1. When one man kills a million of another religion and causes the world to war.
2. When another country gets the bomb and uses it to 'end the war.'
3. When they misalign the two plies on toilet paper.
Oh yeah, I've started using toilet paper. But I won't donate another post to that portion of my day. I'd actually donate it to something with almost comparable visual appeal - the burrito. In particular, the bean burrito. I'm not going to give any attention to a chicken burrito, because it seems to me nothing but a hack, and a really bad attempt at that. A bean burrito, as we all know and are reasonably perceptive to figure out, is made up of beans. Beware though, they're not the green beans that we see, hate, and occasionally have to eat (especially if you happen to live with my roommates) - they're the black ones that we didn't even know existed. In a burrito they appear like a brown lump of (no, not that, but) kidney beans. For a long time I believed they were actually kidney beans. But they aren't, they're black beans.
I love bean burritos, but not the ones you can buy for $3 at Taco Bell or $5 at Chipotle's or for some other price at some other place, the ones that you get for 88 cents at your nearest Walmart. They're frozen and they only take 4 minutes of your old microwave (or 2 minutes of a new one) to be ready for massacre. And they taste exactly like a bunch of raajma wrapped in a roti, and that's heaven for me already.
But there are many things I hate about a bean burrito. Yup, like most things they aren't perfect. Hell doors break open when its not rightly microwaved. By 'rightly microwaved,' I mean that a pious attendant must keep inspecting the procedure at 10 second intervals, making sure the burrito is evenly heated and doesn't (here it comes) burst open. Yeah, sometimes frozen bean burritos give in to the temperature changes. And I hate that. So I'm faithful to my burritos, I nourish them with motherly care for the four minutes to make sure the massacre commences inside my mouth. Convenience is the obvious cause for my hatred, but the sight of bean stains on the dish doubles it up. And of course, there is only one visual equivalent.
I love bean burritos, but not the ones you can buy for $3 at Taco Bell or $5 at Chipotle's or for some other price at some other place, the ones that you get for 88 cents at your nearest Walmart. They're frozen and they only take 4 minutes of your old microwave (or 2 minutes of a new one) to be ready for massacre. And they taste exactly like a bunch of raajma wrapped in a roti, and that's heaven for me already.
But there are many things I hate about a bean burrito. Yup, like most things they aren't perfect. Hell doors break open when its not rightly microwaved. By 'rightly microwaved,' I mean that a pious attendant must keep inspecting the procedure at 10 second intervals, making sure the burrito is evenly heated and doesn't (here it comes) burst open. Yeah, sometimes frozen bean burritos give in to the temperature changes. And I hate that. So I'm faithful to my burritos, I nourish them with motherly care for the four minutes to make sure the massacre commences inside my mouth. Convenience is the obvious cause for my hatred, but the sight of bean stains on the dish doubles it up. And of course, there is only one visual equivalent.
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