Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Friday, May 27, 2005

Chorizo Abortion Spackle

Since I didn't have to report for work until well after noon today, I decided to get good and loaded last night. I assembled a loyal group of chughappy ruffians and we proceeded to quaff with enthusiasm. The first can was cracked at sundown.

We spent several hours downloading music and searching out lyrics. With these tools at our disposal we sang horrible hoarsethroated karaoke to a captive band of terrified pets. We spilled upon ourselves, belched in staccato, and toasted to frivolity and merriment.

Six hours and two cases later, the inevitable occured. The genetic memories of ancestors long dead whispered from deep within my addled brain to moan a chant imploring me to hunt and kill. My sauced brain translated these gutteral urges into a modern desire: burrito time.

After failing in our search to find a shack that would deliver burritos, we methodically triangulated the locations of several establishments until we zeroed in upon one that we could walk to with minimal chances of getting arrested for public urination.

As I swayed along the sidewalk, chemistry and biology conspired within me. Beer roiled within my gut, slapping at the soft pink walls of my stomach with incessant violence. Bile foamed upon the crests, straining and grasping at my esophagus, desperate to induce heartburn that would exact a deserved revenge upon me for abusing my digestive tract with nary an acknowledgement of prudent limitations.

Stomach lining is fascinating.

Nice try, internal gastronomic nemesis. I am made of hardier stuff, and I haven't finished with you yet.

We arrived at Lazo's Tacos at 3am. I wobbled over to an empty table and lowered myself into a chair. One of my friends made it safely to the table. The other was seen using his hands to clench his asscheeks shut as he pogoed to the bathroom.

"I thought the uncontrollable shitting was supposed to occur after the burritos."

"He had two pots of coffee for breakfast and refried beans with jalapenos for lunch."

"He should rent a powerwasher and come back here tomorrow. It's the polite thing to do, I think."

This was no time to be talking about dribbling anuses. We were about to eat. When I'm sober I'm sensible enough to order Mexican food with steak or chicken in it. Solid respectable meats that produce solid respectable poops.

When I'm drunk I order chorizo. Chorizo is unlike any other meat. It glows a reddish orange color. It seeps into the rest of your food, radioactive lava slowly spreading downhill, filling every crevice, staining every surface it touches. It creeps through the lettuce, across the beans, out the tortilla, over your hands, up your arms, and into your ears. You become the Elvis of farting. Amber grease pools up in your mouth, drips from your teeth, and sprays out in a fine mist speckling formerly pristine surfaces everywhere you breathe. You become an oozing toxic beast of a person. You find yourself clipping coupons for diapers.

The chorizo you ingest is no better. As silt it settles quickly in the bottom of your gut, clogging the drain into your intestines. Intestinally it swirls like sand grit, scraping loose the ancient wads of chewing gum and stray embedded cartiledge flakes that snuck in as unidentified ingredients in the relish dog you bought at the convenient mart two years ago. The chorizo/bile muck oils down your guts so thoroughly that your resident tapeworms lose their grips and fall shocked and cold right out of your ass. You're a human noodle factory and your toilet (hopefully not your pants) becomes a habitat for the excreted eels. Your sphincter is stained as if you rubbed too much fake tan lotion on it. Fiber has nothing on chorizo.

Hymenolepis: The rat tapeworm.

I got about halfway through my burrito before I could take no more. My digestive tract had stopped complaining, now long dormant and silent in cowering fear. I felt like a real winner. What a meal. What a night!

I'm hungry. Time to go nuke the leftovers.
8:10 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


May 27, 2005 8:17 PM, Blogger Kerouaced said...

Another great Viking adventure. Great writing...I won't say it was funny though because I don't want Argus to get mad at me. hee hee

May 27, 2005 9:52 PM, Blogger EcamirG said...

i need to look into the price of a good powerwasher.

May 28, 2005 12:06 PM, Blogger The Everglades said...

I’ve never felt like I was actually in another person’s ass before. I even visualized saddling a tape worm and riding it like a bucking bronco right out of your ass. I’ve got a whole wall of whitey-tighties that I’ve retired after a night of beer shits and shady late night food binges. They served faithfully and were there to cradle what spewed forth when I lost control of my bowels. It’s all I can do to put them in a plexiglas case to pay homage to their cotton, banded memories.

May 28, 2005 3:44 PM, Blogger Mishka said...

Chorizo rocks...I love it in breakfast burritos with eggs...doesn't seem to treat me the same as you...fortunately for me (and my underwear).

May 28, 2005 8:47 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

What is that thing where people put down letters like lmao? I think it means I spit bourbon on my keyboard.

May 29, 2005 12:05 AM, Blogger Imogene_Pix said...

Is that a Phillip Morris burrito?

May 29, 2005 10:03 AM, Blogger poopie said...

Hoss said you was a hoot...Here have another beer or 12!

May 29, 2005 3:04 PM, Blogger ty bluesmith said...

yeah. mos def not funny. you need counseling in the form of a weekend on the sauce with me and ker.

May 30, 2005 9:17 AM, Blogger Wardo said...

I enjoyed this alcoholic adventure.

I wish there were more taco places in Canada. In my city, it's about a million people, there are literally only 4 places to get tacos, and none of them are within staggering distance. You're lucky you could drink a case of beer and go for an amble for some burrito.

I have no idea what chorizo's are though. From your description, I shouldn't eat them unless I'm suffering from constipation.


May 30, 2005 9:44 AM, Blogger clothosfate said...

well this is one of the nastiest pieces of writing I have read on here yet... as nasty as shitting out tapeworms can be it was also very imaginative and well written I will admit, you have style man, but to tell you the truth, I hope the girl/girls you are sleeping with either can't read or or don't have brains enough to find you on a computer because this just won't do as pillow-talk!

May 30, 2005 9:45 AM, Blogger clothosfate said...

oh, did I mention it was hilariously disgusting?

May 31, 2005 8:38 AM, Blogger Dave Morris said...

The line about clipping coupons for diapers quite literally caused a spray of fine java mist to be transferred to an otherwise clean computer monitor. You suck, I'm out of paper towels!

May 31, 2005 9:22 AM, Blogger Cindy-Lou said...

Ah yes, the siren call of chorizo. I know it well.


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