I’ve just discovered my new favorite painter, Vittorio Reggianini – those smarter than myself probably already know of him as an Italian painter from the 1800s who made satin look even satiny-er than satin. I just cannot get over how much he loved painting women who were NOT. HAVING. A. MAN’S. SHIT.
But there was one hottie that everyone seemed to like, and I can’t blame them…
So I like hot stuff. I’m not like, a dick about it. I don’t brag because there are people out there that can handle waaaay hotter foods than me. It’s not a competition.
So I’m at Tijuana Flats, a “mexican” food restaurant chain famous for their hot sauce bar. All in all, what they put out on the bar isn’t the spiciest stuff in the world, but you’ll find some delicious gems in there.
I immediately look at whatever is marked black as hottest for the day (they change them) and immediately go to pump some into the little paper containers provided when…
“Whooaaa, sweetheart you don’t want to do that,”
I turned around and there’s this skinny guy in jeans and a logo polo. There’s another dude wearing the same shirt, so they must have come here from some sad IT job. I’m a little taken aback at this dude’s presumption that I am ignorant to what I’m doing, but I blow it off.
”Nah, man, it’s got the black label, I haven’t tried this one yet.”
”Are you sure? It’s really spicy.”
”I’m pretty sure dude.”
”I don’t think you should, because it was a bit much for me.”
At this point I’m feeling patronized. I stare at him.
“It’s fine. Really.”
“Oooookay,” He says in this exasperated, don’t-say-I-didn’t-warn-you kind of voice. I get my hot sauce and sit down. Food arrives, I taste it with a chip first to test. It’s super sweet, actually. I dump the whole thing on my taco. I don’t know if he’s watching.
I go up to the counter and ask the manager to ring me up a bottle of the sauce to take home. It was pretty delicious! Manager says he’ll bring it to my table.
They bring it, I pay, and the server asks if I’m into hot sauces – of course I say yes. Hot Sauce Police is now watching. She brings me an assortment of sauces they do not serve at the bar because of liability reasons. One of them was rated at 1.5 million Scoville units. I bought all of them, signing the credit card slip as he watches.
I finished my meal.
Then I looked right at him and licked the fucking paper container when I was done.
It’s the two year anniversary of the incident.
“I KNOW WHAT I’M ABOUT, SON”
– This woman, not letting others tell her what her own Hot Sauce Limits are
here’s a definitive and totally subjective rating of davids
donatello: 3/10 honestly pretty embarrassing, but worth a mention. just your run-of-the-mill, oh-you-haven’t-heard-we’re-copying-classical-greek-sculpture-now david. stiff, awkward, and pretty dopey looking twunk. has the same expression of someone being told dona-fucking-tello sculpted this. can’t even hold his slingshot bc it’s too gay. don’t worry there’s a redemption arc on its way.
donatello pt 2: 9/10 fucking superb you funky little gay man. total glow up. a complete deviation from the norm by a well-known deviant. takes contrapposto to sultry new heights. look at this lad’s little hat and boots he’s not a nude he’s just naked. some people say goliath’s head is modeled off of donatello himself literally he was horny enough he said “step on me” in full fucking bronze. goliath’s helmet has little gay greek reliefs on it, not even remotely subtle. look at the feather going up his thigh and tell me u didn’t cross your legs when you did. commissioned by the medici for their palace, which makes it even cooler by association.
verocchio: 8/10 ily baby a perfectly fine lad, looking at him makes me smile. his little dress is so cute with its stylized arabic psuedo-script border, and the floral pasties? adorable. something about goliath’s head feels a little disjointed, but you know what? fuck him. he’s not important. david’s the real star here in his little cheerleader get up. what really makes me biased towards this one is that the model was supposedly verocchio’s star student, the young leonardo da vinci. and look how fucking radiant he is! love it.
michelangelo: 7/10 technically this thing’s great. look at the fucking veins on the hand that’s absolutely mental. but all in all it lacks the overtly homosexual intrigue of some other davids and, frankly, i expected more from well-documented gay disaster michelangelo. obviously a classic but also makes it prone to being too over-saturated. i do love his yaoi hands though.
bernini: 11/10 the man the myth the fucking legend! bernini always delivers and this david’s no expception. look at that movement! the drama! the whole thing screams baroque in the best possible way with the dynamism, the momentary narrative, that cute lil scrunched up face. only complaint is that it isn’t as good as some of bernini’s other work but i’m willing to let it go for the detailing on the fucking rope goddamn gian lorenzo you absolute madman. we stan a sculpting legend.
“i do love his yaoi hands though.” said about Michelangelo’s David gives off so much chaotic radioactive energy and also, personally, gave me whiplash
In The Road to El Dorado there is only really one inexplicable thing within the plot. Miguel and Tulio plausibly bluff their way through or slip out of most situations. However, I’d never figured out why the volcano actually stops erupting when Tulio commands it.
The conclusion I finally came up with is that the actual gods were watching their big entrance go down, and thought “oh, this’ll be hilarious”
The actual reason for this was that the armadillo seen following them was intended to be AN ACTUAL GOD in the original script, but it was scratched during production. You can see during the eruption that the volcano stops erupting the same second the armadillo stops playing and starts paying attention to it. So in summary, armadillo is God, producers decide to not change the plot and leave all the godly armadillo things instead without actually saying that the armadillo is behind it.
sparksoffandommagic 