Things were going great until today, when I blew it again.
This time it was not on purpose, at least. I met some friends at a Mexican restaurant to have a few beers and sing a few sea shanties and one of my buddies ordered a Queso Diablo dip for chips. He offered me some, and I glanced at the menu to see if it fit within the realms of my Lenten discipline. The menu stated that Queso Diablo chip dip was:
"A delicious blend of beans, cheese, gypsy tears, and chili con carne".
Now then, boys and girls, I reckon that for many of you a little alarm bell has just gone off in your head, as carne = meat. But I don't speak Spanish. Dora the Explorer wasn't around when I was a kid. All we had growing up was Sammy the Slav. If the menu had stated that Queso Diablo chip dip was:
Укусна мешавина пасуља, сира, циганских суза, и месо
everything would have been okay. As it was, in my ignorance, I loaded up a chip and took a bite.
My first thought was "By the beard of Xerxes! This dip is delicious." My second thought was "Son of a bitch it has happened again".
I later learned that Queso Diablo translates to Devil Cheese. I am thinking that might not be a coincidence. I;m sure I will be eating a great deal of it after I die and am consigned to the pit.
Oh, and that tattoo? It was of John Churchill giving Barbara Palmer, 1st Duchess of Cleveland, the time of her life while Kermit the Frog watches on secretly with barely concealed delight as Beaker desperately tries to repair the time machine before things get truly out of hand. You think you know a guy. Though you know, that could have happened and as long as Kermit and Beaker told no one and did nothing to alter the course of history, you and I would never know about it.
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