You know how Taco Bell sells those double-decker tacos? In which they slather a soft taco with refried beans and then bean-glue it to the exterior of a filled hard taco shell?
Yeah, that monstrosity.
Who comes up with this stuff?
We had tacos for dinner at our house last night, and Mark had the brilliant idea that we should make double-decker tacos. How awesome would that be, right? We would be like culinary geniuses!
We have been watching Hell’s Kitchen lately, and Mark is all inspired! We’ll be chefs! Just like the contestants on Hell’s Kitchen!
Just like the guys at Taco Bell!
Snort.
The rest of us have our doubts, but Mark is all happy as we sit down to eat.
First the soft taco. He spreads a generous helping of refried beans over its entire surface.
Then he picks up a hard taco shell and fills it with meat and toppings.
And then there is a problem.
The soft shell? Is actually not taco-sized at all, but instead designed to wrap a burrito. So Mark’s smallish hard-shelled taco? Is swallowed up by the enormous soft bean-glued exterior.
It looks like a taco for a giant, except it is all floppy where the inner regular-sized taco will not support its flimsy walls.
The girls and I are all giggly.
Plus? We take turns playing the role of Gordon Ramsay to Mark’s sad chef contestant and mock him mercilessly.
Mark ignores us.
So he’s holding this crazy giant floppy taco in his right hand when he notices a small dollop of refried beans has somehow fallen on the table, just to the left of his plate.
I see it too, and honestly? It looks like some miniature someone has taken a shit on the table.
You just cannot get more appetizing than that, people.
But because I see that Mark has noticed the problem? I do not reach over with my napkin and wipe up the mess. Mark’s got this little bean-shit problem under control.
Still holding the giant taco in his right hand? Mark picks up his fork with his left hand and attempts to scoop up the shit pile.
Now, I am right-hand dominant . . . so I get it. But Mark is pushing at this pile of beans with his left hand? As though he has just had a stroke and has lost most of the muscle control on his left side.
Perhaps eight tiny little tentative ineffective pushes with the fork later? He has only managed to shove the tiny pile of poo about four inches across the surface of the table. A small trail of bean slime marks the path.
I stare at him. He realizes I am staring. He looks back at me . . . giant misshapen floppy taco in one hand, poo-pushing fork in the other.
And he says, “What?”
I sigh, “Sometimes, babe? I look at you in a moment like this? And I just fall a little more deeply and madly in love with you.”
I reach over with my napkin and wipe up the bean shit and the trail that marks it passage, “Seriously . . . could you be more awesome and sexy? I don’t think so.”
He takes a huge bite of his double-decker taco (there is no crunch, so I know he is still a good distance from the inner taco), and speaks with his mouth full, “You’re just jealous.”
Snort, “Yeah, that’s it.”
Happy sighs. Mark is way sexy.
Later in the evening?
We are watching television together. Hell’s Kitchen. Nobody actually makes a double-decker taco on this particular episode, but I can see that Mark is still basking in the glow of his accomplishment. He understands what these contestants are going through. He has been there.
He has been mocked for his efforts. Just like these people.
Mark and I sit and watch. We each have a glass of beer. I am holding mine like a normal person.
Mark is holding his glass like he always does. With two hands. Pinkies extended. All weird and freakish.
Like a monkey.
Sometimes? When I look at Mark in a moment like this? I just fall a little more deeply and madly in love with him.
It is hard to contain myself.
So I do not.
Plus also? Gordon Ramsay?
Way hot.
double decker tacos rock if you have the right size tortillas! But those are the moments of love.
I do love Mark. So much.
And I love the daughters, who now must be taken to swimming lessons.
Stay right here! I will be back.
I stayed you never came back :)
I so came back!
I took the girls to swimming and came right back here.
Hmmmm . . . one of us is fibbing.
lmao…as someone who used to work at Taco Hell I find this highly amusing…but double decker tacos SOOO much better with nacho cheese in between the layers
and at least he’s trying new and creative dinner ideas…that’s gotta count for something…right?
Mark is all kinds of awesome, but guess what?
He hates nacho cheese.
And also? Ahem.
I made dinner. He just glued shit.
he hates nacho cheese? well then, i got nothing…lol
and um at least he took the initiative with dinner you made to try something new? yeah it’s been a crap day, i got nothing…lol
still makes me want tacos though..lol
Love. True love.
Also, I am making nachos and burritos for dinner tonight. All I can think of is bean shit. Yum.
Swoony sighs of true love.
And bean shit?
Happy sighs of unappetizing.
I am so lucky.
Trying so hard not to snort and laugh at my desk. I’m supposed to be working here! (snort!)
Mark is awesome. It’s a good thing you find his spastic bean pushing endearing. These are the quirks we that make being married fun.
I also got hooked on a Gordon Ramsey show. We’ve seen just about every episode of Kitchen Nightmares. I love the moments when he “inspects” the kitchen and finds horrifying things. Then he yells at the restuarant owners “I ett this!” Sometimes he runs into the bathroom and pretends to be sick. Television bliss, right there.
I have seen that show, and for me? He’s too sincere and caring on that show.
And he does the fake barf thing over on Hell’s Kitchen. Love that.
And marriage? After all these years? Way fucking fun.
Way fucking fun.
Funny thing is? We made tacos for dinner last night too. However we skipped the freakish outer soft taco. For the record, I’m usually a soft taco fan, but the hard taco shells from Trader Joes are pretty good.
My husband will cook one part of a dinner (while I do everything else) and then think he’s the chef de cuisine at some 5 star restaurant. Like last night, he cooked the meat, that was it. (I’ll give him credit that the meat is the biggest part of the meal) He was all proud of “his tacos” at the end that I had gotten everything else ready.
I’ll give Mark a solid A- for effort ;)
I was here for the last part of the evening?
And you’ll just have to trust me on this . . .
A+ effort.
Snort!
I may have spewed water on my desk laughing at that one.
YAY!
Spewage!
Love that.
Ohhhhhh I laughed so hard, that I got tears in my eyes. Thank you Mark! I love how that one of the tags is called “ineffective poo-pushing”. I don’t even want to know what kind of people would use that as a search phrase! hahahaha :)
I do love my tags and the readers who pay attention to them!
Thank you!
In my head, Mark looks like Mark Ruffalo. Partly because that’s the only Mark I know. Also, I had to Google Mark Ruffalo because in all my years, I thought it was Mark Garofalo, as in Janeane Garofalo’s brother. I feel like an idiot.
Oh, and I think my husband is sexy in the weirdest moments too. Like when he mows the yard. I could stand at the window and watch him all day.
Mark Garofalo?
Snort! That is way funny!
Mark does not look like Mark Ruffalo.
But? My Mark is also extremely appealing when he is mowing the lawn.
Extremely.
Who gets to be the first one to tell Mark to “fuck off” or “get the fuck out of my kitchen”? Not me, I just want to be a fly on the wall when if/when it happens.
Still, how did the tacos come out once you go past the floppy edges? Taco-licious I’m sure.
Go Mark!
As we would likely starve if Mark were to be kicked out of our kitchen?
The girls and I let him hang around even if he screws up once in a while.
And the rest of us? Chose one kind of taco at a time.
Very tasty.
kris? you know how much i adore mark right? right…that much. but the pinky thing? could be a deal breaker. and? i would hate for that to happen because? i know how much you are looking forward to relaxing in your reclining lawn chair with a cold beer!
You can try to speak with him. Convince him with your feminine wiles.
But he has never listened to me on this topic.
And it’s been 24 years.
Sigh.
that’s true love, right there
I know.
Swoon.
Hahaha, my brother drinks just like that! Except he drinks everything like that, not just beer. And he does this weird slurp thing where he sticks his bottom lip out really far. My brother is a giant man, 6’7″ and over 200 pounds, so you can imagine how humorous it looks to see a giant man slurping liquid out of a small glass, holding it with both hands and his pinkies out. It slays me every time I see him do it.
And now I have decided that we’re having tacos for dinner tonight.
Mark is not a giant man, but no man? Should drink like a monkey.
He won’t listen to me. Plus? He saw someone else drink like this the other day (also a freak), and now he thinks he’s all normal and I am the one with the issue.
He is a loon.
A monkey loon.
And tacos? YUM!
Plus also?
Mark drinks everything this way.
I have a really weird love for Taco Bell and this almost ruined it for me. SO glad I don’t eat refried beans.
How can you love Taco Bell and not love refried beans?
Refried beans are the entire fucking point of going to Taco Bell!
Explain, please.
Seriously LOVE the drinking description. So wish I could see that!
As I do not vlog?
The chances are slim.
Which is too bad, because it is hilarious.
I am all giggly.
The image conjured up of Mark poo-pushing with his left hand (as a recent stroke victim) and holding his floppy tortilla-ed taco is almost too much to handle.
I often wonder if anything could be more sexy than my hubby wearing his black dress socks to his knees with some soccer shorts and his white undershirt. I don’t know…you might have him beat. ;-)
The best thing about Mark?
Well, not the best thing, but one of his many awesome traits?
Is that he gets me.
And because he is still here and he really gets me? He is sexy as hell.
Plus? I laugh all the time.
Being married to Mark? Is lovely.
Isn’t that the way toward true love? To find someone as freakish as we are?
I know!
We are like freakish soul-mates!
Wait . . . what?