Gumbo
I changed the layout... got kinda tired of the same old stuff...
I'm headed to Sewanee tomorrow, so if, by the grace of God, I have access to the computer (assuming computers have made their way into Tennessee), I'll post an update while I'm up there.
If not, expect lots of embarrasing photos and a new post on "Does That Sh*t Really Work?!" next week.
So, K and Jorge and I are packing up the PT cruiser and headed up to Sewanee for the weekend. We're renting a house on campus with an older fraternity brother of mine, Brad, who is one of the nicest gentlemen I've ever met. Anyway, K decided that it'd be cool to be up on the mountain and have her gumbo. She's been cooking it all day, and I came home to the best smelling house I've ever come home to.
Some metaphors to tell you how good K's gumbo is...
-You know that point in romance movies when the cute, quirky couple kisses and the sappy music kicks in right before the credits? That's what it's like when you take the first bite of K's gumbo.
-You know when you eate something that tastes so good, you know that the instant you injest it, you're just taken 5 years off your life (or put yourself on the waiting list for a triple-bypass surgery)? That's like eating K's gumbo.
-You know that day in spring when the sun is finally warm enough that when you step into the sunlight it warms the back of your legs? That's like eating K's gumbo.
-You remember the songs your mom/dad used to sing you when you were a child? That's like eating K's gumbo.
-You know why I feel bad for vegetarians and vegans? K's muh-fuggin' gumbo.
This stuff is purely magical. K used to make it for my friends when they came over for the fantasy baseball draft. People used to join the league and come to the draft JUST FOR THE GUMBO. They wouldn't check the team for the rest of the season, but they'd walk out of that apartment feeling like they could conquer the world.
I'm gonna be eating that muh-fuggin' gumbo all weekend. And I'm gonna conquer the world.
Or at least a twelver of nattie light.
I'm headed to Sewanee tomorrow, so if, by the grace of God, I have access to the computer (assuming computers have made their way into Tennessee), I'll post an update while I'm up there.
If not, expect lots of embarrasing photos and a new post on "Does That Sh*t Really Work?!" next week.
So, K and Jorge and I are packing up the PT cruiser and headed up to Sewanee for the weekend. We're renting a house on campus with an older fraternity brother of mine, Brad, who is one of the nicest gentlemen I've ever met. Anyway, K decided that it'd be cool to be up on the mountain and have her gumbo. She's been cooking it all day, and I came home to the best smelling house I've ever come home to.
Some metaphors to tell you how good K's gumbo is...
-You know that point in romance movies when the cute, quirky couple kisses and the sappy music kicks in right before the credits? That's what it's like when you take the first bite of K's gumbo.
-You know when you eate something that tastes so good, you know that the instant you injest it, you're just taken 5 years off your life (or put yourself on the waiting list for a triple-bypass surgery)? That's like eating K's gumbo.
-You know that day in spring when the sun is finally warm enough that when you step into the sunlight it warms the back of your legs? That's like eating K's gumbo.
-You remember the songs your mom/dad used to sing you when you were a child? That's like eating K's gumbo.
-You know why I feel bad for vegetarians and vegans? K's muh-fuggin' gumbo.
This stuff is purely magical. K used to make it for my friends when they came over for the fantasy baseball draft. People used to join the league and come to the draft JUST FOR THE GUMBO. They wouldn't check the team for the rest of the season, but they'd walk out of that apartment feeling like they could conquer the world.
I'm gonna be eating that muh-fuggin' gumbo all weekend. And I'm gonna conquer the world.
Or at least a twelver of nattie light.
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