June 10, 2007
I might have been maybe 7 or 8 years old. I amazes me that it took that long, since my family is Mexican and my grandma uses it in a few dishes. But this particular night my dad ordered tacos from a neighborhood restaurant called San Francisco. I asked for two tacos with rice, blah blah. Well when they got in the whole house began to smell rank, and I started feeling a little nauseous. I told my dad I wasn't hungry anymore but having grown up in a frugal household, he demanded that I eat what I asked for. Well I ate those tacos. Then spent a good 1/2 hour retching in the bathroom while my mom scolded my dad for making me eat when I didn't feel well. I am NOT a picky eater. I've eaten jellyfish, chicken feet, escargot... the appearance of food does not phase me. But if I even smell the stuff it chases my appetite away faster than the Looney Tunes road runner.