i’ve somehow allowed myself to believe that this burrito is special. it’s not like all the others…this one will be the one that doesn’t kick my ass when i bite into the “hot spot” and send me lunging for what’s left of the soda on my desk…or worse yet, wait until i’m about two thirds finished and spring a leak in the end that will ultimately end up either on my clothing or my desk…. 

yes…i am convinced that this is a special beef and bean burrito….i can just feel it. 

but i won’t know for about another, oh, twenty minutes. because i’ve developed a technique of sorts here. 

you have to nuke it for about the same period of time as a bag of popcorn to make sure there aren’t any cold spots in the middle – because, uncomfortable as getting the roof of your mouth reduced to fodder for the burn unit at the trauma center might be, this is still preferrable to biting into an area that wasn’t fully “nuked” somewhere in the middle of the thing. 

gross

so last night, while i was poking around on the internet and listening to the clips on the kulaks’ woodshed site, i found a performance by eastmountainsouth on there of a song called one picture… 

wow. just wow. 

i think that Kat may just be my favorite female singer ever. i know how huge that statement is, coming from me, but goddamn…she’s just plain amazing. her voice is beautiful and understated and can express so many different things, and all without any of the mariah carey bullshit that every “chick singer” seems to want to indulge in nowadays…she gives me chills. 

well, ok…her and patty griffin. and maybe one or two more. 

you know how people like me are by now. 

i said wow already, didn’t i? 

i wish i could say that i have more on my mind lately than frozen burritos and the occasional fleeting moment of genius rendered over the internet…certainly, i do have more on my brain than this, but sometimes it’s easier to focus on the less awkward things that pass through ones’ consciousness…or on the awkward things that pass through someone else’s consciousness. my friend angelas’ husband kevin had something removed from the side of his face earlier this week that’s being analyzed as to its origins – they won’t know what the deal is until tuesday, with regard to what it was. annette, the woman who sits right outside the shop, is distraught about her dogs’ illness. betty, the HR director, is sorting through her aunt’s posessions after having to move her into a nursing home. valerie’s husband is ill…jill’s boyfriend almost lost his job this month, courtesy of a prankster who pulled him into a stunt that he had nothing to do with… 

i can talk about other people’s problems all day long. 

just don’t ask me what i’m thinking, and we’ll be fine. 

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