A food baby, that is. (Did I freak you out Bill???)
Some time later (hopefully sooner) I will be delivering a 5-pound 8-ounce Tuna Melt and fries.
I’m registered at Carnegie Deli in case you’d like to complete my registry. Pastrami on rye with Swiss, ketchup and a good New York Cheesecake would be nice playmates for my bouncing baby.
Don't let this happen to you...
Ugh, remind me again, why I chose the tuna melt over the salad I intended to order? Was there some kind of aneurysm that caused me to do this? Ugh. My gut is so bloated right now I look more pregnant than my 8-months-pregnant daughter-in-law.
Send some Pepto Bismol, please.
(Thank you,Debra )
Yes, a lovely photo indeed… Let’s see… The bread is positioned and opened up to look like the top and bottom lips. Hooray, we have the frame of our mouth. Yes, it’s brown on the sides and speckled with air bubbles throughout but that’s likely nothing more than a common STD. The meaty tongue has something of a Jackson Pollock quality, though more of a gaping maw with butchered tongue feel. I’m guessing the blackness in the meat is some sort of cancer. The pickle is there for phallic reasons that I won’t get into. Oh, and the stacked pile of dried up, week old vomit in a dish is the final touch. Yummy!
You’re welcome! *winks*
I could really go for that pickle. They are my favorite!
That was HILARIOUS!
And now I am STARVING!
Okay, seriously? As if picturing the tuna was bad enough, I have to look at a sandwich that isn’t even tuna…but some disgusting, so-rare-it- wiggles-on-the-plate, dead 4-legger? It’s like I’m flying in the Vomit Comit…without actually flying in the Vomit Comit. It’s just mean, really!!!!
NICE PICKLE THOUGH! Is that a pickle in your…..
Okay. I’m done now.
Oh, my. That is a cruel thing to do to my stomach. I have one hour to go and you’ve just triggered some major hunger.
I am listening to “French Women Don’t Get Fat” in the author’s lovely accented French. One moment I want to meditate and share Champagne with the CEO of Veuve Cliquot. The rest of the time I’d like to smash a 3 foot tall sandwich into her 5 foot frame.
Not YOUR 5 foot frame. You are always adorable; even when you least expect to be Mo!
That seriously looks good. Pastrami on Rye mmmm…I may have to drive to LA and head over to Canters for their Reuben.
Thank you! I will never eat again (thus, never doing this to myself anymore).
I know. Now I’m craving a pastrami and Swiss on rye sandwich.