What is a taco?

Oh Monday. Monday Monday. How I love thee. While most people loathe Monday, I embrace and love the beginning of the week. Why you ask? Simple: TACO NIGHT. Monday is half priced taco night at sandbar in the Grove, and you can bet your bottom dollar that that is where you will find me nearly each and every Monday. The chopped up crispy cabbage, the gently grilled mahi, the amazing secret sauce, and a squeeze of fresh lime. Nothing beats it and an ice cold blue moon on a Monday to start the week off happy. And I actually made progress on my thesis today. I really worked hard on my data set. Hopefully I can get more done tomorrow.

Now there was one little snag in my day. For the past 2 weeks my lovely and wonderful roommate, M.G. has been traveling. I had the entire house to myself, and I had no qualms about parading around in my underwear, cooking in only a big t-shirt, or leaving my shoes (all of them) in the middle of the living room floor. However, before she came back I gave everything a good scrub and vacuumed and dusted etc. etc. I was happy to have her back, but after being in the house for about 1 minute flat there was a knock at the door, and who should appear but "the boy" whom from here out I shall refer to as "frenchy" . Well Frenchy marched into the door and before I even knew what was happening they had disappeared into their layer to "catch up." Well it seems Frenchy may be a semi permanent fixture in my life, so I may as well get used to it, but the guy doesn't know what a taco is and he smokes in the house, and he steals M.G. away from me when she only has a month left in the states as it is. So now I have to listen to giggling beneath the techno music slipping under the door, and smell the cigarette smoke in the living room, and retreat into my room so that I don't cramp anyone's style.

I am sure that Frenchy is a perfectly nice guy, and I do have to admit he has great taste in wine, and he can cook a mean ratatouile, but I sure do wish I had my M.G. to myself, and that she could have joined me at taco night, because man oh man were those grilled fish tacos delightful and I will miss her oh so much next year. But, there is always next Monday night, and sex can only beat out sandbar so many times before one feels the magnetic pull of mexican food, and cold beer, and a good friend.