Tom Sandoval’s Side Hustle Is A Microwave Burrito Bar 💀 AND IT GETS WORSE
Okay, besties. Sit down. No, actually, stand up, because this is a level of delusion I didn’t think was possible in 2024. You think you’ve seen cringe? You think you’ve seen a PR disaster? You think you’ve seen a man hit rock bottom? Hold my matcha. ☕️🔥
We are talking about *the* Tom Sandoval. The Scandoval king. The mustache that launched a thousand think pieces. The man who, for a brief, dark moment in history, was the most hated man in America because he cheated on Ariana Madix with Rachel Leviss while wearing some truly questionable eyeliner.
We thought the Villain Era was over. We thought he’d slink off to a dark corner of WeHo, open a mediocre cocktail bar, and never speak to us again. But no. Oh, hell no. Tom Sandoval looked at the ashes of his reputation and said, “You know what this dumpster fire needs? A microwave.”
Because, my dudes. He just dropped his new business venture: a fast-casual restaurant concept that is, I kid you not, a *microwave burrito bar*.
I’m not joking. I’m not being hyperbolic. This man, who spent years on Vanderpump Rules flexing his “mixology” skills and acting like he invented the Tom Tom cocktail, has now decided his culinary legacy is… pressing the “Add 2 Minutes” button on a lunch break appliance.
Let’s break it down. He posted a teaser. It’s a video. It’s him. He’s got that new, post-scandal, “I’m a serious businessman now” haircut. He’s wearing a suit jacket, but it’s unbuttoned. He’s in a dimly lit room. The camera pans to a counter. And sitting there, under a heat lamp, are a bunch of foil-wrapped burritos.
The caption? “Tired of the same old game? Try the new wave. It’s hot. It’s fast. It’s Sandoval’s Speedy Surprises.”
SPEEDY SURPRISES. That’s the name. I am not making this up. The “surprise” is that you’re paying $12.99 for a burrito that was assembled in a commissary kitchen 48 hours ago and then nuked in a machine that also has “popcorn” and “baked potato” settings.
The internet, predictably, lost its entire collective mind.
The memes are brutal. People are photoshopping a microwave onto his face. They’re putting the Scandoval affair timeline on the side of the burrito wrapper. Someone already made a TikTok sound that’s just the *ding* of a microwave with the audio of Ariana screaming from the season 10 reunion. It’s art. It’s chaos. It’s the only good thing to come out of this.
But here’s the thing that’s sending me into orbit. It’s not just that he’s selling microwaved burritos. It’s the *vibe*. He’s branding it as “elevated convenience.” ELEVATED. He’s acting like he’s the Elon Musk of frozen food. He’s saying stuff like, “We use a proprietary reheating algorithm. It’s not a *nuke*, it’s a *thermal re-engagement*.”
BRO. YOU ARE PUSHING A BUTTON. A BUTTON THAT MY GRANDMA HAS. A BUTTON THAT IS LITERALLY IN EVERY DORM ROOM IN AMERICA.
And the price point? Oh, honey. It’s $12.99 for a “Signature Burrito.” What’s the signature? The signature is that it’s been sitting in a warmer for three hours. The signature is that it’s the same burrito you could get at 7-Eleven, but it has a sticker of Tom Sandoval’s face on it. The signature is that it’s a metaphor for his entire life: a hot, messy, disappointing thing that you paid way too much for and immediately regret.
But wait. It gets worse. I went down the rabbit hole. I found the menu. It’s on a website that looks like it was designed in 2009 by someone who only knows how to use Comic Sans.
Menu items include:
- The “Miami Vibes” Burrito (rice, black beans, cheese, a sad amount of guac).
- The “Smooth Operator” Burrito (chicken, salsa verde, sour cream).
- The “Ariana’s Revenge” Burrito (just. just a raw jalapeño wrapped in a tortilla. I’m kidding. But I wouldn’t be surprised).
And the drinks. Oh, the drinks. He’s selling “Sandoval’s Signature Agua Fresca.” It’s water. With a lime. For $6.
This man. This man cheated on his girlfriend of nine years, broke the internet, lost every sponsorship he had, and then decided the best way to rebuild his empire was to become a human vending machine.
What is the strategy here? Is this a bit? Is he trolling us? Did he lose a bet with Schwartz? Is this a performance art piece about the emptiness of consumer culture? No. It’s worse. He’s serious. He’s doing interviews about it. He’s talking about the “texture profile” of a microwaved tortilla. He’s using words like “disruption” and “paradigm shift.”
The only paradigm shift happening here is the shift of your money from your wallet to his pocket for a meal that takes less time to make than a TikTok video.
And honestly? It’s kind of iconic. In a completely, profoundly, disastrously pathetic way. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion, but the car is a 2002 Honda Civic with a “
Final Thoughts
Tom Sandoval’s saga is a masterclass in the modern paradox of fame: the more we see of someone’s unvarnished self-destruction, the less we actually know them. His apology tour for the “Scandoval” affair felt less like genuine atonement and more like a reality star’s desperate attempt to script his own redemption arc while the cameras were still rolling. In the end, the spectacle isn’t about who he hurt, but about how we’ve all become willing consumers of a man’s very public, very hollow implosion.