Taco Bell Atrocities

Current obsession: Taco Bell.

I have been to Taco Bell three times since Friday. And each time I get either the #1 combo (soft taco supreme, burrito supreme no onions) or I just get the burrito supreme without onions.

So cheap. So tasty.

On Friday when I ran for the border, I accidentally crashed right into the decorative trash can thingie in front of the cashier’s counter. Hard. And I tried to act like I didn’t but it totally hurt and I winced and the cashier totally saw me and laughed at me, but tried to act like she wasn’t laughing. I still have a bruise, incidentally.

Monday’s trip was uneventful.

Yesterday I went to the Bell late at night, on my way home from work, and there were only a couple of people in the restaurant besides me. Two of the other patrons were these two loud, obnoxious, overweight girls in really tight clothes. One of them was wearing a midriff and low-rise jeans. The other had on black pants and this super, SUPER tight tee that I totally saw in the Alloy catalog. Also, she had a really horrible rooty bleach-blond dye job. For the record.

I wasn’t annoyed because they were overweight, because shit, I could certainly stand to shave a few inches off of my massive ghetto ass, so I really can’t be judging anyone on their particular body image struggles. But I am a fan of dressing appropriately for your body type, and they weren’t. At all.

Also, in the middle of the restaurant, both of them whipped out their makeup arsenals and proceeded to glop more makeup onto their already heavily painted faces.

Now, I’m perfectly aware that I’m a product whore myself, but I actually wear very little makeup and I certainly don’t carry around a suitcase full of stage makeup with me when I go out. And I’ve never understood women who do. But even if you do, fine, as long as you know the proper time and place to apply makeup.

Which is NOT in the middle of the fucking Taco Bell at 9:45 on a Tuesday night.

They did it all – foundation, tons and tons of black eyeliner, lipstick…and then came the final injustice.

The one in the midriff pulled out a bottle of perfume and proceeded to douse herself in it.

And that was some rank $3 Wal-Mart eau de shit she was wearing, too.

Gah. Aside from the impossibly tacky nature of every action I saw them take in the restaurant, I have major problems with people who spray scented things in public spaces. It’s horribly rude.

So anyway. I didn’t say anything, because I’m a wuss and it wouldn’t have done anything but start a fight anyway. I just left as soon as I humanly could after that. They might have cured me of my Taco Bell obsession, though.

Bitches.

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