UnpleasantlySexy

Wow. I don't even know where to start.

I had these weird frozen tamales for lunch on Thursday. They were good, in a these-aren't-that-great kind of way, but that's irrelevant. I warmed 'em up and went back to my cubicle to start eating when Larry, my oddball of a coworker, looked up at me from his desk in utter confusion. I said, "Larry, what's your damage? Quit staring at me."

He then said, all incredulous-like, "What on earth are you eating?!?"

I said, "Tamales, retard."

He said, "What is that?"

I said, "What is what? Tamales? You don't know what tamales are?"

He said, "No."

I gasped, "Gasp!"


At first I thought he was kidding with me, but I then considered that he has eaten nothing but Hot Pockets (ham-flavored or pizza-flavored only, please) for the 2 years that I have known him. I asked him if he liked Mexican food, and he said "Yes," but when I asked what his favorite Mexican restaurant was, he said "Chuy's."

WHAT???!!!!!!????????

When I told Julia about this, she said the very best thing: "That guy puts all the white in whitebread."

He asked me what a tamale was, and I had a hard time answering him. I mean, how do you define "tamale"? What does "tamale" mean?

I told him that they were "a very fatty, cornbread-like substance called 'masa', traditionally filled with the face-meat of a pig. But the seasoned pork ones are the best, especially drizzled with honey."

He gagged once, and then he gagged again.

Then he went to heat up his Hot Pockets.

I found myself wishing that my tamales had been better, because those little frozen jobbies really weren't worth defending.



S