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 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.