Humor

Today in High-Falutin Mixology: Cheeto-Infused Vodka

Readers, it's tough to stay ahead of the culinary curve in a city like San Francisco. Here at Uptown Almanac, we try to keep you, our foodie readers, abreast of the hottest trends in cocktailology, foodification, and general eatistry. We know that your discerning palates won't accept just any burrito, even if its strapped to your hands and inserted forcefully down your gullet. Uptown authors have sacrificed their stomachs, intestinal tracts, taste buds, and self-respect in the name of keeping you informed. Today we bring you the most recent installation in this pursuit.

Cheeto-infused vodka is the final frontier in trashy American drinking. We can't even tell you how we came up with this idea, but when you hang out at bars like Clooney's, sometimes inspiration comes in mysterious forms. Read on, fellow maverick drinkers, as we walk you through the step by step process of making (and enjoying!) a Cheeto-infused vodka shot of your very own.

Step One: Put Fergie's “Glamorous” on the jukebox. Flossy flossy!

Step Two: Order a shot of well vodka, neat.

Step Three: Open your bag of crunchy Cheetos and select the two beefiest, most robust curls to use in your shot. Set them aside, protected from your friends' grabby hands. Devour all remaining weak, puny Cheetos before proceeding.

Step Four: Place your finest Cheeto specimens in the vodka shot. They will float at first. This is because Cheetos are mostly air. That's why they're a health food; your body spends more calories digesting all that air than are in each Cheeto. It's science. Anyway, be patient with your floaty Cheetos as they will eventually absorb enough vodka to sink. Pound a beer while you wait to fortify your insides for the assault to follow.

Step Five: Gently prod your Cheetos to aid in vodka absorbtion and general mixification. Like so:

Prod prod prod. Proddy prod prod.

Step Six: Your Cheeto shot should now be ready for consumption. But wait! Here lies the best part about the Cheeto shot - it's a two-part treat! One part shot, one part tasty vodka soaked Cheeto. Remove Cheetos from the vodka, and pop 'em in your mouth. At first you feel like you have a normal but somewhat wet and soggy Cheeto in your mouth. But then you bite into it, and your mouth is suddenly filled with an acidic, lukewarm geyser of Popov's vodka and MSG. Mmm mmm tasty! Results should look something like this:

Step Seven: Take the shot. You know how this is done. Expect a reaction similar to this:

The bitterness of the vodka is quickly overwhelmed by the perverted pang of MSG. The assault of the Cheeto shot befuddles the tastebuds and confuses the mind of the consumer. It's so disgusting, you don't want to swallow it - yet you know that holding it in your mouth is the only thing worse than swallowing. Cheeto-infused vodka is the ultimate bridge between childhood and adulthood, where your whimsy and youthful sense of adventure compels you to find new uses for your favorite childhood snack and your favorite adult beverage. It's the perfect balance, for when you want both vodka and cheese without the inconvenience of consuming both separately.

Estimated Cost: $5 ($4 vodka shot, $1 baggie of Cheetos from behind the bar)

When I Live in the Mission and I'm Like ...

When I forget to call ahead to Rhea's and there's a 25 minute wait …

Walking into work on Thursday morning after Whiskey Wednesday at Benders …

When my crush checks in on Foursquare at the same bar I'm at …

When I'm at Dolores and the weed truffle guy is out of cinnamon truffles … 

When I'm getting coffee at Four Barrel and they tell me they don't “do” skim milk …

When I walk by a bunch of Capp st hookers …

When my mom calls me after hearing about another shooting on my corner …

When my friend tells me she met her new boyfriend on Instagram …

Questionable Company Offers Tour of Dolores Park to People Who Don't Have Friends

We've heard about Vayable before—you know, the 'travel experiences' website that enables enterprising Joe Somebodys to offer supposedly authentic tours of their locales.  We've seen 'em in action before, first with a tour of Tenderloin homelessness and then again with a $30 wine and cheese insult picnic in Dolores Park.  What fun!

It seems Vayable is still in business and there's a new (!!!) tour of Dolores Park: a $25 dollar per-person journey into “The Life of a Hipster.”  That's right, noted graphic designer “Stefan” will show you the PBR-soaked ropes of Dolores Park culture, even offering to give you a pair of knock-off Wayfarers to complete your afternoon.

The thing is, I don't trust these tour guides.  Anyone offering to give a tour of the park immediately calls the legitimacy of said tour into suspicion.  Just look at that picture: not only does that dog not have any tats, but that guy's shorts aren't jorts.  And you expect this to be a genuine tour of hipster culture?

I'd like to offer a counter tour of Dolores Park.  A tour of the real​ Dolores Park.  Below, a sample itinerary of your three hours in the park:

2:00pm - Tour/hangout begins.

2:25pm - I show up 25 minutes late looking haggard, listless, and easily confused.  I'll blame my alarm, which “didn't go off again, I totally swear.”

2:26pm - I take a seat on the grass, noting that “I don't think I want to start drinking yet” and “I've been trying to take it easy lately.”  Everyone nods in agreement.

2:29pm - Cold Beer, Cold Water walks by, serenading us with his siren song one for three, two for five.

2:30pm - Five dollars poorer and two PBRs richer.

2:42pm - Speculate that none of our friends are in the park yet because “it's too fucking early” and express surprise that we're even up ourselves.

2:48pm - Everyone collectively glares in the general direction of a growing drum circle.

3:00pm - iPhones begin to buzz with requests for “brunch?”

3:01pm - “naw 2 pbrs deep in dolo. bring tecate?”

3:02pm- *Error: Message Send Failure*

3:17pm - Huddle together and devise a plan to hide from the girl you fucked last week that's walking towards our group.

3:19pm - Talk to her anyway.

3:21pm - Report the conversation was “no big deal.”

3:31pm - Complain that “the weed truffle dude” hasn't been in the park allllll day.

3:32pm - Friends begin to trickle into the park.  They brought beer and it's Modelo Especial.  Assholes.

3:34pm - Reprimand a neighboring park-goer for listening to Cut Copy over iPhone speakers. I mean, really?

3:42pm - Trade a dude in a Ninja Turtles t-shirt a $6.70 BART card for a jumbo weed cookie.

3:49pm - Attempt to hit on cute girl in a tattered Black Sabbath t-shirt by remarking how much better English rock was in the 1970s.  After being completely ignored, walk away hoping no one sees you.

3:58pm - Grumble about all the “shitty dubstep” being played in the park.  Be corrected by your smart-ass friend, noting that “it's more witchhaus than dubstep.”

4:03pm - Survey the thousands of fellow cool kids in the park, observing that “nothing is really going on today” and recollect “how much more action” was in the park last week.

4:09pm - Pose for photos with a guy masturbating under a blank as a backdrop.

4:21pm - Call Rhea's and order a vegan sando from a recovering heroin addict.

4:32pm - Your friend Tim turns up, seeing you checked in Foursquare.  He's standing 10 feet away from you and trying to call you.  You reach for your phone, unsuccessfully, and grunt “I guess I'll hang out with him later.”

4:58pm - TCB Courier delivers your sando, because there was “no fucking way” you were walking two blocks “in this fucking heat.”

5:00pm - My iPhone alarm starts ringing. The tour is over.  I stand up, throw two dollars in change in your face and wish you a “horrible Muni ride home.”

5:43pm - You're still standing at the corner of 16th and Guerrero, wondering if the 22 will ever show up.  I'm hunkered over the Pop's bar, squandering my hard-earned tour guide money on bloody mary's and bitching about all the drunk Marina types ruining the park.

That'll be 25 dollars please.

Celebrate Cinco de Mayo by Seeing Some Stand-Up Comedy

Host Chris Thayer delivers the pitch:

What better way to celebrate Cinco de Mayo than to completely ignore it by attending a makeshift comedy show at a used clothing store?

Other than dialing up a mariachi band from a glorified cab company and/or going to Chevys (p.s. - I love Chevys), I can't think of anything that could possibly top this.  8pm at Afterlife Boutique, people.

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