Monday, March 10, 2008
The sun doesn't like you, you always get burned
Dear Chipotle-
It cannot be denied. I love you. I love your chips with just the right hint of lime and the extreme crunchiness of your tacos. And I cannot stay away, as I walk past you, the scent of goodness draws me in. Now, it also cannot be denied that you rarely taste as good as you smell, a trait you share with another favorite place of mine, Subway, but you are still a bundle of deliciousness.
But. Let’s talk tacos. Now, I understand how hectic it must be for y’all in there between 12 and 2 pm. I see the lines that come out the door. Its insanity, as only a restaurant in midtown of New York City during lunch hour could be. However, my tacos, they are spectacularly uneven due to the application of such adornments as sour cream, cheese and lettuce. The middle taco gets its all. The side tacos are the ugly red-headed stepchildren who cry for a just a few crumbs of cheese. And, the to-go method for the tacos doesn’t work. Those sad, sad side tacos always end up broken due to the lack of the proper amount of protection. Maybe a box, instead of some hastily wrapped tin foil would solve the problem?
If you could look into this, I’d appreciate it.
In the meantime, thank you for your contributions to my taste buds. They greatly appreciate it.
Smooches-
Chloe
Dear Bed Bugs-
You think you’re so sneaky, with the tiny bites in random places only every couple of nights. Don’t think I don’t see them. Don’t think I don’t know how close I am to being rid of you forever. And don’t think you can escape. The exterminator is coming again.
Be prepared-
Chloe
Dear Life-
You still suck. Remember how I went all the way down to E. 29th street for the fucking lumber? Then got home and it was a fraction of an inch too long for my bed frame? How you laughed yourself silly, I imagine. Well, did you see, how I got the better of that bad karma, bought myself a hand saw and fixed the problem myself? I hope you know that I may be down; very, very down at that, but I’m not out. I will prevail.
Smooches-
Chloe
Today's Title from: The Sun Doesn't Like You by Norah Jones
It cannot be denied. I love you. I love your chips with just the right hint of lime and the extreme crunchiness of your tacos. And I cannot stay away, as I walk past you, the scent of goodness draws me in. Now, it also cannot be denied that you rarely taste as good as you smell, a trait you share with another favorite place of mine, Subway, but you are still a bundle of deliciousness.
But. Let’s talk tacos. Now, I understand how hectic it must be for y’all in there between 12 and 2 pm. I see the lines that come out the door. Its insanity, as only a restaurant in midtown of New York City during lunch hour could be. However, my tacos, they are spectacularly uneven due to the application of such adornments as sour cream, cheese and lettuce. The middle taco gets its all. The side tacos are the ugly red-headed stepchildren who cry for a just a few crumbs of cheese. And, the to-go method for the tacos doesn’t work. Those sad, sad side tacos always end up broken due to the lack of the proper amount of protection. Maybe a box, instead of some hastily wrapped tin foil would solve the problem?
If you could look into this, I’d appreciate it.
In the meantime, thank you for your contributions to my taste buds. They greatly appreciate it.
Smooches-
Chloe
Dear Bed Bugs-
You think you’re so sneaky, with the tiny bites in random places only every couple of nights. Don’t think I don’t see them. Don’t think I don’t know how close I am to being rid of you forever. And don’t think you can escape. The exterminator is coming again.
Be prepared-
Chloe
Dear Life-
You still suck. Remember how I went all the way down to E. 29th street for the fucking lumber? Then got home and it was a fraction of an inch too long for my bed frame? How you laughed yourself silly, I imagine. Well, did you see, how I got the better of that bad karma, bought myself a hand saw and fixed the problem myself? I hope you know that I may be down; very, very down at that, but I’m not out. I will prevail.
Smooches-
Chloe
Today's Title from: The Sun Doesn't Like You by Norah Jones
Posted by Chloe
at 1:55 PM |
Permalink to The sun doesn't like you, you always get burned |
3 Comments |
