I'm doing nothing. I'm not even cooking a Tex-Mex inspired meal (which is shocking since I cook fish tacos fairly regularly).
A self-inflicted ban is still in tact after annually Cinco de Mayo'ing myself out in college. And not in a good way. More in a 'I thought it was acceptable to drink my weight in Mexican beer and throw some sort of bratty tantrum for no good reason' way. There were typically tears involved. Who doesn't love to be around that?
So in an attempt to be a mature adult, I will let another Fifth of May go uncelebrated. Maybe next year I'll be allowed to join in on the festivities. We'll see what my imaginary parole officer says.
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