Out of extra mild curiosity, what are “dough balls?” Just a less appealing name for the already disturbing “doughnut hole?” For argument’s sake, what if they tossed in that new camera I have to assume is on your wish list with the holiday dough balls?! That would be better, no?! Let’s make it even easier: how about if you got these free balls on your first visit instead of your next?!
Upon initial read, I came close to considering a “maybe” with this post. While reluctant to entertain hyperbolic glorifications of food, I’m prepared to admit that pizza is pretty damn remarkable. Especially certain, expertly prepared and devilishly decadent, Chicago-style pies. Thankfully I decided to evaluate the corresponding photo. What the hell happened? Have I been blind to the true meaning of “Chicago-style” (not realizing it meant cheese-free and generally barren)? Methinks Emily needs to team up with our garlic bread worshiping friend, Madi, and experience the world of flavor.
Congratulations, Claire! You successfully struck a major chord with this guy. That’s some lovely, spot on, shit you’re saying up in that tweet. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to think of what might make this better. I’m not sure if anything would. And, frankly, I don’t want to ruin the moment. It’s almost too perfect, you know? Like we could even be soul mates? Oh, come on, @JSHEEKEY! Relax. The romantic nonsense is just for effect.
Sure, I could argue that life is pretty hard to beat when you’re feeling content, in control and truly, deeply, relaxed. There’s something spiritual about it (if you’re into that shit). Unfortunately, however, I don’t believe the two thoughts in Nicky’s post are disparate. In which case, there’s obviously no way I can support his decision to pinnacle the scenario in sentence #1. Further, I’m having trouble believing that it’s even relaxing. First, Christmas lights soothe best when draped about the outdoor patio of a charming little bar/restaurant. Second, I can’t say I’ve ever come across an especially peaceful video game. Third… well, I actually have no idea what to do about the boat shoes. I suppose I’ll give Nicky the benefit of the doubt here (betting on the exceptionally low odds that his second thought was an aside) and sneak this one up to “maybe.”
Admittedly, this post is a bit unfair (unlike all of the others) as I don’t really know what defines “tea,” beyond a tendency to serve small, unappealing, cucumber sandwiches (<— which is already a strike against you, Madi). The good news is you can learn more about tea here. What’s up with this “Elevenses” insanity, by the way!? Not just the incredible name, but the overall concept! Wow. Anyway, what I’ve learned hasn’t changed my original evaluation. You may have noticed this by now, but, while I’m willing to consider almost anything, I’m not inclined to support posts about life-altering (as it were) food experiences. And, sadly, this one is no exception. Let me put it this way: pizza + garlic bread = delicious baked dough treat with toppings + similar, yet inferior, baked dough treat with fewer toppings.
You’re a dog and this is simply all you need/want. I mean, when you’re done you’ll freak out about a nearby car or sneak over to visit the neighbor’s dog and huff its rear end for a little bit. And I’m sure, while all that’s happening, you’ll think you’re in heaven once again. Well, I’ve got news for you, Pax: you are. You probably experience heaven on earth a few hundred times each day. If I sound angry, I apologize. It’s really just poorly channeled jealousy.
*For the record, I’m well aware that the author isn’t actually a dog. I’m kind of just using the opportunity to talk to dogs in general. The owner (who I’ll assume is the author), however, is likely just as juiced as Pax when writing these updates on his behalf. A frightening topic for another day.
What has gotten into everybody these egregiously vague, digital celebrations. Or, is “esoteric” the better word as I’ve miraculously happened upon the object of @CaptOz’s desire? Am I unwittingly caught in the digital crossfire of this passive aggressive lover’s quarrel? Wouldn’t that be bizarre!? Enough to say, “does the world get any smaller,” maybe? Nope. Trick question. We don’t say that. In conclusion: what is in that effing glass, Joanna!?!?
I’m fairly certain one needs to be on meth (or some form of amphetamine) to enjoy more than 2 hours of Monopoly. I am, by no means, disrespecting the classic Parker Brothers game here. It’s a wonderful, somewhat wholesome, way to pass time and play with friends. 5.5 hours, however, is simply an absurd stretch for any board game to endure. If absolute, make-believe, market domination leads to such lasting invigoration, perhaps you should try driving your friends into bankruptcy, on the real life tip, instead!?
I’m probably guilty of saying this far too often, but what on earth compelled you to post such a vapid update? Are you trying to make someone jealous, Simon, with cryptic posts about your evening activity? According to your bio, you do have a proclivity for such cheekiness. In any event, there are no surprises here. While I can certainly appreciate a series of great evenings, life would get pretty stale without the occasional extreme. Maybe if you went with “naughty,” instead?