Awesome thoughts on qualitative values

I have a problem with non-specific (read: non-quantitative) values in many situations. The inherent uncertainty and imprecision really bothers me, even if it doesn't affect my every day life so much. Every once in a while, though, life reminds me why I dislike them. Today was one of those days.

This little reminder came to me while I was gobbling up my Taco Bell lunch. Traditionally, I had ordered a chicken quesadilla (along with a few other items), and traditionally, I had saved it for last. A recent addition to my tradition - seriously, don't re-read the preceding clause unless you want to get queasy - has been to ask for extra jalapeño sauce on my quesadilla. The reason for this is that many taco bell employees seem to think that putting a thimbleful-sized amount of this sauce on their quesadillas (or indeed, none at all) is acceptable (pro-tip: IT IS DEFINITELY NOT ACCEPTABLE).

Today, however, the Taco Bell employee(s? - seriously, it might take more than one average Taco Bell employee to assemble a sandwich) that handled this part of my order saw fit to unload an amount of sauce on the quesadilla that even I would find exorbitant. I would have taken a picture and posted it here, but I did not want to admit to the world that my lunch was a direct cause of the massive jalapeño shortage that I'm sure is on the way.

Let me put this in perspective for you: I like sauces and related condiments. A lot. Salad dressing? I take it with a side of lettuce. Ketchup? You can't even tell what's underneath it in that bun. And Sour Cream?? If life had an "overflow glitch" like many video games do, I'd be alternating between being a black and a white man every other day. You know - from all the whiteness.

But this??? This was just ridiculous. The amount of sauce that dripped out of a single quarter of the quesadilla on its way to my mouth was enough to end hunger in Africa. No - not really because there would be enough to go around (though really there would be); those people would have either perished or become sterile from jalalpeño overload by the end of their partaking of this quesadilla. I am fortunate in that my own iron balls are impervious.

In all seriousness, I wish there were some more rigid definitions over what "extra" or "nearly" or "a lot of" meant. Some kind of quantitative ballpark limitations for these expressions. Maybe then I could stop thinking about fat, dead babies.

Then again - you may be onto something there, Taco Bell.

[...insert witty sign-off here..]