Kath came over last night and said she wanted tacos but didn't want to go anywhere. I can't blame her. The good Taco Bell doesn't have a drive-thru and the bad Taco Bell is in the middle of a construction zone, the only Taco John's in MPLS proper is in the Skyway (and prob-lowe closed), and Chipotle? Well...
Last Friday I ordered @Chipotle and just happened to break out in hives after my lunch. No telling if the two are connected but now I'm afraid to order Chipotle again. I get all the way to the "Submit Order" button and then I think of those itchy red welts and I'm like "Uh..."— ЧАРЛИ ПАУКЕН, ОКСИЧЕН ДЕСТРОЎЕР (@CharliePauken) April 17, 2020
So we looked at Rusty Taco, a place I had never been to before but I bet Kafe Nasty has and we look over the menu, place the order, easy enough, and then the site says our order will be delivered by Door Dash, the same fuckers who stole my Diet Coke and, no, I am not letting that go.
About twenty minutes later, I get a little jingle letting me know the food is almost here and I got out front and I see a dude in this car out front and I'm about to wave to him when I realize two things simultaneously: One: he's in the passenger seat and Two: The driver is jacking him off.
So I play cool like and look at my phone when I start to think, "Wait, it's not my fault I saw you two hand jibbering in public; I shouldn't have to play it off like I don't see you, you should have to play it it off like you're not getting your meat jacked in public."
And then the Door Dash guy shows up with the order so I don't look like the creep I'm not - I'm allowed to go on my front porch for food. If you happen to be jacking off your boyfriend in the front seat of a silver two door sedan (still parked across the street from the Whitter Alliance office when I left for work this morning), be prepared for people to see you. The sun is out.
Look, I'm not going to be shamed because I caught a guy getting jacked off, OK? I don't necessarily believe they should be shamed, either. I dig free love. Let love flow. Our ancestors fucked in trees, under trees, in ponds, caves, on prairies. It's only natural. It's probably more natural to go fuck outside but if you don't want people seeing you get an old fashioned, maybe go inside.
Oh, did I leave that part out? Yeah, Handy Mandy over here is one of my new neighbors. I saw this dude waiting for her to come out of her apartment when I got home from work. I don't know, maybe she has roommates or something, couldn't take the May Pole Festival inside but, Jackie Christ, find a more secluded spot or something.
And this isn't -
No, you hold on. We'll get to the fucking tacos in a minute, just hold your horses.
This isn't the first time I've seen car sex outside my residence. Back when I lived on twenty second and second, my roommates and I watched a dude get a beejer in his car outside our house but that spot made more sense because we lived across the street from Washburn Fair Oaks and nobody drives down twenty second like ever, and there's a shit ton of tree cover.
My current building? Heavy traffic, dense residential area, tree cover but not much.
I mean...
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
You know?
Anyway, the Door Dash guy hands me the food and I go back upstairs and I tell Kath, "Uh, this chick is giving this dude a hand job in a car out front."
Kath says, "What?" She goes out front and says to me, "Um, she just spit on his dick."
So I poke my head back out and see this chick half on top of this dude making out and pounding his schnitzel.
Then we went out back and had tacos.
Kath got a trio of #2s, I couldn't decide so I got a pair of #2s and a pair of the flagship "Rusty Tacos". After all, I'm at Rusty Taco, I get a Rusty Taco. See what this shit is about.
From the menu:
#9 I liked a lot better even though the pineapple relish tasted like just canned diced pineapple and looked nothing like the picture. The picture on the website showed these beautiful lemony yellow pineapple chunks and, well, here...
Forgive me, it's been a while since I HTML'd but you can see what's going on in there, right? On the menu, the pineapples are nice and yellow and in reality, the closest they get to yellow is beige(?) maybe. Look how pink and neon those pickled onion are on the menu. That's not a 'shop, you can do that at home in your fridge. And then look at the reality.
I told Kath that I thought this was better than Taco Bell or Taco John's but nowhere near our dear departed Taco Cat and she agreed as she ate her feedbag of tortilla chips. (We each got a side of chips and it was like eating from the big yellow bag you take to the cookout, there were that many chips.) Now, a day removed from Rusty Taco, I can say I'd probably prefer my Cheesy Gordita Crunch. I won't prefer what it'll do to me twelve minutes after I eat it but I'd prefer to eat it.
This wasn't bad by any means and I don't feel like we were sold a bill of goods (after all, the world has known for decades that the Big Mac you get looks nothing like the Big Mac they sell you) but I'm not over the moon for it. I can tell the meat was a higher quality than the shit they squirt out of a caulk gun at TB and I preferred the pork they had on #9.
As I walked Kath to her car later last night, there was a fast food cup laying outside of that silver two door sedan (still parked across the street from the Whitter Alliance office when I left for work this morning) and I said, "Bet that cup is full of nut."
Kath told me to stop.
About twenty minutes later, I get a little jingle letting me know the food is almost here and I got out front and I see a dude in this car out front and I'm about to wave to him when I realize two things simultaneously: One: he's in the passenger seat and Two: The driver is jacking him off.
So I play cool like and look at my phone when I start to think, "Wait, it's not my fault I saw you two hand jibbering in public; I shouldn't have to play it off like I don't see you, you should have to play it it off like you're not getting your meat jacked in public."
And then the Door Dash guy shows up with the order so I don't look like the creep I'm not - I'm allowed to go on my front porch for food. If you happen to be jacking off your boyfriend in the front seat of a silver two door sedan (still parked across the street from the Whitter Alliance office when I left for work this morning), be prepared for people to see you. The sun is out.
Look, I'm not going to be shamed because I caught a guy getting jacked off, OK? I don't necessarily believe they should be shamed, either. I dig free love. Let love flow. Our ancestors fucked in trees, under trees, in ponds, caves, on prairies. It's only natural. It's probably more natural to go fuck outside but if you don't want people seeing you get an old fashioned, maybe go inside.
Oh, did I leave that part out? Yeah, Handy Mandy over here is one of my new neighbors. I saw this dude waiting for her to come out of her apartment when I got home from work. I don't know, maybe she has roommates or something, couldn't take the May Pole Festival inside but, Jackie Christ, find a more secluded spot or something.
And this isn't -
No, you hold on. We'll get to the fucking tacos in a minute, just hold your horses.
This isn't the first time I've seen car sex outside my residence. Back when I lived on twenty second and second, my roommates and I watched a dude get a beejer in his car outside our house but that spot made more sense because we lived across the street from Washburn Fair Oaks and nobody drives down twenty second like ever, and there's a shit ton of tree cover.
My current building? Heavy traffic, dense residential area, tree cover but not much.
I mean...
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
You know?
Anyway, the Door Dash guy hands me the food and I go back upstairs and I tell Kath, "Uh, this chick is giving this dude a hand job in a car out front."
Kath says, "What?" She goes out front and says to me, "Um, she just spit on his dick."
So I poke my head back out and see this chick half on top of this dude making out and pounding his schnitzel.
Then we went out back and had tacos.
Kath got a trio of #2s, I couldn't decide so I got a pair of #2s and a pair of the flagship "Rusty Tacos". After all, I'm at Rusty Taco, I get a Rusty Taco. See what this shit is about.
From the menu:
#2 was OK but just OK. I expect a little more bite from my pickled red onions, a little more allium and sure as shit a lot less vinegar. I tasted no smokiness on the pork. The cheese had that lactic tang to it. It was just kind of sour.#2 Roasted Pork Taco
170 Calories
Smoked green chile pork, cotija cheese, pickled red onions.
#9 Rusty Taco
180 Calories
Achiote pork, grilled pineapple relish, diced onion, cilantro.
#9 I liked a lot better even though the pineapple relish tasted like just canned diced pineapple and looked nothing like the picture. The picture on the website showed these beautiful lemony yellow pineapple chunks and, well, here...
| Menu | Reality | |
| #9 |  |  |
| #2 |  |  |
Forgive me, it's been a while since I HTML'd but you can see what's going on in there, right? On the menu, the pineapples are nice and yellow and in reality, the closest they get to yellow is beige(?) maybe. Look how pink and neon those pickled onion are on the menu. That's not a 'shop, you can do that at home in your fridge. And then look at the reality.
I told Kath that I thought this was better than Taco Bell or Taco John's but nowhere near our dear departed Taco Cat and she agreed as she ate her feedbag of tortilla chips. (We each got a side of chips and it was like eating from the big yellow bag you take to the cookout, there were that many chips.) Now, a day removed from Rusty Taco, I can say I'd probably prefer my Cheesy Gordita Crunch. I won't prefer what it'll do to me twelve minutes after I eat it but I'd prefer to eat it.
This wasn't bad by any means and I don't feel like we were sold a bill of goods (after all, the world has known for decades that the Big Mac you get looks nothing like the Big Mac they sell you) but I'm not over the moon for it. I can tell the meat was a higher quality than the shit they squirt out of a caulk gun at TB and I preferred the pork they had on #9.
As I walked Kath to her car later last night, there was a fast food cup laying outside of that silver two door sedan (still parked across the street from the Whitter Alliance office when I left for work this morning) and I said, "Bet that cup is full of nut."
Kath told me to stop.
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