Taco is the new Black

I have a love-hate relationship with Halloween.

I love how it is acceptable to dress as a pixie, yet I hate the way that $30 pixie costumes accentuate my curves in a not-so-positive way. I love how no one judges you for buying three bags of Almond Joys but I hate how those Almond Joys almost never make it to the candy bowl. I love how King's Island hasn't gone bankrupt but hate the means by which it stays in business (eff you Scooby Doo, I've hated you since I was 8 and still hope that this year you are killed in a mishap at the Halloween Haunt).

As conflicted as I may be over October 31, Taco Bell hasn't been doing much to soften my hard feelings towards this holiday.



All taco jokes aside (and I have like 25 taco and Michael Jackson** jokes waiting in the wings), I was seriously starting to forgive Taco Bell up until a month or so ago. I mean, how can you not forgive a restaurant that offers some semblance of a vegetarian option, provided me with nourishment many an inebriated night*, and features buildings that resemble mini Alamos?

Answer: By advertising the new Black Taco.

When I was 10, I tried to make taco shells. After placing them in a 400 degree oven, I was distracted by an episode of Full House where Uncle Jesse broke both of his arms in a motor cycle accident***. 30 tearful minutes later, the taco shells were reduced to a blackened state of their once-golden glory.

Needless to say, I did not eat the offending shells. And for years after that, I've been suspicious of any food that has been cooked or dyed to an unnatural state.

Taco Bell, there is no excuse for this.

* R.I.P. Uptown Taco Bell. Classes 1982 - 2007: Never Forget.
** I know, too soon...
*** In real life, people usually die in motorcycle accidents... I still wish real life was like TGIF.