WHO’S YOUR PAPAYA SALSA?

January 28, 2016
Who's your papa?  Some guy I hope to never meet.

Who’s your papa? Some guy I hope to never meet.

I have never quite gotten the expression, “Who’s your daddy?”  This phrase is usually uttered by some machismo douche-asaurus banging some bar skank with a tramp stamp tattoo and daddy issues.  I supposed that is appropriate considering she is looking for a father figure and he is fulfilling a stereotype.  But think about it for a moment.  Who wants to fantasize about banging a family member?  Last I checked incest is lower on the evolutionary scale than bestiality.  Sure I fantasize about banging someone else’s family members, but that is above the board and legal.  I’m more likely to grunt in the throes of wanton lust, “Who’s your daddy’s favorite employee?”  Bob, if you’re reading this, this is purely hypothetical and I did not engage in illicit fornication in your boathouse while wearing your prized captain’s hat.  I also have no idea where those stains on the wall came from.  But I do know where that papaya salsa that you and your delightfully innocent daughter are enjoying. Handcrafted by the same hands that help run your empire.  You’re welcome.  Do you mind if I borrow Rochelle for sec?  I need her help tossing this salad. Read the rest of this entry »


I FEEL YA TEQUILA

August 14, 2015

Too hot to handle, Too cold to hold. They call this an aphrodisiac, Now go and be bold!

I feel ya! Now feel me. Go on. Reach out and take hold. Wondering what that hot sensation is? It’s my caliente Latin vibe making your brow sweat, heart race, and loins go pitter-patter. Who says boozy drinks can only be sweet, sour, or bloody boring? A pox on thy lame house! How about a spicy alcoholic beverage that is sure to prime them for the night’s inevitable conclusion? That, my friends, is taking the initiative. Your date will never accuse you of having an apologetic palette. Now be sure to feel them as they feel ya tequila. Read the rest of this entry »


MUY MACHO PAPAYA GAZPACHO

July 7, 2015

Sweet, spicy, totally macho.

I know what you’re thinking. How could a cold fruity summer soup be so macho? I’m glad you asked. The flavors don’t dance delicately like a ballerina upon your tongue. Fuck no! They river-dance to speed metal all over that tongue of yours with more flavors than you can shake your genitals at. Walls will bust open like the Kool-Aid Man’s back for revenge. Your date won’t wait for permission to ravish you. Mediterranean nymphs shan’t flutter, but grind into your ears with rubber mini-skirts. Does that answer your question? Read the rest of this entry »


WANNA HAVANA? SALAD

November 19, 2014

Do I wanna? You damn skippy!

Do I wanna Havana? It’s been a dream of mine since I was a small child. Seriously, I picture myself in the long long ago era of Havana’s heyday drinking mojitos on the street and puffing on fat cigars. Cuban girls, a preferred pastime of mine, my version of baseball, bring out the happy happy in me. So yes, absolutely I wanna Havana. Too bad I’m an American with that 50 year-old embargo cock-blocking my Havana cabana-existence. So I must resort to other means. Namely serving Cuban style avocado salad to the Cuban girls and hoping to not piss off Castro brothers in the process. Read the rest of this entry »


CHILE RELLENO RESISTANCE

May 18, 2010

Is your meal Mexican or Mexican't?

Mexican food brings a smile to all but the most bitter, tasteless, and/or racist. It’s comfort food, like a big hug when you’re lazy, depressed, or plain happy. Read the rest of this entry »