♪ I want to do you in the butt. I want to do you in the butt. I like to hear you say what. I want to do you in the butt. ♪ That's the female ass folks.

I can't help it. I love butts. I'm an ass man. It drives me buck wild when I see the perfect derriere. I'm not a pig or animal, I just appreciate the physical awesomeness that our lord of the dance gave us. I think one of my coolest butt-related experiences was when I was out with a bunch of friends and we went to a nice little club, filled with hoochie mamas round and round. I hate clubs, but I was drunk before getting in so I didn't mind that much. As we jerked through the bunch of pansy ass 'bros' we split up and just went and did our own thing. I came across this tiny polish chick, with her annoying shit brown friend. As I tried to dance with her, pulling as many courteous moves as I could being drunk, her shit stain friend kept pestering her to dance with jumbo dick chin across from me. Seeing as I'm not the most attractive man alive, and he had a forehead of steel, she decided to dance with him. Before going however, she took my hand and let me grab her ass. She said, " You wish you could get this." She proceeded to go to the guy, and suddenly died of herpes as she touched him. The entire place blew up after we left and the entire area was infected with a deadly virus killing millions of polish people. I got my ass fill, she's getting raped by pineapples. Take that bitch.


So as I was saying in my previous story, we received news about our new chef and he was the devil. Andrew Motherfucking Baby Killing Shit Disturbing Cunt Raping Bradford. He was a dick. When I screwed up, let's say on mash potatoes, the bastard made me eat the entire thing before starting a new batch. For instance, I over salted a batch of mash, and he made me eat an entire bowl. Usually people would be like, "Fuck this shit brain, I'm out." I was terrified. He got me to eat the damn thing and enjoy it, although it was salty enough to turn your tits into raisins. I've been humiliated, cut, burnt, bruised, yelled at and scolded. He raped me in the butt, just so I can make the perfect tartare. He made me peel 50 bags of potatoes just so I can make the perfect mash. He made me eat all the cookies in the wor- wait no I just ate them.


He taught me everything. Whatever I can do know in terms of culinary, I got it from his shit eating mug. I love the guy, through and through. He knows he was an asshole, and it's only because he was one that I got so skilled in my field. Heck, if I continued to cook with him, I probably would be a sous chef at a fancy ass place right now, or even better. That's where this is going. I started to feel that I learned as much as I could from him. Things felt too repetitive, and my ex at the time was pushing me to strive for more. Not in the best way mind you, she told me to pursue money. I liked money. I still do, but there are times where you must sacrifice money for knowledge. Sometimes, opportunities arise, and they aren't always the greatest. Sometimes you gotta stick with what you got until you finally realize 100% that you're done. I didn't.

 At the time, I was ending off my school year and my butchery teacher stopped me. He told me he had a position available at his place, in a hotel. The Renaissance Hotel. I would be working at the Arriba restaurant, for a hefty amount of cashola. The greediness kicked in, and I accepted. I told my beloved Andrew and he was broken. The entire staff threw a party in my name at the local bar, a final farewell if you will. As I donned the chef jacket they let me keep, I started to cry on the way home. They were like family. Matthew with his pervasive ways, Brent with his twisted humor, Vanessa with her awesome desserts which we kept eating, Thai with her tiny little body and huge voice, Jee Whan Lee with his foreign Korean gung-ho self, Salvatore with his crazy talk about Bermuda and how he suddenly went from Italian to English, Erin with her cute smiles and unforgiving satanic yells, Adu ( I think that was his name), the kick-ass cook who came from Hooters and showed his worth ( plus he looked a hella lot like 50 cent). All of them, and the others, I missed.

This point in my travels, I knew not about hotels and their slow ass ways. Sure they get busy and sometimes hectic like my battles at Brassaii, but the food was nowhere near as good. Everything was half assed, made just so people would eat. Food would be kept poorly in storage containers older than my bed. I pushed myself to move on to continue, and learn the basics. Seeing as I didn't really grasp the mother sauces, and all that jazz, I wanted to learn whatever basic skill I needed whilst getting a hefty paycheck. I thought it would be all right, nothing really sucked. Well, that's what I thought. I started to hate my job. It was day in day out making the same shit, without any room for exploration. We weren't allowed to stray off and make something different, specials were given and shit would be microwaved. Ugh.

I couldn't take it anymore and I just wanted out. I started to lose my passion. My ex was upset with me because of my indecisiveness with leaving or staying. Shut up bitch, eat your chicken. I wanted to stop cooking, to pursue something else. I thought by cooking the same damn things over and over, my life would be full of suck. Much like yours. I started researching different occupations that interested me. I loved video games and been playing them all my life without getting bored. I also like women, but the chances of me becoming a porn star are almost similar to you actually enjoying this story. So after a year and a bit, I left. Done. I stopped cooking, and applied for my new future. Something I still do to this day, and something that has a place in my heart next to the foie gras and Aerith. Something, I would like to call writing.

To be continued!~