A joke about Mexican food

Today I wrote a joke that is only comprehensible to those with a passing knowledge of Spanish, Tex-Mex food and English. Thus its appeal may be limited, although I made a Mexican laugh:

I ate a burrito today. It tasted like ass.

A few problems. First, I'm not sure I'm the first person to come up with this. Second, I seem to keep writing jokes with limited appeal (cf my earlier joke that only works for dual Cantonese-English speakers, during the summer of 2010). That's not such a bad thing per se; some jokes have a limited life span, and nothing's going to be funny to everyone.¹

Thirdly, my fiancee chastised me for buying a burrito, when I should know how bad they are in Hong Kong, and thus missing the point entirely. Which suggests an even smaller constituency for this joke. Ah well.

It was an awful burrito though. The burrito station in the Landmark building had run out of rice, so they substituted lettuce, which is not really what you want to soak up the spicy beans and guacamole. I'm not saying that salad is a bad thing in and of itself, but for lunch I required something more substantial.

Luckily, they reduced the price to make up for this. Oh, hang on, no they didn't. My lettuce-and-beans burrito cost as much as if it had been constructed with a full complement of rice. And if that wasn't bad enough, when I went to pay for it with a hundred dollar bill, they had no change in the till. They asked me if I had any change. I said I did not. They extracted a fifty dollar bill from the till and asked if I had any change. I said I did not. Merely dangling cash before me was not about to change the contents of my wallet. The lady behind the counter had to run off and hunt down a handful of shrapnel for me, while I stared at my slowly cooling burrito, waiting for the moment it would be in my hands.

After all this anticipation, it was a shame that the burrito turned out to be quite as grim as it was, but luckily I had a rather dry and rather foul Powerbar to eat, and a packet of crisps.

I'm not going to spend all my time telling you about what I've had for lunch. I tried that in 2007, and look where it got me. Yes, Hong Kong.

Not entirely sure that my continued employment rests on my ability to document my meals, but you can never be too careful. Or too sure.

¹ Apart from a man being hit in the face with a frying pan, the universal constant of comedy.