(I sympathized, because often ManFriend just shakes his head at my bean infested tacos from Pancho Villa.) Hey, it's like instant-dip! Like Nachos in dip form!
Well I didn't have to sell it, I just had to eat it.
And THAT my friends is EXACTLY what I did.
However my chip to "nacho taco dip" ratio was severely off. Much like when one is running out of yarn, I ... made do. I tore off pieces of the doubled tortilla and well ... dug in.
And holy crap I ate more than I meant.
And I proceeded to eat it like an 8 year old boy child raised by wolves with severe utensil allergies.
Well, after cleaning out the shrapnel in my keyboard and washing my hands and face. I return to the bathroom to wash again and throw in some teeth brushing for gold stars and blue ribbons.
But there I am, tappety tapping on the keyboard and I get this whiff of taco. I think, "Bah, it's just the trash. Don't worry about it keep working."
However I smell it following me like some kind of taco ghost. I go home and start to get dressed to go exercise, I smell taco. CLEAN CLOTHES.
I rewash and rebrush.
I think exercise helped. I think I sweat the taco out of me. I think the two pints I had with the Boozey Beavers at The Residence sort of drowned it out.
I better not dream of any stinkin' tacos!