mexican't

a cold tortilla is as appetizing as raymond burr in a bikini.

it's the sad truth.

mrs. burr often complained about it. nobody likes a burr-kini, she would say.

take a moment to picture it. would you like a burr-kini? no. no you wouldn't.

we went out for "mexican" food last night at the new place in our neighbourhood. except for the food part, it was pretty awesome. their décor is loverly. lots of red and orange and plaster jesuses (jesusi?) and a whole wall full of different tequilas.

we drank some of those tequilas. some margaritas. some negra modelos.

we should have thought twice about the food, though, when we saw on the menu that the fajitas came with "friholes." i mean, sure, it's embarrassing if you pronounce frijoles (the actual spanish word for beans) as "fridge o'lays." perhaps they were trying to spare their clientèle that humiliation? but, i must enquire, isn't it also embarrassing to mispronounce frijoles as "free holes?"

it is. i tried it.

"i would like my fadgitas with free holes, please."

they told me no more teckwheela and took away my last rolling R.

in short, our local mexican joint gets an A for ambiance and a D for food. my enchilada was sweet. bartlebee's fajitas were bland and dry. i was tempted to go back in the kitchen and explain the concept of spice, to describe the imperative of lime, to heat the fucking tortillas...

but instead we just drank more. i mean, hell, we're in australia. how many mexicans make it out here to cook?

and i suppose i should be thankful that there's somewhere i can stumble to that sells cold cerveza.

'cause i can make la comida myself.