How Does One Say "Blaaarrrrghhhh!" in Spanish?

Okay, let me clarify. Taco Bell is on my shit list NOT for giving me the shits. That would be like putting, I don't know, vomit on my shit list for tasting like barf. What's the point?!

Nay, they are on my shit list because we stopped off there for lunch, while on our hellish road-trip, and I bit into a 7-layer burrito with a little something... extra. See, Taco Bell is the last fast food place to which I will give my money. Most of the others were either checked off my list after I read "Fast Food Nation," or because I decided that I no longer enjoyed diarrhea as much as I did when I was younger. But I always seemed to give Taco Bell a free pass, for some reason. While I didn't eat there very often, I did stop off now and again - whenever I had to pack my colon quickly with seven layers of pre-digested sludge.

So, I ordered my 7-layer, squirted a little hot sauce in the open, anus end of the burrito, and took a big ol' chomp. As I was chewing, I looked down at the taut tortilla tube in my fist and noticed something protruding out from my whence I had bitten. Now, I can't really describe what it was I saw because I'm pretty sure I blacked out for a minute or so after I saw it, but it looked a lot like a very colorful birthday invitation, with little colored round stickers stuck to it, and maybe a piece of diaper attached to it. I KNOW! THAT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE BUT THAT IS WHAT WAS STICKING OUT OF THIS MONSTROSITY THAT I WAS CLUTCHING IN MY HAND!

After I came to, I spit the bolus out of my mouth and into the wrapper, got out of the car and stumbled into the "restaurant." (Why I didn't take a picture of this thing is beyond me -- I think I was in shock. But the old lady saw it and will vouch for its existence, so I know I'm not going crazy.) I was ready to shove that miscarriage of a meal into the maw of the pimply-faced manager and demand a full refund and a new stomach, but unfortunately, my wrath was diffused by the "developmentally delayed" young man behind the counter. He asked me, very courteously I might add, if he could help me and I simply said, "Um... yeah, I bit into this burrito and... uh, there seemed to be an extra layer that didn't really seem to be... food."

He grabbed the bunched up wrapper from me and bolted into the "kitchen" area announcing, with great urgency, that "SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THIS ORDER!" I felt kinda like a dick, but, hey, I figured it was a good learning experience for him. A "teachable moment," even. Fuck, I don't know?!

He came trotting back and asked if I wanted my money back or a replacement burrito and, now completely tapped of anger, I mumbled, "Well... I'll take another burrito... but make sure they stop at seven layers, this time." He yelled back, "Seven layer and stop at seven layers this time!"

I thanked him and grabbed my freshly excreted, warm bean-sleeve and walked back to the car, feeling like an asshole in addition to being nauseated. I tried to eat the new burrito, but it tasted too much like... failure.

And B.M.

So, yeah, that's why Taco Bell is on my shit list. Just had to clarify that.