Hot Slut Of The Day!

September 23, 2014 / Posted by:

The Vulgar Chef! 

Yesterday, Buzzfeed posted about a red velvet corn dog (the baked overused tampon-looking ass thing in the top right) made by food blogger The Vulgar Chef and that led me to his Instagram where I got stuck in a giant dumpster of captions that speak to my soul and food shit that looks like a cross between crap found in the bottom of the most used Port-A-Potty at a county fair in the South and gourmet delicacies Mama June would make if she was a contestant on Top Chef. The Vulgar Chef cooks up shit that only looks delicious to your mouth if you’re stoned, drunk or your last name is Spears. But his captions really sell that mess. On the top left is a burger thing that looks like a riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a DIY abortion wrapped in a botched circumcision and The Vulgar Chef describes it with these words of pure poetry:

Just entered this fat titty fuck burger into a shitty fucking contest. Ground sirloin, smoked chipotle mayo, lemon garlic butter on fucking everything, Parmesan charred romaine lettuce, and a Kim Kardashian nipple sized slice of smoked Gouda. Yeah Kim. I saw the leaked pictures. That nipple-to-tit ratio is all fucked up. Looks like someone duct taped some salami to a couple of rotten pumpkins. The nipples are almost bigger than the tit area.

On the bottom left is a pickle that looks like it needs a priest, three jumbo shots of liquid Valtrex and a Hazmat soaking bath. Most free clinic doctors in the L.A. area will tell you that pickle is in “post-Paris Hilton condition.” The Vulgar Chef describes this Snooki wet dream like this:

Just your average caramel covered pickle with M&M’s all over that filthy little slut. One of the stranger things I have tasted. I’ve seen chocolate covered pickles, but fuck that shit. The chocolate cock has been jerked for too long. It’s caramels turn to bust a nut.

How is he not writing the menu descriptions for EVERY restaurant? Why is he not on the Food Network but Guy Fieri is? Why am I actually considering making that gross ass, heart attack-inducing hot dog mozzarella ball sandwich on the bottom right? These are the questions we should all be asking today.

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