Remember those kids in high school who would randomly wear their clothes backwards one day as some sort of sad protest against prom or something? They were the kind of nerds who didn’t try to disappear into the background but would instead call jocks “homo erectus” right to their face about two seconds prior to being tied up with their own 25 foot Dr. Who scarf and stuffed into a book bag. These are the same people who are now charging you $500 to eat menus and inhale walnut air. The nerds have won.
Sorry, I know this makes me an “old man” who “hates fun” but I find molecular gastronomy to be insufferable and fucking annoying. I honestly think I would rather *GULP* go to dinner at Guy Fieri’s house than have some asshole sell me a frozen raisin that was aged for two weeks in a room with a stereo playing nothing but Belle and Sebastian.
Fuck you and your stupid edible menu. Oh my GOD, I relate to nothing!
People, we have lived in the dark long enough. It is time for us to rise up, cast off our blinders and ask the difficult questions. What the fuck is the difference between the Cajun restaurant and the Asian restaurant at your local mall food court?
Are we really so gullible that a simple name change can influence our taste buds so easily? Stop by “Wok and Roll” and order the glazed chicken with rice and tell me it’s any different the bourbon chicken with rice at “Ben Yay’s Cajun Shack.” The wool is firmly over our eyes and that wool is soaked in glazed meat! They are serving the exact same menu, WAKE UP YOU IDIOTS!
And while you’re at it Casian restaurant workers, can you please stop forcing glazed meat on a toothpick in my face while I walk by on my way to “The Great Potato Catastrophe?” I don’t want your ethnically ambiguous mystery meat jabbed into my eyes if it’s OK with you.
Just when you thought the “singing bass” phenomenon of 1998 that swept its way through every trailer park in America had finally gone away.
Recently I received a Bed Bath & Beyond catalog in the mail proudly selling this HILARIOUS singing fish and the ad read “From the hit McDonald’s Commercial.” I can already hear Michael Ian Black’s snarky comments about this “hit commercial” on I Love The 2010s.
But why go all the way to Bed Bath & Beyond when you can pick this gem up at the local drug store during your weekly visit for Slim Jims, diarrhea medicine and cigarettes?
Please explain to me why a fish would be irate that someone stole his fish sandwich. Why the fuck is a fish eating a fish sandwich in the first place? Or is the Filet-O-Fish he is lamenting over actually one of his family members who could not escape McDonald’s fishing boats? Is this actually a tragic song sung by a grieving fish fighting to retrieve the corpse of his dead mother? Is the real tragedy that this poor fish is desperately appealing to any shred of humanity left in our souls to help with his quest to give his mother a proper burial but all we do is laugh and sing along like a bunch of masturbating monkeys? And most importantly, what could this “bonus track” possibly be? AND most importantly-er, why do I ever leave the house?
At least this fish lip-syncs better those Celtic Thunder dick heads.
Can all you douchebag chefs stop “reinventing” food that is already perfect?
There simply is no way to make the classic, basic cheeseburger better so stopping piling random shit all over it and telling me it’s better. This trend of trying to make greasy fast food into an expensive gourmet meal is lame. Not only do gourmet burgers not taste as good, they are always so tall you have to unhinge your jaw like a fucking python to take a bite. And stop making desserts with Cap’n Crunch crumbs. Ha ha ha (slow clap) we get it, you’re whimsical.
Stop thinking you are so talented that you can take something as amazing as a pancake or a cheeseburger and make it more awesome’er. You can’t. You can’t and your restaurant has a dumb name and is filled with douche wads
My opinions are flawless, just like cheap burgers.
Well, I guess it’s time to write about these crimes against humanity because there is a song sweeping the nation all about them. Who am I kidding? I’m using the fact that there is this stupid song as an excuse to put very little effort into this. LEAVE ME ALONE, I’M BUSY!
The truth is that I really do hate these fast food combo restaurants. How can I possibly decide between Taco Bell diarrhea or E. Coli from the Pizza Hut salad bar? I won’t choose so don’t ask!
Now, let’s talk about this Pizza Hut and Taco Bell song by Das Racist. I know nothing about this duo, but they scream New York ironic hipster to me. You know what really makes me mad about this song? I fucking LIKE it! I deserve to have my ears removed for tolerating this shit.
Hey Donald, if your hot dogs are so fucking famous why I have I never heard of them? How exactly are these hole-in-the-wall joints measuring fame? Are we talking Brad Pitt famous or Pauly Shore famous?
I especially like it when you drive by a shitty restaurant that boasts something like “try our world famous chili.” I imagine a family sitting around the dinner table in Egypt talking about how one day they would like to travel half way around the globe to America so they can see the Statue of Liberty, the Grand Canyon, the Hollywood sign and finally have a bowl of that God damn chili from “Dave’s Gyros and Burger Palace #2” they grew up hearing about. You can barely open an Egyptian newspaper or turn on “Good Morning Cairo” without hearing at least one story about Dave’s world-famous chili.
We get it, you’re awesome, you can eat a giant cheeseburger in front of a crowd of none. You have certainly earned the right to have your Polaroid up on the wall of sadness, next to the rest of the fat underachievers. What’s wrong, mommy and daddy didn’t buy you that BMX bike you always wanted? Were you stuck riding that girlie, yellow Schwinn Stingray to school while the rest of your friends had kickass, diamond frame dirt bikes? Did you try to camouflage your gay bike to look more BMX with a new seat, pads and a racing number? Did you NEVER get that BMX bike even though your parents could have totally afforded it because your dad was an international banker and your mom worked part-time in a gourmet cooking store and you lived in a nice middle-class home in a nice community? Are you now almost 40 years old but you toy with the idea of buying a diamond frame BMX bike just so you can ride it to your dad’s condo in Miami where you will pedal in circles on the sidewalk screaming “How you like me now old man? Look at your little BMXer now Daddy!”
Why is it when I order spaghetti, penne or gnocchi in an Italian restaurant, they give me a bowl the size of an above-ground pool, but when I order ravioli I am handed a plate so void of food I think I might be part of a hilarious hidden-camera prank show? Remind me again why these 4 raviolis are more expensive than a bathtub full of noodles? I’m hungry god damn it, now go back into that kitchen and get me some more ravi-fucking-oli!
