In my lifetime I've tasted pork that was prepared in a wide variety of recipes, but this afternoon when I entered the Indian Mart down the road from the Motel I'm staying at, I vomited a little in my mouth. The foul smell could only be described as a combination of human feces, freshly harvested boar organs and boiled rotten ostrich eggs. I was disgusted, but intrigued at the same time. I wanted to taste this foul batch of sausage not just to discover whether or not its taste reflects the wretched stench, but to better understand the Indian culture that surrounds me. However, that never panned out. When I asked the Indian man for a taste, he attempted to stab me with a fork.
What happened next:
As I was escaping his cardboard box resembling excuse for a store, I bumped in to a woman that looked a lot like Julia Roberts lips. She was probably screening the parking lot, searching for a car she could siphon gas from without a hose. She initiated conversation:
WOMAN
What time is it?
ME
Time for you to get lip-O suction.
My conversations with ugly girls don't often last longer than sex with a hot girl. It doesn't really matter, she was probably just going to purchase some condoms for a big night with her vegetables. I don't think the fact that my standards are insanely high should detour women from sending me marriage proposals or nude photos. Just make sure you're really hot, otherwise I'll just post your pictures online (after editing them excessively, of course).
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