Oh sweet jesus
I was walking home from work around 8 tonight and turned the corner at 19th and M. Across the street there's a Chipotle I've been in exactly once, because Chipotle is kinda gross and I usually have to be compelled my some force bigger than even my considerable appetite to venture inside. What do I see outside on a Tuesday night? A line, quite literally, down the street. A line of people who are, in fact, dressed as fucking Chipotle burritos. A LINE DOWN THE STREET. Have we really come to this? Did the terrorists win and I just haven't heard about it yet?
I mean, if you're going to dress up like a Chipotle burrito just cause you think it's funny (and I've seen such things today!) that's another ball of wax, and I can get behind the humor of such a thing, hopefully with a dollop of extra-fatty irony. But if $6 is just too much to pay for a thin wrapping gorged with fat-pulsing cheese and ten zillion carbs of rice, then you know what you do? You make them at home. I do all the time. And it doesn't require clothing myself in tin-foil hats or embarrassing myself by hanging out on M Street in such garb. Well, let's be honest, it's pretty hard to embarrass yourself on M Street. Not when ten steps away I passed a girl who was pointing across the street and saying enthusiastically to her lame boyfriend, "Sign of the Whale is very good."