Who are you guys, & who died and made you the Buena Vista Supper Club?
Oh wow, introductions are so awkward. I mean we just met and you jump up and get all personal with questions about our existence and such. Well, since you serendipitously stumbled upon this site and have us cornered…
We’re the chubby junior high school friend who consistently complained every day at lunch about how god awful the cafeteria food was and how he/she MacGyvered a sandwich the night before using only their mother’s leftover challah bread, orange marmalade, Le Chatelain camembert, and a George Foreman grill. We’re the drunk at the bar slurring away an alcohol-fueled impromptu libation instructing the bartender to mix raspberry Stoli, crushed mint, pineapple juice , a splash of Sprite, and a cherry on pains of death. We’re the loud Cuban shoving slow-roasted, pulled pork down a vegetarian’s throat. We’re the insomniac who stays up on a Tuesday night daydreaming about lunch tomorrow while running down a mental list of restaurants near work, a la Google Maps street view style. We’re the friends who find any excuse what so ever to get together over vino tinto and fromage in celebration of any event excusable to sound off with our mouths open while we divulge our next foodie outing. We’re Black Angus, Braised Bombshell, Delta Cookie, and Gastrodamus. And we all killed a homeless blogger with a donated Goodwill laptop in order to get this site. His remains have been properly buried, unmarked, and honored with a karaoke rendition of “Freebird.”
I know I’m going out of our predetermined rules, which puts me at risk of having Black Angus lure me to the back alley of his house using a Hermes Birkin bag and a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes so he can whack me over the head with one of his antique flea market finds, but aha! I posted up first, I WIN!
- Braised Bombshell