Taco Karma

So the other day, as happens from time to time, I got an insane urge for tacos. I'd say this happens, oh, every seven months or so, but when it happens, it is intense. Like, Kill Your Mom For a Taco intense. So intense, in fact, that it prompted me to send Ben this e-mail:

Could I get a taco at Chipotle if I wanted to? Or are they more of a burrito place? There's always the taco place in Mentor, but that can get tricky, too, with the totally plain ground beef tacos I received last time... what to do, what to do? Depending on the outcome of this discussion, I would be willing to pay for Don Pablo's. I just want tacos THAT BADLY.

What's wrong with me? Have I fallen prey to some sort of flu that only craves tacos?

Won't you take me to-- TACO TOWN!

And you know, if I'm making up a song about eating at a taco establishment, I must be in pretty deep.

So I am promised a trip to Don Pablo's, an insanely expensive taco eatery, and I am doing a little taco dance. And also refusing to eat, because there are tacos in the near future, and I don't want to sully their goodness with, like, a handful of Reduced Fat Cheez-Its.

But then, suddenly, Ben does not want to go to Don Pablo's. He does not, in fact, want tacos. So, sadly, I do not get tacos.

And the taco urge does not pass. No matter how many Reduced Fat Cheez-Its I feed it.

So the next day, when my taco urge has still not passed, and my oft-coveted lunchtime Dairy Queen hot dog just tastes like so much dust, I again make overatures to go to Don Pablo's, and this time they are well-received.

When we get there, I literally cram my tacos into my gullet, as there is no way I can possibly eat enough taco. If the Dalai Lama were made of tacos, I would eat him. I would.

But then, suddenly, comes The Agony.

This Agony has been ongoing for several weeks now, possibly as a side effect of the anti-biotics I am STILL TAKING for the bladder infection that I CANNOT GET RID OF. It usually comes with healthy foods, such as grapes or cheese sammiches. But not tacos. Never tacos.

That night, though, The Agony has come on stronger and harder than ever before. No cheese sammich has ever produced the gut-wrenching horror of Taco Agony. And I wondered to myself-- why would my body crave something so much that it must have known, all along, would bring about Such Agony? Why would it turn me into a sad, moping trollop when That Agony was denied to me the first time? Why would it make me turn to Reduced Fat Cheez-Its, also a large source of The Agony?

So, what I learned was, my body hates me. Perhaps as a result of the many, many years in middle and high school that I spent hating it.

If there is a lesson to be learned from this, it is just this: even if your body makes you sing songs about tacos, do not eat them. They are vicious, sparkling death-stuffed semi-circles of evil.

But oh, they were tasty evil.