I’m so excited. At long last, I finally have an excuse to post this song.
It’s been roughly 7 months since “Hot Cheetos And Takis” took the interwebs by storm, and all this time, I’ve been waiting for the right moment to shine my own little light on its wonders. And thanks to Wednesday’s train wreck of a dinner, that time is now.
Mrs. YHT was off book clubbin’ (Doesn’t it sound so exciting when put that way? Like maybe Ice Cube is involved? Hell, maybe he is — I have no idea what goes on at those things…) on Wednesday night, leaving me to hunt and/or gather my own evening meal. And instead of taking the opportunity to cook for myself, eat leftovers or do anything that would suggest that I’m a functioning adult, I ignored the issue entirely, went for a run after work, and then hit my favorite gas station mini mart on the way to band practice.
NOW, this was not my first gas-station-dinner rodeo. I have a routine in place for these circumstances. Walk in, boogie over to the cluster of lamp-heated, silver-pouched, breaded chicken sandwiches, pick a winner, round the corner to the nacho condiments, look around suspiciously, steal a few squirts of liquified cheese, re-pouch the sandwich, grab a bag of Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles on the way to the register, pay the nice cashier who seems to know everyone but me despite the fact that I go in there at least once a week — introversion sucks, kids — and scarf it all down the moment I’m done loading my gear into the practice space. I’m a big fan of routines in general, but this one is a favorite. Is the meal nutritious? No. Is the sandwich tasty? God no. But this collection of steps has wormed it’s way into my heart, and until I’m arrested for grand theft nacho, it’s here to stay. But my revered rigmarole unraveled in an instant when I caught sight of something magical on the way past the chip selection [cue “What’s This?” from The Nightmare Before Christmas] — a small but defiant collection of bags of “Fuego” flavored Takis.
I don’t think I’d ever seen Takis in person… but you bet your ass I’d heard of ’em. The song posted above and below, released last year in conjunction with a Minneapolis, MN after-school program by a group called Y.N.RichKids, hyped the things considerably, with 6 verses singing the snack’s spicy praises, extolling the Taki-eating lifestyle, and showing in no uncertain terms that some kids have more talent in their Taki-stained little fingers than many adults do in their entire sensible-salad-eating bodies. The song and its video could warm even the iciest, hip-hop-hating heart, and as I soon learned, the chips themselves had their own hotness going on.
Let me tell you a little about Fuego-flavored Takis. They look exactly like rolled-up Doritos, they’re precisely the color of paprika, and they taste like someone was trying to carefully apportion the flavoring powder, had a seizure, and decided not to tell anyone that the batch probably wasn’t safe for human consumption. Put another way, placing a Fuego Taki in your mouth produces the same result as if you’d inserted a single Dorito, half a lime, and however much is left in the thing of chili powder you keep in your spice cabinet. It’s insane. No wonder the kids of Minneapolis’ Nellie Stone Johnson Beacons Center spit such fiery rhymes.
As I ate, I was so shocked at the assault on my taste buds that I made everyone at band practice try one, just so I could see their reactions, and I’m passing the same challenge on to you. Watch the video above, listen to the song below, then go see if your nearest gas station has Takis. You’ll gain a greater appreciation for what these unbelievably talented kids are talking about, and if you manage to finish the bag, you’ll probably gain an excuse for staying home sick from work on Monday.
SNACK! SNACK! SNACK! CRUNCH!