nonsense

Annual Oscar live tweet extravaganza where I mostly talk about how much I dislike Kristen Stewart and fake date Leo DiCaps.

Award show season!  Thank you for giving me the momentous excuse opportunity to pollute the twittersphere and subsequently the rest of the social media universe with all of my thoughts and feelings on the Oscars.

both of us are empty inside.

both of us are empty inside

I’ll be here all night, unfortunately.

Drink a bottle of your favorite, cheapest wine, and take a seat right in front of your television AND computer and hop on the train to funtown.  We’re gonna tweet up a storm, and you’re going to need a raincoat.  Or an umbrella.  Or some galoshes.  Or just a roof.

Follow me on social media outlets around the world so you can hear the latest, greatest, and my strong opinion on Kristen Stewart. (Hint: It’s not a favorable one.)

 

I also need new people to follow, so if you let me know you’re alive out there in the twitterverse, I’ll follow you back and we can talk shit about all the people who thought fur cufflinks are totally in style (what losers, right?!)

An Open Letter to Rose Dawson

I have a bone to pick with you, Rose Dawson.

You swore you would never let go.  But you did.  You did let go.  And you let him die.

Listen, I’m sensitive to the cold.  I get it.  It was winter when the Titanic sunk.  The water at the time probably wasn’t conducive to an eternal death grip.

But, you should have saved his life.  He saved yours.  Multiple times, actually.

Yeah, remember that time you were impulsively hanging off the back of the ship, wallowing in self-pity, whining, “Oh my gahhh, my life is so hard, first class living is such a bore.  I hate nice things and being able to afford food and saphire necklaces.  I’m just going to end it now rather than spend the rest of my life living comfortably.”

When, at that moment you were contemplating your own death, the most handsome, third-class face on the planet waltzed up to you and convinced you to second guess your decision.

Remember this?!?!

 

Then after you decided you were actually being a little overdramatic about spontaneously offing yourself before really going through the pros and cons of it all, you slipped, and that gorgeous face saved your life AGAIN. With his hands.  His artistic, beautiful hands pulled your limp body up and over a three tier railing to safety.

REALLY. I MEAN, COME ON.

This was the same boy who showed you how to spit like a man and dance with the commoners.  He taught you that there was more to life than just being told what to do.  He gave you the confidence you needed to stand up to your family.  He made you realize that actually talking through your issues with people is a much better alternative to a poorly thought out, dramatic death.

I mean, for Pete’s sake, he even simulated flight without any sort of CGI effects. Just a ship and some wind was all he needed.  He was a goddamn magician.  And you let him die.

I think I speak for the masses here when I say that I wish you were more careful.  I wish you were more responsible.  I wish you weren’t so selfish.

You don’t let this face freeze. You just don’t.

See, if you had all those qualities I so generously listed above, you would have realized that that face is a one-in-a-million face.  You do not let faces like that pass you by.  Especially faces like that who have genuine hearts and are willing to save crazy teenage women from poor life-ending choices.

But you, Rose Dawson, you did let that face pass you by.  You let it pass you and sink right down into the bottom of the Atlantic.

This is where those qualities would have been beneficial to you and the boy whom you loved so much.  All you had to do was share.

At the very least, give the kid your life jacket.  It’s bad enough you’re starfishing on a double door, but you also have a PFD?  Like, share the wealth you hoarder.  No wonder Cal didn’t like you, you probably took up the entire bed, leaving him only with a smidgen of mattress and a corner of the covers.

If you love someone, you will save them from hypothermia.  That’s how it works.  It’s in the wedding vows. You know, “I, Rose, take you, Jack, to be waffley wedded husband, till death and/or sinking ship induced hypothermia do us part,” if you don’t know about that part, you probably weren’t a good listener in school either.  Which honestly, wouldn’t be surprising.

Bitch.

Not only were you a bystander in Jack Dawson’s death, but only after he sunk to the bottom of the ocean like the icicle brick he was did you go voluntarily get into the water to blow another man’s whistle to indicate you’d like to be rescued.

Riddle me this, Rose.  Why didn’t you get into the water, have Jack lay on the door for a while, and blow the whistle to save you both?  Really?  Do I have to think of everything around here?

A person as self-absorbed as yourself does not deserve someone as dignified and selfless as Jack Dawson.  I hope when you think of art, you remember his perfectly crafted features. I hope when you see a door, you’re reminded of the fact that it was big enough for two.  And when you put your children in swimming lessons, know that a life jacket could have saved him.

I hope you’re happy.

Sincerely,

Everyone Who Watched Titanic And Was In Love With Leonardo DiCaprio

***

I’m Wearing Zombie Socks And Forgot To Wear Make Up To Work

Happy New Year’s Eve, everyone! Nothing like some good old ‘undead’ foot fashion and my irresponsible mindset of a seven year old to forget to put on makeup before I left the house this morning.

Sorry to everyone who has seen my face today.  Actually, sorry to everyone who looks at me a lot, I’m making strides towards not looking like I just woke up… all the time. #Flawless

Click the picture for a direct link!

Click the picture for a direct link!

Anyways, here’s an article I wrote for Elite Daily chronicling the seven types of girls you will most likely meet tonight at your new year’s soiree. HAVE A READ! And have a safe, happy, and healthy new year. I love you, I mean it, and I wish I could adopt all of you and pay you for your friendship in slice and bake cookies.

This year has gone above and beyond what I thought it would. Compared to how I felt around this time last year, it is like night and day. It’s crazy how life can kick you in the ass for a year and then completely turn itself around.  It may seem so trivial, but be thankful for all the bad in your life; that way you’ll truly appreciate and respect and cherish the good.

And to show you how true that statement really is, here’s a picture on New Year’s Eve last year that someone captured after asking me the question, “If you could sum up 2013 in one blurry face, what would it look like?”

2013 = fireball and ugly face.

2013 = The Year of the Ugly Fireball Face

Happy New Year!

What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?

 

I Got Promoted At Work Today And I Couldn’t Be More Excited About It

The most responsibility I have ever been given at my job unfortunately starts and stops in fifth grade when Mrs. Johnson let me be line leader from our classroom to the assembly hall.

Because in times of need, you call on the true leaders, the ones who can guide a pack of rambunctious fifth graders through a crowded hall and safely usher them to their respective seats in the auditorium. Or you just pick the girl who has been nagging you all year to lead the gaggle of sugar-high children and you know won’t stop until she gets what she wants.

I’ll let you decide which one I was. (Choose wisely).

Regardless, I took that responsibility with stride.  I knew that extra work didn’t necessarily mean extra rewards, but it was the personal understanding that I was doing something for the good of other people that made my experience worthwhile.

But today – as a twenty-five year old receptionist moonlighting (daylighting?) as a wannabe motivational lifestyle blogger, but in reality just being a receptionist with exceptional hair – today, I can say that I have been given the most responsibility that I’ve ever had in my life.

(And I’ve waited tables, so that’s saying a lot. People are assholes when it comes to dealing with food, remember that when you want to order a burger but don’t want meat, cheese, or a bun. Just make your food at home, butthead.)

Im proud to announce that I have henceforth claimed my role as the Jr. Fire Marshal at my job. Horray for me! Claps! Cheers! Lighting bolts!

I’m sure the biggest question on your minds right now is not only why you are reading this blog and not learning about dairy creamer, but what exactly does a Fire Marshal do?  And to answer your question, I honestly haven’t the slightest idea.

But, here’s what I do know about the job:

There will probably be fire. And other than grilling pizza, fire is generally a bad thing. This means I am supposed to protect and serve the people in my office. And for anyone who knows me in real life, I can’t even hold open a door for people without getting a sore arm let alone take lives into my own hands.

I’m going to be a marshal. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that this might have something to do with the retailer, and maybe there are gift cards and free swag in my future. I mean a fire marshal needs to have a uniform, and Marshall’s seems like the best place to get that started.

There is a large chance that I will get to use aggressive hand signals in the event of a crisis.  And BOY am I excited. When I was fifteen freeloading off my parents every summer instead of working, my mom tried to get my friend Katie and I to work as runway directors at the local airport. She saw something in my enchanting hand gestures,and only now did I truly recognize my talents myself.

Sidenote: I didn’t end up directly plane traffic because there’s no way anyone would have landed alive. I’d just be waving reflector flags left and right for the sole purpose of making that “SWISH” noise when the fabric hits itself. 

I’m about 30% certain I am qualified for this job.  I hate small spaces, despise taking the stairs, and generally don’t like being outdoors when it’s below 40 degrees.  I’m not sure I’m up for this type of responsibility, but there’s only one way to find out.

Now excuse me, I need to go light a fire.

(Just kidding?)

fire033 - fire marshal for this department is

What’s the most responsibility you’ve ever had?

 
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I’m Thankful For The Facebook Timeline Feature Because Now I Can Relive My Glory Days With The Click Of A Button.

Everyone!  Let’s give a round of applause for technology and the permanent trail of embarrassment that is the internet!

Just when you think you’ve escaped the metaphorical black hole that was your life in middle and high school, Facebook is here with the Timeline Activity feature that allows you to click a year and see just what you wrote during that specific time period.  Let’s bring back those cringeworthy flirt posts, relive that awkward drunk message you wrote to that kid you don’t even know, and by all means, take a loosky at that time you thought it was a good idea to wear plaid pants and high top sneakers.

I like to put my life on display.  Mostly because I think that if I admit to myself and the world how much of an embarassment to society I was between the ages of my entire life 12-22, maybe I can help others not make the same mistakes.

So, today I am thankful for Facebook.  I am so excited that I get a permanent reminder of how much of a jackass I was when I was sixteen and constantly get to see my blatant disregard for proper capitalization and grammar.  I guess hindsight is twenty/twenty.

Here are some highlights from my Facebook past:

0

Zo zerious, in fact, that I couldn’t even use an ‘S’

1

Halfway convinced that my mother actually wrote this status instead of me.  But then I remember that she can barely work Microsoft Word in 2014, so there’s no way she could have hacked into my Facebook account back in 2006.

2

I never got a humpback whale. WHERE IS MY HUMPBACK WHALE.

3

#FutureEnglishMajor #FutureTeacher

4

Well, there you have it folks, you can finally tell people you know someone who has risen from the dead. I’m pretty sure it sucked when I was dead, but I can assure you, being alive is way more fun.

5

So, I’m not half asian. Not even in the slightest bit. So I don’t think I can regret it, but clearly it was something I felt strongly about this night.

6

Honestly, this is a personal problem and I’m getting it checked out.  I didn’t realize I was so willy nilly about exposing personal struggles via such a public forum, but I guess a lot was going on in life in 2008.

7

Like I said, clearly a lot was going on in my life where I wasn’t concerned about being implicated for the murder of my professor.  Like how shitty of a criminal am I?

Sidenote: I didn’t actually murder my professor, but he’s definitely not here to talk about it anymore.

8

This is a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I haven’t rethought of this.  Probably because I came to the conclusion that bathtubs are generally riddled with the remnants of dirty people, therefor, I realized I was washing my clothes in liquid human filth. #graphic #visuals

9

This is what I was concerned about when I studied abroad.  This is also why I gained twenty-five pounds before I came back.

10

Valid. They were. And I legit never got them back.

Hey! Let’s be social and make bad decisions together, follow me on Facebook, and I’ll do the same for you.  LOVE YOU. MEAN IT.

***

Have you ever posted anything on the internet you later regretted?  What’s your best/most embarrassing post?

Countdown to Thanksgiving: A Tribute To America’s Greatest Holiday

Every year on Thanksgiving I promise myself that I will limit my food intake like a civilized human being who practices restraint and self control, and then every year after dinner on Thanksgiving I immediately unbutton my pants and say the words, “Diet tomorrow.”

It could be that I’m just so thankful for food.  But it also could be that I am a gluttonous human being and make a point to eat everything in sight like it’s the last time food will ever enter my body.  I honestly don’t even like cranberry sauce, but the idea of something disappearing without me ever getting a chance to enjoy it is enticing enough every year to make me slap it on my plate and immediately regret it.

Meanwhile, my father sits at the head of table practically bathing in cranberry sauce while wishing he had a third arm to help put all the food into his mouth before he passes out on the couch ten minutes after the meal is over. #FoodComa

But the nature of the holiday at some costs seems to be lost.  While there is an emphasis on spending the time with your loved ones and eating a crap ton of food until you have to put your fat jeans on from college, the purpose of the holiday itself is to be thankful for all we have.  But why do we do that just one day of the year?

In my opinion, holidays are just reminders that we’re all shitty people who are self-involved to the point that we need an actual DAY OFF from our lives to remember that we should be thankful for what we have. When did our society become selfish enough to not appreciate the gifts, the people, and the good in our lives on a daily basis?

If you are one of those superhumans who are innately good and caring and wonderful, I salute you, you’re doing the work of a modern-day saint.  But for the rest of us millennials, we’re all too busy slaving away from 9-5 trying to make enough money to afford our apartments, maintain active social lives, and keep up an appearance that we’re actually adults.

I’ve also been in this weird funk lately where I hate any and everyone, so I’m going to use this mini blog series as a way to combat the innerdemons of an overly privileged white girl from Connecticut.

For the next week, in preparation for Thanksgiving, I will be listing off things I am thankful for; because we should be thankful for things that bless us every day, regardless of how big or small they are.  I cannot promise they will be serious. But I can promise food and wine will be mentioned.

Today, I’m thankful for pajamas.

Much like everyone else who works 9-5 or just a job in general, you have to get dressed in the morning.  And while all of us would like a job that you can wear sweatpants all day, the number of openings for gym teachers are limited because the United States doesn’t seem to think exercise is a necessity for children.

I wake up every day and put my pants on one leg at a time.  And really, I mean that because I actually need to concentrate on just getting that one leg in there and plant it for support so I don’t fall over.  But there is no better feeling than watching the minutes tick down on your work clock so you can remove all the constrictive attire you’re forced to wear all day, envisioning that pair of pajamas blissfully sitting folded and tucked away in your closet or dresser, awaiting your arrival.

And for reals, big boobs or small boobs, all women know what a nuisance it is to have those puppies strapped to your person like a gun holster.  The countdown to bra removal is so real I am doing it right now.  I’m sure men can related to this on some level, but then again, no they can’t because they don’t have boobs.

I salute you, pajamas, for giving my body an outlet free from judgment.  Because no one can really judge attractiveness when it comes to sleepwear.  Personally, I like to greet my bed wearing a XXL Bruce Springsteen tshirt and a pair of my brother’s sweatpants. My roommates take a more adult approach and wear clothing that fits. They’re like all put together and stuff though.

I am thankful that pajamas are my go to outfit from Friday to Sunday and it’s not frowned upon in the slightest if I don’t change out of them and stay horizontal for 36 hours straight.  Sure, showering is like totally encouraged, but if you don’t know one really knows. Shhhhh.

Whatever your night time outfit is, make sure you give it a high five tonight.  Make sure you hug that ratty tshirt you’ve been wearing for six years a little tighter.  Say thanks to the clothes that give you through the strength to get through the workday as well as through the night.

<3

❤

What are you thankful for today?

Life Is Too Short Not To Risk Your Life For Instagram

Pics or it didn’t happen. Am I right?

Yesterday I went on what I thought was going to be a leisurely Sunday hike and what actually turned out to be a near death experience at the expense of getting mad likes on my instagram account.

https://instagram.com/p/vMSGiBugoD

Hey Leo DiCaprio, I’m still available.  Call me. #TitanicPose

Anyways, in an effort to celebrate my stupidity in exchange for some social media gratification, I’ve compiled a list of things that you should just do because life is just too goddamn short.

Life is too short, so:

  • don’t hold grudges
  • don’t count five seconds in order to eat things off the floor
  • don’t wait for the crosswalk signal. just go. seriously.
  • don’t be unhappy
  • try not to develop allergies to food – come on bodies, ADAPT ALREADY
  • wear shoes that are comfortable
  • eat an entire box of cereal in one sitting
  • try all flavors of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream
  • care about what other people think
  • don’t care about what other people think
  • be stupid
  • don’t be stupid
  • don’t grow up… like all the way
  • enjoy the finer things in life
  • pretend you’re still underage at the movie theaters in order to get discount movie tickets
  • pretend you’re of age at the liquor store in order to get alcohol
  • don’t skimp on ambition when it comes to your career
  • don’t settle
  • try and get through the express checkout lane with more than 15 items
  • drink lots of wine
  • eat lots of oreos
  • figure out what makes you happy
  • get hurt a bunch of times (preferably metaphorically, but maybe physically)
  • fall in love
  • then curse it when it slaps you in the face
  • learn lessons and make mistakes
  • spend all your money
  • live on your own
  • and when you do live on your own, eat like you’re seven again because it’s all you can afford
  • listen to bad music
  • find things you like about yourself
  • change the things you don’t (preferably metaphorically, but maybe physically)
  • don’t drive like a jackass
  • use your turn signals
  • say thank you and please and hello and goodbye
  • be nice
  • make a bucket list
  • wear sunscreen
  • eat healthy
  • but always leave room for dessert
  • do what you want
  • but not at the expense of other people
  • stay hungry (preferably metaphorically, but obviously physically)
  • stay healthy
  • treat people the way you want to be treated
  • do things you don’t want to do
  • remember everything
  • leave a legacy

***

 Have you ever made a bucket list? How far did you get on it?

Life Rule #46: Always Keep Your Fat Pants From College.

Much like the time I came home for the holidays and instead of saying I looked great, my mom could only muster the phrase, “Meg! You look… different.”

And different, folks, came in the form of cankles, a beer belly, and one too many trips to the dessert buffet at the dining hall.

This past halloween was the first time I was actually happy about the fact that I gained 20 lbs freshman year of college because I spent more time face deep in the all-you-can-eat dining halls rather than in books.

I have since lost the dreaded freshman twenty and leveled out to my normal frame.  And much like other people who achieve a big goal, I kept a memento to show me that I never want to go back to that place.  Which is also why I keep the ticket stub to Panic Room, because I never want to revisit that film in my lifetime, and need a tangible reminder that I still disliked Kristen Stewart at a young age.

Keep the hate flame hot, kids.

Anyways, I kept my fat pants from college, the ones I wore when I was my heaviest, and put them in my pants drawer to remind myself how far I’ve come. I never really took the time to look at them, keeping them folded up and put away was enough of a reminder for me.  I absolutely never intended to wear them again.

That was until brilliance struck me in the form of me literally being the cheapest person on the planet when it comes to Halloween costumes. Sure, I like dressing up as much as anyone, but cut to the part in my life where I go to Costco to eat a free sample lunch so I don’t spend money, and this holiday goes from doable to I hate my life in three seconds.

Also, since I like to be a pioneer and slutty costumes are generally frowned upon in an office setting, I decided that the best, most efficient option for Halloween was for me to dress up like a man.

And not just any man, Rob Dyrdek.

I was a HUGE fan of Rob and Big when I was in high school.  My friend, Megan, and I would watch marathons of it on weekends and just die laughing.  They were hysterical.  Plus, my friend Chris was the perfect partner for this costume, so we would totally kill two birds with one stone.

I finally had a place to wear my fat pants and finally got to live out a day in the life of a male. It was GLORIOUS.

#methodacting

#methodacting

But the best part about this whole day was when I was a social media addict and decided to tweet at both Rob Dyrdek AND Big Black to see if they would acknowledge my existence.  Much to my surprise and all to my shock and awe, THEY DID.

Then we went viral.  Well, viral in my terms.

RD

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER – @meg_lago

We got both of them to acknowledge us and I don’t know how Halloween will ever be greater than October 31, 2014. It was a day for the books and one I will never forget.

Moral of the story is, keep your fat pants.  Keep that old, baggy sweatshirt that may come in handy when you want to dress up like anyone who wears a sweatshirt.  Just keep all of it.  Aside from it reminding you of a you you don’t want to remember (wait, what?), they could come in handy when you decide you want to dress like a man for a day and tweet at a B-list celebrity.

What were you for Halloween? Has a celebrity ever tweeted at you? Am I insane?

I’m Going On Tour, Who Wants An Autograph?

Line up, kids! It’s a limited time offer for Megyonce to write you an email that has absolutely nothing to do with anything and sign it by typing out my name all fancy like this just like when we were in sixth grade:

❤ MEgLaGo~*BlOgGiNG qUaSi-CeLEbRiTy .:*~ ❤

That’s a signature fit for a star if I’ve ever seen one.

So in the event that you got this far without closing your tab and rendering that previous thirty seconds of your life wasted – although, I really will write you an email, just contact me; TRY ME, I DARE YOU – I’m not really going on tour, mainly because I don’t have any talents other than being able to successfully steal bananas from my job without getting caught (yet).

A lot of people who know me, and some who don’t, ask me how I come up with things to write about on my blog.  The short and long answer is I really don’t know.

But that’s why I was overjoyed (yup, so full of joy!) when Taylor from A Cup of Tay asked me to participate in a Blog Tour, because maybe that means we can both finally find out together why I’m so weird and what really went down at my friend’s birthday party that made me think it was a good idea to put balloons in my shirt to simulate boobs in front of a room of strangers.

OH! HOW FANCY!

OH! HOW FANCY!

Anyways, let’s take a trip into my brain and figure out what’s going on up there, shall we?

What am I working on?

Well, I’m not currently working on anything. That sentence is so depressing, I just bought stock in both Ben and Jerrys and sweatpants. Yes, sweatpants have stock, and I just bought some.  If there is anything pressing on your mind that you want me to talk about, bitch about, cover, uncover, investigate, or complain about, please contact me on my About page, and I’ll most likely do it for free, for fun, for food, and definitely for money.

How does my work differ from others of its type/genre?

In general, I think I am pretty brutally honest about a lot of stuff that happens in life.  We all go through ups and downs, but I bring light to struggles and make everyone realize that no one ever has it all together, not even Rachel McAdams, and she’s 99.9% perfect.  I find humor in the mundane aspects of life after college. When everyone is telling you how to make life better – I see you Thought Catalog and Elite Daily – I try and focus on telling you that I’m having those same issues, and there probably isn’t an easy or reasonable solution for theM.

Why do I write what I do?

Honestly, it’s cathartic as hell. A lot of people have the gym, their work, reading, whatever it is that helps them find a release from the stresses of life, and I have created this space where I can bitch about all this stuff that’s happening to me and a lot of people my age, and it’s just such a relief.  Even if no one read this blog – YES MOM I KNOW YOU’RE READING #FanClubOfOne – it would still be a space that would some way or another be a standin for a diary.  And if I can help or relate to one other person with each post, then I’ve done my job.

How does my writing process work?

This is a question I’d like to know the answer to as well. I have no idea. I honestly will be walking to work, trip over something, or spill coffee on my shirt for the third time that day and just need to get something off my chest, and BAM, you have a post about how ugly I was as a child or how much of life is cleaning up messes regardless of how organized you are. I just kind of word vomit all over the page and hope at the end of all of it something coherent and English came out.  If not, well, I guess then I just found out I was subconsciously bilingual and that’s pretty cool.

BUT! Enough about me, I want you to read some other people!  I was supposed to find more than one person to take over this tour for me, but just like middle school, I’m short on friends.  But I found an awesome blog, and you need to take a looksy or else I’m adding cookie dough to my stock cart and that’s not a good look for anyone.
They do exercise.. and they look good, too.

They do exercise.. and they look good, too.

I want to pass the metaphorical baton to Colby and Tina from It’s A Marathon AND A Sprint. This blog is awesome and makes me feel all sorts of inadequate when it comes to exercising.  These women are motivational, hilarious, and totally amazing to keep up with.  Plus, if you’re anything like me, you’ll want to sign up for all the races all the time and see how much your body can handle.  It makes the wine that much more worthwhile. Now go give your eyes a challenge and read all their posts, I’ll time you.
***

Do you want to participate in a blog tour? EMAIL ME (thehalfandhalfblog@gmail.com) for more information!

 

 

One Small Step For Man, One Giant Leap For Mankind

And I mean literally one, small step. Because I don’t even have to get off my couch to order hangover food anymore.

PRAISE JESUS, GOD DOES EXIST!

Honestly, I didn’t think my Tuesday could get better.  I went to yoga this morning and did a warrior 3 pose without falling on top of my face, then transformed myself into a tree like a boss without teetering or tottering. Today ruled before 8am.

But then something amazing happened. I was perusing the internet watching YouTube videos of beagles being released from captivity and then BAM! Yahoo! news is all up in my grill mix with this article about Taco Bell’s new app.

You hear that, Chipotle? Taco Breezey has a new app and you can pre-order all your hangover snacks and have it ready for your arrival. That’s some real royalty stuff, and I’m the real life self-proclaimed Princess of Burritos.

And wait, I was three seconds away from ending this blog prematurely before I even mentioned the added benefits of ordering yourself a Taco Bell breakfast from the convenience of your home. Now that you don’t have to wait until the stroke of dawn to be in the drive-thru line, you can order your cinnabites and breakfast crunchwrap supreme from the hangover palace that is your bed.

GET IN MY BELLY.

GET IN MY BELLY.

I mean, yes, you’ll have to go pick it up, but you won’t have to wait in line like the other plebeians who aren’t up to date on that dang-fangled technology (I see you, grandma) who also periodically set their alarm clocks to clog their arteries on their weekend fast food rotation.

Now, let me go snag my crown and go to town on a cheesy gordita crunch.

Ps- I know we’re all reeling on high emotions because of this sem-monumental creation, but if Taco Bell could speed up the process on a delivery system, I’d solemnly swear to cut Chipotle off for the rest of my life and pledge my allegiance to the kingdom of TB.

Your call, Mr. Bell.

What do you think about Taco Bell’s new app?