Dear @#%! Baby.
You apparently really dig Mexican food. While I haven’t had any super intense gotta-have-it-now cravings that are out of the ordinary for me (yet), you have made me go all Pavlov’s Dog for south of the border cuisine.
And not the good stuff, either. Has anyone in the history of anything ever salivated over !@%$@ Hamburger Helper? No. Hell no. Except I totally did the other night. Salt packet of “flavor”, hamburger, rice and fake cheese sauce? I couldn’t shovel it in fast enough. And the night we ate Taco Bell? I thought I was going to have to wipe the drool from my chin as I lifted the F-Grade Beef Taco to my facehole. I’m having serious mouth-watering moments here. I can’t think of another time my mouth actually watered. I didn’t know it was a real thing! I thought it was just like, I don’t know, a metaphor or a turn of phrase or something and that Pavlov was just full of shit and after all, he was testing a canine.
But nope. Apparently the visual and smell of Mexican food causes me to go all Homer Simpson now. Nachos for everyone!
mmm. nachos.
Dear #$&!% Baby 