Friday, May 30, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
1. Irish folk are wicked philanthopic.
2. I have no friends.
Let this post serve as a "thanks a million" to the proprietors of Ceol Pub on Smith St. in Cobble Hill as well as a "thanks for nothing" to the jerks that didn't show up. You know who you are.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Bun: Off to a good start. Not smashed into the rest of the sandwich.
Mayo: The usual BK four tablespoons, but enough bun and lettuce to hold it together.
Lettuce: A few shavings, probably a 2 on the 1 to 5 scale.
Tomato: Two small slices. I guess the roma tomatoes were cheaper today.
Breaded and Fried Onions: A soggy mess. Too close to the A1 sauce.
A1 Sauce: A watered down version of the original. Tasted more like sweet and sour sauce.
Cheese: Winner in the "Ingredient That Tastes Most Like What it Should Taste Like" category.
Patty: One and a half times the size of the bun, but thin and dry with leathery edges.
Overall: Fidel, you're a dumbass for thinking this would taste any better because the commercials are funny. Buen provecho.
Friday, May 09, 2008
No matter how much of a hurry you are in to reapply Proactiv solution to your already destroyed face, please refrain from taking our wet laundry from the washer and putting it on top of the dusty dryers. Or, better yet, please readjust your laundry schedule so as to not coincide with ours, because if this continues, there will be two hits: my wife hitting you, and you hitting the filth that we are forced to call a laundry room floor.
Mr. and Mrs. Fidel Gastro
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Thursday, May 01, 2008
This is Rachel's lasagna:
Pictured above is my second helping. Sausage, bechamel, and homemade sauce worthy of a New York mafioso. And after the second helping, while the rest of the party played "Drink Fifty Tequila Shots in an Hour," I silently peeled back layer after layer of pasta, eating them like savory fruit roll ups. And when the sauce and sausage emerged, I picked out the little chunks of spiced ground pork and popped them like whoppers. I think there's no better compliment to the chef than sneaking more of the main course when you're not supposed to. In fact, I think that even after the lasagna made it into the fridge, I was still picking at it. I hope that nobody was counting on leftovers. Buen provecho.