This article is part of the Roamin' Dad series.
HELLO!!!!!!!!!! IT is your father!!! As I learned the day I got married: One Mans Trash Is Another Mans Cumberbund, But I digest, I am a man with many stories to tell including a handful about that Thailand woman i dated for 6 weeks once and on the last day of our togethership it was her birthday so I copied the key to her apartment and got in while she was at work to make a Super Romantic dinner but when i got inside every surface was covered with plastic bags from different stores around town and there was nothing in them it was just a ton of empty bags that she probably used for everything. I took a bunch of them off the stove and started frying up Breakfast For Dinner (LOADS OF EGGS, SAUSAGES, A ROMANTIC CHEF simulate new beginning through food) and the light was kind of dim in the kitchen but i was frying up my 4th skillet full and it was starting to get warm in the kitchen so i found some switches on the wall behind the stove and i figured one had to be a fan so i flipped it and all the lights came on and i looked around to find all the idiot plastic grocery bags were melting everywhere I looked. It was melty white and blue on every counter top and inside the sink and i needed to get the heck out of there because it was starting to smell like burning popcorn also BUT i had so many eggs and i didn't want to leave them behind because i didn't eat yet that day and it was like 5 PM so i ran to the bedroom and got a pillowcase and sacked up the eggs and meat and ran out the back door with my greasy dripping breakfast bag and jumped 2 big fences and 3 small fences. I got to a parking lot and sat down on the ground between two cars and started eating the eggs and meat with my hands for more running+jumping energy. To make a long story short that day I invented a dish of eggs and meat served in a pillowcase that i call the "Country Diaper".
I have been told by several sources including people on tv that 25% of a great restaurant is the food, the other 75% is the atmosphere, and 20% of the atmosphere is oxygen which is good because i'm about to breath some hot air into the stagnating dining industry !! All of my foods tell a tale that will whisk you back to the day of their creation and all the stories will be printed on the menu. "Now Now" you are probably thinking "Remember Last Time You Started A Restaurant?.... Remember... The Bean Fiend?" and i will tell you that this is NOTHING like The Bean Fiend!!!!!!!!
I'm all set to be a restaurateur and wear nice clothes to work. Ready to Watch a big fat guy come in and eat out of my Country Diaper and cry that his son is 12 years old and has childbearing hips and crying and eating with his mouth open and eggbits are spilling back out of his disgusting wailing mouth but I don't care because I'm about to close a big sale!!! (the Country Diaper costs 19 dollars to make)
"Feast Fast with Me Every Morning and get a Country Diaper Speed Sack 'Just A Bunch of Eggs And Meat' and eat it However You want the world is your oyster" TODAYS SPECIAL Kiss a dog today. Make a dogs day by kissing that pup. Dogfun day at Farmer's Choice. It's almost party time!!! Bring in your dog for breakfast and kiss it and get a free egg. How can you possibly lose!!!! Bring multi-dogs and get that many eggs (the number of dogs you bring) and kiss them all but if you bring more than 1 dog each one you kiss has to wag its tail after you kiss it to get an egg. This is to keep guys from bringing in all the unhappy city dogs and bankrupting me of breakfast
When you enter my restaurant a tape will play a beautiful song. Imagine A medieval knight who entered a ballroom and the whole peasant choir or whatever starts doing the first part from Kiss From A Rose and suddenly you're a big deal!! I have this all figured out
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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