Tag Archives: nikol

Video: Fatburger Challenge

20 Mar

Nikol wanted to do the Fatburger Challenge for her birthday.  This is where you eat three half pound patties on a bun, and they put your picture on the wall.  Continue reading

Guest Post at Nikol Hasler Dot Motherfucking Com

14 Feb

I guest posted for my beloved Nikol over at her web site.  It’s called “Take Valentine’s Day and Shove It Right Up Your Stupid Ass.”  Have a look.

Tag Team Reader Mailbag: Getting Young Girls Drunk

25 Jan


“Juan Stabone” writes:

As a non-drinker, I encountered an absolutely galling situation twice in a period of three months: The girl is over my place, and everything’s going great. In one case I even have her tits out. Then she communicates essentially that she’s down with getting laid, but she can’t fuck me because she doesn’t have any booze in her/is not comfortable enough. Of course, all is lost after that.


They were both banging, banging hot. Not like the animals you (Delicioustacos) seem to have relations with. Months later, not a day has passed wherein I do not deeply regret both occasions. I have developed a minor case of PTSD.

So anyway, what kind of alcohol do I buy to get young girls drunk at my place? I assume there is some sort of fruity wine thing I can put in a sippy cup for them, but I just don’t know anything about booze.

Nikol says: Continue reading

Send Us Your Sex and Relationship Questions

23 Jan

FYI: Nikol D. S. Hasler, an expert in Teen Sex Education, and myself, an expert in having sex with uneducated teens, will field your sex & relationship questions if they’re at all inspiring.  Send submissions to: delicioustacosdotcom@gmail.com

Or leave them in the comments.

Gertrude Part Four: Further Proof That STD’s Are a Fake Boogeyman

26 Oct

At this point it’s almost like “what do I have to do.”  I’m the Whitey Bulger of herpes, flagrantly committing crimes and then dodging punishment for decades while walking around with my hugely recognizable face in a heavily populated city.  What do I have to do to get an STD.   I mean, maybe this girl– there could still be an incubation period.  When did I start fucking her– probably like a week before this test.  So no AIDS would have come through or anything.

But what the fuck would SHE have to do to get an STD. It’s easier for girls to get it than guys, right?  That’s what they tell you in sex ed.  Sixty per cent of new HIV transmissions are women, eighty seven per cent of new syphilis transmissions are women, blah blah blah…  That’s what they tell you in health class.  They also tell you there’s a big chance that if you fuck someone unprotected you’ll get an STD.  So fuck what they said in health class.  I’m not gonna believe anything that came out of that shit anymore.  I’m gonna go back to my childhood understanding, based on speculation from an ass porn mag given to me by a hobo, that a baby is made when a guy puts his penis into a girl’s butt and pees. Continue reading


15 Oct

Nikol D.S. Hasler, the person with the most accurate middle initials in the world.

You know that feeling when you’re having a shitty day at work and people are assholes and you have no money and the car you just bought is now beginning to show signs of a flawed cooling system, but you just tore off a new piece of ass the night before so nothing can really get you down? Well, Nikol’s cancer is in remission.  So nothing can get me down today.  Also, I tore off a new piece of ass. But mostly it’s Nikol.

Nikol’s cancer is in remission.  I never even thought about her cancer, when she had it, unless some big shit like surgery was happening, or it was right after her hair fell out.  Unless it was in my face.  She was sick, but she’s always sick, because she can take a handle of Von’s brand whiskey to the head and does tons of drugs; she’s the kind of person who texts you “I just took 30 tylenol PM’s and I’m going to die” and you can just laugh it off because she can eat pills that would make a billygoat puke.  She’s a tank.  But you could never tell if she was just hung over as fuck or if it was, you know, terminal illness. She wasn’t one of these cancer talk people, cancer cancer cancer all the time, my treatments, my symptoms, my positive thinking program, my misguided attempt to use alternative medicine from Mexico that will only accelerate my death. You didn’t think about it. Continue reading

Weekend Journal 9-3-12 Part 2: The Other Shit, without the Random Naked Chick Sucking My Cock While a Frenchman Rawdogged Her

4 Sep

Friday night I got blind drunk, alone, on cheap brandy.  And I played Baldur’s Gate.  Baldur’s Gate is a video game version of Dungeons and Dragons from the nineties.  It is the greatest video game ever made.  My character is a wizard.

The game kept crashing.  It would crash at the same place– every time I entered the Jovial Juggler Inn in Beregost.  I spent many hours googling variations on “Jovial Juggler Crash.”  A lot of people have the same problem. Going back over a decade.  But apparently in this instance it’s connected to my use of a mod that allows the old game to play in resolutions suited to today’s modern computers and screens.  I spent many hours uninstalling and reinstalling the game and the mod and downloading both things again and changing my save files and etc.  Reloading a save game from before my characters entered the Beregost land tile.  None of it fixed the problem.  I will simply not go into the Jovial Juggler Inn.  It’s annoying because later in the game, Commander Vai of the Flaming Fist mercenaries will pay you 150 gold pieces for every bandit scalp you collect, and 1,000 gold pieces for every wyvern head, and she is quartered at the Jovial Juggler Inn. There are many bandits and wyverns in the game, and I need that fucking money.  But what can you do. Eventually I passed out. Continue reading

Weekend Journal 9-3-12: Bobbie (NSFW Image)

3 Sep

Nikol, here’s a picture of that girl whose ass was eating her panties that she was wearing as a bathing suit, being reamed by a French guy.  It turned into an MMF three way where he was fucking her and she was sucking me off but I couldn’t get a boner because of cocaine.  There was a weird moment where the dude kind of grabbed onto my back for support.  I believe it was his way of saying “hey, would you like to turn this a little gay?”  I was able to communicate “no” via body language without pulling my back out from under his hand and causing him to fall over. The whole thing was really very polite. Continue reading

Reader Mail Sac: I Am Insecure about My Vagina

29 Aug

“Every Girl I Know” writes, and says constantly:

“I’m afraid after I have kids it’s gonna be a hot dog down a hallway.”

“It’s for real, roast beefy. Like, the inner lips are way too big. That shit looks like it’s been chewed on. Fruit leather.”

“I’m insecure about the smell, taste, and appearance of my vagina and blah blah blah endlessly.”

Continue reading

Weekend Journal 8-19-12: The Demon Cocaine

19 Aug

I was supposed to go to Six Flags with Nikol and her kids today.  Instead I slept on my couch naked, sweating like fucking Kunta Kinte, with chunks of bloody scabby snot oozing out of my nose onto my white pillow.  When I woke up I had to pull a beach towel off me; it was glued to my belly with snot and jizz.  Five loads worth.  They are redoing the floor in the apartment above me.  Installing hardwood flooring.  Or rather “hardwood flooring,” some kind of interlocking veneer that you put together like a puzzle.  Thin planks that will resonate like guitar tops as my neighbors stomp stomp stomp all over them from 6am to 1am.  Nobody who has ever lived above or below me has ever once gotten eight hours sleep in a night.  It’s always some biological anomaly like Da Vinci, sleeping for 20 minutes and then waking up to engage in some crazy engineering project involving huge heavy slabs of wood and metal.  Manic geniuses building a 1500’s helicopter.  The floor crew began work at 9am just as the speedy coke was finally permitting me to start to doze off without my jaw chattering and long strings of thousands of nonsense words running through my brain.  They hammer a floorboard in once every minute and a half.  Tap tap tap tap tap.  After about five of these they use some kind of growling screeching saw or sander in a two second burst.

The artificial vagina is still sitting in my drawer.  It is the best artificial vagina I have ever made.  The meat of it is one of those donut airline pillows you put around your neck.  I knew, when I received this airline pillow as a gift from my grandmother, that I would never use it to support my neck comfortably on an airline headrest.  I knew I would be lashing it to a bunch of other weird shit and lubing it up and fucking it on cocaine. Continue reading


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