rinue | Closer Than She Wants to Admit.

There's this taco stand. Actually, I'm not giving it due credit unless I call it The Taco Stand, definitive article. It's off a dilapidated street in Oak Cliff, the "bad" part of Dallas, tucked down a corner like a shack, and half the menu is in Spanish. It's also about a block from where I used to live, and makes the best tacos of anywhere, ever. This is not an exaggeration. Try and fight me on this, and I will demand that you purchase a plane ticket immediately, soon to see the folly of your ways. They're soft, they have green salsa, sometimes there's fish involved, often chicken, and they drip cooking oil on everything. They are the perfect tacos.

So we're in the GroSto, in McKinney, which is about 45 minutes north of Oak Cliff. You've heard me badmouth it enough times. [Val: "Hey, I like it! Except for the lack of taco-ness. . ."] So Val looks up, and behold: there are fine corn tortillas. Thick, and small. . . They are the corn tortillas of a corn tortillaseur.

[Romie: "They're always there, every time we go to the store. I always want them, and Val always says no, and now she's pretending she noticed them first. If I wasn't tipsy, I would invite her to step outside." Val: "You've only had one beer, you lameass!" Romie: "And I'm so far from tipsy that you wouldn't believe but I'm trying to come up with an excuse not to kick your ass."]

So we see these corn tortillas, and Val says "These are fine corn tortillas, much like those of the taco stand."

Romie says: "Ahhh. The Taco Stand."

Val stands corrected by Romie's bold-faced statement. Val: "I think we should have tacos." She grabs some, covertly, suspicious, concerned that others might recognize the value of the corn tortillas and try to commandeer them.

Fast forward to an hour ago.

There is smoke. There is muscley chicken. There is Val, beating it down with a hammer and trying to act as though she isn't squeamish.

Val: Because somebody has to be the not-squeamish one around here.
Romie: What the fuck does that mean?!
Val: Biology.
Romie: Hey, right, but that's just organic messes. I say blood, and you'll faint.
Val: Hey, they think it's just that I'm anemic now and it was never my fault. My poor body holding on by its fingernails, and then blood is taken from me and I faint. Damn biology. I always knew I was stronger. I've said too much.
Romie: Mmmm. In fact, you are even concerned for other people's blood, in your wisdom.
Val: Shut up.

Flashback to smoke, blood, chicken. Steamy goodness, oil. Wait -- chicken, steamy goodness, oil. [Romie: "Methinks Val is tipsy off one beer." Val: "Whatever. We blame this on Evan." Romie: "You know, that excuse is only going to work for so long."]

We fling outrageous fortune chicken, onion, green peppers, onto oily corn tortillas. We pour on green pepper sauce. We get our beers, although Val can't remember the English word for them, we drink, there is loud music. Val dances in the kitchen. Romie suddenly screams:

Judas! Wanted! Something! What?!!!!!!

Val: What?

Romie: In what context what? What did he want, or what the fuck?

Val: Both. With emphasis. ::chugsbeer::

Romie goes off into a rant. [Romie: "It should be noted at this time that all of this is Val's perception of events and I'm sure I was stirring and brilliant." Val: "You were, darling. Shut up." ::Val continues to dictate::]

"So, I was in Economics, or ph f something that starts with F. . . [Romie: "Finance. Finance starts with F."] Finance! And I realized that although I could not stand and shout, I at last knew the secret of Judas. O beautiful Judas. . . [Romie: "Damn straight, beautiful Judas." Val: "That was supposed to be my line." Romie: "It's everybody's line. It should also be noted that we're talking about a specific Judas in a specific play version of the Christ story in which Judas and Jesus are lovers. Jesus can't love Judas the way he ought to because he's too busy loving everyone, and Evan (crushboy) plays Judas." Val: "I hope he never reads this." Romie: "Watch -- I'll give him the link one of these days." Val: "And then I'll hunt you down, unless we're sleeping together." Romie: "Which us?"]

"Judas! It all goes back to that line in Fight Club!"

Val: (this time within the context of the conversation) "Project Mayhem? Judas was in charge of Project Mayhem?" [Romie: "She did not actually say this. But it's a clever enough thing to have said that I'll let her get away with it." Val: "That's so not fair! You lied earlier! I say we delete this entire insert!" Romie: "When? Me?"]

Romie: "No. I don't think. [Note again that Val is dictating.] In the book. . . Wait, let me get the book. (runs to get book) 'If you could be either God's worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose?' That's it, man, that's it! That's why Judas betrayed him!"

::Val reaches enlightenment::

Val: "We were such fools! We thought he wanted him just for himself -- and in a way, he did -- but it was so much more."

Much taco eating and beer drinking ensues. Val thinks: "I am almost tipsy enough, having just chugged a beer, to call him and say 'Hey, talking about Judas. Want to go make out?' No, not quite."

[Romie: "We are getting so off topic here." Val: "I think that was right on topic enough." Romie: "Of course you do. Why am I letting you write most of this entry?" Val: "You're tipsy, remember?" Romie: "I can't recall. You know how it gets when I drink."]

[Val: "We should end the entry now." Romie: "Yeah, because I have a good, if untrue, getaway line. But we didn't hit any of the important points, at all." Val: "Yes we did! What are you talking about?" Romie: (lists all the important points we did not hit, that were actually the point of the entry.) Val: "Oh, right. Damn. We can go back. Look -- we can insert it right there -- it's perfect." Romie: "You can never go back. Also, I'm going to be snarky and record this conversation." Val: "Fine, have it your way." Romie: "It's not like you aren't putting words in my mouth."]

Return to scene.

Romie: ::flinging hand gesture:: And that's why I identify with Judas! My Judas. Okay, Jesus too. But it's the reason I identify with Judas, and Mordred, and [we can't remember the third person I listed], and you may remember that since I've seen Queen of the Damned I've had issues about how I'm not dark and sinister anymore. It's because I don't want to be nothing.

Val: Evan could never be nothing.

Romie: Okay, I've just made a speech talking about people who betray their best friends and then kill them, and how I identify with these people.

Val: I make the tacos in this house.

Romie: Point.

Val: It's true. I'm terribly sorry. But doesn't this just show you that turning into the enemy is a terrible thing, because you don't want to end up like Judas. Then again, maybe you're about to say something like "At least Judas is proactive!!!!"

Romie: At least Judas is proactive!!!! ::stomps out of kitchen:: [Romie: "For the record, she did not actually anticipate my saying this." Val: ::glares:: Romie: "What? You didn't. . ." Val looks around for a handy exit line on her bed. Does not find one. Nudges Romie.]

The point here, the point which seems to be being avoided every which way is that god damnit it's not a decision that I'm capable of making, and I keep vascillating, and I'm pissed off with Judas because he could make the decision that I can't, he could choose to be the bad guy instead of forgettable. And as for me, I can't decide, and I go back and forth constantly and can't commit to a course of action. Hated or indifferent?

[Val: "Romie's lying, but she doesn't think she's lying."]

[Romie: "You think that I've chosen to be forgettable?"]

[Val: "I think you pretend that you don't know about the third option. Do I get to title this entry?"]

[Romie: "Knock yourself out." ::looks at title:: "What does that mean?"]

[Val: "I think they understand." ::nods at the masses::]

[Romie: "So, you want some loaves and fish?"]