A Taco Bell Love Affair: Chapter 1

I think many people would whole-heartedly agree that it is a bit difficult to find that “core group of friends” in the first year of college. If you don’t agree with that statement you’re either A) lying to yourself or B) incredibly annoying. Sure, most everyone eventually finds their path, whether its through their fraternity, sorority or other campus clubs. But of course, I took a different road to life-long friendships. A road paved in Crunch Wrap Supremes and processed “Queso.” Everyone has their own unique relationship with the fortress of hope that is Taco Bell. For most it is a drunken caloric mistake they make on a Friday night.  For some it is the site of emotional eating and possibly even self hatred.  But for me it was the place that I called “home” my freshmen year of college. When I say “home” I don’t just mean a place where I ate often to avoid studying or maybe rid a nasty hangover. I actually mean that their employees became my family.

It all started one chilly fall night when I came in to curb my constant need for trans fats. I was sitting in my car with a few friends, when suddenly I saw a very short man with a terrifying mustache smoking a Black and Mild get pelted in the head by a newspaper. It was one of those things that found a way to be incredibly hilarious while still being incredibly heartbreaking. I rolled down my window to see if he was okay…   

           

Me: Excuse me, um sir? I couldn’t help but see you just get nailed in the face with that Wall Street Journal. You good?

Him: Oh yeah! That happens every night about this time. It’s just a funny game I play with that guy. 

Me: Oh, so you know him?

Him: Well, I mean not like personal or nothin. Just know what car he drives.

Me: Then its not really a game…its more like a hate crime. 

Him: Listen girly, are you gonna sit here and gab or are you gonna go get some food?

My friends and I got out of the car and followed him inside, where he proceeded to take our order, all the while trying to cover up the red mark the flying newspaper had left. Cooly, and without a hint of shame I placed my order……….

“I will have 3 cheesey gordita crunches, 4 crispy tacos, and some cinnamon twists. Oh, and what the hell, you only live once right? Throw in one of those crunch wraps.” 

I thought it was a fairly modest order but apparently he felt different. “Well, you’re going to eat ALL of that?! My god girl, you’re gonna blow up like my Aunt Fern in that barn fire in ‘85. Are you even trying to get a boyfriend?”  he said with judgment in his eyes and disgust oozing from his lips. Most girls would of been mortified, but not me. I admired his gusto and sass, so I did the only logical thing, I asked him to eat with us. We were fast friends. His name was Josh and he was about four feet tall and he had a charmingly limited vocabulary. We talked about everything you’d typically talk to an employee of a fast food chain about. I explained my theory on girls that wear high heels before noon. He told me all about his recent breakup with his girlfriend of four years. It was about as messy as messy could get. She had cheated on him with one of his best friends and there’d been a very violent fight outside the trailer they shared with Josh’s mother. She had packed up their Pit Bull and what was left of Josh’s dignity and bounced, leaving him in a pathetic pool of pain. A few days after she had left him, he’d received a collect call from the county jail. It was the trifling beotch he used to call “his boo” and she had just been locked up for a DWI. Her new man candy was unable to pay the bond and knowing Josh’s giving nature, she turned to him. Naturally, he paid her out like a huge pansy. I was holding his tiny little hand across the table, when it dawned on me. I had been sent to Josh. I was like his fast food loving guardian angel and I was going to mend his broken heart. I knew I had to do something, so I grabbed his Cricket cellular mobile device and dialed that bitch up. I had a great speech planned but unfortunately our conversation went a lot like this:

Me: Um, hi. This is Katherine and you need to pay Josh back now before things get real bad for you and what were you doing driving under the influence? Its like you’ve never had a D.A.R.E. class or something. 

Bitch: *A lot of cuss words I can’t say because my mom reads this.*

Me: You’re going to stab me aren’t you?

Bitch: Yeah, probably.

I was naturally terrified. I slammed down the phone and looked up at him in panic.  My friends were doing that thing where they shake their heads really slowly and look at me like I had lost my mind. But all I saw was a twinkle of love in my new confidant’s eyes. Not like, wife me up and buy me an oversized Tweety Bird nightshirt kind of love, but true friendship. Josh and I’s bond only prospered after that. I started frequenting Taco Bell about 5 days a week and my thighs showed it. Through Josh, I formed a tight bond with all of the employees. We started doing this thing where I’d come in with a group of people(obviously just to show off, because nothing says “cool” like inappropriately close friendships with Taco Bell workers) and i’d give them a bit of a whistle. They’d all line up and I would do a roll call where I’d go down the line and sing all their names so my friends would be familiar with who they were dining with that evening. Josh, of course was always the first in line. Then there was Scott, a fifty year old T-Bell veteran with a heart of gold; Scott’s eighteen year old son; Ash, the one female employee who wasn’t my biggest fan; Lawrence, a felon who wants to be my Facebook friend; and Curtis who was exceptional at Movin’ it like Bernie. 

Unfortunately, the saga of Taco Bell is much too long, detailed and mind boggling to put in one post, so I am forced to make it into a three part series. But here is a little about whats to come:

Dusty brings his wife and new baby in to meet me, I am invited to the birthday party of the four year old son of Josh’s new girlfriend (who worked at the Taco Bell a few streets over), and Lawrence tells me how he became a felon, and lot’s more.  Really gripping stuff here guys!

A Water Filled Terror

I'm going to go ahead and make a statement that I am instantly going to regret making on the internet. I am very easily bullied into things. That being said, I am even more easily persuaded into doing things by my mother. Unfortunately, this instance perfectly demonstrates this issue. I had just walked in our house from a grueling summer away from home filled to the brim of self deprecating poolside jokes as the more physically gifted individuals walked by and a lot of alcohol induced pork nachos that I don’t regret at all. I had thrown my bag on the couch and was about to fire up an episode of The Real Housewives of Some Big City Nobody Cares About, when my mother erupted from the kitchen. She was wearing a flowered swim cap, a wetsuit and uttered the words that would become some of the most terrifying worlds I would ever hear…“I’ve signed us up for water aerobic classes.”

      

Okay, part of that was a lie. She was wearing her normal Chico’s outfit but the wetsuit would have been a lot funnier. Now, I know exactly what you’re thinking. “Water aerobics is easy. You’re young, Katherine. You’re in your prime. Everyone there is going to be like 80-years-olds. You can do this!” Well thank you guys for that. But unfortunately you are only half right. Yes, everyone is over the age of 75 but they are also a lot more physically fit than I am. Honestly, at first I was feeling pretty cocky when I shoved my body into that Speedo one piece, grabbed that noodle and plunged right into that uncomfortably lukewarm pool. The instructor came out and my cockiness only escalated. Her name was Evelyn and she looked very sweet. I kind of wanted to cuddle up with her and watch Designing Women, maybe talk about my feelings. But Evelyn was not sweet at all. She was what has once been called, a bad bitch. Homegirl was not even a little afraid to get her Reeboks wet and she kicked my ass up and down that YWCA swimming pool. Alarmingly, it wasn’t just Evelyn. It was every senior citizen in the tri-state area and even more alarmingly, my mother was their leader. It was like a water filled concentration camp but instead of a dry wasteland, it was a pain filled body of water set to the beat of “Build Me Up Buttercup.” I didn’t stand a chance. As I slowly drowned during “the rocking horse” I was forced to watch my mother giggle and laugh with her new friends as she showed them better techniques with their “water jog.” I was an outsider. It was like gym class all over again, except this time I couldn’t con my teacher into letting me sit on the stage and gossip with him while everyone else ran laps.

Finally, after an hour of horror it was over. I was out of breath. I was discouraged. I was probably bleeding somewhere. I got out of the death trap, took my pride and I ran to the locker room. I didn’t just run, I sprinted. You would have thought there was a Neiman Marcus semiannual sale in that locker room. I rolled into a little ball and prayed my mom wouldn’t find me. But of course after she got done speaking to her aquatic minions, she waltzed into the locker room like she was Michael Phelps or something. I wanted to push her off her hypothetical throne. I wanted her to feel the pain that I felt. I was thinking of the most hurtful thing I could say. I was ready. But as our eyes met, she beat me to the punch. “Sweetie maybe this just is a bit hard for you.” I guess she was right. Whatever, girlfriend. You may be good at high speed kicking across a lap pool but I challenge you to go against me at Toddlers and Tiaras trivia. I am sure you’re wondering if there is a moral to this story. If I am actually going anywhere with this. Well the answer is I’m not. I’m not actually going anywhere with this at all. I just wanted to tell this story so maybe my one chubby, unathletic, red-headed reader can go to bed tonight knowing she isn’t alone.

With that, I say hats off to you Mabel, Trudy, Evelyn, and Pearl. You ladies are more woman than I’ll ever be.

Katherine

How to Land a Guy in 10 Days

Lately, I have come to the conclusion that I am really good at getting guys. It’s almost as if the fairy godmother of cool decided to permanently live inside my body and party. I have felt for a while that I needed to share my gift with my reader (shout out to at-home-red-headed-girl, shout out to you.) I just didn’t want to seem cocky. But at this point I’m like screw it, the world needs to know and frankly, The Millionaire Matchmaker needs to hear this, too. I mean she is good, but she’s a little too traditional for my taste. I am more of a 2011 Love Expert. Anyway, I promise that if you listen to everything I say, you will have a guy begging to buy you a Qdoba burrito in an hour TOPS. 

First things first, you have to know where to find these male specimens. I mean anyone can meet a guy at a bar or at a party. But you, my precious pupil, aren’t like everyone else. I’ve put together a short list of places where you are sure to find love:

A Cash for Gold Center- Think about it…first he has gold, so he’s either a pirate or one of those guys that only wears wife beaters, basketball shorts, and gold chains and has a chest tattoo that says something suave like “I Believe I Can Fly.” Either of those options are totally hot. But now, he has CASH. So who’s going on a shopping spree to The Buckle?! You are!

A Men’s Bathroom- A complete amateur might try and call this bold move “creepy” but they are probably still using that “don’t text him Quotes from The Notebook 20 minutes after your first date” rule. Let me paint you a picture. There you are in your favorite little black dress and 6 inch heels, leaning up against the urinal of a 7Eleven smoking a Camel Crush. Do you know what that image says to a man? It says “Wow, not only is that girl really proactive in taking control of her life, but she isn’t afraid of germs, and I love that.”

The Scene of A Car Accident- Everyone, at one point, has looked over at a stop light and seen someone really attractive in the Le Sabre next to them. Most would try to gain eye contact and give them a wink or something, but I think you need to be a little more forward than that. I’m thinking collision. It will give you something to talk about right off the bat and insurance will just pay for the rest. 

 

Now that you’ve landed the man of your dreams, I want to make sure and leave you with the proper hypothetical tools in your hypothetical toolbox so that you can continue to shine in your relationship. 

1.  Make absolutely no effort in your appearance. If your man doesn’t find you attractive after you haven’t showered for a week and smell weirdly similar to a Whataburger, then he obviously isn’t the one. 

2. When he says things like “Hey, I think I am going to go out with my friends tonight. Call ya tomorrow?” you must respond with “ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?! YOU TOLD ME YOU’D WATCH ROSEANNE WITH MY FAMILY. DO YOU NOT EVEN LOVE ME ANYMORE? SHOULD I JUST UNBUILD THAT TREE HOUSE I MADE FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU TOLD ME YOUR PARENTS WOULDN’T LET YOU HAVE ONE AS A CHILD?” It’s important for him to know how much your relationship means to you and how not okay you are with him having social or emotional contact with any other human being including his mother. 

3. Plan lots of fun, yet clever dates. A few of my favorites are:

-Glamour Shots: There is no better way to grow closer emotionally than dressing up in themed costumes and provocatively posing.

-Visiting your Grandmother in the Nursing Home: Having your Nana throw spinach at him and call him “Janine” will be the perfect segway into talking about starting a family. He will be in his caretaking mode, so right in between rubbing her corns and rolling her wheelchair to dinner just look him straight in the eyes and say “I want our own little miniature version of this. Lets reproduce, babe.” and if he responds with “Um..I’ve only known you for two weeks and we are only 20 years old,” then you are definitely not on the same page.

-Reenacting Episodes of Criminal Minds: I’m not going to explain why this is fun and beneficial to a relationship. It just speaks for itself. 

4. If he doesn’t answer your texts, that’s fine. He’s playing hard to get. Real women don’t play games, so keep texting him. I don’t just mean like a few “hey, just call me when you get a chance” text messages. I’m talking full-fledged, fill-his-inbox-to-capacity texting. He’s going to love it. He’s going to see those messages and be like “marry me. now.” Do you know why? Because you took matters in your own hands and weren’t afraid to get what you want. 

5. Take every opportunity to cry. Crying gets you anything you could ever want. He wants to play Call of Duty but you want to watch A League of Their Own and make crepes? Cry. His brother is on leave from Afghanistan for three days but you scheduled a couples yoga retreat? Cry. He doesn’t want to learn how to french braid your hair? Cry. Another great thing crying provides is the opportunity for him to comfort you. If you’re always crying, then he’s always comforting you and you’re always hugging. See how this all works?

Seriously guys, thank me later.