There are things in life that you enjoy. Then there are things in life that you absolutely love. Dipping sauce, is one of these things. Where would we be as a food-consuming society without the wonderful condiments known as Dipping Sauces? Where, I ask, where? We would be stuck in a gray, cold, bland world with no flavor and no pizzazz. That’s where we would be. Life without Dipping Sauce is not a life to live at all. I guess it is comparable to living without a penis, if you are a male of course. Dipping Sauce and your dick give you something to live for, something to strive for, and something to die for.
A life without neither is no life at all. And yes, I have dipped my wick in ranch dressing. Don’t knock it until you try it.
But alas, this article is not about the schlong—nor the sacapuntas for that matter—it is about the Sauce that is used to Dip things in. Buffalo Wings without Blue Cheese, Wendy’s Nuggets without Honey Mustard, Mozzarella Sticks without Marinara, and French Fries without Catsup. All of the above are nothing without their extremely underrated partner … nothing I tell you. They are like He-Man without his Hairy Underwear, retards without there gigantic toungs, Kirsten Dunst without her amazing ta-ta’s and Splinter the Rat without mutagen.
They are dry, lifeless and far less potent without the touch of that wet, adhesive substance known as Dipping Sauce.
And as much as that statement is true, there are those out there who refuse to accept Dipping Sauces as their one and only savior. They FEAR Dipping Sauce. They FEAR its power and glory. Like Patrick Swayze preaches in Donnie Darko, they are living a life imprisoned by the emotion of FEAR. I used to be one of these people.
But oh yes, I saw the light one day … I did indeed.
For all of my years as a sinner, I knew I was leading an impure life … I knew there was something missing in my world. It was as if I were Judy Garland in the black and white portion of the Wizard of Oz. This life I lead was no life to lead at all. It was a sham, a farce, a joke.
But then came one fateful trip the Outback Steakhouse. Then came my Look Into the Eye of the Beholder. The Bloomin’ Onion Horseradish Sauce was my Messiah. (yes noah he lives) I looked into the eye of Glory itself and became entranced. What did i do you might ask. I'll tell you what I did. I took a piece of that Bloomin' Onion, and dipped the shit out of it in that sauce, and then i ate it, and i was left with only five words to speak. Oh, Glory be to Halleluiah.
Kudos to you, dipping sauce. I would also like to mention that the word sauce is a wierd word. Just say it a few times over and over again...sauce...sauce....sauce.