|I have never had one with this many tomatoes.|
Holy mother of mercy. These things are so incredibly delicious that I think my salivary glands are going to malfunction if I don't get a stick of gum or something. Hang on.
OK. So for real, though. Taco bell Crunchy Supreme tacos. When I go to the drive through, I order more of them than most deem appropriate. I remember the first time I went there with my then-boyfriend, now-husband. He asked me what I wanted, and I paused for a second before saying, "Um, I guess... six crunchy supreme tacos." And his eyes bugged out from his head a little bit, and he said "WHAT." And I said, "Yeah, no, better make it eight." This was massively cut back from the number I wanted to say, which probably would have given him a straight-up coronary on the spot, and that would have been the end of that relationship.
|This is what they actually look like. NOMNOMNOM GET IN MY MOUTH|
I don't know, maybe my stomach is made of iron, a little bit. Something about those tasty little morsels calls to me, though. Whenever I go to a town that has a Taco Bell, I make a belabored point of getting my tacos.
SO! Tomorrow, we are going to Twin Falls, the city that is home to the nearest Target. It is about 70 miles away, or something. I am not good with distances. It takes a little over an hour to get there. BUT! There is a Taco Bell in Twin.
Tomorrow, however, is going to be a sad day. I am still on this CUNTPUNTER of a diet, so I can't eat six tacos with a combined caloric content of 13409283325098, 4250923458 of those calories from saturated fat. So I am driving OVER AN HOUR to a place that I visit maybe FOUR TIMES A YEAR, and I am MISSING my chance to gorge myself on tacos.
I am almost literally depressed about this. I am literally sad. Like, I kind of don't want to go, just because I don't want to have to drive by the Taco Bell without stopping. It is going to be all I can think of tomorrow.
FUCKING FUCK GUEWIOFHW:?IGH WOIGHWEGF"OIHFUCK.
I had better be smoking hot by Christmas, or my Christmas present to myself is going to be a 24-pack. Of tacos.
|Thanks to Google, I found this. I am torn between horror and understanding.|