So it's no secret that I like health food. I want to marry it. Run away together and start our life in a vegetable patch. Skip holding hands in fields of green leafy stuff. Totally normal.
But when Norma from shipping says she got a free ginormous humongous gargantuan taco from the smoky dive bar down the street (paraphrasing), you don't just say no. You step up to the styrofoam like a champ.
It was delicious. It was messy. It makes me want to scrub my face (where miscellaneous bits of taco shell and contents were haphazardly falling), with the hand soap in the bathroom.
For dinner? Back on the produce wagon.
