ODE TO THE PATIO...

When I reminisce over you, Patio Burrito. F'real.

I was in college at Texas Tech when I feel in love with the Patio. And I fell hard for it. I think my first Patio was a chicken with the light sour cream-ish sauce in the middle. I doused it in salsa and packed it down. I was hooked. I even remember: two minutes on high for one, 3:30 for two. I always ate two at a time. Never just one.

It took a while to get that timing down. Sometimes I'd burn myself on the first bite and spit out a huge, half-chewed chunk of burrito onto the plate. Other times, I'd find myself with a bean ice cube. That was more unpleasant than getting a second degree burn. Trust me. Once I got it down, though, I could've prepared that meal while sleepwalking.

My favorite combo was chicken and the beef and bean. I'd lather 'em both up in salsa and then crush potato chips on top. Yeah, I know it's sick, but college kids eat some disgusting stuff. I'm serious when I say that I probably ate Patio burritos for four out of my seven lunches a week. Easily.

And I managed to hold my weight at 200 pounds. Steady. How does that happen?

I gave up the Patio when, well, I started dating my now lovely wife. I mean, I juggled both for a while, but it would be too difficult to hold on to both. The Patio had to go. Something very juvenile about packing back microwavable burritos everyday. Patio, I never fell out of love with you. There just wasn't room in my life for you and happiness. Or you and health for that matter. Honestly, I see you at the store and I get a little vomitous. I'm just a new man now. I hope you don't hold it against me.