Blanket Burrito Quotes

A blanket could be used at the end of meetings, to wrap things up—sort of like a big office burrito of productivity.


I am the burrito wrapped up in a blanket. Eat my warmth.


With one blanket, you and I could wrap up like a burrito. Yum. And if you want melted cheese, just fart a bit. 


At some point I realize I’ve made it to the opposite wing. I spot the courtyard through a set of leaded glass windows and the view is the opposite of the one I’ve seen from my wing. Thank God. It would have been terrible to wander much longer, looking like I do. I could have run into-- Alex. Alex! Just seeing him makes my anger boil. He’s staring at me, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide. Is it me, or is he blushing? Hasn’t he ever seen a burrito-girl before? Or is it these dead-sexy rag-curlers in my hair that only an old lady would wear? Not only am I a burrito, I’m a geriatric one. Fabulous. “Uh, I’m looking for Emily’s room,” I say. I tighten my grip on the blanket, hoping none of me is hanging out anywhere it shouldn’t be. He doesn’t speak, just motions me to follow him. I walk beside him, the blanket dragging behind me. There are about a thousand things I’d like to say to him right now--Eliza’s pitiful schedule, that poor lady’s letters--but I can’t possibly have a serious conversation looking like this, so I don’t say any of them. When we get to the door, it’s open, and he steps aside so I can enter. He’s so close to the door that I end up brushing past him when I go by. “Thanks,” I mutter. As an afterthought I curtsy, but I’m not sure he can even tell because the blanket just sort of mushrooms out. I scurry through the door and slam it behind me, and then fall against it. Alex is probably staring right at the door in his face. Bet he doesn’t get that every day. It almost makes me feel better.

He was wrapped up in his blankets like a burrito.

I waited for a half hour, then went back to his room. He was asleep, wrapped in his blanket like a burrito. I took the fucking gun and left. I should never have taken this job.

Oh my gulay, you have a doxie too?!" Quinn, who had the dog wrapped in a soft blanket, kissed the top of the dog's head. "This is my baby, Cleopatra Louise, but she goes by Cleo. We had a bit of a scare earlier, but now I know she's learned how to take the lid off a plastic container of chocolate-covered almonds. Won't be making that mistake again." Cleo was a brown short-haired mini dachshund just like Longganisa, but she seemed to be considerably older since there was a bit of gray around her muzzle. She wore a cute bandana printed with sparkly crowns, and peered out from her blanket burrito with a calm, queenly expression. I asked if I could pet her and held my fingers in front of Cleo after Quinn said yes. After a quick sniff, the dog bowed her head and let me pet her. What a good girl.