'Dirty Kid' photo by daily sunny
HARD SHELL TACOS
Imagine with me: You have a delicious taco in your hand. You lift it to your face and savor its enticing aroma. The beef glistens with a juicy promise. Your mouth opens. Just enough to take it in. You bite down, eyes rolling into the back of your head, mind lurching into the white-hot oblivion of a Sante Fe ecstasy. But then…
The taco shell breaks, and no amount of slightly thrusting your head forward, and quickly shrugging your shoulders is gonna save you. You’re completely fucked. You shirt is fucked. Your recently purchased Khakis are fucked. And when you manage to pick it up off the car seat and shove it back into your mouth because no one is watching, you KNOW there is gonna be hair on it. And it will be fucked.
Don’t nobody like a hairy taco.
Welcome to the fucked up world of hard shell tacos.
They will ruin your clothes. They will stab you in the roof of your mouth and gums. They will destroy everything you love, and leave you just as broken.
How many times, when setting out to bite into a hard shell taco have you had it break all the way down the middle, spilling out the entirety of it’s contents onto your plate, lap, or Stepdad’s ass? The answer may shock you…
“Ooooh greeeeaaat! Another taco ruined!” you shout as you throw the remains on the floor.
Next thing you know, patches – your lovable German Shepherd – comes bounding into the room, loses his footing, and slides his soft under-belly across the discarded taco shards, disemboweling him in front of the entire family. But hey, you like tacos.
The bad news is that taco salads are just as bad. The good news is that someone made a pre-broken hard shell taco that is delicious, and won’t let you down – they call it Nachos.
FUCK YOU SLOPPY JOES!
If you’re giving me something sloppy, it better be a blowjob, a drunk, or an X-Files reboot. I mean come on! “Sloppy” is literally part of the name?!
“Hmm, what do you feel like eating tonight honey?”
“I’m not sure, but I know I want it to be sloppy and frustrating.”
“I’ll go put some lingerie on.”
And I know what you’re thinking: “But Raffy my love, sloppy Joes are for kids!” To which I’d have to reply: difficulty eating does not equal “fun”. I mean seriously, when was the last time you voluntarily used chopsticks?
(Btw, if you’re that person in the group who always declares that everyone HAS to use chopsticks because it’s Asian food, when really you just want to inconvenience everyone else to make them see how amazing you are at using them so you can feel superior to everyone who normally eats with the utensils specific to their culture, FUCK YOU TOO – you’re like, the sloppy Joe of humans.)
The point is, there is no pleasure to be obtained from the difficulty in eating a Joe, or any food for that matter. Eating should be easy, just like wiping your ass should be easy. Maybe next time you should try wiping your ass with your non-dominant hand and tell us how fun it is. I bet it’ll be sloppy!
What are we talking about? Oh yeah, your kid, and what you’re doing to them when you give them Sloppy Joes…
So your child, essentially a Bonobo you slapped into some overalls, is not only at the will of it’s apparent biological impulse to throw handfuls of beef around a dining room, but you’re gonna encourage it by serving it a dish whose name itself admonishes him or her to abandon all tact, and get sloppy. And please, be honest here for a second, you are not gonna be happy when they actually get sloppy with it. #mixedSignals
~Moral of the story~If you’ve never met a Joe you didn’t slop – please stop.
Also get tested for Gonorrhea.
Look, I’m sorry, but Spaghetti is a filthy, impractical mess that needs to be destroyed—I don’t care if Eminem’s Mom made it. It’s literally impossible to get to it before the noodles get cold and even if you could, you’d still have to contend with the fact that Spaghetti noodles are twenty feet long.
Who the fuck was this designed for, Aardvark people?
Here’s how it goes: you try to spin it on your fork, watch helplessly as the noodles keep flopping over, try some more, finally get it close, try to stick it into your mouth before the whole thing unravels, and then sit there with food hanging out of your mouth like a total asshole.
And what do you do at that point? Well first, you smirk like a buffoon at everyone else at the table, in a look that you think means “Oopsie!”, but is actually a passive “Fuckin’ Spaghetti am I right?” And now that I’m thinking about it, this is usually followed up with a “The spaghetti is really good!” a sentiment which everyone painfully regurgitates to the host in consolation because deep down, everyone realizes spaghetti is homemade garbage.
And why do we always say it tastes good after one of these spaghetti feeding mishaps? Are we really saying “The spaghetti tastes good, DESPITE being a train wreck on a plate?” I digress.
Spaghetti hanging out of your mouth. You have three options:
First, you can bite through the thirty feet of noodles, get sauce on your lips, and let them drop onto your plate, like some ironic pantomime of what will be happening to them 12 hours later on your business end.
Or second, you can slurp them into your mouth like some disgusting sauce covered hose vacuum. This will also result in an annoying “spurt” of sauce at the end of the forty foot long noodle, that you will feel on your neck, which is gross. Oh yeah, your recently purchased replacement Khakis? FUCKED.
Look, eating is already a pretty gross process when it comes down to it, so the last thing we need are foods that make the process even worse. Let’s all just promise never to make these foods again, and I’ll never type “a juicy promise” again.
And THAT is a juicy promise!