Boo weddings for 70 people who don't drink...that's not the way this bear makes money...no sirree Bob.
I was super mad because for some reason the bride bought a full wheel of brie, which is usually enough for a wedding twice the size of hers...plus a lot of other upsells...so like, this huge bowl of leftover brie and berry coulis comes back into the kitchen afterwards...usually there's like a small-ish chunk and all of us just attack it...we're pretty sicktastic about it and I don't pretend to be the least bit classy...so this is where the "handfuls of brie" in my profile comes in.
So here we are jumping and clapping because there's this ginormous BOWL of cheese (gah! whee!) that is ALL FOR US, but we couldn't eat any (well, hardly any...only one handful as opposed to like nine) because we quickly had to go do wine...and grrr ROAR when we got back RRAAAAAAHHHHH they had THROWN IT ALL OUT! Who does that?! Boo fuckin urns. Front of house + back of house = war.
Too bad all of you are chefs so no one will prolly talk to me now. That's fine, I'm not that in love with you.
(Okay, I am.)
So I just got off the phone with my wife in Taipei (yes the Sam-alamadingdong, who by the way is coming home in exactly one month, which obviously means we're going to smoke lots of weed and you are invited, yes you...no not you, stupid lurker slut) and she has outright inspired me to go traveling myself. Fuck you all and your yearlong (or "forever") excursions to far-off places. All of my bestest friends since like grade 4 have moved to distant lands (or at least as far as Burlington), leaving me here to be sad and write things like "missing people I love" in lists of shit that makes me sad. Oh WOW, you're finding out all my not-so-cryptic meanings tonight, aren't you...ain't that special.
So I'm warning all of you who live far away that I may or may not choose your hometown to invade with my trusty sidekick Gir...I mean, Jeff in a Gir costume...so please be ready with a packed bowl and case of cold beer when we get there. (And yes, Fitty, I will be visiting you first. And if YOU don't have weed or beer, I will be hugely disappointed and immediately run in the direction of Turkey.) And it wouldn't kill you to warm me up some brie.
I was super mad because for some reason the bride bought a full wheel of brie, which is usually enough for a wedding twice the size of hers...plus a lot of other upsells...so like, this huge bowl of leftover brie and berry coulis comes back into the kitchen afterwards...usually there's like a small-ish chunk and all of us just attack it...we're pretty sicktastic about it and I don't pretend to be the least bit classy...so this is where the "handfuls of brie" in my profile comes in.
So here we are jumping and clapping because there's this ginormous BOWL of cheese (gah! whee!) that is ALL FOR US, but we couldn't eat any (well, hardly any...only one handful as opposed to like nine) because we quickly had to go do wine...and grrr ROAR when we got back RRAAAAAAHHHHH they had THROWN IT ALL OUT! Who does that?! Boo fuckin urns. Front of house + back of house = war.
Too bad all of you are chefs so no one will prolly talk to me now. That's fine, I'm not that in love with you.
(Okay, I am.)
So I just got off the phone with my wife in Taipei (yes the Sam-alamadingdong, who by the way is coming home in exactly one month, which obviously means we're going to smoke lots of weed and you are invited, yes you...no not you, stupid lurker slut) and she has outright inspired me to go traveling myself. Fuck you all and your yearlong (or "forever") excursions to far-off places. All of my bestest friends since like grade 4 have moved to distant lands (or at least as far as Burlington), leaving me here to be sad and write things like "missing people I love" in lists of shit that makes me sad. Oh WOW, you're finding out all my not-so-cryptic meanings tonight, aren't you...ain't that special.
So I'm warning all of you who live far away that I may or may not choose your hometown to invade with my trusty sidekick Gir...I mean, Jeff in a Gir costume...so please be ready with a packed bowl and case of cold beer when we get there. (And yes, Fitty, I will be visiting you first. And if YOU don't have weed or beer, I will be hugely disappointed and immediately run in the direction of Turkey.) And it wouldn't kill you to warm me up some brie.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
Colcannon Turkey is nice to look at in pictures but the people that come from there are real dicks. They come to Germany and get paid by the government to learn the language but they don't. They just fuckin' take the government's money and then when they've had enough they go back to Turkey again. What really makes them dicks though is that they're always staring at and catcalling women all the time.