I Tried to Hack My DNA with a Burrito and Now I Can Smell Wi-Fi

People keep telling me I’m “not a scientist.” They say things like “please stop microwaving batteries” and “you can’t just staple kale to your forehead and call it neuro-enhancement.”

But I don’t listen to the haters. I listen to my gut.

Which is weird, because ever since I ate that genetically optimized burrito from a parking lot food truck run by a guy named Cletus the Upgrade Shaman, my gut has not stopped talking.

It began innocently.

I was on a wellness kick. You know, drinking chlorophyll lattes, following TikTok yogis named MoonDancer, and micro-dosing vitamin C. Then I saw an ad that changed everything:

“HACK YOUR DNA WITH FOOD: Become the You That You Should’ve Been, If Evolution Hadn’t Slacked Off.”

It spoke to me. Or maybe it yelled at me. Hard to tell with that font.

So I did what any rational adult with a maxed-out credit card and no self-preservation instinct would do — I ordered the “BioBurrito Supreme” with extra nanobots.

The ingredients were listed on a napkin that smelled like essential oils and old batteries. It included grass-fed lab meat, probiotic memory crystals, adapt-o-genic rice, quantum guacamole, non-binary sour cream, and a mysterious warning: “Do not consume if allergic to transformation.” I was sold.

I ate it under a bridge while the shaman banged a tambourine made of ethically sourced hubcaps. As I chewed, I felt… different. Specifically: tingly, gassy, and like I suddenly understood what my Wi-Fi router was thinking. (He’s lonely. Also, he hates streaming reality shows.)

Over the next 24 hours, my body began evolving — or maybe just glitching. I started glowing slightly under fluorescent lighting. I could smell Bluetooth. It’s minty. I grew a third nipple, but it was shaped like the Apple logo, so I left it. I cried during a toothpaste commercial and declared it “spiritually nourishing.”

Was I becoming a higher life form? Or just having a prolonged allergic reaction to synthetic aioli? Hard to say.

But I embraced the change. I began living as a Level 7 Urban Mystic. I replaced all my furniture with ergonomic moss. I only drink water that’s been sung to by alpacas. I now wear glasses that don’t correct my vision but do improve my self-awareness.

I also launched a startup called GutSense™️, where I coach other aspiring mutants on how to unlock their inner biome deity using recycled yoga mats, thoughts fermented in copper jars, and hummus that’s been left out just long enough. We just closed Series A funding. Which is weird, because I didn’t ask for it and the check came in a burlap sack full of lentils.

I sent a DNA sample to 23andMe. They replied with a short message: “Please stop.” And a restraining order. But a guy at a gas station said I had “the eyes of a moth and the aura of a modem,” so I’m pretty sure I’m onto something.

Look, I know what you’re thinking. Is any of this real? Should burritos be glowing? Why is there a crow perched on your shoulder named “Doctor Fibonacci”?

To which I say: maybe reality is a construct. Or maybe you’re just jealous that my chakras are now sponsored by Tesla.

Either way, my Wi-Fi signal has never been stronger. And sometimes, late at night, I hear it whisper back: “You are the upgrade.”

“Biohacking is the new astrology — except instead of being a Libra, you’re just intolerant to dairy and facts.”

— Dr. Tina Quartz, Adjunct Professor of Metaphysical Engineering and Vaguely Alarming Food Science