I'm addicted to burritos.
And I mean, not just a little addicted... like, a lot addicted. Like, "three-times-a-week-burrito" addicted. Like, "the-people-know-me-at-the-burrito-place" addicted. Like, "my-digestive-system-is-going-to-catch-fire-soon" addicted.
Catch my drift?
Is your chip dippin' in my salsa?
Is your guac meshing with my amole'?
Perhaps I should explain...
Do you remember the "Latin Invasion" of 1999? Yes, of course you do. It was that point in American pop-culture history where everyone was pseudo-salsa-ing to Ricky Martin and J-Lo and Marc Anthony. When lay people were Livin' La Vida Loca and not really knowing why. Well, apparently there's been some sort of "Burrito Invasion" as of late. Think about it... Qdoba, Chipotle, Moe's... I mean, these burrito places are popping up everywhere! And there's not a damn thing we can do about it.
I honestly don't know what they're putting in these things. I mean, I watch them make it right in front of my face: beans, rice, salsa, cheese, maybe some lettuce... and bam! - a burrito. But I'm thinking that perhaps they should change the name to crackrito, as I really should be in some sort of treatment program for this.
So how does one become weened off the crackrito? Shall they eat less and less of each burrito ingredient as the days progress until they're left with nothing but a teeny black bean and piece of tortilla shell? Or should they just quit cold-carne?
If you have any advice, let me know. In the meantime, I believe I hear some queso callin' my name from the kitch.