Tuesday, June 8, 2010

All cheesy (and not proud of it)......

Saturday evening found me belly up on the couch in the living room moaning and groaning that I couldn't bear cooking one more mundane dinner..that I was so tired of the same old crap that we eat every damn day of our freakin lives and there (seriously) was (absolutely) no food in the house to cook even if I even wanted to.

"What sounds good" Daddio asked, trying to soothe my foul mood.

"Nothing" I pouted.

"Well on second thought, maybe Taco Bell" I said.

I suited up and hit the road.

In my little town you have two options to get to Taco Bell. One is through Town, which means speed limits so low I have to keep my foot on the brake to keep my car going the legal posted speed.....which is CRAWL.

The other is the Hall to Vreeland Road route...which means pot holes, random herds of deer, big (BIG) fast traveling trucks driven by drivers who all seem to have an eerie resemblance to Large Marge.

Vreeland Road also sports a train track with the stupidest train yard workers in the free world.

No matter what time day or night you pass this set of tracks there is a train on its way to being stopped dead over the tracks, I'm talking they sometimes stop the Caboose on the tracks, the one car Caboose... a fat man in suspenders stops the one car train literally within a few feet of clearing the tracks and then leaves it there idling. Pissin people off.

Especially people like me, filled with impatience and nerves wound tighter than a spring loaded seat belt retractor.

Take Vreeland Road, and you know your gonna be playing a game of beat the train.

And when I don't (beat the train)...which is almost every time, I beep my horn and I scream crazy crap out the window at the guy in the suspenders.

Not that he understands or even hears a word I’m saying… but it makes me feel better.

I promise the kids (and I seriously mean it) that one day one day I am going to be the lunatic that crashes into the side of the train...I'll go happy, I tell them.

Tonight I choose Vreeland Road, possibly the lesser of two irritations.

I successfully maneuver around the pot holes, I out run the deer and I beat the train....

Pooo-pooo-peee-freakin do....I am the man (just ask me).

Arriving at Taco Bell I see that I am number 36 in the drive-through.

I people watch, all the while Satan sits on my shoulder and urges me on, I critique the parking lot's walking dead, which seems to be every person entering and exiting.

I'm beyond evil and judgmental.

Waiting to be the next car to order, I'm able to read the entire 10x12 foot menu board in the 15 minutes I spend in front of it.

While reading I see this...

Taco Bell's new Crispy Potato Soft Taco....

A soft flour tortilla filled with crispy potato bites, Pepper Jack sauce, crisp, shredded lettuce, and real cheddar cheese.

OMG.....potatoes and cheese!!!!

I'll take ten.

Just kidding, I ordered 8 crunchy tacos and one potato taco.

The invisible person I was placing my order with asked if I wanted to donate a dollar to ckeoriendljkfneorue and for nowierh;a skjdfb;isuer;awe t.

"Yeah, sure" I answered, still riding high on my excitement about the new taco.

When I got to the window, I asked what my dollar was going for.

The kid left the window and me searching for an answer to my perplexing question.

Silly me, I'm such a pill…possibly I crossed some kind of boundary asking a question like that??

I was sitting at the front of the line holding things up… and getting a tad nervous.

I could see the guy behind me in my rearview it appeared he was getting madder by the minute.

The kid came back and explained that he was collecting dollars for moias'ro;tj werkgaw'r and kha;woeir hwejkf and to help kids graduate.

I gave him the buck; wanting to tell him that my own kid just graduated and I probably would rather give the buck to him...I just cut my losses and went forward.

When I pulled away from the pick up window the bag dangling from my free hand seemed a bit light.

I breathed a sigh of relief seeing that my new potato taco was in there.

But there were only 5 crunchy ones.

I pulled around and parked.

After a little 20 minute wait I was given my shorted tacos and out the door I ran.

Towards Vreeland Road and the flashing red lights.

I cracked open the bag, took out the potato taco, ate a bite and wrapped it back up.

Then I did it again, and again and again.

I was feeling a bit piggish downing that taco in the car.

I crumpled up the evidence wrapper and shoved it way down deep into my very dirty purse.

Cleaned off my mouth.

Dental flossed my teeth.

And wiped the huge smile off my face all before I walked in the front door with our dinner.

“It took you a long time” Daddio said when I came in. He walked toward me, squinting his eyes.

“Why do you have cheese and lettuce stuck to your chest?”

I wasn't sure what I should answer..."the counter guy and I got into a taco fight?"

"My chest is littered with shreaded chedder cheese and lettuce because the guy screwed up my order, and stole a buck from me and I was caught by another train on the way home and the tacos smelled so damn good and I was just too freakin hungry to just smell it any longer and so I tore into it and devoured it in a few piggish bites"...

"AND since you asked......"

"I'll tell you what is really going on and why I have a chest full of lettuce and cheese it's called emotional eating and buddy I am frickin starving....

I'm all stressed out, I'm working on a big party for Saturday, I love/hate parties, I'm worried worried worried and my last kid is graduating and I am scared to be the mother of completely grown children.

 I don't know if I know how to do that.

There I said it...now somebody needs to hide the peanut butter cups and the potato chips.


  1. I am so glad to know that I am not the only emotional eater who inhales a fast food goodie on the painful journey home. I would hug you in warm sisterly love, but I'm afraid the barbeque sauce and mayo stuck to my chest would make an unholy mess if mixed with your cheese and lettuce scraps :)

  2. xoxoxo...yeah, that would be a mess, but I'd still hug you back.

  3. Dear Pretty Betsy Brown: I love to read your latest epistle....(SP) I laughed as I read the entire post... YOu are so funny. I wish I had known you when I was growing up...Ohoh I did know you when I was growing up....You are so precious...Love your talent and love you ...MOM

  4. Loved this as well as all those above it. Coming to you from Lady Bloggers Tea Party...hope you will pop in and visit my blog as well.
    I'm your newest fan


Some bloggers write "gimme me some love".... as far as I'm concerned, I'd love some love, but I'd even take some hate, some expressions of your disgust, your outrage, mild irritation, sheer joy...whatever, I can take it, honestly I can. Just please (please) leave a comment or two and let me know what you think. Merci.