OK, so we're just uploading sideways, now.
I don't have the energy to correct this.
Sometimes, you roll into work at the crisp and refreshing hour of seven in the morning. It's seven ten but you're white collar so you get to mark it as seven. And you see the person in charge of setting up work for your unit is still working at it. Nice and slow. Real "fuck management" attitude. You kind of love them for that. They're union, you're union, it's nice to waltz up into work, clock in at seven ten for seven and then not do shit for ninety more minutes. You socialize with your coworkers, talk about what you watched last night, like Kolchak: The Night Stalker...
"Fra-jee-lee... Must be Italian."
... and what you made for dinner, like a fried bologna sandwich, or what you're going to do tonight, like watch Yellowjackets...
♥ U, Boo
... because it's still cold as fuck outside and there's nothing to do but watch TV or movies or paint your nails chartreuse.
But then you hear the familiar whine of the machine at the other end of the floor rev up just as you're about to explain to your coworker that depression is one of those invisible illnesses and that while she might think she doesn't know anybody with depression, she only thinks she doesn't know anybody with depression. Like the stigma against depression is still strong enough that most people that live with it don't want to talk about it because they've been conditioned by western capitalist society to not lay the burden of their problems on others and it's just a whole thing that nobody coming to a fucking sandwich blog is coming to a fucking sandwich blog for.
ANYhoo, so you go down to the other end of the floor, pick up enough work to keep you busy until lunch, bring it back to your desk, and then you look at that work and you're like, "I have enough time to go to that salon and pick up moustache wax because my shit is pretty unruly right now."
And then you head over to that salon, you find out they don't have moustache wax, so you thank them for their time and you head back to work and you decide that, "Goddamnit, maybe it's time I check out that Korean egg place on my way back."
So you pull your phone out of your pocket and look at the menu and you see that they have sandwiches and bowls and burritos and you can get your eggs with avocado or Spam or bacon or turkey sausage and nothing about this screams "Korean!"...
If you don't know, get to know.
... until you see the bulgogi. You fucking love you some bulgogi.
And then you get in your head because you've gotten food poisoning from skyway food before. Now this place... How long have the eggs been sitting out? How long has that bulgogi been sitting out? Is it worth rolling the dice?
Listen up, dipshit, do you want to just coast through a safe life? An unadventurous life? Do you just want to get the same thing from Wendy's over and over again? Do you want to have to talk yourself into just fucking doing it every time you go out for sushi?
Or do you want to really live? L I V live? Go out there, take a chance, do all the things your stupid stupid friends are afraid to do but talk about like they know what the fuck they're talking about?
No, bitch, this is where the hammer meets the nail. You are going to walk into this Korean egg shop where the goddamned Taco John's used to be and you are going to order yourself a bulgogi breakfast burrito because that's what a grown up who isn't afraid of aaannnyyy-goddamned-thing does.
Remember your friend? Yeah, the Irish-American one. The one who decided she wasn't going to spend her whole life in Minnesota so she traveled to the motherland and then found herself in Northern Ireland and had to be hidden in a Catholic sympathizer house overnight until she could get to England and then somehow became a lounge singer on a Mediterranean cruise ship and walked in on an orgy once and told you it reeked of grape oil and jizm and then made her way to the Brazilian rain forest where the tribal women made fun of her for having soft feet... "Baby feet!" Remember her? Do you think she would be afraid of a Korean egg shop?
You're goddamned right she wouldn't be, now puff out your chest, march into this shop and, um, put your order, uh, into the, um, touch... screen... I guess.
So you were thinking about getting one of the milktoast sandwiches but you didn't see them so you opted for the burrito listed with the bowls as
Signature Scrambled Eggs, Tater Tots, Mozzarella Cheese, Chives, Beef Bulgogi, Gochujang Aioli and Grilled Onions
And it's a dollar extra for the burrito. A dollar. Mother of all sorrows, they're going to charge you a dollar for the fucking tortilla, is that it?
So the service is pretty quick and you're in and out of there with a burrito and an orange juice for... [checks notes] twenty two dollars and change. Says here I spent twenty two dollars and change on a fucking breakfast burrito and an orange juice. TTTwwweennty two dollars. For that price, they better have made it in Korea and brought it over. Twenty two fucking dollars, deliver my ass from evil, please.
I'm not going back there. Not at these prices.
But yes, I'm writing this in second person perspective, let's get back to that. You walk back to your office and along the way a rather fetching young woman of the professional variety is looking you up and down and you are flattered. You are prepared to have to explain that, "Sorry, mamacita, I'm taken, but I'm very flattered by the attention you've paid to me." And you're thinking you still got it and then you realize, no, she's not looking at you because you're hot, she's looking at you because you're in the general direction she wants to go in after she rounds this corner.
Could be worse, she could have been actually looking at you because you have a booger in your moustache. Face it, this was the best case scenario.
So you get up to your office, you get into your cube, you unwrap your burrito, you bite into it, and... it's... just... It's just a breakfast burrito. Like the tater tots are nice. The bulgogi is visibly present but as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, it's... kind of just a sloppy meat texture. Like where's that big bold bulgogi flavor you know and love? The onions. They showed up. The cheese, I mean, they shouldn't have wasted their time, it didn't really do anything.
But the biggest let down since the Detroit Tigers lost the Twenty Twelve World Series to the San Fuckcisco Giants in four games was the gochuja-
What? What's that? I usually make a not-just-extended so mush as an unnecessarily-long-winded, pricelessly-convoluted, and myopically-specific reference to pop culture in this space?
Tough titty. When I think of tragic, heartbreaking let downs, I think of only two things: One is the Tigers losing the twenty twelve World Series and the other is any time I see Jared Leto's name show up on a movie poster.
For real, I even took to calling him Jared Letdown and that was years ago.
Check the date and time.
I aint liked that guy back when he was playing Jordan Capistrano or whatever the fuck his name was, I didn't like him in Blade Runner 2049, I didn't give a shit about him losing his arm in Requiem for a Dream and that whole movie can fuck itself, my brother had bad taste in cinema (love you, miss you, but you were on some bullshit), I don't like his band, I'm not trying to watch fucking Dallas Buyer's Club, and I made it a point to watch the Harley Quinn movie that didn't have him. You hear me, Hollywood!? You can't make me like Jared Letdown!
I will have an infinitely easier time finding any kind of spice level in this gochujang aioli than I will have finding a Jared Leto role that I like.
I'll go a step further: You will have an infinitely easier time convincing me that the goddamned gochujang aioli was even on this motherfucking burrito in the first motherfucking place than you will have convincing me that Jared Leto is a good actor.
Look at this fucking cunt.
It's really up to you which hill you want to die on. You want to try convincing me that there was any sort of robust flavorful gochujang aioli on this burrito or do you want to bump the difficulty level on this game up to expert level and try, try until your fucking muscles give out to convince me that Jared Leto was ever good in anything.
And, hey, Jare-Bear, if you're reading this, buddy, this is not a reflection on you as a person. I'm talking about you only in the professional sense. I get that you're the sensitive type and I'm not trying to make you feel bad about yourself, only your life's calling. I'm sure that you're a nice enough person whose only flaw is that you're irredeemably tiring to be around.
Is that kind of what you guys were looking for? You wanted me to take Jared Leto down a peg? I mean, the guy will never read this and even if he does, he gets enough money and pussy thrown at him that he doesn't care what a schmo in Minneapolis says about him in a (US$22) breakfast burrito review.
I don't know, dude. I don't hate this place but I'm not going to vouch for it. The serving size was decent, the service was better than average, but the flavor wasn't there. I could have spent half the price on a Taco John's breakfast burrito that would have had more exciting flavors but Taco John's isn't in the skyway anymore. As I mentioned, this place occupies the space that used to be the Taco John's. And I don't even think Taco John's is that good, compared to Taco Bell. What? I'm supposed to lose my nut over them seasoning their tater tots with an Old El Paso packet? Everything at Taco John's is a dollar more than Taco Bell and none of it tastes as good.
I don't know, what fucking season are we on? Are we on nine? Is this how we kick off season nine?
No, guys, he's saying "five" in that video not ni-
You know what? Close enough.
OK, I guess. Uh, final verdict... Have we ever said "final verdict" around here? No? OK, I mean nobody cares. You can go if you want, I'm not going to stop you but I'm not going to recommend it, either.
Oh but heads up. Remember how I brought up Wendy's earlier? Yeah, they're doing Girl Scouts Thin Mints Frosties. Those will fuck up your whole outlook on life. (And to quote Girls Against Boys' "Cruise Your New Baby Fly Self", I mean that in a good way.)
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