7-Layer Burrito

Seven Floors of Burrito Goodness

With 7 layers of completely different and delicious ingredients, the 7-Layer Burrito is kind of like that 7-floor city apartment you lived in right after college.

Every floor had completely different personalities, but somehow everybody’s unique dynamic created a sort of perfect, 7-layer family. Similar to a 7-Layer Burrito. You know, it’s like…

Refried Beans lives on the first floor and always tells you jokes in a different language, then laughs hysterically. You can’t understand what he’s saying but always laughs anyways because he has that weird breathy laugh style and it sounds hilarious. Because Beans is on the ground floor, you always have this weird voyeuristic view into his life, which mostly consists of watching cop show reruns and cleaning dishes.

Seasoned Rice is an elderly woman that lives on the second floor and has a lovely patio garden. It mostly consists of colorful flowers, but last spring, Rice baked you a pie with fresh rhubarb from her garden. You don’t even know what rhubarb is, let alone how you could grow it in a little apartment garden, but pie is pie. She always gives you birthday cards, but you don’t know how she found out your birthday.

A 7-Layer Burrito would be nothing without Guacamole. And neither would this apartment building. Guacamole lives on the third floor and is a dancer, you think. She’s so beautiful that you develop an insurmountable stutter every time you are within her 10-foot radius. So, you’ve never actually introduced yourself.

Shredded Lettuce is the landlord and lives on the fourth floor. She seems super handy, based on that one time when she replaced your door, but you’re too afraid to ask her to fix your stove because she always seems a little irritated with you. Maybe she knows you have an iguana even though there’s a strict no pets policy.

Three-Cheese Blend is a musician on the fifth floor and brings the party to the 7-Layer Burrito. But oh my gosh, he’s so bad at the bassoon. So bad that you think he might actually be playing a clarinet instead. Or heck, maybe even a trumpet. An apartment with thin walls is no place for a struggling woodwind/horn/instrument/who knows player.

Diced Tomatoes lives on the sixth floor and is probably a dude named Jeff. He’s a pretty cool guy from Maine, and you guys play video games sometimes. He travels a lot for business so he’s never there.

Again, what’s a 7-Layer Burrito (and apartment building for that matter) without the seventh floor? The penthouse of the building. It’s owned by an eccentric and evasive guy, Reduced Fat Sour Cream. He’s so brimming with benjamins that some of the other tenants think he might be a distant Vanderbilt or something.