Monday, March 23, 2009
About a week ago I heard rapping on my front door. I greeted the stranger and asked what I could do for her. The little Mexican lady announced she was selling tamales and inquired if I would like any to which I replied fuck no. I am not going to buy tamales, or any other cooked food product for that matter, from a stranger who is at best without any food licensing and at worst trying to poison me. So a few days later my lady says she has a surprise for me: fucking tamales. Those persistent bastards returned when I was not home and sold them to my lady! So I am stuck with these potentially lethal tamales but I decide to cheat death and consume them. Holy fuck those tamales were the bomb! So how do you make them? Pay the nice lady for the tamales; pretend you made them.