There have been several periods of my life when I'm pretty sure my body mass was roughly 45 – 49 percent taco. (Remember that the majority of your body is always water.) The first of these was when I was 17, when having both a driver's license and a Taco Bell within 5 miles of my home turned into a volatile combination of liquid cheese and orange grease. In those days, I counted MexiMelts among my friends, and in my memories I can still taste, happily, the 1993 limited-time-only Monterey Jack Chicken Soft Taco, a treat so obscure there is literally one reference to it in all of the Internets.


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