Goat meat tacos.

My newest food obsession is a gigantic pile of braised goat meat in a soft taco. I don't exactly remember where in life I acquired a taste for goat meat, but I have a really sick love for it. I'm actually surprised I've never had a goat meat taco but then I realized it's because I do not hang out at enough authentic Mexican food places which doesn't make sense considering I live in Southern California and we might as declare California as an extension of Mexico since we stole it from Mexico anyway. After having these goat meat tacos on Friday while out with the bosses for lunch, I told my parents yesterday HEY WE REALLY NEED TO STUFF OURSELVES WITH GOAT MEAT TACOS SO LET'S GO and then we're on our way for goat tacos. Well, as we we sit down we notice that there's a table behind us that ordered a margarita pitcher. I say to my dad that we have no choice other than to order a margarita pitcher and my mom's like OH GOD YOU GUYS ARE ALCOHOLICS and I tell her to eat shit and deal with it. So as my dad and I polished off the first pitcher and we realized we're too hammered to move, we start arguing politics and religion (which is a normal argument in my house), so basically I'm explaining how religious people are full of shit (I'm devoted to Agnosticism) so within a few seconds my mom gets pissed off because she likes to pretend she's religious, then leaves me with my dad at the restaurant. We're hammered, we don't care that she left so what do we do? We order another pitcher. At one point in time my dad said he thought he was going to die and I said that's too bad because he is going to leave me with my crazy mom and I will have to find someone to replace him and I'm fairly certain he said something along the lines of "no one on this planet will ever put up with that crazy bitch like I do" and he's absolutely right. I'm just glad he didn't die at the table, that would have been really embarrassing.

At some point in time my mom showed up bitching that we were alcoholics and picked us up. I don't exactly remember the ride home other than I was borderline-vomit so I came home and laid on my floor and waited for my friend to come pick me up. After my friend Jamie picked me up I kept drinking like an asshole all night. Apparently he offered me some water and I said something about not having room for water and I didn't want to "mess up my drunk" and I only wanted to drink beer.

[insert black out drunk here]

This morning I woke up hugging a bottle of tapatio, leftover goat meat taco all over me and the room was still spinning.

I think it's becoming a tradition that every Saturday night I turn into a crazy awesome drunk.