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Before the Foster care orientation meeting in May, we had to rush and grab a bite because the class was from 5-9pm. We stopped off to get somewhat healthy, non fast food fast food from a local Taco place. Light chicken taco and a couple of ice teas.

I wrapped up M's taco (really, burrito, how they wrap it, but they call it a taco) and handed it to him to eat while we battled traffic. Then I started in on mine. Pretty good stuff, I guess. Beats going to Subw.ay yet again. A few bites in, I find a hair. Hmm. Under normal circumstances I would have discarded, but knowing we were about to be trapped in a room for 4 hours, I was worried the raging, low blood sugar bitch might appear. So I pulled it out and kept eating.

Let me interject here and tell you, I think I should win some award for finding hairs in my food at restaurants. Maybe I should stop looking at my food so closely. Seriously though, my brother in law makes fun of me because everytime we eat together, my food has hair. He likes it though, good to know I got the hair and not him...

Anyways, we are cruising down the road and I am trying not to think about the hair in my food. I am almost done and ... well, you guessed it.... another hair. Ok, that's too much, even for me.

So, I throw it away, we arrive and head in. I had a tiny little notebook out and ready to take productive notes in. However, I ended up taking notes for blog posts. I made little notations about people coming in and then turned to M and said:

"Oh and I can't forget to note that this evening started out with a Hair.y Taco"

M flushed bright red and shushed me. Told me to not be so loud. Hmm, whatever.

The evening progressed and I kept taking notes, a few more times I mentioned Hair.y Taco to M and again get shushed. I thought, settle down M, no one cares that I had hair in my dinner.

Close to the end, I went back through my notes making sure I noted all the amusing things and not so amusing things (pregnant ass crack). I realized I forgot to note the Hair.y Taco. So I made a small notation at the top of page 1. When I looked at what I just wrote, I gasped.

I turned to M and said, OMG, HA.IRY TACO!!! in a guarded whisper, followed by shaking silent laughter that shook the table.

M just shook his head at me, sick of my antics.

I looked at him and whispered, holy shit I just figured out why you were shushing me. HAIR.Y TACO, bahahahahaha

At that point, M and I couldn't look at each other for fear of falling on the ground, crying with laughter. Him, because I JUST got what I was saying and me because, well fuck, that shit is funny. Hair.y Taco.

Tears flowed from my eyes and dirty looks were shot at us from all angles, including the head lady in the back watching over the speakers. I just hope to hell none of those women end up being a case worker or our home study person. We are fucked, if so.

I mean, there's no easy way to explain the Hair.y Taco.