Food What?

I shamelessly invite other friends over to my lover's house so he can make us all some fried chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy (he decided to add a pecan pie. Homemade.).

When asked if I want to help prepare a salad by the Salad Creatrix Extraordinaire herself, I shamelessly tell her the truth: I do not want to help make a salad (I would merely stand by and watch her, mesmerized, as she opens cupboards she does not know and find all the hidden ingredients in them to prepare a heavenly concoction of greens and vinegars and dried fruits and nuts).

When I want to celebrate the birthday of a friend of mine who is known for his culinary prowess, I shamelessly ask him to pick a restaurant (It's true: I fear cooking for someone like him, with all his talent for cooking).

I beg for chocolates, meow for chai, pout for pecan pie. I can be a hussy for a good well-prepared, several course meal. I'm off the beef now (mad cow) but pining, even, for the In-and-Out. Food slut: that's me.

Comments

[boy_howdy]

rider mae, you can impose your palate-lusts on my kitchen any day!

-b_h

[timothy]

don't worry, in-n-out is owned by christians. go have a burger!