"Tell me about this piece."
"It's an end table, made from, I believe, European particle board. It was purchased at Ikea 2 years ago. There's some warping and staining because I spilled a beer on it a while ago."
"It's a nice piece. It's worth about $1.50."
"What about this?"
"It's a folding table. It has metal legs. The top is vinyl and it is composed of some kind of high-strength cardboard. There are a lot of stains on it. It wobbles quite a bit from the duct tape on two of the legs and you shouldn't put more than 10 or 15 pounds of stuff on it."
"It is worth negative fifty cents."
I've been doing stuff at work lately, like stuff I guess I'm accountable for, which has been suckin', but whatever. I found a new apartment. I've been on a total BURRITO TORNADO lately. Making crazy burritos - burritos that you wouldn't believe. Burritos that will change lives. If I opened a burrito restaurant, I would have people name their children after me.
(This is the secret to burrito enlightenment: the rice. Beans are basically fungible and the namesake of the burrito ['chicken', 'steak', etc] isn't a big deal, as long as it isn't overcooked - but the rice is where the burrito game is won or lost.)
