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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Bad Ideas And A Burrito And Poor Decisions

July 21, 2011
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We have all made mistakes, poor choices, unfavorable decisions;  I once tried to break up with someone, but instead, rented a two-bedroom house with him, purchased an unreasonably large television set, and lived there for exactly fourteen hours.  Now, I like to think that I am not completely alone in my piss-poor choices and in fact, that my almost instinctual ability to do the wrong fucking thing was learned or even inherited, if you will.

For many years I have heard the infamous tale of the little roadside taco stand and my father’s admirable, but inevitably doomed attempt to woo my mother there with a burrito.

As my father explains it, he and my mother decided to dine at a small taco stand one evening.  It was early on in their courtship, so my father was still thickly putting on the charm (grand exaggerations of skills that are never even remotely accurate or important or useful) and he decided that his charm would best be displayed through his ability to eat really, really, very hot things.

My dad approached the taco stand and he ordered a taco for my mother and one large burrito for himself.  He then took a bite of the sizable burrito and confidently expressed to the vendors, “This is not hot enough for me.”  My father then claimed that he “had been to Mexico once” so he “knew all about it.”  And as my dad put it, “they fixed him up good”  and he “choked down the whole damn thing through ill conceived tears and laughter” and then he began to sweat profusely and turned somewhat purple and his lips swelled to four times their normal size and my mom was not super impressed, but thought it was goddamn funny and then they got married and then they got a divorce.

While we are on the subject, some other events that my father most likely regrets (not in the food regret category, but rather the squirrels, guns, dogs and knuckles one) include the following:  Once my little brother was bitten by a possibly rabid and definitely angry squirrel so my father blew it’s little head apart with a shotgun while my mother was on the phone with the doctor, who was carefully explaining to her the extreme importance of keeping the brain of the animal in question fully intact in order to properly test for rabies. Years later, my father punched a dog in the head so hard that he broke his own hand.  OK, I know what you are probably thinking, and before you start judging my father’s seemingly harsh action towards the dog, he was only trying to break up a nasty dog fight and besides, think of all the dogs that he is not punching.  He is probably not punching a dog right now.

I am attaching a little Nilo Toledo to rock you out.  Think about your dad.

 

 

 

 

 

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11 Responses to “ Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Bad Ideas And A Burrito And Poor Decisions ”

  1. Nat Almirall on July 21, 2011 at 8:18 am

    “grand exaggerations of skills that are never even remotely accurate or important or useful”*

    *yet nevertheless possessed.

    I’m guessing what did it for her was the Macchu Picchu story.

  2. anncine on July 21, 2011 at 8:39 am

    You may be correct, but it really could be any number of things. His charm cup runnith over and does nottith fall farrith from the treeith. (I am speaking of ‘charm’ as an ‘apple’ now).

  3. Nat Almirall on July 21, 2011 at 9:23 am

    Appropriath for Uncle Snakey/Skeletor. Forsooth!

  4. S. on July 21, 2011 at 9:44 am

    I’m so grateful for the Walkman Junkie :)

  5. anncine on July 21, 2011 at 11:44 am

    I am happy someone is ;) Thanks, S.

  6. Jackson on July 21, 2011 at 2:26 pm

    your dad is way cooler than my dad. but cool doesn’t put laundry machines in our apartment.

  7. anncine on July 21, 2011 at 2:55 pm

    Good point Jackson, a very talkative delivery man does. (And your dad) :)

  8. Eric Wilson on July 24, 2011 at 3:35 pm

    Where is the gratuitous use of parentheses I have become fond of?

  9. anncine on July 24, 2011 at 8:35 pm

    I will put the entire post in parentheses next time just for you.

  10. Robert on July 27, 2011 at 6:50 am

    My father is currently visiting a town called Beaverton, and is at this moment probably not punching a beaver.

    Which sounds vaguely off colour.

  11. anncine on July 27, 2011 at 7:10 am

    Yes it does, vaguely.

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