So last night, Elle and I made a 4th meal run, as is typical on Mondays, and while at Taco Bell this happened:
Order Box (OB): Hi welcome to Taco Bell, how are you tonight?
Me: I'm well thank you, how are you?
OB: Good. Go ahead with your order when you're ready.
Me: Ok, let's see I think I want...
OB: (in a man's whisper) burritos
Me: Actually, yes, a 5-layer burrito, and 3 cheese roll-ups...
OB: (in a man's whisper) gordita crunch
Me: ...and a cheesy gordita crunch. What else do you have, Miss Cleo?
OB: *silence*
Me: Ok, so also a double decker supreme.
When I went up to pay, nothing was said about the omniscient voice, but I blog about it here, today, so that it can be notice to the world. Taco Bell employs psychics, and they sound strangely like a shitty Dane Cook joke.
Special sauce all over my pussy. And, yes, I am ashamed that I remembered that reference without having to Google it. Stupid Dane Cook.
1 comment:
OMG. That's fantastic. P.S. I miss you.
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