I'm Sorry Taco Bell, but...It's Over.

Ignorance is bliss indeed. I used to be perfectly content in my little Taco Bell bubble. Until Ricky and the Martinez’ viciously popped it and threw me into this strange, new world of rice-beans-everything fried-salsa, acid-reflux-induced coma. I’m sorry, but the $1 tacos just aren’t cutting it anymore. Goodbye Baja Fresh, goodbye Chevys, goodbye any combination of the words “taco, casserole, enchilada”…

Oh fine Chipotle, don’t look at me like that; you can stay. I love you too much to let you go anyway.

But HELLO Prilosec! Hello, Zantac. Nice to meet you Prevacid. However, let me not forget to give credit where credit is due. I would have never met these lovely gentlemen without the help of:

1. Ricky’s dad’s Sonora chips
2. Also his gorditas
3. And the chili verde. Oh heavens, the chili verde…
4. Refried beans, sorry Rosarita, but really refried. In lard. Lots of it. 
5. La Esperanza
6. Carnitas…from pretty much anywhere. They’re carnitas…
7. Tacos from La Favorita, or that one stand in Galt.

The ironic thing is... in meeting the Love of My Life...I’m pretty sure he shortened it by 10 years.