Scott and I just had dinner at Chipotle. Mainly because we originally wanted Panda Express, but missed the drive-thru deadline by 2 minutes (damn!!!) and Chipotle was right next door. He had a burrito. I had a burrito minus the tortilla wrap (The tortilla just gets in the way, anyway, right? Plus: less carbs. Go me!). It was super tasty. However I am now convinced that I have fiery acid gurgling in my esophagus and stretching all the way down to my lower intestine. Also: I think I may give birth to something tonight. And it may be made of guacamole. I'm not really sure what that means exactly, but it seems about right. Ooooh, I need some Tums...
Hey look, a post about the after-effects of eating Mexican food, and I didn't use the words "bowel" or "movement" once in the entire thing. You're welcome.
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Also, I'd like to mention that amidst the publisher-related craptaciousness I was contending with earlier today (see below, duh), Greatest Print Assistant Ever and I decided to take a much-deserved stroll to Caffe Ladro. As luck would have it, my dingbat of a publisher rep called my cellphone just as I was placing my order and, seeing as how I was manically trying to sort out that mess asap, I couldn't ask him to call back or put him on hold, and I un-wittingly became that stereotypically bad customer who yaps on their cell-phone the entire time the cashier/barista is trying to help you (ugh, I hate when people do that). Anyway, there's really no point to this story, except to tell you that I ordered something called a "Yankee Dog" which, as it ends up, is an Americano topped with a big dollop of cappuccino foam. Pour over ice, add two Splendas, and it was magnifico! Enough to put me in a better mood once we returned to the Bane of Ysabel's Existence (i.e. the office).
UPDATE: Scott just popped in here and, after a brief discussion about my blog - okay, during which I made him read those two isolated sentences above, and an admission on my part that I think I'm becoming notorious for talking about my post-meal toilet activities - this exchange took place:
Scott: I don't read your blog because I don't like to read about poop ... your poop.
Ys: But I don't write about it in great detail. Just a taste!
Scott: (walking away) I'm going to go watch some show about Jeffrey Dahmer because that's more comforting to me.
Ys: But I only speak in metaphoooors!!*
Scott: (from the other room) I'm not listening!!
Whatever, he likes it.
* Not true, I know.
If you really want to gross out Scott ask him to call me about the THING I found in our restroom at work that, I swear to god, had to have involved an elephant. No joke. And on that image have a good day. ;)
ReplyDeleteHAHAHAH~ poo is fun to talk about!!!
ReplyDeleteMy bf is the same. He always says "I like toilet humor but only in the movies! Not from girls, especially my gf!"
I only like Chipotle's Borocoa. SOOO GOOOD! I had Chipotle like 4x in the past 3 days... Carlo too! I am sitting next to him at his work. He sucks cuz he doesn't read your blog or mine!