Reasons Why I’m Not Ramadanning:
- Sandwiches.
- Sammiches.
- Sangwidges.
- Half-a-sandwiches that come with soup.
- Soup just by itself, especially with a crusty bread for dipping.
- Popcorn.
- Chicken.
- Popcorn chicken.
- Coke from the fountain drank (drinken? drunked?) with a McDonald’s straw.
- Orange Crush in a glass bottle.
- The creamed spinach at swanky steak places that’s, like, 90% butter.
- The tomato gravy Paul Sorvino made in Goodfellas.
- Arnold Palmers.
- Shirley Temples.
- Errol Flynns. (Unaged scotch with a dash of gonorrhea.)
- A sizzling-hot shrimp fresh off the hibachi, expertly spatula-tossed into my mouth by a Guatemalan guy pretending to be a Japanese guy at Benihana.
- Food truck tacos.
- Shitty restaurant tacos.
- High-falutin’ joint tacos.
- Man, I love tacos.
- Blueberry crumble cake.
- The fake crab meat in salad bars, which I will steal and eat like an animal every time I see.
- Magic Shell.
- The steak-cut fries you get at delicatessens.
- Swedish Fish.
- Norwegian Fish. (Same thing as Swedish Fish, but with a higher suicide rate.)
- Coffee with so much French Vanilla poison and sugar in it that other grown men retch from the smell. (Sadly true.)
- Fried Oreos, but only at a fair or some other contextually appropriate place.
- If you eat a Fried Oreo on a Tuesday in October while watching cat videos on your computer, then you should feel shame.
- Pizza, as long as it doesn’t have any bullshit toppings on it.
- You know who I’m talking to.
- Stop putting giant onions on your pizza.
- There’s already onions.
- Paul Sorvino sliced them into the tomato gravy.
- Pizza doesn’t need giant onions on it.
- Japanese people put corn on their pizza, and that makes me feel less guilty about Hiroshima.
- The clams oregenata from Forlini’s on Baxter Street all the way downtown in Manhattan.
- The pork dumplings from Mandoo on 32nd Street, also Manhattan.
- The margaritas and cocaine at El Compadre on Santa Monica Boulevard.
- Tell you the truth: any God that doesn’t want to spend an afternoon at El Compadre drinking margaritas and doing lines is no God of mine.
- Amen.
“Japanese people put corn on their pizza, and that makes me feel less guilty about Hiroshima.” GOODBYE
DO NOT GO SWAGGIE MAGGIE
my mom just yelled upstairs to me because she thought I was having a panic attack but NO
I WAS JUST SCREECHING BECAUSE OF THIS
hey so……….. *slides you $13 and this time a picture of Bill Clinton* I’ll stay if u give me that youtube channel???? hmmmm???????????????
NOTHING
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IWmLU6maYMA/VVDoHIT3KGI/AAAAAAAADYA/aM_SxyEdbE8/w426-h237/15%2B-%2B1
bye hoe
U R TEH HO BAI
pls kno im joking fam ur the best
Error Flynn……Holy flying fuck that’s funny. I will finish reading when I stop crying
To continue with the the gustatory them: Errol Flynn was unsavory as fuck.
From what I’ve read he really was
I wouldn’t ask him to share his cocaine either
Then, maybe: Fatty Arbuckle Tacos.
Fatty was framed.
Don’t Google errol flynn and cocaine
Complete guess: He put it in his dick, didn’t he?
Nope. *TWIST!* He put it in your dick.
https://media0.giphy.com/media/4KszoHlOkfVsc/200.gif
Wolof Burger. Chez Joe, Dakar.