Okay. Look. I wasn’t expecting that much. I knew it was small — five feet in diameter. I knew it was trendy, and therefore I didn’t expect much.
BUT THIS IS SOME BULLSHIT.
My burrito blanket arrived today.
That’s the first thing, actually. Because I ordered it from California Burrito Blanket six freaking weeks ago, on April 12.
$29.95 felt steep. But my wife, Toni, lives for burritos. She survived college by making her own burritos. She taught me how to make burritos, and we eat them once a week at least. She also loves blankets, and being wrapped up and cozy.
And for the last month or so of her time as a teacher, which just ended last week, I had been giving her little presents. Nothing serious, just little prizes every morning when I woke her up, because she hates getting up and she hated going to work, and having me give her a little toy or a stuffed animal or something made it a little easier. Mostly it was things I bought at Wal-Mart or Target or some such — Walgreens’ post-Easter sale was a gold mine. So I wanted one thing that would be a big final prize, to give her on her last day. And that’s when this thing went viral, and then showed up in my feed on Facebook. So I clicked on the link, and I bought it.
Here’s what I ordered:
Can you see there where it says “100% microfiber?” Right: I figured it was one of those sort of velour lap blankets you can buy anywhere. It looked fun. I thought Toni would love it.
It arrived today. (A full week after I meant to give it to her — but that wasn’t the problem.) Here’s what was in the mail.
Huh, I thought. Kinda — thin. Not very big across, either; about the size of a DVD case. Very light. So I opened it up, and there, encased in more plastic, was my wife’s final Thank You For Teaching gift.
The picture doesn’t do it justice, for two reasons: one, it does not look like a tortilla, it looks like a bloody sheet that was laid on top of a murder victim, or maybe a close-up of melanoma: it’s vaguely beige, and the “scorch marks” are far more red than brown. Here’s my attempt to show it as a shroud, with myself as murder victim — and also, this is why you cannot take pictures on the floor when you have dogs. (Also note I had to take the above picture while my wife held Roxie back, because she wanted to stand right in the middle of it and wag her tail. Adorable. And I’m trying to be mad here.)
Also, I think this one captures the other problems with this “blanket:” one, you see that sheen? That’s because it isn’t microfiber, it’s freaking polyester; and IT’S ONE-SIDED!
Here’s the reverse:
And two, the biggest problem of all: THIS THING IS THINNER THAN A GODDAMN KLEENEX!
Here’s me holding it. YOU CAN READ MY UCSC T-SHIRT THROUGH THE GODDAMN BLANKET!
IT’S LIKE FUCKING PLASTIC WRAP!! See that dark mark over “slug?” That’s one of the bloodstains — I mean scorch marks.
What’s that, you say? That’s just the white side, which is clearly not meant to be on top? Surely it isn’t transparent from the burrito side? AU CONTRAIRE, MOTHERFUCKER:
I’ve seen emergency camping blankets, those things that are essentially tinfoil, that are more comfortable than this plastic rag.
This is no blanket. It’s not even a burrito: it’s a stained tablecloth. Here, look:
It even makes Roxie sad. See her sad face?
So, ladies and gentlemen, please: DO NOT PURCHASE THE BURRITO BLANKET. Especially not from California Burrito Blanket. My assumption is that when it went viral, as there was probably no way to copyright a blanket that looks like a tortilla, a thousand other companies jumped on board, including the company I bought it from, and they produced the cheapest pieces of shit I’ve ever seen. And of course, Facebook was more than happy to push their shit on my timeline. I have no doubt that there are far higher quality blankets out there, but obviously there is no way to tell in advance which one you are mail ordering. At some point these things will be in actual stores, and you can pick it up and feel the quality yourself before you buy it. Like I should have done.