My Fiesta Friends

So I've got an addiction.  A strange one.  As you can see over there on the right hand side, under the picture of me with my big gut hanging out, the phrase, "Bean Burrito Addict."  That's a statement completely based on fact. 

Yes, I am addicted to bean burritos.  "Hi, my name is Kar, and I'm a burritaholic..."  "Hiiiiiiii Kar...."

It's a very emotional thing.  When the kids are driving me nuts, I think to myself, "Gosh, I could really use a burrito right now..."  When I'm sinking my teeth into that flour tortilla and the juicy beaney cheesey goop starts slooping out, I mentally say, "Aw yeahhhhhhhhh," and I start to relax.

I visit my favorite bean burro place, Fiesta Ole, often.  Often enough that the drive-through window people know me by name.  They can recognize my voice when I'm ordering at that little voice box/menu thingey.  They always say, "Welcome to Fiesta Ole, how can I help you?"

"I'll have two soft bean burritos, please."

"Ohhhh, heyyyyy, Karlenn, how are you?"

"Fine."

"I won't bother asking you about sour cream, guacamole, or hot sauce.  I know you like yours straight up."

"You know it."

"Come around to the window.  You know how much it costs."

Sad, really.

There are four workers I routinely see there at the drive-through.  There is Huge Belly Man.  He's as boring as...watching someone else play video games.  When I tell jokes or try to make conversation about the weather, he is totally stone faced.  Then there is Huge Belly Woman.  (And I'm not judging.  Because I have an incredibly large belly myself.  I just tell it like it is.)  Again, she's really boring.  Boring as... graduation ceremonies. 

Then we have my two favorites.  We have Perpetually Peppy Lady.  After you order your food at the speaker/menu thingey, she says, "Have a GRRRRRRREAT day."  Which is really something you should say when you won't see the person again for at least a day.  But then you drive to the window and talk to her again.  And then she says it again after she hands you her food:  "Have a GRRRRRREAT day."  She has grey teeth.  And she used to have really long hair, but she cut it and donated it to Locks of Love.  Now her hair looks a lot like Richard Marx's hair, circa 1990.  She's so nice.

Then we have I Think He Might Be Gay Man.  My gaydar is sometimes off, but my gut feeling is that this guy is gay.  When he was handing me my bag of burritos yesterday, it slipped from my hands and fell onto the pavement between his window and my window.  When it dropped, he flapped his hands in front of his face (like ladies do when they're trying not to cry) and let out a little squeal. Which furthered my theory about the team he plays on.  He's adorable. He calls me sweetheart.  And when I leave, he always says, "Have a blast day."  Kind of an awkward sentence to use.  But very endearing.

So, um, yeah.  These are the people I see more often than my own mother.  And that's saying something.