The Villa

First and foremost, I would like to thank all of you very kindly for giving me all sorts of insight and thoughtful answers to my recent question....They are all greatly appreciated. Especially I appreciate people who comment, re-read what they wrote, and then comment again on how awesome they are :) Now there's a direct assault against false modesty! And I'm all for it.


Secondly, I would like to inform you all that today I went to Taco Villa. Now this might sound pretty innocent, or perhaps you think I'm going to rehash the problems of the spelling-challenged clerks, but let me assure you that neither of these presumptions would be true. Instead, this is what happened:

I ordered my food, and no drink, but when I got up to the paying window, I decided that I would really enjoy an iced tea. So, me being the problem-solver that I am, I ordered one. Well, everything was going just fine on my drive from the window to the exit of the parking lot, but after that things got pretty iffy.

My first mistake was trying to turn left onto 19th at 6:00, which obviously wasn't going to work. My next mistake was getting annoyed and making a sudden right out of the parking lot, at which point my much-anticipated iced tea promptly spilled all over my lap, all over my seat, and even mangaged to totally fill up both of my cup holders with ice and tea. Iced tea is one of those aptly named drinks.

Well, as I am scrambling, trying to shift into second gear and turn the cup right side up and not run into anyone or anything and avoid sudden frostbite from ice all over me, I notice that handily enough, there is a cop right behind me. And, I can see that he is getting a little too concerned for his own good about what sort of driver I might be. So, I have to pretend that I'm not freezing, pretend that tea is not dripping into the inner-workings of my gear shifter and parking brake, and pretend like the tea is not STILL spilling all over my leg. And foot.

Mercifully, I get to turn right and get away from the cop before he does anything. Well, not so mercifully for my foot, which the cup of tea had by then fallen on, but mercifully for my driving record. Unless my foot wants to get a job and pay for the tickets I acrue for saving it from the tea, then it can just suffer down there, that's what I say. And that's what I told it, too.

Well, I decided that since I had such a narrow and triumphant escape from the cop, that I had better celebrate by eating one of my tacos. While still driving. Yes, my brilliance even astounds me sometimes. So, the eating-a-taco-while-driving plan worked out very poorly. I got hot sauce all over my t-shirt. Which, of course, was white.

Once I got home, got my car somewhat cleaned out, and got the stains out of my shirt, I sat down to eat my other taco in peace. I even made sure that I got a real plate and everything, so that I wouldn't drip anything on myself. But alas, the Villa outsmarted me again, once and for all, because just as I was counting myself the victor, I opened a little package of hot sauce, and it maliciously sprayed itself all over my just-scrubbed, still-wet shirt. Stupid Taco Villa.