I'm starting to get back problems because of the chip on my shoulder.

I thought one self-absorbed post would be enough to make it through the day. Oh, life! You sike [sic] me out!

So after finishing most of the applications that I have to complete today (I have three left), I decide to treat myself to Chipotle. I mean, what brings up my spirits other than Chipotle?

So I waltz across the street to my lovely, yet crowded Chipotle. While in line, I notice the JMU alum with whom I had an awkward interaction with a few weeks ago. I avoid eye contact. That's the anti-social Tyler we all know and love!

Then I get up to place my order with the woman who screeches unintelligibly, "FO' HER' O' TOOGO?!" and I only stutter once. Good sign! Usually I trip over my words, either bumping into people in line or landing face-first in the guacamole. This is where I always get nervous and flabbergasted, and I make it through! Next stop, salsa! Oh, but salsa is so easy. "Mild and medium, please!" Oh, Tyler: your day is shaping up!

As I watch the woman slap a ladle-worth of medium salsa onto my tacos, I realize that I meant to ask for mild and hot salsa. See, the hot salsa is the only one that doesn't have chunks of, you know, vegetables in it, but since it's too hot on it's own, I mix in the mild salsa which is just chunks of tomatoes. The medium salsa, however, is some kind of green chili, which I find disgusting because I don't like eating slimy green things. Since Chipotle is the loudest fucking space on the planet, I can't stop the woman, so I'm stuck with the green, medium salsa. Great.

So I pay and am about to leave when I think, "Hey, I'll put hot sauce on my tacos. Yes, Tyler, that is the obvious remedy to the situation."

Two minutes later, I'm back at my desk. I unfold my aluminum foil-wrapped lump of tacos, pick up the first, and take a big bite. Immediately, I notice two sensations in my mouth. One is the feeling of the green salsa's slimy particles slipping around my tongue, and I am disgusted. Unfortunately, that disgust is quickly overshadowed by the burning sensation of the hot sauce, which begins on my tongue but then spreads to my lips and throat pretty damn quickly.

So now my mouth is on fire, my eye is watering (because I touched it with a hot sauce-tainted finger), and I couldn't take more than two more bites of my taco. Luckily, I brought a turkey sandwich for my real lunch today, maybe subconsciously predicting that I would somehow fuck up lunch.

Life is hard, y'all.