¡Ask A Mexican!
By Gustavo Arellano
—Nightmare Act is More Like It
Dear Gabacho: I’d rather have college kids chant “Sí se puede” than joining a pointless fraternity/sorority or getting blotto at said pointless fraternity/sorority parties. All that said, though, you don’t have to worry about DREAMers taking your job—you’ll continue to have your middle-class lifestyle as these DREAMers catapult over you and become your boss, because they all possess the drive, ambition, and talent that gabachos used to exhibit in college before it became finishing schools for high schoolers. Better learn how to grovel to el jefe in English and Español, chulo!
I have noticed that Mexican women will put up with being called a ruca, heina, vieja, “my old lady,” and even sometimes go culinary like, “My little pupusa,” or “chimichanga.” BUT when you call her a “torta,” you are in one major fight. Why? What is so bad about tortas?
Dear Gabacho: You’re calling her “fat,” because tortas are fat Mexican sandwiches made on French rolls. Want to culinarily woo her? Go old-school and call her a “hot tamale,” or go postmodern and deem her your memela—TRUST ME.
Sometimes when I’m eating a burrito, the bottom end becomes saturated with moisture and the tortilla breaks and stuff falls out. Is this the result of a lack of burrito-eating skill, an improperly-made burrito or just the way it’s supposed to be?
Dear Neighbor of Mexicans: Don’t be a Mexican and accept the world the way it’s supposed to be, ESPECIALLY the art of burrito. Gabachos are so clueless that they think burritos are supposed to vomit out their contents like a coed in pre-narco Acapulco—¡que pendejos! A true burritos is an immaculate cylindrical god, wrapped up as tight as bacon around a hot dog, its structure so sound that you can throw it through the air like a spiral and it won’t explode. This isn’t even a question of size, of beans and rice erupting out of the flour tortilla because there’s simply nowhere else to go: the largest burritos on Earth are those made in the Mission District in San Francisco (where Chipotle’s founder found his “inspiration” for the chain’s burritos), where the Mission burrito is a way of life, larger than bricks, wrapped tight in foil and never exploding (and a shout-out to my favorite taquería—that’s what burrito emporiums are called in San Francisco—in the Mission, El Castillito!). If a burrito gets so soggy at the bottom that it disintegrates, then the maker either put too much salsa/guacamole/sour cream in it, or the meat’s so damn greasy it’s not worth eating. If your burrito disintegrates, demand a refund—or, better yet, sue the business owner for defaming the burrito’s good nombre.