The approach of meteorological spring can only mean one thing. Lent. Which can only mean one thing. FISH SAMMICHES!
The robins in my yard are HUGE. Like biddy hens. Their territory is the back and the crows have the front. When they meet in the side yard, they get all when you’re a Jet. And it’s pathetic. Birds can’t snap.
I’m planning a date night around watching Inglorious Basterds. Don’t tell Chuck. It’s a surprise. I am obnoxiously excited about planning a bushwackin’ guerrilla army of a menu that does one thing and one thing only: Satisfy my need for crispy fried veal.
I love how every other recipe on Pinterest has either crescent rolls or cream cheese as a main ingredient. Even better? Those with both.
The key to a successful relationship is this: You both have to love Three Stooges or hate them. Iggy and The Stooges? Works the same.
Get off your high horse about krab. That stuff is delightful.
Teh internetz loves you more when it thinks you’re hurt than when you’re well. True fact.
I always get Wes Anderson, Paul Thomas Anderson, and John Cameron Mitchell confused. Then when I sort them out, I realize Wes Anderson’s the one I like and feel dumb. Then I’m all sorry, Wes Anderson, for thinking you’re the Shortbus guy.
Where are the french fries I did not order? You guys need to anticipate me!