(Taco breaks) I donβt want to Taco bout it.
All You Need Is Lunch
Do You Believe In Life After Lunch
Lunch In An Elevator
This is a shit post
Taco: Want to taco bout it? Donut: I donut know what to say.
But affogato 'bout it.
Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevorβs love for tractors.
Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.
Trevorsβs degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.
The hedges in Trevorβs front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.
Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.
Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasnβt keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.
One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.
Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.
βWellβ said Jeff, βAs Iβm sure you know the convention comes to town laterβ.
The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.
βYes of courseβ replied Trevor
... keep reading on reddit β‘Took me a long time to finally be able to taco bout it. π€¦π»ββοΈ
A Hola-peno
taco bout it?
My buddy Dan hated this picture.
I told him he had it wrong, because....
https://preview.redd.it/a8938op039o31.jpg?width=640&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b1efb0347ef57317f3ca2ca41199518c677207bb
.... "Every Girl Crazy 'bout a Shark Dress, Man !"
(spins guitar on belt buckle)
Dad: No!
Son: Why not?
Dad: I don't want to Taco bout It.
To this day, I still can't taco 'bout it
They don't taco 'bout it much.
Unfortunately, after my bout with colon cancer, that ended. It's hard to be punctual with only a semi-colon
We were Skyping, and I was trying to figure out the delay between the audio and the video. I said "ping", as I often do when this issue occurs, and she replies "ping" back to signal when she heard me. Sometimes, when she doesn't do it the first time, it gets confusing and I don't know which one she is responding to.
So I switched my word to "taco" in the hopes that it'd break the cycle. No go. She goofed it again.
When I said "I give up", she said "Wait! Let's taco 'bout this."
I love that girl.
A friend set me up with this girl and we start texting to make plans to go out. She says "I'm busy packing right now, I'm visiting my family in Alaska next week."
Of course, I replied "That sounds fun! When you get back Alaska bout it!"
And I never heard from her again.
On our way to breakfast, we passed a restaurant called Fogata's... Wife: I haven't heard anything good or bad about this place. Me: Oh I have. But I fogata bout it.
Bonus: First post!
It's a bout time.
Dad: βI donβt know, but if I find someone who knows ALASKA βbout itβ
Wanna taco bout it?
Dad: Hey did you hear a bout what happened in Texas the other day?
Me: No, what happened?
Dad: Well there was these kids standing on an overpass of the highway, and they were dangling a noose over the edge trying to distract drivers. After a while the noose gets lower and lower and ends up catching a guys hand hanging out of the window, and ripped it clean off.
Me: Holy Shit no way that happened?!
Dad: Yup! And guess what they charged the kid with?
Me: I have no idea.
Dad: Armed Robbery....
But I don't want to taco bout it.
I asked him what was wrong, he didn't wanna taco bout it. (The groan heard around the world)
He didn't wanna taco' bout it.
They don't wanna taco bout it
Last night was taco night with my parents. This starts with my dad grabbing shredded cheese for his taco.
Dad: Ow! Son, get the first aid kit! Me: Why? What happened? Dad: I cut myself... On this EXTRA SHARP cheddar! Me: Please stop. Dad: Do you not want to... Taco bout it?
I work at a summer camp where my ongoing joke is instead of doing activities we are going to real, eat vegetables and do math. one kid did not find it funny and asked why:
kid: why do we have to do math? Do you ever use it during summer?
me: sum times.
I repeated it with emphasis on both words for a bout a minute or so until his eyes rolled.
I know you're still raw, but let's taco bout it
When I was 12 or 13 our car wouldn't start. I told my dad it was probably the henway. He asked. "What's a henway?" To which I replied, "Bout two pounds less than a rooster."
He uses that joke whenever he can. He even used it on my son before I could properly dad joke the boy.
I had to run a couple of errands between then and now, so my memory might be a bit fuzzy, but I'll do best.
Friend 1: "Sarah"
Friend 2: "Shawn"
Future dad: "Sam"
Sarah: There is no good way to eat a taco. (There is a dismembered taco sitting on her plate.)
Shawn: I know, right? It's seriously the worst-designed food, like, ever.
Sarah: Back in [hometown], there's this restaurant that sells authentic Mexican tacos. There's no grease or anything, just chunks of chicken with guacamole and salsa and a bit of cheese on top, and it's SO GOOD. I really shouldn't even talk about them, it's just making me homesick.
Sam: You mean you shouldn't taco 'bout them?
'Bout time. It's been sleeping all year.
Can we just TACO bout it?
No!
Why not?
I don't want to Taco bout It
