The reason that I moved to San Diego, at least the main reason is that I was being called to my lifelong passion which was snowboarding on the waves of Poseidon, in fact it’s exactly the same principal as surfing except with a completely different name and it is so much cooler (no pun intended). Whilst I was surfing one day I started craving a little “afternoon delight”, one of my many weaknesses. So I decided to go to one of my friends’ house which had some in abundance. While I was there I met a girl named Veronica, she was currently involved with a… well frankly, a man that looked like he ate a industrial sized tub of lard everyday for the past, say his whole life. She told me that she had only started dating him on a bet, the jest of this wager was to see how long she could last with this guy before she couldn’t take it anymore, and of course she had real boyfriends aside from the poor sap. We talked for what seemed like most of the day and I learned a lot about him, apparently this punching bag really liked the insufferable band called The Cure and liked to surf even though his appearance could have made any normal man hide in shame from the whole world. About twenty minutes into the conversation I looked at my imaginary watch and realized I had to be somewhere else other than there, we exchanged digits and I went on my way.
Two days later as is the custom I called this foxy lady and we went out on the town and, well I was my usual romantic self, the next morning I kissed her goodbye and went on with my life. I felt like I needed some life giving salt water on my face so I went surfing, I took my toy submarine with a fin like sail and some sandwiches with my favorite hot sauce bottle, Tapatio. I was out pwning the waves for an hour or so when I decided to play with my toy submarine, and I did for half an hour before I decided to eat my sandwiches which had been sloppily taped in a bag under my surfboard. I poured a profuse amount of tapatio and set the open bottle on my board, just as I was going to take a bite out of my probably delicious tuna sandwich a walrus knocked me off of my board and into the water, while I was struggling for my life against this two ton mammal I managed to catch a glimpse at it and was astonished to find that I was half right, it was not a walrus. This behemoth was having an easy enough time floating on the water it was trying to drown me that proved a challenge, but what he didn’t count on was my love of life and my muscles that made me look husky. While I struggled for my life I noticed that the water looked and tasted like a very salty form of tapatio but then I passed out.
I awoke in the hospital a day later with nothing but a big headache to show for that encounter, that and a very hefty bill. I never found out who or why this mystery man decided to kill me but I didn’t really want to ask. A month later I remembered about Veronica and that I was going to call her the night that walrus man had attacked me. When I called her I made up some excuse that I was in a coma and had to show the hospital bill to prove it, we went out for a while but one day about four months later I noticed that her stomach was turning into an oval shaped egg so I took my chances and decided to move up state. There is where I met Broham one day, he told me that he too lived in San Diego around the time that I lived there and was surprised to find out he surfed around my spot. For some weird reason he remembered me, I never really cared to ask why. To make a short story even shorter, we decided to make this blog about our favorite pass time which in case you haven’t bothered to look at our main blog yet is for fairly judging food and its providers by a normal human being that lives in America’s sense of taste.