a vote for burrito boy is a vote for McCain

So, I don’t know if anyone remembers this, since it was almost a year ago, but I still go to Freebird’s once a week, and the red-goateed, arm-tattooed guy still works there.  He doesn’t work with the customers, though: I usually see him in the back chopping a bunch of steak.  Which has made me wonder: did he do something stupid that made the management decide, hey, this guy shouldn’t be interacting with people on the job, let’s make him chop up a bunch of steak?  Or is he like me, sort of a misanthrope sometimes, and more content to chop steak while lost in thought and watching all the customers slog their way through the burrito line?

Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because I’ve a) gotten over my burrito-boy crush, and b) become less interested in dating lately.

Yesterday I took a half-day off work in the morning because of election night partying, and at noon I stopped at Freebird’s on my way into the office.  The line was pretty long, and burrito boy was indeed chopping steak in the back, but he glanced up long enough to catch me looking at him.  “Eek!” I thought, and quickly looked away.  A few minutes later, when I reached the front of the line and it was my turn to order, I looked up and saw him standing there.

“What can I get for you?” he said.  I guess he hadn’t been banished from the customers after all.  So I told him what I wanted – spinach tortilla, rice, cheese, black beans, pico, guacamole.

“How’s it going?” he said.  What? I thought.  He’s never asked me that before.

“Uh, good,” I said.

“I want to make a button that says, ‘Don’t blame me, I didn’t vote.'”


“I don’t know, I thought it would be funny.  Don’t blame me, you know.”

Blame?” I said.  “I’m happy with the outcome.”

“Me too!” said the Freebird’s employee standing next to burrito boy. “I got off work an hour early yesterday so I could go vote.”  He pointed at the “I Voted” sticker on his hat.  At this, burrito boy turned and walked away.

“I took a half-day today because I knew I’d be up late last night,” I said.  “I drank champagne and woo-hooed!”

“So it was like your SuperBowl?” said the other Freebird’s guy.

“Ha! Yeah, I guess it was!”

So.  Here’s what I wrote last year about burrito boy:

And that’s okay, because I’m already at the part where I make up horrible things about him so that I can be glad we’ll never date. His favorite band is Slipknot. He believes that all Chihuahuas should be put to sleep. He thinks Disneyland really is the happiest place on earth. He’s going to vote for Mitt Romney. When he gets home from work all he does is smoke weed and watch CSI. His back is hairy. He has no teeth. He drives a Ford Excursion with automatic windows, the better to throw his McDonald’s wrappers on the side of the road.

By the time I get to my car I’ve turned him into the worst person I’ve ever met, and when I get back to my office and sit down to my veggie Freebird on a mixed cheese, it’s like he never existed.

You know what?  What I found out about burrito boy today is EVEN WORSE than all that.  Not only is he unhappy with the outcome of the presidential election, he didn’t even VOTE!  As of yesterday, he’s completely dead to me, crush-wise.

(Related question: was the other Freebird’s employee trying to mess up burrito boy’s game? Discuss.)

14 thoughts on “a vote for burrito boy is a vote for McCain

  1. Yes, the other Freebird employee was messing up Burrito Boy’s game (or lack there of). You should randomly ask him out on a date. Boys say stupid stuff to get girls attention. Sometimes it just comes out like word vomit, they have no control over it and it is all un true. He could very well have voted, first person in line and could be huge Obama fanboy.

    * This boy insight comes from all of the guy friends I have. I wish I knew all this when I was younger.

  2. Ha! It is always sad when you think someone is adorable, and they turn out to be into something weird, like John McCain or Celtic music or something like that.

  3. The other guy was definitely messing with him. But while Tarraguña’s insight is true some of the time, it isn’t always.

  4. the eternal optimist in me wants to think that his button idea was a manifestation of his non-confrontational nature and it was intended to merely be a tactic to fend off potential arguments with angry conservatives (maybe he had been getting a lot of “well, we’re fucked now” comments from patrons who assumed he would sympathize with them).

    but the other commenters probably have more realistic answers.

    as far as the other employee…mess up burrito boy’s game? hrm. maybe. but more than likely he just saw an opportunity to impress an attractive woman, especially in light of how bad the first guy was imploding.

  5. when my ex was on tour last year they went to every burrito place they could find. they ate hundreds and decided Freebirds was one of the best.

    and yes, i think dude #2 was trying to screw up steak-chopper-guy’s game.

  6. I, too, have tried other burrito places. So far, none come close to Freebird’s. Although, I ate a burrito in Prospect Park once that was pretty good.

  7. I think Burrito Boy screwed up his own game.

    And I think his co-worker was just being honest. He did wear an “I voted” sticker. It sounds to me like he was just happy to meet a like-minded individual.

  8. Celtic music? Celtic music rocks. Weird is good. McCain is just wrong. There’s a difference.

  9. Hmm…seems like “I voted” guy was really just excited, and not intentionally trying to mess with “red goatee” guy’s game. Honestly though, the second the words “I didn’t vote” escape anyone’s mouth, their overall attractiveness plummets into negatives… so “I voted” guy really couldn’t mess anything up more than “red goatee” guy already had.

  10. Oh, I think “do you want to go listen to Celtic Music” is almost right up there with “I voted for John McCain,” in my book. Say it, and that person becomes instantly unattractive.

  11. I have to give them both a little credit for mounting any “game” at all. Working at Freebird’s, while noble, is not the most glamorous job in the world. And flirting is one part glamour. One’s internal sex-appeal-o-meter has to be negatively affected when your only opening line is, “Corn or flour? Black beans or pinto? Lettuce?”

    In an alternate-universe-burrito-boy-blog, I wonder if he is lamenting having spent so much time preparing the perfect cuts of meat for burrito-girl.

  12. My theory is that coworker was oblivious to burrito boy’s game. Coworker, however, was likely trying to get in on his own game.

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