Posted on 11/16/2010 11:43:32 AM PST by La Lydia
Hilarious! The ultimate movie to see with a black audience.
Well then, I recommend you try out StuffBlackPeopleDontLike.com.
It is humorous, entertaining, sad and infuriating all at once.
Do people actually write like this professionally?
Yuppy gauche.
Got stuck one day at the edge of yuppydom in a plastic town called Calistoga, just north of the left armpit of yuppy California wine country in Napa Valley.
The joint had a string of snotty bars and restaurants upwind from the smelly mountain goats and hippys inhabiting the Mayacamas Mts. to the north. We had a choice of eating Art Deco chic blah from a false front greasey spoon or what looked like a normal American eatery featuring sit-down something-or-other.
We picked the 1950’s rah-rah America joint because the waitresses weren’t sporting hairy armpits or unshaven beards. We sat down and ordered the pizza.
Waitress: How many do you want?
Me: Huh?
The waitress explained they were about the size of silver dollar flapjacks you get for the kiddy meal at Knotsberry Farm. I knew we were in trouble so I ordered just one but asked for an extra carafe of snob California wine to kill the taste of the upcoming swill. (The carafe was the size of a baby bottle.) I asked how many babies drank there and could we get a nipple? She frowned and asked what flavor of goat cheese we’d like on the pizza.
I told her skip the damn goat and pile on the pepperoni, mushrooms and Italian sausage. She told me in certain terms that the avacado on the pizza didn’t taste like pepperoni, but the fava beans had a hint of spicyness.
Fava beans, if you don’t know, are poisoness and are used in other parts of the world to kill invading armies. I told her to pass the beans to the bum panhandling outside the door and asked for anchovies instead.
We were informed that the chef was a vegetarian, or vegetable - don’t remember which, and he refused to kill any living thing, unless somebody called his food garbage. I had parked the car a mile away and knew I couldn’t get to the shotgun quickly, so we ordered the “Chef’s Special Pizza.”
I knew I had just murdered myself, because I’m sure the chef would throw everything on that was festering from last week.
Sure enough. The pizza arived two hours later - I figured he ran around the backyard picking up dead scorpions and rattlesnakes.
It was piled with things unrecognized by modern taxonomy. It had the thickness and smell of skunk roadkill that was baked to annoyance on an anthill at high noon. There was a goat outside licking its ________ and knew where the cheese came from. Something tried to crawl off the crust but I was fast and got the sucker with my switchblade. The cook was watching and gave me a snarl, so I gave him a thumbs up and he went back to sawing limbs off dead Manzinata bushes for the salad bar.
You can keep the white man’s yuppy food. Same for the book. Stopped for a Big Mac and fries so the day ended fine.
That sounds like the MOST hideous pizza on the planet. Fava beans? Food for starving Italian peasants. I am so with you pepperoni-mushrooms-sausage-wise. And I can’t bear goat cheese.
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