My Love for a Whale's Vagina

I recently returned to the town where I became a man. (Pause for Emphasis)

(I left some blank space for dramatic effect too). It's such a memorable time when you move away from home for the first time, learn to ignore bills that come in the mail, use your tuition money for food and booze, read textbooks over your classmates shoulders, wake up whenever you feel like it..... wait a second, ok, apparently my growth to manhood is not yet complete. Where was I? Ahh yes, returning to San Diego, greatest city in the history of mankind. Discovered by the Germans in 1904 - they named it San Diego - which of course, in German means, a Whale's Vagina. But don't take my word for it, who better to trust than Ron Burgundy?


Well, I hadn't been to a Whale's Vagina in a couple of years, and turns out - I REALLY missed it. I was there for my good friends, Ross and Channel's wedding, and met up with about 30 of my old college buddies. It was a freakin' blast. I ate Carne Asada Fries three times in 48 hours and if any of you know me, you'll know that I frequently ask friends to bring me Carne Asada Fries if they're coming from San Diego. (Note: No one has yet to take me up on the offer, probably because they think I'm joking, but I would never joke about something as serious as Carne Asada Fries. I love them.) Smothered in succulent, tender morsels of Carne Asada, topped with guacamole, sour cream, and gobs of heart-stopping cheese, I live to pour red salsa like only my three favorite Mexicans know how to make - Sr. Cotixan, Sr. Roberto, y Sr. Ramon. (Impressed with my 'y'? Don't forget, I took Spanish 1, three times in high school.)

Besides my Carne Asada Fries comas, a side note was the wedding that got in the way of eating my fries. I love those guys and gals I went to college with, it was like a reunion. And everytime I'd come out of my alochol-induced blackouts, it'd be like a reunion all over again. I avoided a near disaster when I almost dropped the groom's mom on her head while dancing. Luckily the table was there to cushion our fall. We had an awkward laugh about it during Sunday brunch - ahhh, good times.

After brunch, we headed over to Pacific Beach and hung out all day and hit balls back and forth using a paddle. I'm not sure what the game is called, but me and my friend Bryce really sucked. Of course we were drinking some weird concoction of booze in a thermos all day. I swear, we hit the same girl like 8 times with that red ball. Of course, it's always a great first line when you can go up to someone and say, "I'm sorry I keep hitting you with my balls."

Man, I really, REALLY didn't grow up.

Sincerely,
Kevin L.
The Silicon Valley Bachelor

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2 comments :

  1. isn't it called paddle ball? or am i wrong?

    dude you should have posted this on UM. you crack me up!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I was going to post to UM, but I had a lot of non-food related story telling!

    I can totally just write a post about Carne Asada Fries, if you'd like. And yes, it is paddle ball that I suck at!

    ReplyDelete

 
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