Recap from yesterday: My college sweetheart (my GBF) and I took lots of shots of tequila on Valentine’s Day and humiliated each other. (Read: I humiliated both of us.) Satisfied that it would be a solid month before we could show our faces in Top of the Hill (one of our favorite bars), we make a dramatic exit… at which point I decide to take a nap on the landing of the stairs, rather than walk down them. In my defense, they were very long and steppy.
Thomas, his mouth agape with horror (or perhaps belly-shaking laughter), started badgering me and being all, “Omigod! LiLu! You cannot go to sleep here!” Eventually, he managed to scrape my rag-doll self off the (not exactly sanitary) landing of Top O’s stairwell, and I begrudgingly agreed to traverse the three flights down. Even wearing sneakers, I believe I fell an average of 2.5 times per staircase (the .5 being when Thomas was able to catch me, despite his slowed and drunkety reflexes). In keeping with the theme of the night, there was much giggling, face-planting, and unsuccessful sleep attempts.
Finally on the ground, we faced the seemingly endless half a mile walk home. I was, to say the least, a tidbit wobbly. Somehow (perhaps because he knows me), Thomas had the presence of mind to zip my purse closed, which came in handy when I chucked it into the middle of the street for absolutely no reason at all. Somewhat annoyed with me at this point (so self-absorbed, right??), Thomas retrieved my purse and continued supporting my drunk and stumbley ass down Franklin Street. Suddenly, one of Chapel Hill’s Finest was walking towards us, protecting and serving handing out underage drinking tickets like they were cookies at Christmas.
Realizing the coppa would be all too happy to snag some belligerent twat for D&D, Thomas abruptly tried to shake my impersonation of some Tyra Banks ANTM “broken down doll” pose
and perhaps even try to walk STRAIGHT for oh, 30 seconds. You know, go nuts.
“Dear god Lilu,” he hissed. “For the LOVE, please just try to make it ten steps without falling down! There’s a cop right in front of us!”
“Shhhrif you wannnna gebluff,” I astutely replied, indignant at his accusation. One foot, second foot… geez, this is easy! And then SPLAT. I basically landed AT THE COP’S FEET. He and Thomas helped me up, and my wonderful GBF somehow convinced him that I was harmless and being taken home at that very moment. He let us go, probably because he was afraid I would vomit on his shiny shoes. I’ll take what I can get.
We continued on our trek down Franklin Street, having made it… about a block. We should have gone straight home. We shouldn’t have stopped for anything. But it glowed at us like a beacon in the dark and blurry night…
COSMIC CANTINA.
For anyone who’s been to Chapel Hill, I hope to the baby Jesus someone took you to Cosmic. They are, without a doubt, the best Mexican food in all the land. Salsa that is perfection, unreal guacamole, spicy queso as far as the eye can see… and a line guaranteed to wrap around the block by 1:45 a.m. Fortunately, we were shitfaced at 11 p.m. on a Wednesday. And it was Valentine’s Day. We made our way to deliciousness and I proceeded to order our regular… two deluxe steak burritos. Only, I thought it would be really cool if I ordered in Spanish. And by cool, I mean COMPLETELY STUPID, because whatever we got? Was NOT deluxe. Or steak. It may have been a burrito. A retarded burrito who had sex with his cousin, Chicken Mole. (I hate Chicken Mole. Chocolate, get the hell away from my Mexican. Play on your own side of the sandbox, that’s all I’m saying.)
Of course, we didn’t really care that what we’d gotten was something completely different- at that point, anything starchy and food-like was totally going to complement the cheap tequila swishing around in our stomachs. Thomas dug in as I tried to figure out the physics of holding said tortilla-wrapped item. I took hold of one edge… and the entire thing unraveled and dumped the contents on the ground.
(Now, um, this may be where you want to look away. I promise you, it’s only going to get uglier from here. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)
I stared at the burrito-turned-taco salad on the ground, and debated for only a moment before pick the tortilla up by a corner and beginning to gnaw on it.
“Oh dear God, LiLu, NO! How many people have puked there before!!!” Thomas ripped the pathetic remnants from my hands and shooed me away from the destroyed burrito, and from my shame.
to be continued… (last time, I swear!)
{ 14 comments }
:-O
I just dropped a cookie at a staff lunch, looked my boss in the eye, picked it up and said “well, I am still eating this…you cannot waste an oatmeal raisin!”
So, not as gross…no. But, I think you never need to worry about trying to look dignified in front of me, lovah.
Amazing the things that become soooo much more logical after a few drinks.
66: >:-0
Lem: You know that I totally think less of you if you hadn't eaten it.
Refugee: If you saw these burritos, you’d understand. Mmmmmm COSMIC
As long as you removed the visible debris, no problem. Chow down my friend.
Don’t remember if Cosmic was there when I was, but I have some very special blurry memories of Time Out and Hector’s. One time in particular that included me, my brother, a full bucket of chicken and the ability to make a 12 piece disappear in 10 minutes. Ummmm.
Foggy: Oh Hector’s and the double cheeseburger pita!!! I might would trade a pinky toe and a half for one of those right now…
LiLu, that was a pretty good sammy. High in fat and starch.
Fat and starch are good for you if you eat them after 3 am. Trust.
nice! one st. patty’s day, i had enough to drink that I ate a stranger’s leftovers after he finished his meal and left his plate sitting there when he walked away. not as gross as eating off the ground, but i did use the dude’s dirty fork.
Charlotte: The sad thing is, I might do that sober. Depends what the leftovers were.
Wait what?
Cheeseburger on pita at Hector’s? I didn’t get one last weekend. I smell another road trip!
Someone just suggested that I look at this entry in your blog. Don’t know how I missed it the first time. I lived in Durham for many years, and the Cosmic Cantina is da bomb, especially in the summertime when you can eat out on the patio. When they first opened, they had a sign that said “Best Mexican Food in Town”. It progressed from there to being the Best Mexican Food in NC, then “north of Mexico”, then “in the world”, and I believe it eventually said, “in the Universe”. It’s hard enough to hold one of their “elephant” burritos when you’re sober. I can only imagine what it must’ve been like in a tequila-soaked haze.
Fresh, house-made salsa. Mmmmmm.
Shannon: We’ve GOT to make it down there soon- Ben’s never been! Spring time/basketball would be perfect…
Gilahi: It is hands down the best in the universe. Trust.