This is from a regular grocery store. The steaks get a day old and they must go. Now. Before they start to turn brown. Before that or else they will have to sell them for 1¢.
Boo.
Another type of lettuce is substituted. So this salad will have bib and Romaine lettuce.
Apple cider vinegar, so much as I would like poured over the vegetables, and then the same thing with olive oil. That is how these things get mixed. The vegetables are right there and I imagine pouring the vinegar and oil over them then stopping with no extra for the bowl or to be careful or for any other reason. Just stop. It always turns out less vinegar than oil.
Then, doodley-doodley doodley-doodley doodlye-doodley doodley-doo sugar! And that changes everything instantly. Suddenly sweet.
Stop. What are you doing?
This rib-eye is too big for me.
What?
That's right. You heard. I can no longer do this.
What?
This steak is too big.
That does not compute. Those words do not go together. Your language has changed. I no longer understand the meaning of the words that come out of your mouth.
Too big. Demasiado grande. My ability to process meat now equals the ability of a woman.
Wait. Ho. wait. My girlfriend can eat more beef than I can. Light beef-eating is not a feminine trait. She is self-conscious about it and always waits for me to see the amount that I order so she can order less so as not to appear overly ravenous. Your self-characterization is wrong, but whatever.
Really? Okay, fine. My ability to process meat now equals the ability of a child.
Omg. You eat like a girl.
I must face the harsh facts. My diet now resembles one for a woman perhaps a girl.
A woman would go for this, a girl would, 1/4 a ribeye steak with flavors that favor the vegetables. The dressing really is bright.
Bright and happy and sweet. Like girls.
Shut up, it can happen to you too. There you are eating like a regular animal and suddenly you go soft. That's it. No more going back. From now on all meals become rather feminine. That is my fate. Go ahead and chisel that on my tombstone. Because that is my fate.
The good thing is I get three more rib-eye steak meals. This stuff is good. This salad is very good and I am very pleased.
Just look at me. I can whip out a salad dressing faster than you can open a jar and I can make the salad taste better with just a few ingredients than any prepared dressing that you can buy. I put good stuff in it. That is how ace my salad skills are. Boom, just like that, whip it out. And I am just a regular guy. That is what blows people's minds. A regular guy suddenly shows insane salad skill. It's like, Dude, where did you even come from?
Venus.
Apparently.
No comments:
Post a Comment