Tuesday, July 14, 2009

The Philly Taco

The sole purpose of this blog is to exhibit my massive coolness and that of some native Philadelphians. Read on and enjoy, and if you don't enjoy it, then fuck you, you must be a Democrat.

I recently traveled to Philadelphia, where I indulged in a delicacy that we will refer to as the SSC(South Street Challenge) or the Philly Taco. Frankly, it can be referred to as both, but the only real title it should have is ooey fucking goodness, exploding with flavor that will inevitably put you in a food coma the like of which you have never seen before.

Now I have fallen in love a few times. I am married, I have a kid, and I have another on the way. But never have I fallen so hard over food. I entered into Lorenzo's fully aware of what challenge lay ahead of me, but I was soon to find out that I had no idea how vigorous an assault my taste buds were about to experience. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start back at the beginning.

A week before I was due to arrive, I contacted a friend, "Fluffy". I informed him that I would be in his hometown of Philly, and that he should try to be there as well. Fluffy decided he was going to be there as well. Sometime after we both made travel plans, Fluffy's friend, "The Democrat" decided to introduce us to the SSC. She described it as a Jim's Cheesesteak wrapped inside a Lorenzo's pizza slice. Never one to back down from a challenge, I believe my response was, "Fuck it, I'll try anything once." Fluffy quickly agreed to the challenge as well, and the date was set. Sunday, July 5th, we were going to complete the SSC. I did a little research in advance and was saddened to only find one article concerning this feat. Undeterred, I began to tell everyone within earshot of the challenge I was about to attempt.

I flew into Philly on Sun, and while waiting for my rental car, I received 3 or 4 phone calls from Fluffy, who was screaming at The Democrat because he couldn't find parking and because she took the long route to Jim's. Already realizing that the only way this night was going to end was with alcohol, and memorable pictures, I saddled in and began mentally preparing myself for the event that lay ahead.

I arrived at Jim's 30 minutes later to find that "Captain Iran" and "Yellow Shirt Guy"(I know your real name, but I don't have a cool nickname for you, sorry) were already inside of Jim's acquiring the first half of our feast. Fluffy, who is half cocked on wine already, decides to call Captain Iran multiple times, and scream into the phone, and then question the people in the line as to why they are staring at him like a maniac when all he is doing is yelling profanities into the phone at the top of his lungs.

After Captain Iran and Yellow Shirt Guy finish the purchase of Jim's Whiz With's, we make the trek to Lorenzo's to find a line that wraps out to the door. Fluffy is pissed and begins swearing and busting ass on The Democrat. After 20 minutes of waiting in line, we reach the front and order the pizza slices. We immediately head to a room in the back of the pizza shop and begin to prepare for our feat much like a professional athlete prepares for the Super Bowl or the World Series. Imagine the scene, 4 guys are stretching out their abdomen's, giving each other chest pumps, and in general, making a shit ton of noise while everyone in line stares at them as if they were capuchins in a cage at the Philly Zoo.

We each open the box of pizza, and I decide to set the tone by slapping my cheesesteak right in the middle of my pizza and making it into a taco. Fluffy suggests that maybe we should wrap it like a burrito, to which I immediately call him a dumb ass, French loving Democrat and tell him to make it into a Taco like every other red-blooded Republican would do. After bending to my will, Fluffy, Captain Iran and I all begin our feat. Yellow Shirt Guy never began the challenge appropriately and threw out half anyway, so we ridiculed him while stuffing our faces with our own meals.

The very first bite I took was like bouncing on clouds while naked strippers shoved their silicone filled titties in my face for free. I was in food heaven. Never before have I placed such delicious, flavor filled goodness in my mouth. I immediately began screaming at The Democrat to take more pictures, and began shouting about how amazing it tasted.

About halfway through the feast, I began to feel the first pangs of fullness. I took a swig of coke and told myself not to be a pussy and to continue to shove more food into my face. After about two more bites, I began to fear that I might not be able to finish this monumentous event. I promptly set down the Philly Taco, and began doing stretches. How these stretches were supposed to help me shove more food in my stomach, I do not know. All I know is that this Philly Taco was my Mt. Everest, and if I died trying, I was going to summit this bitch.

Captain Iran finished the feat first and began to emasculate Fluffy and myself for taking so long. Fluffy finished second and with gallantry that hasn't been seen outside of combat since the days of knights and dragons, I shoved the last two bites of crust into my mouth and proceeded to chew the shit out of it ensuring that it all went down. At this point we all realized that not only were we fat as shit, but people in line were actually afraid of us. As if at any point, our profanity laden mouths might stop spewing profanity and begin emptying the contents of our latest meal all over the store.

We then cleaned up our mess, which included probably 100 scrunched up napkins all over the counters. We walked out to the cars and realized that we have lost Captain Iran in the confusion. Fluffy and I accompany The Democrat to her car, and after watching her drive away, set off to find Captain Iran. After meeting up with Captain Iran, we find my car, and begin to head to The Democrat's house. Along the way, Captain Iran asks if I could please make the car stop doing "bumpies." We are all drunk off of food and can feel the momentous pressure of our gigantic feast pushing on our bowels.

We arrive at The Democrat's house, and we all ask where the bathroom is. I immediately push myself to the head of the group, and as Fluffy yells at me, I tear ass upstairs flipping him off while running into the bathroom and locking the door. I sit down and begin to unleash a torrent on the toilet. I am interrupted twice by Fluffy screaming at me to hurry up. Fearing that he might break down the door and sit on my lap, I quickly finish my business and light a match. I walk out of the bathroom, and stealing a line from Tucker Max, I inform them that, "I just put that toilet in therapy." The smell begins to linger downstairs and The Democrat, Captain Iran, and Fluffy begin yelling unintelligible statements at me and asking how I could do such a thing.

The rest of the evening consists of Fluffy, Captain Iran and I discussing our bowel movements with The Democrat's grandmother, and asking every chick for the rest of the night to show us her tits because we completed the South Street Challenge. Yes, we are horses, and yes, we know it.


  1. Oh come on. No one has a comment on it? At least comment on the fact that I gave my best friend the alias Fluffy.

  2. I f'ing hate you. So much. Yet I thought it appropriate to comment using said given moniker.

  3. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I think my next blog might be about how you got that name.....

  4. OMG, there's a REASON behind it?!??!?!
    Fluffy, did you FLUFF SOMEONE!!!?!? SICK!