Having completely capitulated to the Marxican menace, I signaled my surrender to the Cinco de Mao forces by stopping at a Pueblan restaurant not too far from work to grab some tacos before punching the clock. A lot of other persons had the same idea, the wait for takeout orders was a half hour, plenty of time to call Mom up and tell her I had submitted to the Marxist cause (Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo are Mexican names, no?). Unfortunately, there aren't taco trucks on every corner, but a guy makes do with the taquerias he's got in his various milieus. That being said, La Perla Poblanita puts out some fine cuisine.
Why am I using French vocabulary on this night which celebrates a Mexican vicory over a French army? No puedo decir! It's a pity I couldn't drink any tequila, this being a work night- I actually found some tripe on sale at the supermarket (it used to be cheap), and tomorrow I plan on cooking a world class hangover cure.