There is something magical & wonderful yet horribly, horribly wrong about Mexican food. Now, I don't mean authentic Mexican food (which I'm sure is still horribly unhealthy, but hey! Authenticity has street cred). I'm talking about Tex Mex, of course.
Of course I am.
If you're from Texas- you know what I mean. There's something oddly comforting yet fucking bastardly about a big bowl of queso
So, yesterday after work I made my way to BeyondFit & had my ass handed to me by Tricia. Y'all. I totally forgot my sports bra & almost didn't go to class as a result because, fuuuuck- boobs are the worst sometimes. Especially whilst doing jumping jacks. (Jack jumping?) But I went. I jumped the jacks. With ropes. I ran & rowed & lunged & sweated my ass off!
So, it was a success.
And then I got a text from Steve seeing if I wanted to go see a Mariachi band. Goddamnit, I love a good Mariachi band. Try to be in a bad mood while looking at this:
Initially I said no because calories, calories. But then I thought of their little funny hats & silly little pants & how sometimes they'll go around & serenade some poor patron who is just trying to eat their chimichangas. And it's the best. It's just the best. So, I went.
On an empty stomach. NOT SMART.
Austin is a great city for vegetarians & healthy living so I just kind of assumed I could find something to eat, but Jalisco's had different plans.
Y'all. Even ALL of their salads had beef on them.
Then some guy at the bar sent us over a Margarita. I asked Steve if it'd be rude to return it for a glass of wine- which got little response. I felt way rude, so I took took about 3 good size sips & called it a day.
So, basically I showed the chips & the queso & the fried things & the cold drinks that I control when I eat you- you don't make me eat you by just being around and smelling so fucking delicious.