Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Now that the regular season for college football has officially come to a close, I was planning on starting a breakdown of the 50 million bowl games that will be pelvic thrusted at us this year. But the strangest thing happened on Saturday while I was out to eat at El Camino in Toledo so I figured I would share with the group. Just as I had finished watching #8 from Army publicly humiliate himself by weeping more than a black woman during a Baptist sermon, I assumed the rest of the night would be status quo and business as usual. I couldn't have been more wrong. The following is what I witnessed:
/Two men dressed in ridiculously offensive Mexican outfits with fake mustaches come crashing through the door yelling obnoxiously while blasting finger guns in the air.
Man 1: ANDALE' FAGGOTS!
Man 2: LEELEELEELEELEELEELEELEELEELEE!!!! /continues to finger guns
Hispanic Waiter Carlos: Excuse me, sirs. Is there something I can help you with? And please stop yelling like that. It's terribly offensive.
Man 1: First order of business. Drink my sperm for being such a rude twat. Second order of business. My name is El Spicko and this is my brother Los Wetback. We hail from Albuquerque and would like a table that overlooks your best Mexican snatch platter. The dirtier the pussy the better. We're also meeting family here so make sure the table is as wide as your mother's asshole.
Carlos: Please. Sir. This is a place of business and I will not be spoken to that way. Now I'll be happy to serve you and your party but you must remove the t shirts that say "Mexican Greasers Do It With Their Horses."
Los Wetback: HA! As long as you admit that they do. No? Fair enough. But the sombreros and these queer shawl things made out of rat pubes you fuckin homos wear stay.
Carlos: /sighs loudly Follow me...
/Carlos seats the two men at the largest table located in the most desolate corner of the restaurant.
El Spicko: I'm fuckin bored already. Did mom or dad text you yet?
Los Wetback: As a matter of fact they did because you're an irresponsible fart cloud. They said they would be a few minutes late because they have to go pick up Crean Pie from the dildo factory. Sounds like he was picking out his Christmas present!
El Spicko: Shit on a fuckin tit! Fuckin Crean Pie is coming? Isn't he too busy perming his pussy hair at a salon for faggots? He's such a beav, man. I'm going to force feed him dog shit when he gets here. And yes...I have dog shit with me because of moments exactly like these.
Los Wetback: Only one way to make this tolerable. HEY! BEANER!! SIX PITCHERS OF MARGARITAS AND DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE THINK ABOUT PISSING IN THESE AGAIN! WE'VE TRAINED OUR T-BUDS TO LOCATE MEXICAN PISS PLACED IN ANY BEVERAGE!
/turns to El Spicko
Now, let's get plowed on margs, stare into each other's eyes and see who loses their hard-on first. Loser gets punched in the butthole.
El Spicko: You're fuckin on!
/30 minutes later
Jack Harbaugh: Excuse me, sir. We're supposed to be meeting our boys here. Could you point us in the right direction?
Carlos: I'm assuming your boys would be the loud mouth jerks dressed as offensively as you could possibly get. We stuck them in the corner but that hasn't prevented them from driving away 80% of our business this evening.
Jack: Christ...not again. This way, everyone.
/Jack, Tom and Joani head towards the table.
Jack: Really, boys?! Really??? Now I see why your mother refused to show her face in public knowing you two degenerates would be acting like complete imbeciles. And take off those ridiculous mustaches!!
Jim and John together: Sorry, daddy.
Jim: Well loookie what we have here. Good ol' Crean Pie. Shouldn't you be somewhere doing gay shit with gay men you fuckin gaybate? I have a Christmas present for you, Captain Shit Fingers.
Tom Crean: No thanks...especially if it's a balloon full of your own piss like last year.
Jim: That was a bum's piss, actually. Fresh from an Oakland barrio. Just for you.
Tom: Regardless...I'll pass on the gift.
/Jim slowly and discreetly places the bag of dog shit back into his coat pocket.
Jim: Fine. Your loss, Shit Fingers. It was actually something good this year...
John: You know why we call him shit fingers, don't you Joani?
Joani: Not interested.
John: It's because we caught him finger slamming his own shit maker to a Brad Pitt love scene in Legends of the Fall. Sick bastard. Probably would've tore something if I hadn't showed up when I did.
Tom: FOR THE LAST TIME MY UNDERWEAR WAS RIDING UP MY ASS AND I HAD TO GET IT OUT!! JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU TWO?!
John: Suuuuuuuuuuure, Crean Pie. And I didn't catch Jim rubbing mom's period underwear all over his scarlet peaches last week.
Jack: What did you just say??
Jim: THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO STAY BETWEEN US!!! I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!!!!!!
/A fight erupts at the table between Jim and John. Eventually it's broken up by the wait staff and the Harbaugh family is asked to leave.
Carlos: Obviously none of you are welcome back at this establishment in the future and you have roughly 10 seconds to vacate the premises before I call the police.
John: I call your bluff, Brown Town. All the workers here are illegal immigrants anyway. You'd be fucking yourself over by calling the cops. The only legal Mexicans in America are Johnny Depp and Lou Diamond Phillips. Everyone knows that.
Jim: Fuckin A right, Mexifaggot. Fine. We were leaving anyway. It's way too Mexicanny in here for our taste. We'll just start going to the China Dragon where they don't even know we're making fun of them. By the way...I farted in all the taco meat while you guys weren't looking. PEACE OUT, FUCKERS!!
Jack: I'm really sorry. Here's $300. I hope that covers some of what happened here tonight.
Carlos: Not even close. Now get the fuck out of here.
At that point the entire family left but not before John puked in the plants on his way out. Just when I never thought I would see the HarBRAHs ever again, they pop up for a memorable Christmas dinner at El Camino. Good thing there's three of these places in Toledo because I'm pretty sure they'll never be allowed back at the one on Dussell Drive. But in the meantime, keep your eyes open...you never know where these fuckers will show up next.