I think it's pretty damn clear the entire United States of America appreciates it, but I can say with upmost certainty that no one loves food like people in the Midwest.
As you guys probably guessed from my last post, I'm in Chicago.
I'm in Chicago, and my pants aren't buttoning. They aren't even close to buttoning. The two sides of my jeans would not come together right now if John Lennon rose from the dead and sang to them.
It's bad.
It's like that scene from Se7en when the guy was forced to eat spaghetti until he died. It's kind of like that, except I'm doing it to myself.
There is something about this city that makes me eat like I'm trying to get Jillian Michaels to hate fuck me. Let me give you an example. This was dinner tonight.
That is the remnants of an All-Italian, which is a sandwich that contains meatballs, italian sausage and italian beef. Then they douse it with marinara and top it with mozzarella. And just in case that wasn't enough. There's a side of fries, and it was all washed down with a beer.
Oh, what's that sound? Just my heart stopping, no biggie.
I'm pretty sure this blog post has no real meaning, I just basically wanted to let you all know that if I you don't hear from me anymore, it's because I have died.
I love you all. Now, I'm off to go masturbate to a White Castle commercial.
9 comments:
I'm going on a mini vacation to Chicago next week. I fully intend to stuff my face with every single food product ever while I am there.
It's what this city was made for! Have fun!
I'm in love with all of this.
Mainly because when I was in Chicago in February, I ate like a frickin' KING. Deep dish pizzas and cheap alcohol and hippie gourmet coffees from The Descartes Cafe (their motto is "I Drink, Therefore I Am." You must GO THERE. Michigan Ave!), and I had so much fried and greased everything. It was delicious.
And pants are overrated. Pfft. Who needs 'em?
Aaaaand now I want fried/mozzarella-covered things. Lots of them. Thanks, asshole.
Also, might I recommend employing the jersey dress with/out leggings? No buttons involved, just slip on that sucker and you're reading to continue to gorging! They're the fashionable fat pants!
You're on vacation. Vacations are made for you to stuff your face. Enoy!
Charcoal- Pants are overrated, aren't they? And I'll definitely have to check that cafe out. It sounds pretty cool.
MonsteRawr- Lol, no problem! And I'll definitely have to consider the jersey dress. But if one person even looks at me like I might be pregnant, I will be forced to kill them.
L-Kat- True! Thanks for making me feel better about my gluttony!
Ah, I'm pretty much hating you right now. If you get the chance to drive by Wood and Cortez, feel free to flip the bird to the Benjamin Moore apartment building and my ex-fiance inside. Seriously though, go to Mr. Beef on Orleans Street, and Lou Malnati's in Lincoln Park while you're there. Sweet Christ do I miss the food in that town.
Amazeballs.
I'm so proud of you. I don't know why, but I am. I'm always proud when people just eat and say fuck it. DO IT.
Also, this line sold me on you. I was sold before, but holy fuck brilliance:
"The two sides of my jeans would not come together right now if John Lennon rose from the dead and sang to them."
Beer- No!! Don't hate me. How about we just BOTH hate your ex-fiance? Sound good?
And thanks for the suggestions. This is the second time I've been told to go to Lou Malnati's so I think I'll have to go!
Britt- I'm so glad you're proud of me, because I have been eating like I don't love myself!
And thank you so much, my boyfriend actually made fun of me for that line. I showed him you're comment and told him to suck it! Then I ate some more.
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