"Hi. My name is Lemon, and I'm an addict."

Addiction
A lot of people I know watch the show “Intervention”. I have seen a few episodes, but they kind of disturb me. For those of you who haven’t seen the A&E hit, they all follow the same pattern…

Scene 1: Meet Junkie. (I’m going to use the word junkie although technically a junkie is someone addicted to drugs and more specifically Heroin. But for some people their love for hording troll dolls and drinking a bottle of Gin while singing to their cat is totally like Heroin, so Junkie they will be called.)

Scene 2: See Junkie in their day to day activities of being a junkie. This can include getting ready for work in a 500 square foot apartment with enough crap to fill the local Goodwill and enough trash to make Oscar the Grouch giggle like school girl, poor Vodka into your bowl of Fruit Loops, or smoke enough Crystal Meth so even the viewer’s teeth shutter and start rotting from the inside out.

Scene 3: Family members cry and show pictures of when Junkie was just a slightly overweight teen with an ache problem. “Junkie has so much love in his/her heart..”

Scene 4: Intervention. Junkie, family, and friends sit in a circle on folding chairs. I mention the chairs because obviously Junkie doesn’t have this many chairs in his house. Hell, my parents don’t have enough chairs to hold an Intervention. Everyone must be seated... mom, dad, step mom, step dad, brother, sister, the half-brother twins, sister-in-law, nephew, Pastor of the church Junkie attended as a kid, co-worker 1, co-worker 2, co-worker 3, friend 1, friend 2, best friend, other best friend who until now thought he was the only best friend, ex girlfriend/boyfriend, dude from the liquor store down the street, nosy neighbor, and grandma. It’s like 25 chairs. Even with my parent’s new pool and therefore new patio furniture, even they don’t have 25 chairs. This means one of two things, A&E trucked in 25 folding chairs and everyone grabbed one as they walked into Junkies apartment, or everyone brought their own chair. Important tip for any Junkies out there... if you see a truck full of chairs pull up the curb in front of your house, or your friends start coming over with their own chairs in hand, shot up, grab the Tequila, and run.

Scene 5: ? (I’ve never gotten past the actual intervention. I have no idea what happens next. Do they go to rehab? Do they confess their crimes? Does grandma have a heart attack? I have no idea. I just can’t get past the intervention because the whole addiction part of this show hits way to close to home...

Why?
Because...

I am addicted. (sorry mom and dad)


Breakfast Tacos.

Breakfast Tacos are my crack. They are my speed, my morphine, my caffeine. I crave them. I need them. I am addicted. “Hi. My name is Lemon Lady, and I’m an addict.”
Every morning at 9:00 something in my brain clicks and starts screaming, “MUST HAVE BEAN AND CHEESE...!!!!” Then (and I’m not sure if this is scientifically how it happens) nerves that the taco addicted brain controls send green lights down to my arms and legs that are holding the steering wheel and pressing on the gas of my car. I then start to fantasize about soft warm tortillas, and before I even know what I’m doing or how I go there I am handing over my debit card and collecting my fix. Don’t judge. I’m sick.
Like any good Junkie I have learned to hide my addiction from my family, friends, and even my suppliers.

First up, my family. It is no secret in my family that I don’t particularly like breakfast food. It is also no secret that I love Mexican food. Really love Mexican food. For my 10th birthday I made my mom throw me a Mexican Fiesta. Now to most my friends here in south Texas this doesn’t seem like that big of a deal or to hard for my very talented, amazing mother to handle. But we didn’t live in south Texas. We lived in England, and my birthday is in December. Could she run to HEB for tortillas? No. Where there avocados at the Commissary? No. Was there a Mexican supply store for her to pick up a piñata and casscorones? No. Still, I wanted a Mexican fiesta and my mother made me a Mexican Feista. Now when I go home and my parents ask what I want for breakfast (because we always have big breakfast together) I try not to scream, “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN!!! JUST ROLL SOMETHING IN A TORTILLA SO I CAN SHOVE IT IN MY MOUTH AND CALM THE SCREAMING BRAIN CELLS THAT NEED THE POTATO, EGG, AND CHEESE!!!” (sorry mom and dad)

My friends don’t see me very often in the morning, and although I don’t usually get to work until 9:30 I’m actually one of the early birds at my office. Most other people who do the same job I do get in about 10:30-11:00. It’s the weekend when I really have be confident that I can control my taco urges, put my big girl panties on and just say no. Poor boyfriend. On mornings when we are both home and don’t have to word i.e. Sundays, he is always up before me. Sometime between 8:30 and 9:00 I wonder into the living room to cuddle with him and drink some of his juice. At about 9:12 I start to think of subtle ways I bring up the breakfast taco situation like the sane and rational girlfriend I pretend to be.
“Are you hungry?”

“Oh look at that nice house that nice couple in New Jersey is thinking about buying on House Hunters. It has a nice kitchen. Wouldn’t that bar be perfect for STUFFING TACOS DOWN MY THOAT because I’m starting to get the shakes?”

“I will trade you my childhood bike (pink with rainbow streamers), four purple Popsicles, a lewd sexual act, the good pillows to sleep with tonight, my soul, and let you play with my iPhone for a whole hour with no interruptions if you go to Taco Shack right now and come home with two migas tacos.”

“Its 9:22 and you haven’t even brought up going to Torchy’s Tocos, yet. WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU AND WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME!!!”

While my family, boyfriend, and friends understand that I am a little weird and defiantly the most awkward person they know, I try to come off to strangers as very cool, calm, and collective. I’m a young professional. Look, I’m wearing heals, and I put on makeup. “She is driving a mid-price car, lives in a nice home on a nice street, and subscribes to the Economist.* She must be a contributing member of society.”I have an image to uphold. Because I care what strangers who work at Taco stands think and maybe more because I’m a paranoid Junkie, I have my dealers on rotation.

When I need them fast and greasy: Taco Cabana. I always get their Breakfast Combo… one bean and cheese, one potato egg and cheese, and an unsweetened ice tea. They are located right as I get off the highway on my way to work and have a drive through. Yes, the hot sauce is sometimes watery. Yes, about 40% of the time I don’t actually get cheese on my potato, egg, and cheese taco because the Cabana-ians who work the place don’t understand that just because the menu only says “potato and egg” doesn’t mean that people don’t want to add cheese for an extra 20 cents. Yes, the drive through guy who works Mondays has creepy long crack nails. I don’t care. If it’s 9:32 and I’m not at work I’m zipping through the Cabana drive through to get my fix.

When I want my Tacos with an amazing ice tea and with potatoes with a nice crunch: Rudys. The Worst BBQ in Texas also makes the worst breakfast tacos in Texas. And, duh, my worst I mean the BEST! As moist as the brisket is at lunch time, their potato, egg, and cheese can’t be touched at breakfast. Honestly, hands down love the potato, egg, and cheese. They are huge, the potatoes are seasoned well and have a nice crunch, and they load on the cheese! Downside of Rudy’s tacos… bean and cheese is a no go. They make them by using the same baked beans they use as sides with BBQ later on in the day. Really, not yummy. They don’t have a drive through and they are usually quite busy. Lastly, every time I walk up the counter to order, which I have to do because they don’t pre-make potato, egg, and cheese, the guy behind the counter makes the same conversation about my Dallas Cowboys debt card. “Cowboy fan? Boo! Go Stealers!”Now the first time this happened I humored him by letting him know that the Stealers are going to be horrible this year, their quarterback is a rapist, and “aren’t you you a little far from home?”. Now I just glare at him. This doesn’t stop him from his little Stealer routine and staring at my boobs.

The new place: Convience Store around the corner with a Torchy’s Taco hookup. Torchy’s gets high ranks for their salsa and bean flavor. Unfortunately Store around the corner isn’t Torchy, but just sells their tacos meaning they can be soggy, but only sometimes. Good news is that I went into another Corner Store yesterday with LSU friend to grab wine and M&Ms before hitting the couch for a new Top Chef, and they have Torchy’s Tacos, too! (Say that five times fast… Torchy’s Tacos Too. Torchy’s Tacos Too. Torchy’s… you get the point) Now if I can only get them to start a price war…

Old Faithful: Nau’s Pharmacy. Full of funny old people getting their fix of medications, I go to Nua’s Pharmacy to get my drug of choice – Tacos. At the back of the Pharmacy that has been around 1951 is a café where they still mix their cokes in shop and make a damn fine chicken salad. During the morning all the seats around the counter and the few booths are full of old men reading newspapers and grandmas entertaining their grandchild for the summer. You can’t get a seat but you can get amazing tacos for a buck. No ice tea here, but I always leave with a “made in front of me” Dr. Pepper. Love this place! I have nothing bad to say. They don’t skimp on filling up the tortilla, the price is good, and no one stares at me inappropriately. (Well maybe an old man or two…)

Other runners up include: Taco Shack, Enchiladas Y Mas, Maria’s Taco Stand, Juan in a Million, and La Reina.

Remember… Rehab is for quitters.



*okay the Economist subscription isn’t mine but boyfriends…