Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Anna Nicole McMuffin (or, What to do and what to eat following an employment rejection.)

Topic: I'm never really sure if you'll take what I'm saying the right way.

It's not going away, so let's just embrace it. They should take the corpse of Anna Nicole Smith, prop it up outside the Bellagio in Vegas and charge $100 to touch it. They'd make a fortune. I hope they do it, I'd go. It'll be great.

Tomorrow I'm going to McDonalds for that magical moment when you can get a Big Mac and there's still an Egg McMuffin sitting under the heat lamps. Lunch for me tomorrow, an Egg McMuffin INSIDE a Big Mac. Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun wrapped around one egg, cheese, ham and an English muffin. It'll be great.

Wow! This just in, toxicology reports from Anna's autopsy AND the idea for a side sandwich of golden french fries on two hash browns. Brilliant! She's too old, 27 being the rock star death age, but she still died like a rock star, by a drug over dose. There's a diner in Scranton called "Chick's". The old cook there knew me and my order and would start it the minute he saw me. Scrambled egg in a chili cheeseburger, with a chili cheese french fry omlette. Genius! Best meal ever. It's a three ring, circus sideshow of a meal. I'll have the "P.T. Barnum" with a coke and a glass of ice water with lemon and a chocolate shake. I have to find a diner here in Baltimore that I can establish that kind of relationship with the cook. Then again, maybe I'm too old to make a habit of stumbling drunk into a diner at 3am.

In Pittsburgh there's a great hot dog place (it's WAAAAAY more than just a hot dog place, but that's another story.) French fries there have their own section. There are twin brothers named Aaron and Darren who work the fryers. (are you, you or are you your brother?) My cousin and I had a similar relationship with them. We'd walk in and get a nod as they dropped us a medium fry order double burnt. (medium is huge, picture a school lunch tray filled with fries)

Word of wisdom, tip everyone who makes you food. Everyone.

After lunch tomorrow I'm going golfing. I'll hit golf balls in the big field behind my house. The infields of the various ball fields that are scattered around will serve as the greens. There's a guy down the street from me who, no joke, has manicured his front lawn into a putting green. He has a pin with a flag and everything. I'll place the balls on the green 1 at a time roughly where they landed on the infield. I think I'll shoot 9 holes and kick back and have a few Arnold Palmers* with Jim, the owner of the 1-9th holes. I'll need to figure out the par for the course before I bring a foursome on the links for a game of "captain and mate". I sometimes think about installing a stereo in my golf bag, like Rodney, but that's unoriginal so I've never done it.

* Arnold Palmer= Sweet Tea, Pink Lemonade and Smirnoff over ice in a tall glass.

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