White People Eating Ethnic Food

• 2012-08-10

  

  If a glass of skim milk came to life, became mildly myopic and developed a penchant for Mexican food, then you’re looking at it. I don’t know which is blander - this guy or that pile of refried beans. Only one of those will taste better with salsa.

• 2012-08-08

  

  “Hey Travis, did you see on Twitter - the Kogi BBQ truck is gonna be rollin’ through Venice Beach! Not too far from your sweet pad, bro!”

  “Jeah!*”

  “Don’t forget your digital camera, bro - we need to take taco pics for our food blog.”

  “Yeah, brah - I got the batteries charging right now! I’ll gas up my Jeep Cherokee and head on out!”

  “Let me throw on my Tau Kappa Epsilon sweaties and meet you there, dog!”

  I hope another earthquake hits Los Angeles, and the epicenter is wherever these assholes are standing. Strike them from the earth! (Nobody else should be hurt, of course, because I am not a monster.)

  *Nod to Ryan Lochte because he definitely looks like the sort of asshole who’d wait on line for a Korean-Mexican fusion taco (you may interpret that as you wish).

• →

  

  Ramen: from venerable Japanese cuisine to American college dorm room staple and back again. In New York City, white people wait up to two hours to eat the holiest of noodles at David Chang’s Momofuku or down the block at Ippudo. But not these kids. Oh no, they had to one up everyone by getting on a plane and flying twenty-something hours to Japan. Don’t you just want to biff the foreheads of these three corn-fed, midwestern twenty-two year olds who recently graduated from some no name university with bullshit degrees in “Asian Studies” and “English Literature?” You know what these assholes did for four years on their parents’ hard earned dollars? Listened to bad metal, drank Milwaukee’s Beast and smoked weed while going over what they bought earlier that day at the nearest mall’s Hot Topic. What makes these human atrocities even more unbearable is that upon their return to the United States, they’ll preface every conversation with, “Well, you know, the time I was in Japan…” 

  Check out that future “information technology administrator”/serial killer still living in his mom’s basement throwing devil horns and tell me: is this how you want your future? If there is a god out there, their flight back will be intercepted by Mothra who will crush their milky bones to pearl powder. We can only pray.

• 2012-08-07

  

  Have you ever seen a turd smile? 

  Here we have some total nerd wearing an unflattering shirt worn just so to expose his righteous chest hair. Do I have something against chest hair? I do if you’re clutching an uneaten silver tureen of phaal curry like it’s an Olympic medal. Hey, Forrest Dump - anyone can order this dish. Finish it and then we’ll talk.

  Often regarded as “the spiciest curry known to man” by assholes who watch “Man vs Food,” Adam Richman’s study in gluttony, excess and why Americans are terrible, greedy people, phaal curry is available at New York City’s Brick Lane Curry House. It’s located on a street nicknamed “Curry Row,” so you can guess what sort of restaurants populate the block. If you were expecting a cramped storefront jammed with Christmas lights, think again. Brick Lane is a fancy joint! You couldn’t tell by the trompe l’oeil marble behind this grinning turd’s head? Well, it is, and if you weren’t sure before, you’ll know when you receive the bill. Twenty bucks for one entree? I thought Indian food was supposed to be cheap!

  You know those smug jerks who brag about their spice tolerance? They’re the same people who bandy about the term “Scoville units” and think it makes them sound cool. They wear chili pepper patterned Zumbas, and they definitely keep a tub or two of Tucks Medicated Pads next to the toilet. You don’t want to hang out with these people. They are up there with “THE WORST PEOPLE ON THE PLANET” next to folks who go to Ren Faires and walk around eating giant turkey legs while wearing chain mail pants. They think we are impressed by their ability to swallow habanero peppers after two bites. We’re not. We laugh at them when they chop chilis and neglect to wash their hands and then go to rub their eyes or touch their genitals. We hate them with the passion of a thousand fiery STDs or just one ghost chili. 

  Don’t be this guy.

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  Oh look, Madison, Tyler and Gwyneth are having a dinner party! Guess what they’re serving. Yup - everyone’s favorite ethnic cuisine: Japanese! White people sure do love Japanese food, probably because of how they perceive Japanese culture: neat, tidy and modern, like their economical compact cars and fancy butt-washing toilets. You ever sit on one of those and hit every button simultaneously? Until you do, you haven’t lived. Kind of like eating sushi.

  Check out how precious the sushi is! It’s so fresh it glistens and it literally melts in your mouth! Newsflash, people: when writing about sushi - which, incidentally, doesn’t actually reference the raw fish but the rice - using words like “fresh,” “glistening” or “literally melts in your mouth” means you are a terrible human being who probably posts reviews on Yelp. Probably? No, definitely. 

  I bet these people dunk their sushi into soy sauce rice side down, and think “Arigato gozaimasu” means “The valet is here now with your late model BMW parked outside.” Fuck you times a thousand, Gwyneth. Can’t you drive a hoop d like the rest of us?

  Don’t even get me started on the poor chopsticks technique old Madison is employing here. Homegirl should stick to giving the FedEx man toothy blow jobs while her stockbroker husband is snorting their 401K up his nose and diddling his assistant. It’s just the law of life, man.

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  Look at this asshole. I mean, just look at him. Not only is he an Oakland A’s fan as demonstrated by his poor sartorial choice (meaning he probably likes Jose Canseco, which relegates him to “intellectually challenged”) but he’s also eating Chinese food. White people! They think they can do anything, like come into China, take over their drug production, take over their islands and take over their women. Colonizing bastards. It’s all I can do to stop myself from jamming chopsticks down his smug throat. Kung POW! How you like me now?