Thursday, September 17, 2009

Mambo Italiano

Ugh... I feel like my pouch is about to implode. Once again, I got Jedi mind fucked into eating this ex-lax.

Intern's last day = intern's choice... Fucking 20 yr old interns, not exactly the culinary geniuses of our time unless you consider sprinkling Mrs. Dash Original Blend in a Cup O'Noodles or a sack of shredded Kroger Mexican cheez into a box of mac-n-cheez to give it that custom 4 cheez blend. You shoulda seen the shit eating grin on his face when he chose this poopshoot. It was like he hit the jackpot.... Shit, I know I will be hitting the pot later under the alias "Jack".

God damn it, why the fuck did I order Fettuccine Carbonara? Like anyone would believe this would be authentic from a shanty in Norcross. But I bought it... Hook, line and stinker. They are prolly laughing their asses off right now. Panchetta was like gummi bacon, that shit stretched and stretched without tearing apart. It reminded me of Stretch Armstrong. Green peas looked fresh... Right out of Linda Blair's mouth. Tomatoes in a cream sauce... Yeah, Peter North's special cream sauce. That jizz was so thick that it sweated oil and grease from it's crevasses.

Margherita 'Za, another one of life's mysteries... I'm mystified how fucking revolting this thing was. The crust was blanco... With a nice dusting of raw flour. Char? The only char will be in my pants in the form of a skidmark. Just because it's flat and round doesn't mean it's a pizza... It could be Earth. Jesus, I want to jump off the edge of the world right about now.

My iron stomach is acting like a Kroger plastic bag with holes on the bottom the size of my uncle's ulcers. Shit, speaking of plastic bags... I rather poo into one in the corner of the parking lot instead of using that spooge infested office facilities. I have seen the carnage done in there and it ain't purdy. It's like dueling banjos, except they're not playing music. Well, some would suggest it's a form of music. But I would never subject my virgin ears to that filth.

Dismal, absolutely dismal as the day is long.

Splat.

5165 Peachtree Pkwy
Ste 210

Norcross, GA 30092
(770) 441-3200

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