101 Ways To Wok Your Dog, part 1

So I get home last night and take a very satisfying dump and inversely realize that I'm famished from a hard day of "Pretend To Be An Employee" and I decided to take a chance on discovering some fine cuisine. I further decided to use the internet to find a local place to order some take-out. As fate would have it, I found a place:



Ah, yes. Chinese. Highly recommended, too. That will do nicely. Then I read the one review. What's this? Bourbon chicken? Booze and chicken? Hella yes. So I call the restaurant and some very fast talking Chinese woman answers the phone. I have no idea what she said but because her sentence ended in a high pitched tone, I presumed it was a question.

"Uh, I'd like to place a take-out order?"

"Onemomen," she says with that witchy accent then proceeds to yell in some crazy language. I'm thinking it was Chinese (I'm clever that way), but it could have been Japanese or Korean or Mexican for all I know. Then I hear her say something followed by a series of quick hello's. Ah, right. She must be talking to me again, I think.

"Yes, hello? I'd like an order of bourbon chicken with white rice and three, no two, orders of chicken-on-a-stick and one order of beef lo mein and two orders of crab ragoons and that's it."

"Ahfohyou?" she asks with a short pause. I say nothing, fearing a trap. She then begins to presumably & rapidly repeat the order back to me. I have no idea what she just said, so I of course reply, "Uh, yeah. That's right." More quick unintelligible talking ending with "fifteen minute." I do some quick deduction and figure that's my order's ETA.

"Okay, great. Thanks" I say then hang up feeling a bit raped. This place is kinda close, so I've got ten minutes or so to kill. My eyes go back to the restaurant's web page. I notice the out-of-place link and I do some quick mental math: Chinese food + find a date = hot asian women. From this point on, I blame Blog Ho for everything that happened because of all the things he keeps saying about hot Asian women. So I'm like, *click* *click* *click* *click* .

Through the magic of the World Wide Web, I eventually somehow (don't ask) end up on some page entitled, "Ms Vicki Rene Proudly Presents The Prettiest of the Pretty Page # 0387." Holy Shit. Three hundred and eighty seven pages of hotties and less than fives minutes to surf…I see the top pic of "Miss Belladonna":



Well hellooo. I begin to feel rushed. A man's journey into sexual fantasy cannot be rushed if it is to be fulfilling. I notice the picture is a hyperlink, so I mindlessly click it and it takes me to a Yahoo profile with this pic:



Oh, yeah. This is going to take awhile. I click the back button, bookmark, and out the door I go.

[Read Part Two]