Last week I was standing in line at the Cactus when my bff Suzy called. “Where you at?” Suzy said.
“I’m at Cactus,” I said. “Vine, between Santa Monica and Melrose.”
Suzy pulled up in her new-to-her 2005 Mercedes Benz C-Class. Only in LA does a person who lives in a shitty apartment with a lesbian roommate and no air conditioning drive a newish Mercedes Benz.
“You eat here?” Suzy asked indignantly.
“Yeah, they make a good vegetarian burrito,” I said.
“I don’t trust these places,” she said, “I mean, where do they go to the bathroom or wash their hands? It’s so gross.”
I’d never noticed the lack of bathrooms at the Cactus until that moment. Where do those Mexis pee?
For a second she had me. Then I thought about it and decided, so what? What’s the worst-case? So they literally have no pot to piss in and have to drain their lizards in the alley behind the El Rancho market. There’s no sink in the alley and I bet they don’t use hand sanitizer, that’s too bourge for a Mexican working at a taco stand, so they go straight back to rolling burritos with dick-hand.
And while I don’t really like to think about the fact that my burrito has been made with dick hands, honestly it doesn’t really bother me that much either. I mean it’s not like I’ve never put a dick (or twenty,) in my mouth before. And though I personally wouldn’t go down on a guy working at a taco stand I’m sure there’s some lady out there sucking his dick and loving it.
So if a little dick residue gets on my burrito...even if it is a warty, herpetic dick...it probably won’t kill me. In fact, whatever they do to it at the Cactus, it tastes pretty good. Mmmmmmmmm, I love my dick-covered burrito.
“They got an A.” I said, pointing to the health code rating hanging in the window.
“Yeah, they probably stole it.” Suzy said.
Some girls just don’t understand good Mexican food.
