"Spice Invasion: How One Restaurant is Destroying Suburbia, One Dosa at a Time"

Oh joy, another ethnic restaurant has invaded our pristine suburban utopia. Just what we needed—more "exotic" smells wafting through the air, disrupting the delicate olfactory balance of our carefully curated McMansion community. I, for one, will not stand idly by while my children are exposed to the horrors of coriander and star anise before they’ve even mastered the art of properly complaining about organic kale chips.

Let’s talk about this so-called "Sangam Chettinad." First of all, how am I supposed to pronounce that? I tried saying it at the last HOA meeting, and Karen from two doors down gasped so loud she nearly spilled her pumpkin spice latte. And don’t even get me started on the menu. "Mutton chops"? "Dry country chicken"? Is this a restaurant or a farmyard rebellion? I demand to know if these dishes come with a side of gentrification guilt or if that’s extra.

And the dosas. Oh, the dosas. Those crispy, flaky, delicious-looking… no. I must resist. I will not be seduced by foreign carbohydrates, no matter how many Instagram influencers pose with them in front of their Tesla charging stations. My children will eat chicken tenders like God and Whole Foods intended.

But the real tragedy here? The traffic. Mark my words, this "culinary gem" will bring nothing but chaos to our peaceful streets. Soon, our quiet neighborhood will be overrun by foodies in yoga pants, circling the block like vultures, hunting for parking spots that rightfully belong to my oversized SUV.

So, Round Rock, brace yourselves. The spice must flow, and with it, the downfall of suburban purity. I’ll be in my panic room, drafting a strongly worded Nextdoor post about the dangers of unregulated cumin consumption. Stay vigilant, my fellow concerned citizens. The currypocalypse is upon us.