let the enslaughtery commence

not a huge easter fan. not a big jesus fan. but easter is my favorite holiday. why? its not the turkey. its not the family hoo-ha. its not the celebrating all the blah blah blah. its all about the eggs, my friends. easter is the one time of year you can get creme eggs. they are my first and foremost candied love. i crave creme eggs above all other candy. sorry licorice, i know that was hard to hear. you too, chocolate covered almonds. perhaps its the mystique, nay, the anticipation. all other candy is available year round. but not my easter creme eggs. last year was the first easter i spent with my boyfriend. he seemed thoroughly horrified when i came home with 9 boxes of creme eggs - i practiced some self control. i'm not some super glutton, polishing off all 27 eggs in one sitting. oh no, i relished every one. giving each sweetened orb the attention it so richly deserved. egg by delicious egg. gently, and with skillful hands and nimble fingers, peeling the foil - you have time, don't rush it. a first and exploratory bite off the top. letting the chocolate melt, swirling seductively around my taste buds, exciting them, taunting them, pleasuring them. the chocolate is superb, untouched, but the real gem is the filling. dual colored, the strands stretching, sweeping towards ecstasy. it's not hard work, and really, blasphemous to even think of it like that. it is effort, exertion. but more a struggle in self-restraint. hard to deny yourself the pleasure of auto creme-eggery. rush through and you feel spent, but not sated. linger too long and you're left with sticky hands, and unsatisfied urges. it is a fine line, and a journey you must satisfy on your own.

my dearest friend, i weep for thee

oh taco del mar, i hardly knew ye. your tasty burritos, so filling and fresh, are no more. your crazy fish tacos, which i never tried and now never will. your cheery decor, so bright and standardized, is now strewn across west broadway. your friendly staff, only slightly disgruntled, but mostly clean, are jobless, hopeless. i cry for you, taco del mar. the tear i shed for you, though solitary in number, is birthed with all my anger and confusion. it slides down my cheek and splashes on my shirt as your low calorie salsa and freshly made guacamole must have smattered the outside of the holiday inn. an artery of red; a byway of green; a corn-sect of yellow. a moment of silence for you, my fallen tortillian comrades, may you finally have the peace you could never find in your short, steam filled existence.