Pepe & Mito's

Step 3: Think to yourself, "Wow. Aca Y Alla might mean something cool in Spanish, but in English it sounds like Monica's either gobbling some dude's junk while trying to talk or she's vomiting. I'll pass on the complimentary valet, thanks." Throw Monica's the bird and keep driving.

Step 4: Park out front at Pepe & Mito's on Elm at the meters that are free during the week.

Step 5: Stuff face.

Pepe & Mito's has all the lunch specials you want from a Mexican restaurant. It has your taco special, your enchilada special, your fajita special—they're all specialed out like they're supposed to be. So, game on.

Immediately after Pepe and/or Mito seat you (Inside or outside is your choice. I always pick outside. The fence they have out there is very cage-like, and I've always wanted to be a zoo tiger.), they drop off a community chip bowl for your table and individual salsa bowls for each person at the table. Finish your salsa, and the refills keep on coming.

If you order the fajitas or tacos, brace yourself for deliciously lardiful homemade tortillas. They're like snowflakes—every one is a different shape, they melt in your mouth and they're fun to mash up into little balls to throw at people's trusting, unsuspecting eyes at close range.

Other menu items that shouldn't be passed up are the homemade bomb diggity pork tamales, the tacos al pastor and the new sweet-ass chile relleno. If you try those and don't like them, come find me so I can tell you your taste buds are stupid.

If you go see Pepe & Mito for lunch, you could totally get a special and get out of there for under $10. Or, you could order some tamales and still get out for cheap. Or, you could get a margarita on the rocks (Yes, salt) and sopapillas for lunch and get out of there for under $10, too. Which is what I did. I'm on a liquid diet. (Level 11 sound-barrier breaking cinnamony-tequila laced burp here.) Jealous?