Boulevard of Broken Taco Shells

I was so excited recently when I came across this article that talked up

a new service available in the Bay Area and looking to expand;

one that you could order tacos from your Smartphone

and have them delivered to your location via drone helicopter.

WHUT!?!

Turns out, it was all a hoax.

Oh, interwebz! You promise me such wonderful things

and then you take them away!

I should have known better, though.

A tacocopter? That's too good to be true.

Too deliciously good.

But, I will say this. If we're going to have

drones buzzing through our urban centers,

I wouldn't mind if a few of those would be dedicated to bringing me

tasty noms a la the silver parachutes in The Hunger Games.

Bring me tasty brains, er, tacos

There's a great little taco shack down the street from my apartment where I love to indulge my cravings for fire-roasted, seasoned banana peppers and my obsession of heaping fresh pico de gallo on anything and everything. Tonight was Taco Tuesday, and the joint was jumping.

Much to my surprise, there was an attractive new cook slinging the tortillas (thank you very much, Arizona) with whom I locked eyes upon entering. My crippling shyness forced me to quickly look away lest I be caught ogling someone a few rungs higher than I on the attractiveness ladder.

But then from deep within, -- probably from the more extroverted twin I absorbed in utero -- I mustered up some self-confidence (cajones, since I was at a taco stand) and decided to return his gaze.

So, dear reader, I looked him in the eye. And smiled.

He quickly looked back down at his tortillas.

Dejected, I took my carnitas, my peppers, and my vat of pico de gallo back to my little apartment down the street...

...Where I caught sight of myself in the mirror and remembered that I woke up looking like an extra from Dawn of the Dead.

Mmmm...pico de gallo...on brains.