"I haven't had mexican in a while..."
Jason winced. "I know I asked you what you'd like to do for lunch, but I can't do mexican. We went out that one time and I got really sick, and I just can't eat mexican any more."
"The weird thing is I go to Taco Bell at least once a week."
"That's a little different," I replied. "Taco Bell is plastic mexican, not real mexican."
Roxy, in the next cubicle, had been listening to our conversation, and called Jason over to make her lunch suggestion.
"Hey, Roxy," I called, "'Plastic Mexican' would be a great band name, huh? 'Hellooooo Fargoooo, we're Plastic Mexican and we're here to ROCK!"
Jason continued, in his best Brett Michaels impersonation. "I gotta tell you something, Fargo! I've partied all around this great nation of ours, and those bigger cities could learn a thing or two from you!" After which he bounced off his "stage" and out of Roxy's office.