Ey, vato, my apartment is half a block away. I have stuff in my kitchen. But if you want to impress the chunky Mission District cholitas, knock yourself out. You are selling bacon-wrapped turkey franks. I'll just go home and grill myself up some onion, jalapeno, tomatillo, pork fat, and an andouille.
Good luck with the slags.
Sorry. Slagitas.
I have condiments.
I could say something about inch-thick layers of foundation and face-powder, but hey, you're licking all that toxic waste, not me.
I can lend you a trowel.
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