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How Eating Kale Made Me an Outcast


Photo credit: Flickr //Zero

Photo credit: Flickr //Zero

It’s hard to fend off a world that constantly wants to feed you junk food

Why is it that people in offices feel the need to stock the kitchen with donuts and cinnamon buns, and host lunches with greasy burritos that make me feel sick after eating? Is it really someone’s birthday again?

And if I don’t eat the cake, they egg me on. “Ooh, you know you want some,” they plead. Really, they just want me to eat the junk food so they don’t have to feel the post-sugar high guilt alone.

Fine, I say. But the stupid cake never tastes as good as it looks, and I immediately regret the decision. Regret makes me visualize the sugar circulating through my body, inflaming the cells and initiating a slow death. I shiver, vowing to stay strong next time. Am I the only person who cares to eat healthy?

Then I come home, excited for a detox dinner of kale and sweet potatoes, my signature healthy meal. The plan elicits a grimace from my husband, who wishes I would cook a rib-eye like all the other women in his family do. “Couldn’t you have told me earlier you were going to eat kale for dinner?” he asks. “I would have gotten food on the way home from work.”

Somehow, in each of these scenarios, I end up the villain, the silly, impractical person who thinks about whether a meal came from the earth or a factory. Living in Arizona, where cowboys and cattle still rule, people view a plant-based diet as quaint. “What do you eat?” people wonder. Umm, plants?

Healthy eating has always been important to me. Then, three years ago, I developed breast cancer, so taking care of my body elevated to top priority. Green smoothies, kale, and a diet based on unprocessed foods represented one way to stay healthy. Food became medicine in addition to fuel.

As time passed, and the memory of illness faded, tastier, less healthy delicacies appeared in my diet. Ice cream on the weekends. Granola with brown rice syrup. Coffee sweetened with — gasp! — sugar.

During my illness and the immediate aftermath, I worked in a small-town newsroom and enjoyed returning home daily for a nutritious lunch. Later, I began working for a consulting firm where one of the perks, if you could call it that, included cabinets fully stocked with cookies and snack mixes. Well-intentioned colleagues would occasionally bestow even more calorie-ridden confections on the countertops — sending out an email claiming credit and of course, inviting us all to indulge.

I’d hold out for an hour or two, maybe even until after lunch, before sneaking into the kitchen to sample. Do you know how good a cookie tastes with hot afternoon tea?

As my waistline expanded, so did concerns over my health. I berated myself and wished for others’ support. Where has my discipline gone? Why does nobody else care?

Finally, I quit the office job to freelance. The change allowed time for cooking nutritious lunches and juicing green vegetables for an afternoon pick-me-up.

Recently, my husband and I drove to Texas to visit his sister. For dinner the first night, they ate steak kabobs and potatoes with cheese. I ate kale and sweet potatoes. I smiled sweetly while they wondered aloud about the vegetables, my husband grimacing at the mere thought of the bitter taste on his tongue and his sister bravely trying the combo.

They don’t explicitly judge me for eating healthy, but I feel guilty nonetheless, unreasonable for considering nutrition content when planning meals. They’re healthy and they don’t eat kale. So, why bother?

Eating green makes me feel like an outsider. One more thing I do considered different and difficult. But just as I’m tired of being the buzz kill when making dinner plans, asking if the menu includes anything nutritious, I’m tired of everyone else not caring.

When we arrived home from Texas, I made veggie enchiladas for dinner. Emboldened, I chopped more kale than usual into the mix. My husband marveled how the sauce and cheese camouflaged the green’s bitterness. Coming from someone who once grilled me a tri-tip for dinner — and only a tri-tip, without even potatoes — this marks progress. We meet halfway.

And these days, I know. When my notorious healthy dinner dish appears on the night’s menu, an afternoon text message warning goes out. Because when it comes to healthy eating, I’m on my own.

Written by

Freelance writer and yogi. On a path to reach enlightenment and win the lottery.

Published September 20, 2013

 

You must have a go-to salad in your life


Jeff Elder’s GODDAMN Go-To salad

Jeff Elder’s GODDAMN Go-To salad

I’m just going to talk for a while because I’m older than you and your head is bedeviled with nonsense. (There will be no questions.)

There are things you need to have: A dark suit, a workout you like, a few friends who will not co-sign your bullshit. Today we’re going to talk about getting you a go-to salad.

I don’t care about a great salad bar you know about. And this has nothing to do with your recent kale epiphany. (Fascinating, by the way.)

I am talking about a collection of fresh ingredients you can get in most stores, which you will never tire of, and can eat twice a week for the rest of your life.

Stop your caterwauling! I’ll let you choose the ingredients. Think about the alternatives! Do you want to just eat junk and get cancer? Do you want to slug across the couch with a Cheetos bag wondering what to have for dinner three nights a week? … I didn’t think so.

We’re talking about building muscle memory here. Marines must be able to assemble their weapon in minutes in the dark: You must achieve that same precision with your salad. It will save your life. You must be able to fix it without thinking, in any time zone, perhaps zero gravity.

It is your go-to salad, and no one else’s. If someone else has the same go-to salad, you must make it your vendetta to hunt that person down and avenge your salad.

Here is my go-to salad. I recommend that you do not attempt to adopt it as your own.

JEFF ELDER’S GO-TO SALAD

Spring mix greens

Broccoli crowns, steamed tender

Grape tomatoes

Avocado

Goat cheese

Walnuts

Annie’s Goddess Dressing

Hunk of sourdough bread

When I text my partner and say: “Salad?” It means “Do you want me to fix us the go-to salad for dinner tonight?” But we don’t have to say all that worthless, throat-clearing, domestic dialogue. Because we have focus.

Obviously, if you have a domestic partner, the go-to salad will need to be negotiated. Take all the time you need. A couples counselor may be brought in.

I recommend requisitioning the appropriate equipment and implements. Invest in a cutting board, knife, salad bowl you can count on. Don’t skimp! This is an investment.

Oh: No croutons.*


*I know you love croutons.

Written by

 

50 Tips and Insights About Productivity, Happiness and Life.


What I’ve learned/dicovered so far.

In no particular order:

Meditation is a Powerful Medication: http://bit.ly/18tXcTa

01- MEDITATE!!! Seriously, meditation is the most fundamental practice you can do Just 10 minutes a day. You are not that busy.


02- Don’t buy lots of stuff, only buy the stuff you really love.
03- Declutter Magazines, DVD’s, and Books.
04- Sleep well!
05- The present moment is the only thing you have.
06- Declutter your kitchen.
07- If you take it out, put it back.
08- If you open it, close it.
09- If you throw it down, pick it up.
10- If you take it off, hang it up.
11- Get a library card.
12- Drink your coffee black.
13- Go to the grocery store with a calculator.
14- Bring cash instead of using your debit card.
15- Take inventory before going to the grocery store to avoid buying repeat items.
16- Only use your credit card for emergencies.
17- Pay down your debt.
18- Make a six month emergency fund.
19- Start setting aside money to invest.

The Monster Collection of Moleskine Tips, Tricks and Hacks

20- Write your ideas down (trust me). Get a Moleskine just for this particular task. They look awesome and they will make you want to get think about more great ideas. Also, chicks love guys with moleskines ;)


21- Get a passport.
22- Go to bed, and wake up, early.
23- Take cold showers. It has an awful lot of benefits
24- Get a deck of index cards. Use them.
25- Also get a deck of Post-its.
26- Go for a walk every now and then.
27- At from a smaller plate to help control portion size.
28- Instead of carbonated drinks, drink water.
29- Do what you say you’ll do. No one likes a talker.
30- Don’t check email first thing in the morning
31- Daily baby steps are better than giant steps on the weekends.
32- Start your own blog.
33- Spend more time around people you love and admire.
34- Read more.
35- Learn something new everyday.
36- Don’t skip breakfast.

European Culture on the Breakfast Menu by malzekri

37- Learn a new language. It will make your life more interesting.
38- Don’t discriminate. Connect with everyone in your network.
39- Be humble.
40- Be curious.
42- Turn internet access off from time to time.
43- Learn to love a challenge.
44- Skepticism is a good thing.
45- Address those two-minute tasks right now. They can become bigger.
46- Go to lots of conferences and seminars.
47- Learn as much as you can about everything.

Books as Muses by Jessie Wender http://nyr.kr/Jw4bA2

48- Books and travels are the only two thing that you can buy that actually make you richer.


49- Learn to program.
50- Regret is the only thing you should fear (also, fear itself).

Written by

Indie Game enthusiast.Writer. Magickian. Currently working on an audio program that will help charity.@Ricardo_Fabila

Updated December 16, 2013

 

Show Me A Man, I’ll Show You The Ideas He’s Built On.


The powerful business of ideas.

I have watched it play out time and time again.

Everyone around me, every person I have ever been able to observe or read about, seems to go through this process:

  1. Encounter an idea.
    “money = happiness”
  2. Allow it to become part of them.
    “That makes sense, it has to be true.”
  3. Allow the idea to shape their views.
    “I should find a job that pays the most, rich people are where it’s at.”
  4. Allow this new disposition on life to play out through actions.
    “I have three job offers and even though I don’t think I’ll have the most fun at the highest paying one, but I should be happier because I’ll make the most money so I’ll work there.”
  5. Finally, see those actions change the course of that person’s life. “How the heck did I end up in a job I hate for the last 20 years? Why aren’t I happy?”

It’s an incredible process.

It affects my own friends and family in some fantastic and horrifying ways. Family members believing fallacies about who they are and how the world works, taking them down dark paths. Friends changing their views and ultimately, their actions about how relationships and people should be treated. What is crazy to me is that most people don’t think twice about this process. In fact, I don’t think most people think too much about how they think or why they think the way they do at all.

Lets explore a question for a moment.

What makes you, you?

It’s a tough question to ask. Let me clarify what I mean when I say this. What makes up the components of what people see about you and what you know about yourself. The way you treat people, the way you treat yourself, the choices you make, your overall disposition on life, your stress level, what you care about, how tolerant you are of others, and any other thing that you relate to yourself, big or small, that makes you, uniquely you.

Where did these things come from? Why do you act the way you do? Why do you think the way you do? It all stems from the ideas we’ve decided to let into our lives. Let’s go through one small example to see what I’m talking about:

The Idea:

“I will always have debt.”

If someone takes this idea, believes it to be true, lets it shape their view on things, allows it to affect their actions, then eventually their whole life will be changed by this single statement.

I can see someone who has added this idea to themselves think things like:

I will always be in debt so why save anything anyways? I should just enjoy life and what I have because it would be stupid to try to save. What would be the point? That new TV I always wanted? Let’s get it! Take out a loan to get that new sweet car? Heck yeah!

And as they make choices, both big and small, they start to play out this idea and solidify it’s grip on their lives. Add more debt, not pay off their current debt; choice by choice, they are letting an idea dictate their own personal reality. Lets replace this idea with something different and see what happens:

The Idea:

“I can be debt free.”

I can see someone who adds this idea to themselves say something a bit different, like:

I know I can get debt free, how the heck do people do it? I’ll go ask people in my life who seem to know, or maybe I’ll find some great books on getting out of debt, maybe I’ll just watch some video or take a class on it. Heck, I’ll just start by Googling it and go from there! I do not need things that are expensive right now, it will pay off later when I’m debt free. I can find plenty of fun things to do that don’t cost money.

Just as before the idea leads to a different thought about life, the individual, and ultimately a different path through our actions. The ideas that we have about ourselves and the world around us are the powerful building blocks that begin to shape us into who we are, and who we will become.


Whatever You’re looking For, You Will Find It.

If you think the world is a horrible place, you’re right. You will find example after example of the disgusting, cold, heartless things this planet has to offer. If you think all people are out to get you, you’re right. You will focus on every single time someone stabs you in the back, screws you over, and is dishonest with you, and the way you treat others will only compound and confirm your suspicions.

Conversely, if you think that the world is an amazing, beautiful place, you’re right too. You will find endless examples of its beauty, goodness, hope, human love and betterment, and every kind act this planet has ever done. And if you think people inherently want to do the right thing, you’ll find that you’re also right. Your focus will be on the good things people have done for you, the sacrifices people have made for you, and the way you treat people will only confirm the goodness of people and yourself.

Crazy how that works, isn’t it? Life can always “suck” or be an incredible adventure. You can change the world or be completely insignificant all by what ideas you have allowed to shape you. But there is good news! Whether you think so or not, you choose what ideas you let in.

Don’t Be Held Captive.

Here’s what I mean. Don’t allow something to control you, you have more power than you give yourself credit. But as soon as you give that power away, you become a “victim” in your own life, allowing life to happen to you. The ideas you may already have accepted may have just come from prior, unintentional, life experience and you’ve just kind of got what you’ve always been exposed to.

Someone once said that life is 10% action and 90% reaction. What I think is implied in that is that there are things that happen to you that you can’t control but that is only a part of life. If you really think about it, you have a lot of choice in life and it’s up to you to exercise that choice. The same goes for what ideas you accept and allow into your life. You choose them even by not choosing.

Think carefully about this.

It is exciting, liberating, and terrifying all at once. Force yourself to keep an open mind, actively look for fantastic ideas about yourself, others, and the world and add them into your life. Analyze what ideas you currently have accepted and challenge them. Throw out the shitty ones, the useless ones, and the destructive ones and replace them with ideas you really want.

Go Forth And Be Intentional.

I want to leave you with a challenge. Set some time aside this week and ask yourself, “What ideas have I allowed into my life?” Write them down. Seriously consider why you let them in your life. Then, start to expose yourself to new ideas every week, write down the ones you like, the ones that challenge your current ideas, and the ones that frustrate you the most. Try to understand them and seriously consider working them into your life. Repeat over and over and over until you die. I hope that all of us are intentional idea collectors and appliers.

It will change our lives; it will change the world.

Further Reading

Kevin McAlear

 — Follow my blog for more of my crazy thoughts! ☺

Written by

I love traveling, technology, wisdom, inventing, ultimate frisbee, leadership, wine, philosophy, humor, culture, differences, relationships, & building systems

 

It’s Instagram time: say cheese!


Our obsession with capturing food on camera

 

Let me get this out of the way first. I love taking snapshots of food. It started out as something I did whilst training for a half marathon to keep a private record of what I ate, before steadily evolving into a closed Facebook group for like-minded people. These days, like the inevitable hashtags that follow, food photos are simply something that punctuate and populate my Instagram account. #food #meal #yummo

We instinctively recognize that so-called ‘food porn’ isn’t in any way original. We don’t post photographs of our breakfasts, brunches, lunches, afternoon teas, dinners, suppers and midnight feasts because we think it’s going to improve our social media kudos; it’s not as if we expect people to fall over themselves to offer up praise.

“So wait… you made that ham and cheese sandwich on rye bread? And arranged the potato chips in a visually pleasing crescent… all by yourself? With no professional intervention? Outstanding work.”

“Hang on. You chose that pumpkin risotto in a restaurant… yourself? You deliberated for some time, selected it from the menu over the two or three other dishes you quite fancied, had the chef painstakingly prepare it, and then watched on as the waiter delivered it… to your table? My goodness.”

“You don’t mean to say… it was you who boiled that egg? Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable.”

If it isn’t adoration we seek, then why do we do it? Why do we spend so much time adjusting the curtains to make sure no shadows are throwing themselves distastefully across our plates; why do we plod around the dinner table, agonizing to find the perfect angle; why do we line up our cutlery and condiments to adhere to the rule of thirds? I have a number of theories.

  1. Food is fleeting. It doesn’t last forever; we either consume it or let it decompose. One of the reasons we take photographs of anything is to create a permanent record of something that’s transient, and in this world fewer things that disappear faster than a meal placed in front of a greedy human face.
  2. It’s a chance to be (doubly) creative. Amateur food photography is the melding of two distinct art forms: bad home cooking and poor photography. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have creative expression in their professional lives, so they take whatever outlet is available. Luckily, frames and filters go a long way to improving the results.
  3. We’re show-offs. Maybe we don’t expect praise, but instant sharing means we can broadcast our mad culinary skills to a percentage of the population, or let our friends know we’re eating out at that new fancy restaurant. We boast for the hell of it, without the need for a response; we upload our photos smugly, clicking that share button with an obnoxious smirk.

    Tasty Food Abundance in Healthy Europe
    Tasty Food Abundance in Healthy Europe (Photo credit: epSos.de)
  4. Hunger strikes. Again. And again… All being well, our appetite is constantly renewed; we’ll always be hungry. For survival purposes, it’s inherent and ingrained. Finished that meal? Don’t worry, there’ll be another one along in a few hours, more colorful and mouth-watering than the last. From an evolutionary standpoint, maybe our food photography is analogous to the storing of nuts for winter, a way of stocking up the virtual pantry. On a dumb subconscious level, perhaps we’re thinking “If I just keep snapping and saving, there will always be food.” (It might also explain why we boast: “My food supply is plentiful. Envy me.”)
  5. It‘s ridiculously easy. With the advent of smartphones, most people are carrying a near infinite supply of online recipes and an 8-megapixel camera in their pockets, all rolled up in the same device. One that’s permanently wired up to a disinterested audience, no less. It’s the perfect recipe.

It seems to me that food photography has continued to gain popularity because the technology first enabled us to nurture our new-found passion, then it allowed us to sustain it. Our smartphones are always within reach, so now we’re able to keep up with our feeds every time we feed — meal after meal, day after day, until it becomes an actual, authentic hobby.

But it goes beyond that. Now it’s automatic. I know by heart which filters make food look more delicious. My smartphone has become the third utensil at every meal. I’m a victim of Pavolvian conditioning, only every time a plate of steaming food is placed in front of me, I don’t salivate… I reach for my phone.

Food for thought. Anyway, I must dash. I’ve just taken a lasagna out of the oven and I need to Instagram it before it goes cold.

 

Further Reading

My eyes are up here, buddy.

 — 

Why you should put down your phone before it’s too late.

 

 

Written by

Views are my own, apart from ones I receive via osmosis, telepathy & telegram.

 

 

Being a Stepmother Is Nothing Like I Thought It Would Be


When people ask me if I have children of my own, I usually answer with an apologetic, “no.” My brain then floods with a string of excuses from which I choose my next sentences depending on my listener’s facial expression.

“I am an educator, so I have hundreds of children.”
Sympathetic smile.

“I tried, but it wasn’t in God’s plan for me.”
Sad nod.

“I have a brood of great nephews and nieces and love being an ideal aunt.”
Uncomfortable laughter.

Nearly seven years post-menopause, I still have people gently pat my hand and tell me there’s still time. After acknowledging the unintentional compliment, I make a joke about a miracle.

My identity as a married woman without children took an odd turn when, at age 50, I remarried a divorced father of two teens. From all outward appearances, I now have a unique version of the life I always imagined for myself. I am quick to post online photographs of my newfound family, while friends and relatives are quick to celebrate my status.

But here’s the reality: For the entire first year, I felt more childless as a stepmother than I did before I remarried.

My husband’s children like me well enough; we get along fine. They are respectful, obedient, charming, funny and affectionate young people, just like my students and my nieces and nephews. The difference with students is that you see them everyday and the relationship expectation is bold and clear: As a teacher, you may be the one person who makes a significant difference in the direction of their lives. And the boundaries of these relationships are also clear and agreed upon in advance.

Similarly, the beloved aunt has her special, clearly understood place: blood-bond; in no uncertain terms family; you can’t get rid of her if you want to; and the added bonus of similar-looking noses, curly hair or a quirky laugh that only shared genes can transmit.

As a stepmother, I am proud to say that I have none of the jealousies found in young wives who dream of having a man all to themselves, despite the fact that he has children from a previous marriage. I am a self-made woman, so nothing material they receive from their father is in any way a sacrifice on my part. The shopping, cooking and cleaning that many young stepmothers complain about is taken care of by my husband, who sees his children so seldom that he delights in any care-taking they need. And they are teens, so self-sufficiency is growing as quickly as their feet.

Yet, I still feel disingenuous calling them my children. They aren’t. Even though they have bedrooms in our house, I sometimes feel like a guest at the dinner table. The discussions about past holidays, childhood remembrances, blood relatives, insider jokes, lifelong likes and dislikes leaves me feeling like a an outsider and causes me to be even more aware of what I missed in not having children. It’s kind of lonely being a stepmother. It tends to keep pushing the lack in your face. To compound this, I don’t cook like their mother. The ways I bundle socks, line up condiments in the refrigerator, load the dishwasher, sometimes grimace, burp or (god forbid) fart are clearly noticed as foreign and gross, but never commented on because they have learned to be polite in the company of strangers. I am an outsider. My gifts are suspiciously viewed as trying too hard. The framed photographs of my family are just a bunch of strangers on a once familiar mantle. My dog smells bad to them. Still, as far as step-mothering experiences go, I know I have it really good. It’s just that being a stepmother is nothing like I thought (or dare I admit, hoped) it would be.

As soon as I knew marriage was the next step in my relationship with Jeff, I began writing letters to his children to give them at our wedding. As a stepdaughter myself, I knew everything necessary to alleviate the anxiety of displacement the kids could feel when I entered their father’s life. So, I wrote letters explaining how much Jeff loved them and described all the ways he showed me he honored them, missed them, loved them, grieved for their company when we were not with them. I was determined to be as unthreatening as possible. The unopened letters sit still wrapped in the white satin ribbon on my stepdaughter’s desk.

As soon as we were engaged, I took it upon myself to try and befriend their mother, as well as speak highly of her in their company, even though she drives by me on the street without as much as a wave. Alone time is important to dads and their kids, so whenever it is appropriate, I bow out and let them have bonding outings without me. They are kind children, but they don’t need me in their lives. Not now, at least.

I dreamed of being asked for advice, attending their school functions, introducing them to my friends and family. I imagined sharing secrets, fixing warm soup when they felt badly or listening to their hopes and fears. I envisioned text messages, phone calls, long walks in the park, doing dishes together, meeting their friends.

They are teenagers.Their parents got divorced. It’s not about me.

But there is still time.

Being a good stepparent is about the future. It’s like a bank account where a lifetime of little deposits may one day return as a great gift of appreciation. At least that is what I am banking on. My hope is that one day, after years of my consistent generosity, they will love me. And this love will be different than the love they feel for their teachers or their aunts because I will see them through all that is yet to come.

When they graduate, I will be there. When they fail, I will be there. If they marry, if they are heartbroken, if they have children, when they get promoted or fired, I will be there. And even if they are never able to meet my expectations, I know that love endures and is well worth all the tiny griefs along the way.

Loving someone with no promise of any return is a sacred kind of love. Because of its unconditional nature, a true stepmother who loves mightily from the background is maybe one of the truest forms of parenting. While I am not a birth mother, I now know that I am a universal mother. For me, that is more than enough.

source medium – > https://medium.com/open-source-family/77d3a0faa986

 

Dear Guy Who Just Made My Burrito:


 

Have you ever been to earth?

On earth, we use the word “burrito” to describe a tortilla filled with things you eat. Pretty simple stuff, and I’m surprised you at least got that part right. My burrito was, in fact, filled with food. In this, you and I agree and are friends. But this is also where my lifelong hatred begins for you and anyone else whose brain has been repeatedly scrubbed with the same mixture of bleach and Pop Rocks as yours has. Because that should have killed you, but left you around long enough to do what you did to me today. Let me explain:

burrito 002
burrito 002 (Photo credit: ajdykstr)

You’re an idiot.

Let me further explain:

Burritos are eaten from one end to the other. So that means when you assemble a burrito with motherfucking ZONES of ingredients going that direction, you create a disgusting experience for the burrito’s end user. When you make a burrito, you should put the ingredients in layers lengthwise. That way, every bite has AT LEAST A FUCKING CHANCE of getting at least two types of ingredients, and there is little chance of becoming almost hopelessly trapped in a goddamned cilantro cavern.

Have you ever eaten one of the things you make all fucking day? You should try one. They are pretty good WHEN YOU ARE NOT WILLING YOURSELF THROUGH THE FUCKING EMPIRE OF SOUR CREAM ONLY TO END UP IN LETTUCE COUNTRY.

When you eat a burrito, you don’t stand it up and bite down on it lengthwise like a fucking Rancor. Humans can’t usually dislocate their jaws, and I’m not a fucking pelican. But you must think that’s how it’s done, since that would be THE ONLY FUCKING WAY to take a bite of your crapstrosity and have it taste like a burrito.

And guess what else, player? You probably can’t guess anything, because I’m pretty sure you’re just a mop with a hat on it that fell over and spilled some shit into a tortilla, but just in case, here’s what:

Humans also don’t eat burritos like fucking corn on the cob. Like a fucking typewriter from one end to the other a little at a time and then DING next line. But today I wish I had tried that. Because at least THEN I would be able to eat some rice, then beans, then be all like HEY BEANS I’LL BE RIGHT BACK JUST GOING OVER HERE TO THE GUACAMOLE FOR A SECOND.

Nope.

A Green Burrito asada burrito meal with tortil...
A Green Burrito asada burrito meal with tortilla chips, beans, and rice. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My experience was more like HEY BEANS IT’S JUST GOING TO BE YOU AND I FOR A MINUTE UNTIL I CAN FUCKING EXCAVATE THE RICE FROM BENEATH YOU BUT BY THEN YOU WILL BE A FADING MEMORY OH HEY I WAS WRONG I’M IN THE FUCKING CHEESEOSPHERE NOW RICE MUST BE NEXT I HOPE IT’S NOT ANOTHER FUCKING SALSA POCKET.

You built this thing like a fucking pack of LifeSavers.

And don’t even fucking think I’m about to open this shit up and re-engineer your nonsense 90 degrees. I ALREADY PUT A HOLE IN IT WITH MY FUCKING MOUTH. YEAH. THAT’S HOW I DISCOVERED YOU FUCKING SUCK AT LOOKING AT THINGS. I AM NOT GOING TO DO FUCKING TORTILLA ORIGAMI TO GET THIS SHIT BACK TOGETHER, ONLY TO END UP WITH A BURRITO THAT’S BEEN SHOT IN THE GUT AND IS BLEEDING YOUR INEPTITUDE.

What’s that? I should ask you to mix it up first next time? IS THIS JAMBA JUICE? I DON’T WANT TO DRINK MY FUCKING BURRITO THROUGH A BENDY STRAW, AND I DON’T WANT A PILE OF BURRITO SOUP IN A FLOUR CAN.

I just want a burrito.

In conclusion:

You’re the worst thing that has ever happened to the universe, you owe everyone everywhere an apology for this burritobomination, and I hope your babies look like monkeys.


UPDATE FOR EVERYONE WHO SAID “JUST EAT IT WITH A FORK”:

A fucking fork?

I DIDN’T ORDER THE FUCKING COBBURRITO SALAD.

If anyone ever handed me a burrito with a fork, THEY WOULD BE WEARING A BRAND NEW BURRITO HAT FROM MY FALL COLLECTION TEN SECONDS LATER.

That’s like buying a car and having them hand you a fucking wrench with the keys. Like YEAH WE KNOW THIS MOTHERFUCKER’S GOING TO EXPLODE AND BE SPREAD ACROSS EIGHT LANES AS SOON AS YOU HIT THE GAS, BUT SHIT, WE GAVE YOU A WRENCH, SO BE COOL.

Jesus already gave me two burrito forks. One at the end of each arm. They’re called fucking HANDS.

A fork. My god. I haven’t cried since I was six, but I’m fucking sobbing now.

People eat burritos with forks?

burrito la carretta
burrito la carretta (Photo credit: Noelle Gillies)

God is sorry he made us.


UPDATE FOR EVERYONE WHO SAID “WHY NOT JUST ASK FOR A NEW ONE”:

Okay yeah cool. Here is that post:

Dear guy who just made my burrito:

Can I have I new one?

HOLY SHIT THAT IS SOME COMEDY MAGIC HAPPENING RIGHT THERE.

Was your favorite part the part where I said “can I” or “have a new one?”

IT’S SO HARD TO PICK WHICH PART IS FUNNIER IN THIS NEWLY CONSTRUCTED JOKE.

I CAN’T BREATHE. CRYING.

Oh. Wait.

Maybe you missed that this is a joke.