El chalupa clasico

15 Sep

I’m caught in a morass of unwarranted self pity today. It’s mostly for absurd reasons, perceived slights, minor stresses, the reminder that I am 26 and the clock is ticking down to my unmourned death in total obscurity.

It’s unnecessary. Yet as my mother liked to say, “You feel the way you feel…but seriously, please tone it down a bit. You’re being overly dramatic.”

I spun in my office chair at my kiosk and whined to Mel, my coworker. She’s one of the few people at work who doesn’t mind my nearly constant need to hear the sound of my own voice.

She also likes my white person renditions of Spanish sayings and because she laughs at my jokes I’ve decided to forgive her for being more attractive than me.

“Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeellll…” I whined and spun. “Meeeelllllllllllll…”

“What, Weathington.”

“Mel, I feel sad.”

“Yes, I saw facebook.”

“Mel, what should I do? Do you have any folksy wisdom for me?”

“I’m not your old Mexican granny, Bitchface.”

I sighed heavily and spun again and whacked my foot on an open drawer full of keys.

“I’ll just go to Taco Bell and get one of everything.” Spin, Spin, Spin “I’ll just eat all of my feelings.”

“Yeah, Weathington? You gonna eat all of those feelings?”

“Yes. I’m going to sit in the lighted window of the Taco Bell…Slowly eating, trying to swallow it all down and then a slow fat tear will roll down my cheek and fall in to my Chalupa.”

“Hm.”

“That most classic of Mexican dishes…”

Mel began to laugh. She rested her head on her workstation keyboard and giggled while I spun and spun and spun.

She giggle and I heard her quietly say into the keys, “Yeeeeah. It’s not really.”

I spun and spun and spun until I felt a little happy again.

Or I was nauseous.

I dunno, sometimes I mix up which is which.

Tasty sorrow.

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