Much like Mal-nourished, going into the home stretch, Chipotle and I have hit a mini-wall. Maybe it was the thought of even being compared to Qdoba or maybe it is just that we know each other too well. Whatever it is, things are not quite as hunky dory as they once were in the honey moon phase.
Monday night after I was done eating my 45th consecutive Chipotle meal, I started to feel a deep grumbling in my stomach. No, I didn’t need to go to the bathroom, this growl and vibration was being caused by none other than a lover’s quarrel. Now, Chipotle would not tell me exactly what was making her upset, she was leaving it up to me to guess (which I hate), but by the evil looks my insides were making, I could tell she was really pissed.
And after dispelling the possibility of it just being a grouchy Monday (both Chipotle and I are bad at transitions), I narrowed it down to one thing. Chipotle must have thought I cheated on her with another food. Well, I knew this wasn’t true at all (although I can’t say I didn’t think about it). What Chipotle thought she was sensing was actually just me choosing the extra spicy sauce (which I never get) and adding a series of squeezed lemons from the drink bar to cool it down (which I never do). But how do I prove my promiscu-al innocence to a chicken burrito bowl that already has it’s mind made up?
Well, after a fare amount of time in the fetal position where I repeatedly explained the logical explanation with methane gases, you will be glad to hear that Chipotle and I made up in full. And the best part of ending a dispute with Chipotle is not that we grow closer and stronger as an item, it’s the Passionate Make Up Chips!