I can't wash the smell of tacos off my hands. I feel like the Lady Macbeth of Chipotle.
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Is this a taco which I see before me?/The lettuce toward my hand? Come, let me nom thee/I nom thee not, and yet I see thee still/Art thou not, munchtastic vision, sensible/To feeling, as to sight? Or art thou but/a taco of the mind, a false creation/Proceeding from the dank-oppressèd brain?
Will you marry me?
GetOff...that comment was better than the txt, and the text was pretty good!\nEnglish Major FTW!
Thank you! but I wasn't an English major. I'm just a Shakespeare geek.
Were they "fish" tacos?
That's what you get for giving handies to Mexicans.