I'm experiencing a sense of longing many mortals on this planet know all too well. All I want to sink my teeth into is tasty, mouth watering, beautiful, MEAT. There's nothing quite like your spicy, tender beef to satisfy a strangely carnivorous craving such as this. I mean, look at you. That giant tortilla with just the right texture. Perfect Latin American cooked rice. Thick, creamy black beans. Just the right amount of spices to make you drool. And not dainty drool, like when you're listening to your specialty "sounds of bacon" soundtrack. I'm talking about the torrential waterfall that comes from falling asleep at your desk and discovering an unpleasant lake pooling around your chin, causing you to subsequently lose traction and accidentally thud your head against the fake-wooden surface. That's the kind of effect you inspire. All wrapped together in a lovely concoction the size of a large, irregularly-shaped fetus. I love you, Chipotle Barbacoa Burrito, and I don't care who knows it.
Our last parting ended in complete heartache and promises of letters that never came. Fall break came and went, homework was painstakingly completed, dinner rushes commenced and faded. Where did the time take us, Chipotle Barbacoa Burrito? We were once so close, so in love...what happened? *sigh* I know. Don't remind me. I had to move to this dreadful island where there isn't a Chipotle or Barnes and Noble in a 90 mile radius. My heart is shattered, Chipotle Barbacoa Burrito. My senses long for you. I will wait for you, Chipotle Barbacoa Burrito. This I solemnly promise, with all of my heartslashstomach.
There's a gaping hole in my gastrointestinal track that only you can fulfill, my love. And no, it isn't an ulcer. That's reserved for when my research papers finally force me to kick the bucket.
Until we meet again...
-Melinda
Darn you! You've made *me* drool and long for a food fetus! That's it, we're making a midnight run to STL!
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