A completely hypothetical hookup story that I’m only writing about because the Rican and I are lame and never go out and do anything on Saturday night hence I’m living vicariously through my own rambles
It’s come to my attention that perhaps I have too much paprika. (Ok one of those bottles is thyme, but I put it in there so that you would be affected in the same way I was when I perused through my very cramped spice cabinet this evening, and thought, “Hey, really who has this much paprika?”)
What does this say about someone? We all know that a sneaky peak in the medicine cabinet can reveal whether or not it was a good idea to take home the smelly dude drinking the Pabst in the back corner. (I mean, he said he wasn’t homeless and that was good enough for me.) In fact I’m an advocate of the sneaky peak. Cause while sweet drunken lips may be deceitful, Valtrex never lies.
But what, pray tell, does it say about someone whose spice cabinet is overloaded with a spice usually found in Goulash? I mean, you’re in a bar, you meet some drunk chick (me) who’s doing a lot of drunken rambling on and on about herself (most definitely me) and one cab ride to her apartment and a sneaky peak later you discover an abundance of the spice in question (Yep. Me again.) First you may think, “What do I know about paprika? Oh, Crackberry, Wikapedia me!”* And pull out your blue little friend for an answer. (At which point I hope you stick a ballpoint pen through your balls for saying something so stupid.)
After a quick scroll down of the page (if you can still read since you were drunk enough to take me home) you’ll learn that paprika is a spice most extensively used in Hungary. **
You may have stray thoughts like, “I’ve always thought the people in Hungary should go to Turkey. Ha ha. Or how come they named an entire country after a side effect of getting high?” But I assure you, please keep these overwhelmingly asinine thoughts to yourself. They may have that discovering-Valtrex-in-the-medicine-cabinet effect on me and send me out the door. Except for, shit. This is my apartment. Godamnit, who’s the idiot now?
After all this inconclusive pondering, you may hear my footsteps and thus have to shut the cabinet and pretend you weren’t just going through my stuff or surfing the web. All before you were able to come to a resolution about what paprika is or what it means if someone has so much of it. In this brief period you may have only had time to jump to some conclusions like, A) I’m a Hungarian immigrant B) I might suggest getting kinky with goulash or C) Not that you’re gay or anything, but you found David Hasselhof to be much more attractive in Nightrider than in Baywatch. Well, my friend (and potential questionable hookup) if you found David to be less tasty when surrounded by a throng of perfect bodied females on a California beach, then may I suggest this: take one of my paprika bottles and spice him up by dumping four tablespoons down his hairy chest. I’ve sure got plenty to spare.
*No, I was not high when I wrote this.
**And yes, that is my paprika.