Moldy Tortillaville

Unga bunga, it's Wednesday. Did you know that when I first moved out on my own, Wednesdays were always soft taco nights? Every Wednesday, I'd make myself a vaguely poisonous platter of tacos and just go to town. After a few months of that, I got tired of all of the work that went into tacos, what with the meat and the lettuce and all. From then on, Wednesdays were hot-dogs-wrapped-in tortillas night. That worked out pretty well, but it also got to be a lot of work, what with the heating up of the hot dogs. So now, Wednesdays are just handful-of-leaves-with-ketchup-smeared-on-them nights. I don't know what I'll do when I get tired of opening the ketchup.

Ahh, but that reminds me of something. In college, when Will, Paddy, and I got our first apartment, I had this great idea that if I bought tortillas, I wouldn't need bread. I was really poor, so the $4 a month in bread savings represented a major triumph. In this amazing conclusion, I neglected two factors. First, tortillas just don't blend well with some things. I actually tried wrapping a hot dog in a tortilla several times, and it was vile. I couldn't just stop though because I'd spent my bread budget on tortillas. I had all these tortillas, and the only way I could eat was to combine them with lunch meat and baked beans.

The second blunder in my tortilla plan was that tortillas go bad very quickly. Do you know how many tortillas you can buy for $4? An assload. I bought that assload and realized how horrible everything tasted, only to have the entire batch go bad within a week. Since I only had around $20 a week to spend on food, I couldn't just buy some bread. I didn't have the money, and I'd already made a huge deal out of the tortilla thing. The only way out was through the stale tortillas. I can't even describe to you what that week was like. I don't need to go to Sudan or Iraq to experience hell; I spent a week's worth of hard time in Moldy Tortillaville. If, in 50 years time, I wake up in the middle of the night, having wet my bed, screaming about hot dogs wrapped in tortillas, I can't say I'd be surprised.