The sad quesadilla.

I don’t have a Yelp account so I’ll go on tirade over here.
It’s about a quesadilla from a restaurant called Spanglish on the corner of State and Harrison.
It was a sad quesadilla. It had the lure of an ironing board. This sad quesadilla met the minimum requirement of being a called quesadilla. I imagine that it is the kind of quesadilla they serve at a juvenile detention center on “Mexican night” when the guy serving the food wears a hat that could pass as a sombrero.
It was a sad quesadilla. I did not know if I should eat it or wipe my tears with it. I eventually ate it to drown my sorrow.
Call me old fashioned but I believe that quesadilla were put on god’s green earth to spread joy. This sad quesadilla didn’t.

Originally posted on my Facebook profile on November 20, 2013 16:27 It was moved here because I deleted it from there.

Reboot

In a previous version of this site I had a blog that was pretty neglected most of the time. Today I am starting from scratch and declaring that I will publish at least once a week. This declaration is a commitment device. To save face I will make an effort to keep this promise.