T-Bell

Some days are shit. Some days you to get up at 6 a.m. after being up until midnight the night before, working. Some days you don’t get much of a nap for unknown reasons (why does Rome have to be soooo good) and then you have to go cover a high school AND a minor league baseball game in the same night.

Now, I’m not saying it’s strenuous work, but you have to be there then you have to write two separate stories, pretending like you care (usually I do not) and by the time it’s all said and done, it’s midnight.

Only one thing can brighten a day like that. Late night Taco Bell. Oh, the warming glow of the neon border bell can make so many things go away. As a cheesy gordita crunch and a chicken soft taco with sour cream (sidenote, why do they put tomoatoes on my tacos when I ask for sour cream? Did I say “sour cream and tomatoes? No. So stop it.).

I picked up some wonderful Border South food and brought back to my apartment for my roommate and myself to enjoy. My roommate, who shall be referred to as Douchie in this future best-selling novel I call a blog, works for the said minor league team I covered. He isn’t really a douchie, but the name just sort of stuck

Anyway, by the time we had finished our meals and exchanged war stories about how badly our jobs suck (Currently, it’s a toss-up as to who has the worst life. He works more hours for less money, but I have these hours all year round. He only has it during the season), it was almost 1 a.m. We went to bed (alone perverts) and I woke up a mere 5 hours later for work.

But it was worth it. It’s always worth it for T-Bell. That is, until this moment. See, I just wrote this post on my laptop from the crapper, or the Toliet Goblin as we affectionately call it in the Casa de Rex (you’ll understand later). So, with that image in your head…GOOD DAY!