We read your recent blog post titled “IS SINEAD ABOUT TO HUMP HER TRUCK?” We’re sorry we didn’t read it sooner, but our RSS reader was backed up with blog posts by the lead singer of The Spin Doctors and the girl from The Cranberries.
In that blog post you mentioned how desperate you are for some form of sexual contact, even going as far as to mention how sexually appealing inanimate objects are looking to you right now.
Sinead, there’s no need to say things like “I tell you yams are looking like the winners” – not with your friends here at Holy Taco, who are ready, willing, and able to deliver unto you copious amounts of sexual pleasure, and we’ll do it with a yam-like ferocity, without the discomfort of the rough, callus yam exterior that has been known to cause genital irritation and a little known yam-centric STD called Candied Yamgina, aka Oompa Loompuss.
We understand the sexual needs of a more mature woman that was a pop-rock sensation with political undertones from the late 1900s. We have read the Do’s and Don’ts list that potential suitors should closely abide if ones such as ourselves wanted to gain entry in to you. We feel we meet every criterion you have set forth.
You claimed that you don’t want anyone under the age of 44. Sadly, no individual here at Holy Taco is 44 or older. But this is why we have been using the Royal We in this letter. We’re talking about the collective hip-thrusting power of the Holy Taco staff, who’s ages add up to somewhere in the 85-90 range. Individually we may not be the seasoned sexual veteran you’re searching for, but together we form a Voltron of sexual dynamism and explosivity. To put it another way, sexually speaking, and when our powers combine, we’re yam-ish.
In your blog you also mentioned that a potential suitor “must be blind enough” to think you are gorgeous. Sinead, you’ll be happy to know that in our eyes everything has the potential to be sexy. This is mostly, if not entirely, due to our severe astigmatism, which transforms all flesh-colored objects and/or people in to walking mounds of amorphous goop. In our eyes, Sinead, you are exactly as gorgeous as Anne Hathaway – or even a beige beanbag chair.
Lastly, we applaud your forwardness as you proudly declared that you enjoy anal sex by saying,
“Let me now take time to make VERY clear that yes I ‘do anal’ and in fact I would be deeply unhappy if ‘doing anal’ wasn’t on the menu, amongst everything else$$ So if u don’t like ‘the difficult brown’.. Don’t apply…”
We can assure you that anal is indeed always on our menu. Our menu also includes nipple flambés, chode torment, and titty assaults. Similarly, our menus feature pork chops in a delicate brown sauce, as well as a Dirty Sanchez with guava compote. Our sexual menu is seasonal and all organic, too. We don’t use pesticides during our love-making, and we don’t skimp on the portions, either, like some other dudes. By that we mean, if you want us to take a shit on your chest, we will take a massive shit on your chest. You may even need a doggy bag to take some home to enjoy later, perhaps for breakfast. As you get plowed. By us. For breakfast.
So, we hope this letter has convinced you, Sinead. We look forward to hearing back.
Normally, this is the part of the letter when we end with a pity, clever comment that really seals the deal. We won’t do that today. Instead, we are going to end this letter using the exact words you used to end your blog post:
‘I must end now as I have a hot date with a banana.’