Tag Archives: Taco Bell

Attest

Attest: (v) declare that something exists or is the case.dictionary with letter A

If I reached into my treasure chest of what I believe and hold dear, and removed everything that wasn’t backed up by my own experience, I would soon find myself with a lot of available room.

One of my steps of maturity in this human journey is realizing that quoting, reciting, insisting, proclaiming, preaching and postulating “just don’t make it so, Joe.”

Honestly, the only time my words are worthy of being heard are when they are accompanied by adequate traveling miles that confirm I have actually taken the trip.

What can I attest to?

  • I can attest to the fact that “an eye for an eye” is completely useless and renders us violent and paranoid.
  • I can attest to the fact that normally when I am kind, gentle and loving to the world around me I get some portion of that coming back my way.
  • I can attest to the fact that judging other people only creates enemies and pisses God off.
  • I can attest to the fact that when I’m given a tiny window to use my talent, my ability is proven to have enough traction to generate an income in my direction.
  • I can attest to the fact that 20 minutes after I eat at Taco Bell, I have to go to the bathroom.

These are my realities.

They are true enough that I could swear on a stack of Bibles, even though honestly, I couldn’t swear on a stack of my realities about everything that’s in the Bible.

It does not mean that I don’t hold many truths to be self-evident, or wish they were realities. It’s just that I can’t attest to them.

And when I try to do so, I end up getting challenged, and either looking like a fool or finding myself stubbornly digging my heels in on glare ice.

Simplify.

Are there a certain number of things we need to believe to be classified as believers?

Or does being able to attest to one thing get you into the club?

 

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Amigo

dictionary with letter A

Amigo: (n) term used to address or refer to a friend chiefly in Spanish-speaking areas.

Don’t get me started.

I have a pet peeve about people who know three or four words in several different languages and use them whenever they get around somebody they think might be anywhere near that particular national persuasion.

I’m sorry. It bugs me.

For instance, I don’t think you get to use the word “oui” to say yes just because somebody from France is in the room.

Here’s a clue. No, let me go even further. I’m going to call it a rule.

You are not allowed to use a foreign language unless you can string together at least three sentences in a row.

So this will avoid individuals who go to German restaurants, and when asked if they want dessert at the end of consuming their bratwurst, they pat their tummy and say “nein.”

And it also is going to greatly discourage individuals who, in a Hispanic environment, begin to call everybody mi amigo.

It’s not like you’re impressing anyone. Everyone knows that you’re only aware of certain words, and even find it difficult to order by yourself at Taco Bell. Just do yourself a favor–and everyone else, while you’re at it–and remove the pretense of thinking that you become international by mouthing certain words, which more than likely are mispronounced anyway.

This also goes for individuals who start talking Southern when they’re in Alabama, British when they discuss the Beatles and throw in an occasional “thee and thou” at a performance of Shakespeare in the Park.

I thank you for allowing me to vent my frustration on this issue. I’m sure it has saved me thousands of dollars in therapy … and possibly a murder conviction from brutally attacking one of these language transgressors.

 

Acapulco

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acapulco: a port and resort in southern Mexico on the Pacific coast; pop. 592,290, full name Acapulco de Juarez.

Since I don’t drink, gamble, have a beautiful body like a Greek god or enjoy dancing in the night life of an exotic resort, places like Acapulco never really drew my attention nor any of my interest. The things that would be of value to me, like the sunshine, water and some good Mexican food, are really available in my neighborhood.

It’s not that I am a curmudgeon who hates to be around crowds of people because I think they are dark and evil or different and weird. It’s that early on I discovered my own level of contentment and toleration for variation–and I love to stay within those parameters lest I find myself spending a lot of money doing things I don’t really want to do anyway, pretending they are the coolest thing that’s ever happened.

I don’t like to be overwhelmed by entertainment. So for me, going to a carnival which is set up in a shopping center parking lot, eating a corn dog, and trying to knock over a few milk bottles with a light-weight ball as I watch children use their tickets to ride on a rickety roller coaster is just as much fun as going to Disney World.

You see, I think there’s a danger in over-stunning our senses with innumerable sources of stimulation all at the same time, without having the opportunity to take in individual bonuses because we are so inundated.

I know I am alone in this.

But I’ve never wanted to be jaded by convincing myself that the only way I can have fun and sun is by going to Acapulco instead of stepping into my back yard with a pitcher of iced tea, a good book and some great music to listen to on a wonderfully sun-drenched afternoon.

It’s not that I’m simple–it’s just that I have five senses and I really don’t want to jam them up, so that they’re running around colliding into each other, vying for attention.

Stop for a moment and taste the iced tea. U-m-m-m. It’s good. Now, put your head back and let the sun warm your face. Excellent.

The one time I found myself at a resort like Acapulco I couldn’t get a moment’s rest or a chance for an idea to stretch its legs, because all the young cabana people were constantly walking up and asking me if I wanted to go deep-sea fishing, sight-seeing, hand-gliding or rollerblading.

I felt bad when I told them “absolutely not.” I wondered if they lost commission because I appeared to be out of commission. After that I decided to avoid such fruitless journeys, and instead, chose to tantalize my sense one at a time.

So you may go to Acapulco and you can even send me pictures.

I think I will just stop off at Taco Bell, pick up a couple burritos, sit in the sun, jot some notes down on a piece of paper, and after I become hot enough, dip the better parts of my body in some cool water.

That’s what I call … a vacation.