Hmmm… I could go for burgers, or Thai, or Indian. I’m pretty flexible.

Just anything but Mexican.

Because I’m tired of it! It’s all we ever eat around here. On those rare nights when it isn’t Taco Tuesday or Tamale Thursday or Frijoles Friday or Sopa Sunday or Mole Monday, we still end up eating some type of Mexican dish. “Uh, Mexican sounds good to me,” you always say to the surprise of no one.

And every time I always go along with it, but not this time. Tonight I make a stand. This is my personal Alamo.

For God’s sake, your name is Rick and you have a goatee! How do you not crave a corn dog or a calzone every once in a while? It’s OK if you do, babe. That’s what Ricks are expected to do.

I agree — Mexican cuisine is vibrant, robust, and has a lot of complex flavors. I’m very appreciative of you sharing your talent and devotion with our family. It has no doubt enriched our lives, but if you love me you’ll fucking drop it for one night.

Oops. I guess you’ll have to wash my mouth out with cilantro. That’s right, cilantro tastes like soap to me! Yeah, I’m one of those people. We’re not just a myth. We’re real, baby, and we don’t want to eat it everyday.

But it’s not just about me. Our poor daughter hasn’t had a grilled cheese sandwich in years… Oh, give me a break. Don’t you dare try to convince me that you just made her a grilled cheese recently. Those were molletes topped with queso Chihuahua and you know it!

Sometimes I wish there was a state in Mexico called Velveeta that’s known for their cheese. It would be the only way we could have it in this house.

Can’t you see you’ve become obsessed? You’re using every square inch of our space for your cooking. I went to change the sheets in the guest room yesterday morning and there were poblanos roasting on the radiator! Sure, they added a delicately smokey flavor to the tortas, but that’s not the point!

I saw you standing in front of the mirror the other day. You didn’t see me, but I definitely saw you. You were only wearing a small serape and you kept muttering the word “chilaquiles” over and over to yourself. It was terrifying.

I can’t tell if this is sinking in or not. Can you please wipe that skull off your face? Why do you even have it on?! It’s still a few days away from Dia de los Muertos!

Listen, I was hoping it wouldn’t come down to this, but a while ago I PhotoShopped several pics of you holding boxes of Old El Paso taco kits. With one tap on my phone they will be sent to every prominent food blogger in the country.

Yes, the ones with hard shells and mild taco sauce.

OK, that’s what I thought… Sweetie, darling, come downstairs! We’re getting burgers tonight!