All together now, “SPOOOOOOOON!”
3 hours ago
Monday, December 7, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Simply Having A...Shitfit.
I know that its only the fourth of December but if I have to listen to that fuckin' Wings song again, I'm going to drive a holly covered stake through my eardrum.
I think I would prefer to sit and listen to Yoko Ono scream while ten penny spikes were driven through my balls than suffer through it again. And again. And again.
Yes. It's that serious.
I think I would prefer to sit and listen to Yoko Ono scream while ten penny spikes were driven through my balls than suffer through it again. And again. And again.
Yes. It's that serious.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Full of chicken parm and love!
Tonight during a routine trip, the fates delivered an early x-mas gift in the form of an Italian restaurant. Why is this deserving of jubilation you may be asking? Well, for one, this part of California is a veritable desert when it comes to Italian food.
Let me rephrase that, good Italian food.
Motherfucking Sbarro doesn’t count. The shit is like ashes in my mouth.
Anyway, my beloved and I were just about to settle down to a mediocre dinner at a national chain when she spied some glowing Italian on a sign. The post dusk clouds parted and a shaft of light shone down upon the place with a heavenly chorus. I’m telling you it was like being a Magi seeing that star in the East. I quickly slammed the sled into reverse and headed across the boulevard at breakneck speed to get to the place.
I always have some slight trepidation when it comes to trying new restaurants. It is a total game of Russian roulette. When I’m hungry, it’s the version that they played in the 'DEER HUNTER'.
The place from the outside looked inviting enough but that can always be used as a distraction from the slop that they are presenting. My fears quickly subsided when we were greeted in Italian by the owner who came over, shook our hands and escorted us to our table.
Class all the way.
Within seconds of sitting down, the owner’s wife appeared from the kitchen with a plate of the most delicious bruschetta this buck has ever scarfed down. Everything fresh and home made. We quickly made our choices and waited for the food to arrive. We ordered the stuffed eggplant as an appetizer. A short time after ordering a plate arrived from the kitchen with three pieces of Xanadu smothered in liquid Valhalla. The eggplant was stuffed with spinach, fresh ricotta and ham covered in the most embarrassingly godly delicious marinara to be found in these or any other parts for that matter. I must have looked like I had attained some kind of state of Nirvana as my beloved snapped her fingers at me to get my attention. Yes, it was that delicious. I savored every fuckin’ bite. No wolfing this down like it was 11:59PM on death row. It would have been sacrilegious.
Next up was our entrees, she ordered the Farfalle Gratinate...butterfly pasta with a cream sauce, porcini mushrooms, ham, chicken and a cheese crust, I ordered the Chicken Parm. Mine was accompanied by seasoned potato and spinach cooked with garlic. K and I were both in a state of bliss as we ate.
I looked lovingly at her and told her that I loved her even more than I did a mere half hour before because she saved me from the ‘Grand Slam’ that I most likely would have ordered at our first choice.
Praise Crom for neon signs and K’s excellent vision.
You may be asking yourself, what’s the name of this patch of heaven on earth? Palermo Ristorante .
In the words of MacArthur, ‘I Shall Return’.
Let me rephrase that, good Italian food.
Motherfucking Sbarro doesn’t count. The shit is like ashes in my mouth.
Anyway, my beloved and I were just about to settle down to a mediocre dinner at a national chain when she spied some glowing Italian on a sign. The post dusk clouds parted and a shaft of light shone down upon the place with a heavenly chorus. I’m telling you it was like being a Magi seeing that star in the East. I quickly slammed the sled into reverse and headed across the boulevard at breakneck speed to get to the place.
I always have some slight trepidation when it comes to trying new restaurants. It is a total game of Russian roulette. When I’m hungry, it’s the version that they played in the 'DEER HUNTER'.
The place from the outside looked inviting enough but that can always be used as a distraction from the slop that they are presenting. My fears quickly subsided when we were greeted in Italian by the owner who came over, shook our hands and escorted us to our table.
Class all the way.
Within seconds of sitting down, the owner’s wife appeared from the kitchen with a plate of the most delicious bruschetta this buck has ever scarfed down. Everything fresh and home made. We quickly made our choices and waited for the food to arrive. We ordered the stuffed eggplant as an appetizer. A short time after ordering a plate arrived from the kitchen with three pieces of Xanadu smothered in liquid Valhalla. The eggplant was stuffed with spinach, fresh ricotta and ham covered in the most embarrassingly godly delicious marinara to be found in these or any other parts for that matter. I must have looked like I had attained some kind of state of Nirvana as my beloved snapped her fingers at me to get my attention. Yes, it was that delicious. I savored every fuckin’ bite. No wolfing this down like it was 11:59PM on death row. It would have been sacrilegious.
Next up was our entrees, she ordered the Farfalle Gratinate...butterfly pasta with a cream sauce, porcini mushrooms, ham, chicken and a cheese crust, I ordered the Chicken Parm. Mine was accompanied by seasoned potato and spinach cooked with garlic. K and I were both in a state of bliss as we ate.
I looked lovingly at her and told her that I loved her even more than I did a mere half hour before because she saved me from the ‘Grand Slam’ that I most likely would have ordered at our first choice.
Praise Crom for neon signs and K’s excellent vision.
You may be asking yourself, what’s the name of this patch of heaven on earth? Palermo Ristorante .
In the words of MacArthur, ‘I Shall Return’.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
OK...this time, I mean it.
I guess that the previous post that I placed here about being amped to get some writing done may have been just a shade misleading and for that I apologize. The last month or so I have been fighting off various bugs, trying my damnedest not to get sick. I think on a pain scale like you see in a doctor’s office, getting sick for me would be somewhere between eyes bulging and hemorrhaging from my ass. Hate being sick.
I can tell as the years roll on that my tolerance for stupidity decreases in equal amounts. I’m beyond finished with all this talk about H1N1 pretty much like it was ten years ago when another looming R2D2 sounding disaster was on the horizon, Y2K.
Remember that little chestnut?
It got to the point where I was thinking, “Fuck, I hope they’re right and it launches a preemptive strike on Russia because I’m so sick of hearing about it.” Well, that obviously didn’t happen and I was happy when everyone stopped yapping about it.
I just can’t stand when “The Sky is Falling Crowd” get their hooks in something new.
I swear though, if I have to sit through two more years of overdriven 2012 doomsday shit, I’ll just be hoping those Mayan fuckers were right.
My two copper Lincolns.
I can tell as the years roll on that my tolerance for stupidity decreases in equal amounts. I’m beyond finished with all this talk about H1N1 pretty much like it was ten years ago when another looming R2D2 sounding disaster was on the horizon, Y2K.
Remember that little chestnut?
It got to the point where I was thinking, “Fuck, I hope they’re right and it launches a preemptive strike on Russia because I’m so sick of hearing about it.” Well, that obviously didn’t happen and I was happy when everyone stopped yapping about it.
I just can’t stand when “The Sky is Falling Crowd” get their hooks in something new.
I swear though, if I have to sit through two more years of overdriven 2012 doomsday shit, I’ll just be hoping those Mayan fuckers were right.
My two copper Lincolns.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Says It All...
I feel inspired to put fingers to the keys and churn out some content for this bitch.
Enjoy!
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