Monday, February 18, 2013


Teenage Burritos: Not today, motherfucker!


Who are you?

We are Teenage Burritos from San Diego: Rachel McCarthy-Moya (guitar), Lucy Wehrly (drums), Kirsten Gundel (bass/vocals), and Brian Carver (guitar.)

Who are you wearing?

Jammin' Leather.


Burger or burrito?

We live in San Diego, home of the best Mexican food in the USA. Pizza, obviously.

Best and worst thing about being in an all-girl band?

Best thing: pillow fights.

Worst thing: having a dude in the band.

Favorite kamikaze?

If you were old west bandits, how much would be the reward for your capture?

During the California Gold Rush, we sold all our belongings besides a few pairs of britches and about seventeen wooden Indians, and bought a covered wagon and two brindle snow leopards. We set out upon our journey from Kansas City, New York to Bookface, California on the sixth of January, 1849, which was pretty much the worst time possible to travel across the continental United States while riding a snow leopard. So we turned back after twelve minutes of heavy traveling in the snows of winter to reassess our levels of intelligence. All upon our heads were flakes of snow and dandruff, to which there was no kind of T-Gel or Head and Shoulders in existence back then. We used to rub a mixture of ground bald eagle talons and beet juice into our heads in an effort to combat our terrible psoriasis, but it only made our scalp-snow bright pink, which was festive on Easter, but generally horrifying. After undergoing frequent experimental orangutan scalp transplant surgeries, we decided to depart once again on July 20th of '49, which again proved to be a terrible time to leave as our new orange monkey scalps were still sensitive to the heat and extremely drippy. It turned out to be a sign from God though and we chose to ask the Ouija Board when to leave. Ouija said to leave in May of the following year because we told it to say that and we're smarter than it is. Only problem was that we had eaten all the legs off the snow leopards that winter because we traded all our possessions to acquire them, and we had no slave-animals to pull us anymore. So we came up with a crafty trick that proved fatal for several child-clowns, but you can't make a scramble without eating a few eggs. Am I right? We dressed our non-pedal snow leopards as wizards and put them on the shoulders of a couple mid-level sorcerers so they looked tall. We marched them into the middle of the Kansas City Circus, right where they keep the mean lions and the mean tigers. When the child-clown militia came forth to meet us, we pulled out our whale-tallow napalm bombs and laid them all to waste. We burned every last child in that circus, whether they wore clown makeup or not, because you can never be too sure. We then unlocked the mean tigers and mean lions and made them hold hands when we left the circus grounds so that none would get lost. We immediately made haste for Bookface, with our britches and our seventeen wooden Indians and our lame brindle snow leopard wizards all piled into our covered wagon, towed by our new slave-animals, the mean lions and mean tigers. We traversed the Great Wild for six days at the rapid pace of a small animal of some sort, until we all ate a rotten burrito and had to stop to camp, nearly seven miles outside Kansas City, New York, kinda right by where the Dairy Queen is now. It is at that place where we all laid down to an explosive diarrhea festival, the likes of which have never been seen before....The Real Housewives aired. I'm sure you can probably imagine what the scene looked like- Lucy, with profusely sweaty orangutan hair plugs hanging in her eyes, violently sharting a hole in her britches; Rachel, with her wonderful orangutan hair-piece just cascading with perspiration all in her face, writhing and farting, having a one-woman Cacapocalypse; Kirsten, with her exceedingly clammy orange wig-part glistening and shining in the yellow torch light, just spewing forth Brown Liquid Waste Product® and redefining the meaning of that old cliche "Poo-cano." The mutilated brindle snow leopards, the mid-level sorcerers, and all the mean lions and mean tigers moaned and rolled in streams of the tepid, stinky runoff. We decided it wasn't the right time to leave again, and turned back home to lick our wounds and re-up our cookie levels. Upon our return to Kansas City, there was a bounty on our heads of 5,000 pesos and we were wanted for the unlawful murder of 42 child-clown slaves and 13 counts of grand theft animal-slave, plus we were covered in the putrid remains of partially digested burrito waste. The towns people laughed and called us "teenage burritos," but I could tell they envied our lustrous primate flesh-rugs. We holed up in a goat barn with all our slaves and waited for the inevitable child-sheriff posse. But then we got bored of waiting and decided to turn ourselves in for the 5,000 pesos.

Best bands to play with in San Diego?

P.O.D. and Iron Butterfly.

What is the difference between a teenage burrito and an adult burrito?

The Teenage Burritos retain a youthful exuberance and innocence that the pessimistic adult burrito lacks. Additionally, adult burrito sounds disgusting.

Which 60's soul singer is the original Riottt Girl?

Sam Cooke.

What is your message for the kids?

Not today, motherfucker!


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1 comment:

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