Be My Boyfriend: Chef Who Farted On All Of His Employees And Posted A Craigslist Ad To Announce It
Dear Farting Chef,
Food and farts! You sir, know how to make a lady swoon. Farting Chef, your Craigslist ad detailing the achievement of your three-month mission to fart on all 37 of your employees, knocked the wind out of me. I am dying to figure out who you are.
In the ad, you write, “I am a chef, I don’t know if I would call myself world famous, but I am definitely known in and around NYC. I have had several specials on foodnetwork.”
OMG. Holy shit. I watch Food Network all the time. Please let you be Chris Santos. I’m obsessed with you on “Chopped.” But if you’re not Chris Santos, I am in love with you, whoever you are. I would probably date any chef as long as I liked his food. But if I like his food and he has a wicked sense of humor, it’s ON! I was especially besotted with the idea that your spontaneous “maiden fart” inspired you to turn this into a full-fledged game. You even made up strict rules for yourself:
1. The only rules I had were this: I had to fart on everyone, I mean including my bread guy, my pasta guy, all our dishwashers, my sous chef, etc…
2. They had to either hear, smell or be somehow aware that I have farted on them. This is where it gets tricky.
3. I have to do it in order of name, alphabetically, and I cant skip people and come back.
4. At least 80 percent had to make a comment or some type of revolting behavior afterward, and if they didnt, I had to do them again and again, the same person, until they finally surrendered to the demon that is my fart.
As if that weren’t enough, I lost it when you assigned your “hot air loads” different colors. “A red fart is a spicy one, probably incurred by some type of spicy ethnic food with a great amount of chilis and onions. A yellow fart, well these are worse on the farter, than they are on the fartee.”
Never have I been so enthralled with a man I’ve never met. You bet your exploding ass that I’m going to find you. I’ll be dropping into every decent NYC restaurant and saying, “Mr. Bojangles and his two sidewinders sent me” to the bartender.
Please, cook for me. You can even cut the cheese for me if you feel like it.