Let me say that this story is a story and has no significance to it whatsoever. Went to dinner with my older sister the other night. Man, let me tell you I was starving. As we pulled up to the mexican food cart, all I could think about was eating an enchilada drenched in cheese and chili. What I wasn’t thinking about was how to come up with an excuse as to why the 30 year old spanish cashier couldn’t have my number. My sister specifically saying that she had a boyfriend and I didn’t was just great. Due to the grumbling in my stomach and dry mouth, it was really hard to focus on my white lie making sense and let me tell you, out of all the mind traveling that I did in the second it took me to come up the genius, “I don’t have a number,” I traveled nowhere. I just wanted a TACO! Maybe some rice on the side. From now until forever I am forced to go undercover every time I want enchiladas in my home town. Moral of the story, there isn’t one really.