#then it will say 'chicken cheesesteak'

[vaspider]

Okay listen.

It's not a Philadelphia Steak Sandwich. It's not a Philadelphia Cheesesteak.

It's just a fucking cheesesteak. It is mononymic, like Cher and Bono.

It knows where it's from.

Reblog for a bigger sample size.

Say in the tags what you voted for and if you live in or outside of the US

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@rosekillermicrofic may 4 — hopeless — 1233words — cw: mildly pervy and sexual thoughts, nothing explicit though

no thoughts, just line cook! barty

A miracle.

The gods have heard Barty’s wishes and granted him this blessing.

Evan usually gets set up for dealing with the bar or counter but on rare occasions his lovely name gets jotted down in the column of servers/busboys. Today is one of those fateful occurrences which means Barty has at least 30% longer time windows of flirting his jolly ass off and burning food he’s not paying attention to curtsy of Evan’s slutty narrow hips in those damn aprons. Obscene things, those are.

Barty is currently staring at them as he blindly flips the burger patties one after the other, the stove sizzling animatedly. Barty is pretty sure he hasn’t blinked once since Evan has entered the kitchen again a minute ago to help sort dishes.

“So how’s your day been so far, Evan darling?”

“No,” comes back immediately. Not even a look thrown over his shoulder.

Barty’s grin widens. He puts more meat on the stove.

“Aw, c’mon. People been scant with tips already or what?”

Evan doesn’t reply, instead ripping off the notes from his pad and wordlessly striding over to Barty’s station, pinning them up.

Two of today’s specials, one cheesesteak and one portion of chicken for a caesar salad. And a little dick scribbled in the bottom corner.

“More people coming in than usual. Get a move on,” Evan says before briskly walking off again. Barty just so manages to get a whiff of spicy deodorant and whatever shea butter coconut extract beauty shit Evan uses for his curls before he’s gone again.

Barty sighs, looking after his pert little ass and long legs all the way until he’s around the corner. Then he readjusts his grip on the spatula and finally picks the patties off the grill, calling for Lily to collect them and assemble.

“They’re burnt,” she hisses, punching him in the arm with vigor. It hurts but Barty is too busy thinking about what type of underwear Evan might be wearing today. “Stop getting distracted by Rosier and do your damn job, chef.”

Barty hums, “What you think it’ll take to trick Evan into following me into the freezer room?”

Another hit. The same exact spot and Barty can’t help but hiss in pain this time.

Lily simply shakes her head, muttering Hopeless as she leaves.

Rush hour comes and goes.

Barty doesn’t let himself be bothered by the frenzy of it, bobbing his head to his playlist jamming over the old, staticy speakers while servers bustle around him like worker bees.

It’s meditative to him in a way and usually he sort of snaps out of it once it all calms down.

It’s when Evan asks him for leftover containers that Barty is brought back down to earth today.

The other boy is flushed in the face, slightly sweaty and hair messy with what can only be described as the final quarter of an eight hour shift look. It looks unfairly sexy on him.

The take out containers are in the cupboard over Barty’s head to his left side which he made sure to push all the way back during his break earlier.

“Yeah, they’re right here,” Barty says, nodding to the shelf.

“Grab two for me?”

Barty turns back to his meat again, teeth digging into his lower lip, grin straining his cheeks. “Nope.”

There’s nothing for a few seconds, only the background noise of the restaurant, the sizzling oil and Barty’s music.

When he turns again Evan is standing in the middle of the kitchen, rooted to the spot, blinking at Barty once. “‘No’?”

Barty hums, “Yeah, ’m pretty busy right now in case you can’t tell.” He shuffles a strip of bacon around as if to prove his point.

Evan’s eyes narrow, lips twisting into an obscene little pout, “You just have to lift your arm!”

“Sorry, no can do, Rosie baby.”

“You-” Evan huffs, “Hand me the fucking boxes, Crouch.”

“Can’t,” he replies airily, shrugging. “They’re pretty high up, too,” a hum, “I might not even be tall enough. I think you’ll have to walk your devilishly tall ass over here and grab them yourself.”

“Branleur,” Evan spits before reluctantly closing the distance between them.

His amber eyes glower dangerously at Barty and he has to suppress a deeply satisfactory hum, gut tightening and blood thrumming.

Evan yanks at the handle, opening it up to the ceiling before stretching up on his tiptoes to peer into it. He lets out a grumble, presumably at finding the containers to, in fact, be there but pushed all the way to the wall.

He’s only taller than Barty by a bit, an inch or two, maybe three, which means he’s struggling to reach the boxes too.

And it’s glorious and heavenly and so very tempting because Evan’s shirt is riding up in the back and, oh god, he has dimples there. Fuck, Evan has back dimples and they’re approximately half an armslength from Barty’s twitching fingers and it really requires visceral effort not to reach out and dig the pads of his thumbs into them. Push and maybe fold Evan right in half over the counter all together. Lick along his spine and bite into his hip bones, the smooth skin of his stomach, nibble at that one little mole right next to his navel that Barty was once fortunate enough to make acquaintance with and has since rubbed one out to more times than he could count.

When the other boy lifts back down he catches him staring, their eyes snapping to each other instantly.

“Don’t be a perv,” Evan comments, giving Barty a derogative once over and christ, no, don’t do that.

Barty laves his tongue along the corner of his own mouth, collecting spit that was threatening to drool, and uses a quick hand to adjust himself in his jeans.

Evan’s eyes follow his movement, arms crossing in front of his chest and a heavy breath punches out of Barty. He can’t help it, his mind is a powerpoint of all the different things he wants to do to Evan to make him lose this put-on condescending demeanor. Glimpses of the prettiest pair of eyes rolling back, eyebrows scrunching pitifully as Barty sinks into deliciously tight heat.

He desperately needs to get Evan alone with him. “Wanna smoke a blunt with me after closing?” he blurts.

And then Evan suddenly smiles. A downright cute little thing, all coy and syrupy sweet, poisonously candid. So viscous saccharine Barty feels it immobilize him like a glue trap and he groans in anticipation of the fatal blow Evan is about to deliver.

“Sorry, B,” he murmurs innocently, clicking his head, “no can do.”

It glides over Evan’s lips all strained and faux and with the most erotic little pitch Barty’s ears have ever heard.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his semi straining so heavily against the denim it would surely be visible without his own apron.

From one moment to the next Evan’s smile falls, having fulfilled its purpose, and he gives one last snootily look before he whirls on his heels and marches away, takeout containers in hand.

Just over to the other end of the kitchen where he bends down to grab some cutlery with which he will scrape the leftovers from the plate into the aluminum containers.

Doing so, Evan’s shirt rides up again, his ass jutting out and Barty vaguely registers the smell of burnt pork as he commits the muscle shift of Evan’s thighs and back into his memory for later.

[mayorwatermelon]

Stretched and Swollen from Sprite (And Bananas (and three and a half dinners))

I didn’t actually set out to stuff myself this night. Between having a big gym session and somehow forgetting to eat all day, I was just really hungry! I met my friends at the sushi restaurant after getting cleaned up from the gym, and proceeded to order two entrees (chirash don, which is just really good raw fish over rice, and spicy chicken yakisoba stir fry) without too much thought. I had to make up for lunch, after all. 

Now, I had forgotten this, but sometimes sushi can get me a little more bloated than you might expect. Or maybe it’s the rice, I’m not really sure. Anyway, after finishing both of my dinners in about 15 minutes, and to the amusement of my friends, I could feel my belly rounding out nicely. It pushed out against my shirt, swelling with whatever weird reaction happens when I eat a ton of sushi. The feeling was both surprising and a bit arousing.

I leaned back in my seat, not trying especially hard to stifle my burps, and watching my friends eat their delicious meals with a bit of envy. Towards the end of the evening, one of my friends took pity on me and offered me the half of her ramen that she couldn’t finish. I gratefully wolfed it down, my stomach groaning and gurgling, and driving me a little crazy. See, I was full, but not stuffed. I couldn’t get the thought of gorging myself well beyond my limit out of my mind all the rest of the night, and by the time I was driving home I had made up my mind.

Settling down on my couch, I ordered a foot long Philly cheesesteak, cheesy fries, an Oreo milkshake, and a bottle of sprite. You see, I also had a bunch of bananas sitting on the counter, and I had always wanted to see what a sprite and banana bloat felt like (spoiler alert, it didn’t disappoint). 

I downed my fries sub and milkshake in pretty short order, belching and rubbing my swelling belly right where it hurt the most. Now, it was time for the famous combination. I was nervous and excited, I couldn’t wait to see how much more full and achey my tummy would get, but I really didn’t want to ruin the night by throwing up. 

I ate two bananas, and started to take long sips of the sprite. It took a little while, but I started to feel the reaction taking place. Keep in mind, I was already packed full with three and a half dinners. But now, I could feel my stomach sloooowly expanding. I needed to burp so badly, but the only ones that came were small, leaving me terribly bloated. I was hooked, though. I drank half the bottle, my belly groaning and stretching, feeling waves of pain and pleasure. I couldn’t stop rubbing the left side of my upper tummy where it ached the worst.

Still, I needed more. I ate another banana between more sips of sprite, groaning softly. When I finished I was a mess. My belly hurt soooo badly, and nothing I could do made it feel any better. It didn’t get visibly much bigger, but WOW did it feel stretched out. A half hour and a lot of belly rubs and soft moans later, the bloating had gone done somewhat, enough for me to drift off to sleep.

I have to say, I am hooked on the banana and sprite combo on top of a stuffing. It really sent me over the edge, and I love that once made the decision to do it, I was locked in, and forced to suffer through it. I can’t wait to try it again.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Greasy Foods Day

Deliciously satisfying bites with a hint of indulgence, these comfort eats are a guilty pleasure that never fails to hit the spot.

”Greasy food might not be good for your body, but it does wonders for the soul. A healthy diet may prolong your life, but what would you have to live for? What is the point of living to a hundred if you have to subsist on bland food? One may as well die of boredom.” ~ Jessica Zafra

The world is full of a veritable cavalcade of delicious foods, and the vast majority of them are filled to the brim with fats and grease! While those who are on a crusade for better health often find themselves avoiding these amazing foods in favor of a thinner waistline, Greasy Food Day encourages us to take a day off from that diet and remember the good things in life.

Otherwise, as Ms. Zafra says, what else are we living for?

On this day, it’s time to celebrate living for Greasy Food!

History of Greasy Food Day

These types of food certainly get a lot of hate from health fanatics, those delicious meals that make everyone’s mouths and souls sing out loud with joy. Granted, this day definitely wasn’t started by a doctor or nutritionist who was on a health food kick.

Whether talking about the rich stretchy cheese that graces the tops of people’s favorite pizza dishes, or the flavorful and delicious sub sandwiches that are shiny with grease as they are unwrapped, greasy foods can truly be said to be one of the greatest things in life. (That is, at least, while they are being eaten. For some people, that doesn’t necessarily hold true afterward when their stomachs are all tied up in knots.)

Now it is true that greasy food should be consumed in moderation, but sometimes moderation is a thing for the other 364 days out of a full year.

Greasy Food Day encourages everyone on earth to indulge in their favorite things and remember what it was like to truly be able to enjoy anything without consequence.

What’s your favorite greasy food? Juicy hamburgers? Hot dogs bursting with flavor? Sausage Rolls? Maybe some Canadian will enjoy the overwhelmingly flavorful and greasy dish that is poutine?

Whatever the chosen poison, Greasy Food Day is the perfect excuse to dive in and enjoy it like there’s no tomorrow. Get ready to celebrate with Greasy Food!

How to Celebrate Greasy Food Day

Enjoy a Greasy Food Meal

Go out to that special dive restaurant and order your favorite greasy dishes, and don’t forget to bring some napkins! Sometimes nicknamed a “Greasy Spoon” these restaurants are all about cooking with the tastiest of fats. Almost everything is deep-fried in oil until deliciously crisp, and often dripping with grease.

Whether french fries, onion rings or a greasy slice of pizza, this day is all about enjoying the drip. So pop into that restaurant and order up all the things that would normally be on the list of “no-nos”.

Enjoy the Greasiest American Foods

This day is all about paying heed to greasy foods. But even among them, some are greasier than others. Try out these ideas for how to bag the absolutely greasiest foods that American Culture has to offer:

Philly Cheesesteak. Cooked properly, this sandwich will require not only a pile of napkins but also perhaps a bib in order to eat it without getting extremely messy. Beef steak, chopped and cooked over a grill is made even greasier with the addition of cheese and onions.

Buffalo Wings. Named after the city in New York in which they began, these chicken wings are dipped in batter and deep fried before being coated in a buttery hot sauce. Finish it off with a dip in some blue cheese or ranch dressing.

Cheese Curds. How to take cheese and make it fattier? Deep fry it! A Wisconsin favorite (perhaps due to its dairy production) these little balls of cheese are dipped in batter and then, of course, deep fried to perfection. For an Italian twist on this northern favorite, try fried Mozzarella sticks.

Watch One (or Both) of the Grease Films

In keeping with the theme of the day, while downing those greasy foods, why not take in the guilty pleasure of watching one of these Grease themed films?

Grease (1978). This American musical romantic comedy film starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton John is what drove the careers of these two to the top. Based on the 1971 stage musical of the same name, this story of two young high schoolers who fell in love has been a hit for generations.

Grease 2 (1982). Quite a bit less popular than the first (possibly due to the absence of Newton-John and Travolta), this followup film didn’t score well at the box office. It was okay for Michelle Pfeiffer, however, and her career moved forward because of this.

Make Some Greasy Food at Home

Is your favorite greasy food a family recipe? Alright then! It’s time to get the family together and celebrate Greasy Food Day with a rich dish that is steeped in tradition. And be sure to pass that on to the kids so they can continue the celebration once you’re gone. Rich greasy food is often a comfort food for many people, so don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t deserve a bit of comfort. In fact, get as comfortable as you like on Greasy Food Day!

Source

[shadowredfeline]

Three in One Post

For my Filipino friend’s On this Day Post

Looks cute with those Pac-Man Style eyes on the characters. And I don’t think I have remembered playing Armor by Bandai Namco, but I do heard of the company, From Software. I have own a couple of their titles like the Adventures of Cookie and Cream for PlayStation 2, and Lost Kingdoms 2 for the GameCube. But man I wish those titles keep going from the From Software titles. But if Elden Ring is the company’s focus on that game, then maybe we should give that title a shot as well as for armor core.

Response to Miya and Cude.

Shadow R 😺🗡️: His new hairstyle looks really cute to mix up combination to his usual hair mixed with a blonde style hair. And I bet he might enjoy those Yankees due to his new attire.

Caleb 😺🏀🏈: Mmhmm. And I won’t regret watching that Regular Show episode called, “Bet to be Blonde” and it was cool Mordecai would get back at Rigby after when he cheated on a bet.

Shadow R 😺🗡️: Yeah it was a pretty good episode for the best list.

Caleb 😺🏀🏈: And Sammir, you make us as well as for Miya and Cude to be exited and proud of your new hairstyle and look. Looks like Miya’s dates with Sammir is going to be a nice one. Once if I decide if I should get a better girlfriend or not.

Shadow R 😺🗡️: I’m sure you will, Caleb.

And for my A-Pal’s trip to the mall.

That is really cool for my A-Pal to go to the mall as his special outing. And if I were to get a Part Time job in Massachusetts, maybe I can do something special for my A-Pal. Even if I can still find another part time job in Arizona. Plus it was awesome for my A-Pal to go to the Arcades and play Mario Kart Arcade GP DX. But if you like to keep all your custom stuff on that game, then you should follow our Filipino Friend’s advice and get a Banapassport. He has found some on eBay which is the best place to get one that’s brand new. Just for the both of us, he uses the Banapassport for the Wangan Maxi Tune titles which we should both try together when we get our Banapassports. And that Pizza does look delicious since I can get a Pizza at any place that could be good. Plus that Pizza looks just like how Costco makes them. And for Cajun Cafe, I don’t think I’ve ate there, since it’s fun to get Mall Food, and I just identified Orange Chicken, Chicken Wings and some fries. And I bet that was really fun, and normally when I get Mall Food, I usually go to a Whetzel Pretzel or Auntie Anne’s, as well as for a Charley’s Philly Cheesesteak. Because I have remembered some Walmarts replaced some McDonald’s restaurants with Charley’s Restaurants which it’s like freaking everywhere. Which I never minded since I have been to Charley’s ever since high school.

[milfs4mar]

Guys I fucked up and got regular Vanilla Coke instead of zero. And I didn’t realize it until after i drank it like a fucking idiot. I’m gonna commit snooicide istg/j

My current method of operations is to only eat a small portion (5 or 6 bites) of whatever food I get (unless it’s like a burger or something, then I’ll do about half of it) and “save it for later”

So far I’ve had (over the course of 2 days) :

3/4 of a whataburger breakfast burger: 502.5

The entire serving of jalapeño ranch nacho fries from Taco Bell: 480

All of a Philly cheesesteak from dominos: 720

2 Chikn minis: 175

1 turkey breakfast sausage: 36

2/3 of a Vanilla Coke: 190

1 and 1/2 of Olive Garden chicken gnocchi soup: 345

1 Olive Garden breadstick: 140

Which gives us a 3 day average of: 873 calories.

Not great but not horrible either! I will update what the scale says tmrw morning… I don’t have a good feeling about it lol

[bluejaysandblackbats]

An Oyster's Pearl

Fandom: DC Comics

Summary: Shortly after moving in with Joseph Wilson, Grant Wilson makes friends with a fellow pledge for a fraternity. During this time, Grant grapples with realizations about his childhood trauma, his sexuality, and his relationships with his father and siblings.

Chapters: 10/?

Characters: Grant Wilson, Joseph Wilson, Rose Wilson, Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson, William Randolph Wintergreen, Original Character(s)

Relationships: Grant Wilson/Original Character, DickJoey

Additional Tags: University AU, No Capes AU, Angst, Deaf Joseph Wilson, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Grant Wilson has a Sexuality Crisis, Frat Boy Grant Wilson

Chapter Ten: Herd

After I dropped Rose off at school on Monday, I went somewhere I thought I'd never go. I knocked on the door and stood straight. "Grant, it's good to see—."

"Hi, Wintergreen. Is Slade here?" I asked. I wasn't in the mood for small talk. It was hard enough that I'd come to talk to the one person I swore I'd never see again. I hated him so much, or I wanted to hate him. Wintergreen welcomed me in, and Slade stood in the kitchen making chicken cheesesteaks. My favorite.

"Wintergreen, who was at the door? Is Rose home early?" Slade asked. "Wintergreen?" He glanced up at me. I'd never seen him shocked before that moment. His eyes lit up, and I think he smiled.

"Grant?" Slade asked. I nodded and rubbed my arm. "Wanna sit down and eat?"

I nodded. I found myself without words. Slade made my plate, and I took a bite of my sandwich. He smiled. "That tackle in the fourth quarter... That was something special," Slade chuckled as he poured himself a drink.

"You were there?" I asked.

"I always come... What's wrong?" Slade questioned.

I took another bite, and Wintergreen poured two drinks, one for me and one for himself, before leaving Slade and me alone. It wasn't like Slade to talk about feelings, so I felt uncomfortable, but that was the main reason I had to be there. "Do you remember when I was nine, and I lost that little league game?" I questioned.

Slade nodded and gestured for me to continue. "And I cried... Remember what you said to me in the car?" I asked.

"Failure is expected, but weakness is unacceptable... Grant, listen. You're far from weak. You're probably the most headstrong child I have, and I put unbelievable pressure on you—."

"Did you ever think I was gay?" I interrupted him. Slade sat back in his chair and finished his drink. He couldn't look at me. I wondered if that meant it was true. "Slade?"

"No, I'm—. I'm shocked that you would ask that. I thought you were here to talk about your childhood and what I could've—. Should've—. Are you dating someone?" Slade asked.

I shook my head and finished eating in silence before finishing my drink. "Not ever?" I asked. Slade shook his head.

"Grant, I never would've forced you to be straight if I thought—. I could see how you would think that, but— Why are you asking?" Slade questioned.

"I'm starting to feel—. I think I'm falling in love for the first time... And I don't know if that makes me gay because I've never felt this way with any woman," I explained.

"Have you talked to Joseph or Rose?" Slade asked.

"I'm scared to talk to Joey... I talked to Rose. That's why I came to you. I've never been afraid to say anything to you, and I can't afford to be scared now. I don't want them to see me like that... But I wanted you to see me. I wanted you to know," I confessed. Slade's lips twitched into a grin. It was the same grin he always gave Joey. "What's that look for?"

"Grant, you've never asked me for anything. I'm glad you finally came around," Slade whispered, "And I know this doesn't fix things, but—. Grant, I'm sorry. I hate that my pride let me lose you. I should've been better to you, and if I could do everything over again, I would've been better for you. I never should've let you leave."

I wanted to be hard-hearted and take Slade's apology and spit on it right in front of his face because I was in a perfect position to hurt Slade and crush him... But I wanted my dad so bad I couldn't help it. I started crying and turned away from him. Slade grabbed my arm and made me face him. I balled up my fists and tensed up. It was instinctual, but something about his body language was different. Slade seemed hurt to see me cry, not disappointed, hurt. "It's okay, kiddo... Let it out," Slade whispered as I cried. I let him hug me, and I hugged him back. As much as I wanted to believe I hated him, all I ever wanted was his approval.

Wintergreen came back in, and Slade let go. "Did you tell him?" Wintergreen asked.

"I didn't think it was the right time," Slade replied. I looked at him and wiped the tears from my eyes. "Grant, I understand—. Grant, Wintergreen lives with me."

"He's lived with you since you and Mom got divorced. I knew that already—."

"Grant, I don't live with Wintergreen because we're good friends. I live with Wintergreen because—."

"Because you're a couple... Were you cheating on Mom with—?"

"No, we didn't become—. We weren't involved until almost two years after the divorce," Wintergreen explained, "Slade never thought of me in that way when—. He didn't know until two years after."

I sat down and took a deep breath. "So, you found out late just like I did?" I asked.

Slade nodded. "Feel free to ask me whatever you want," Slade replied.

"How—? Are you happier?" I asked. Slade nodded.

"I think so... But it wasn't easy. He made me go through therapy and a handful of other things, but I think it made me better. Having him not only makes me happy but having two fathers seems like it's been good for Rose," Slade answered.

"Rose knows? Of course, she knows. She lives with you. So, is Wintergreen our stepfather?" I asked. Wintergreen looked at me. I remembered every time Wintergreen was a stand-in for my parents. All the bedtime stories, all the games of catch, all the piggyback rides... Wintergreen was always a father to us, and I always overlooked it.

"Grant, you don't have to accept—."

"I do accept you... You've always been family," I paused, "It all makes sense now... And now, I understand myself a little better. I think I'm gay."

I stuck around for a few hours and took a nap on their couch before driving to Lixin's dorm. I wasn't the type to leave people hanging for a long time while I mulled over details. I liked to give decisive answers quickly. Besides, I couldn't wait to see him again.

I promised Slade and Wintergreen I'd come back next week since the football season was over, but I explained that I wasn't ready to let Joey and Rose know we were on speaking terms. So, I'd be back whenever I could slip away from school.

My mind drifted to Lixin while I drove, and I started feeling dizzy in my head again. It was so intense I had to pull over and lay my head on the steering wheel. My hands shook, and I felt like I'd throw up. I knew what I wanted, but the thought of getting it was so frightening I wasn't sure I could handle it. After the dizziness subsided, I turned on the radio and pushed forward.

[sendpseuds]

The people must know: What are your favorite sandwiches???

Ah, sandwiches. What a magical food.

Since you graced us all with a whole dissertation I feel like I owe you the same level of detail, let’s see what we can do here.

While I am not actually vegetarian, I LOVE a veggie sandwich. One of my all time favorites to make at home is seeded rye with hummus on one side and homemade herby cream cheese on the other [usually parsley, green onion, mint, dill, and fresh garlic. Also sometimes this is chèvre instead of cream cheese]. Between the bread we have sliced cucumbers [seasoned with salt, pepper, and lemon juice], big slices of tomato, and arugula [sprouts if I can get my hands on them]. This whole ordeal is fabulous with turkey or bacon if you want more protein, I’ve also done smashed chickpeas in place of the hummus for a heartier option.

Another veggie sandwich I love is from a local bakery and if I knew exactly how they made it I would tell you, but it’s fresh crusty sourdough liberally coated in amazing olive oil, with this incredible carrot purée, thinly sliced fennel, Calabrian chilis, and arugula. So fucking good.

Okay, let’s talk about something less “healthy”

If you’ve ever been to Buffalo, New York [Go Bills] there are TWO sandwiches that I think about all the time.

The first is pretty ubiquitous through western New York: Beef on Weck. This is roast beef, dipped in hot jus, and piled on a kimmelweck roll [basically a Kaiser roll with crunchy sea salt and caraway seeds]. That’s it. Personally, I like to add an almost unadvisable amount of horseradish, but that’s it. It’s perfect.

The second is a true drunken indulgence. The Stinger Hoagie from Jim’s Steakout. If you are unfamiliar with Jim’s, most locations are open until 5am [bars in Buffalo close at 4am. A real drinking town] and the employees can often be seen wearing shirts that say “I see drunk people.” The Stinger Hoagie is their beautiful monster. Cheesesteak meets chicken finger sub. Shaved steak, chicken fingers, fried onions, melted American cheese, lettuce, tomato, Frank’s Red Hot, and Jim’s special sauce. [I am fucking drooling right now, I haven’t had one of these since I was in my twenties.]

When it comes to deli meat, I tend to lean toward turkey, but I want some really soft seeded multigrain bread with crispy Romain and good tomatoes. Thick slices of sharp sharp cheddar, mayonnaise, and Nance’s Sharp and Creamy mustard. I might toss in some cucumber or parsley, maybe apples and bacon if I’m feeling extra, but the specific mustard is very important.

[this isn’t really a sandwich but I’ll often take a big rib of Romaine lettuce and make a little deli boat with turkey, cheese, and Mayo. I’m sure I can blame that on high school, my mother, and all the lovely disordered eating habits I developed as a teen]

Grilled cheese… I’m sort of all over the place with grilled cheese, always experimenting, but for me, the most important thing is using GRATED CHEESE [and to be clear, I mean block cheese that you grate at home, not the pre-grated stuff in the bag, please, this is important, that shit doesn’t melt right] I want the cheese pouring over the sides of the bread, hitting the pan, oozing and bubbling until it’s gold and crispy and perfect.

I’ll give you one fancy grilled cheese: deviled egg grilled cheese. Two hard boiled eggs, whites sliced thin, yolks mixed with mayo, mustard, pepper, paprika, dill. Into the pan goes bread, cheese mixture [gruyere and cheddar, shredded and mixed with a little Mayo and mustard], yolk mixture, sliced whites, more cheese mixture, bread. Done.

This is getting out of control and I haven’t talked about chopped italian sandwiches, or banh mi, or my mom’s famous roast beef and mock Boursin sandwiches, or my obsession with Calabrian chilis [oh! Add those to the mayo on a turkey sandwich], or the time I put an entire meatloaf on an entire loaf of bread and called it a sandwich.

I haven’t even TOUCHED on breakfast sandwiches but if I get into that we’ll be here forever.

So, for now, I’ll cap it there, but there’s plenty of room for a sequel.

Hope that answers your question!

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Lucia (My Life is a Telenovela!)

Full name- Lucia Angelina Serratos

Birth date- March 25th

Place of birth- Miami, Florida

Age (in novel)- 17

Favorite color- Peach

Favorite season- Spring (says it’s not boiling hot in Florida)

Favorite food- tostones with salsa verde sauce (loves making them with her abuela)

Favorite ice cream flavor- raspberry lemon

Favorite dessert- almond torte (also likes her abuela’s flan)

Favorite sandwich- chicken cheesesteak

Favorite actor- Ryan Gosling

Favorite actress- Emma Stone

Favorite movie- Mean Girls

Favorite TV shows- Jane the Virgin, Sex Education, Sex and the City, Euphoria, As Told by Ginger, The Wild Thornberrys, Hey Arnold, Moesha

Favorite singers- Jennifer Lopez, Ariana Grande, Lady Gaga, Lana Del Rey, Dua Lipa, Ella Mai, Selena, Bruno Mars, Shakira, Gloria Estafan

Favorite bands- Imagine Dragons, BTS, The Rose, Blackpink, Journey, Paramore, Fall Out Boy

Favorite book- When I Was Puerto Rican by Esmeralda Santiago

She's currently a junior at True Performance School of the Arts. Lucia hopes to be an acclaimed screenwriter someday, maybe also directing as well.

Her mom is Puerto Rican while her dad is Mexican.

Lucia can speak some Spanish, but is also able to follow through an entire conversation.

She has been both to Puerto Rico & Mexico during the summer as a kid. One favorite memory was when she went to a fireworks show in San Juan when she was eight.

Lucia has unofficial acting credits! Her on-screen debut was as the baby being born to her parents' characters on the telenovela Las Pasiones de Mirabel. She was also a covergirl- not exactly, but she & her parents were the cover story in People en Espanol as a birth annoucement!

Through her padrino's connections, Lucia was able to meet a few Latin celebrities including Vibora, an up-and-coming Cuban-American rapper.

Birds of Paradise are her favorite flowers!

Lucia isn't really that close with her mother's side of the family. She's confused as to why her mom & abuela won't talk too much about their family history or certain family members.

She keeps a framed photo of her abuelo (her mother's father) when he was young in her bedroom. He died when her mother was just a few days shy of her quinceañera.

Lucia has been on the set of too many telenovelas to count! She has also been her parents' date to the Paloma Awards, an annual event that awards the best telenovela actors & actresses.

She has been best friends with Leonie and America since they were all eight years old, where they all went to the same Sunday school. Lucia became friends with Remy during her freshman year of high school.

At her quinceañera, Marc Anthony performed while Leonie & America were part of her court.

Lucia is really close to her abuela. They go out shopping and they also knit, gossip, & watch telenovelas together. Her favorite activity that she likes doing with her abuela is when they make tostones and arepas!

One favorite pastime of Lucia's is reading. Sure she loves the sweet & fluffy YA contemporaries and romances that litter the back of her closet, but she also doesn't mind delving into the magical realism of latin writing greats like Isabel Allende, Gabriel García Márquez, and Julia Alvarez.

She had her first kiss when she was nine at her Communion party with a boy named Joel.

Lucia's first real relationship was with a guy named Chris Del Toro during her sophmore year. They dated for about six months before he & his family moved to Washington State.

She has a secret tattoo- a small pair of dove wings expertly hidden by her right ear. Lucia got it done a couple months ago along with Remy and America, who also got secret tattoos.

At the beginning of junior year, Lucia began crushing on Michael Bernardi, an aspiring photographer! Aside from a few smiles & brief interactions, they've never had an actual conversation.

As a baby, Lucia recieved a gold & diamond necklace with a dove charm by her father. She now almost always wears it!

She has a part time job at Sunshine Swirl, a frozen yogurt shop. The shop is in America's neighborhood, so her place is the first stop for Lucia before she goes home.

Her and her friends love the movie Mean Girls so much that they're all dedicated to wear pink on wednesdays every week till graduation!

[lemontongues]

Rules: Tag 10 (or less) people that you want to get to know better

tagged by @januariat thank u friend!! :]

Let's get to the questions:

1. Relationship status: perpetually single lol ♡

2. Favorite color: pink and green are probably tied, with yellow as a close 3rd!

3. Song stuck in my head: uhhh im trying to tune into it.... honestly i think its ride wit me by nelly lmao, i think i heard it on the radio a couple weeks ago 😭

4. Three favorite foods: oh god.... i'm not gonna say this is my definitive top 3 but we'll go with mashed potatoes, philly cheesesteaks, and my mom's chicken noodle soup

5. Last song listened to: i havent been listening to a lot of music lately buuuut the last song i added to my spotify favorites was im on fire by bruce springsteen, so probably that??

6. Dream trip: i honestly dont like to travel, i guess just somewhere warm and pretty? and quiet? lol

7. Last thing I googled: "kalina d20", ive been binging dimension 20 for the last week and a half skfndk

tagging @applejee @mindshelter @feralratman @krem-aclassis @celeryw @rainelinde @batshit-birds @nightmareinfloral and whoever else wants to! ♡

[hollygl125]

10, 13, 26 for the soft asks, if you're so inclined.

Of course! Thank you for the soft asks, @clintbeifong! 💛

10. What’s something you’re excited for?

That . . . is a good question. (Have you been talking to my therapist? 😂)

On a very unfun note, I (a shopaholic with ADHD who hates to part with anything but still very much likes to be surrounded by order) have been working on a purging and organizing project and am keen to resume that once I no longer feel sick.

On a more fun note, I was supposed to marry Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom off (for good!) last fall, but my tight posting schedule and RSD combined to give me a lot of anxiety about the whole thing, so I had to relax the schedule significantly. It’s finally going to happen this fall, though, so I’m looking forward to that.

13. What’s your comfort food?

I was going to say my mom’s roast chicken dinner (which I do love!) or something, but honestly . . . when I was doing my master’s, there was a restaurant a block from my house, and they made this sandwich that was a bit (a bit) like a take on a cheesesteak, but with chicken instead of steak. It had sautéed peppers, onions, and mushrooms; melted cheese; iceberg lettuce; chopped tomatoes; and (on the side) that orange Kraft French salad dressing. Once a week I would order that sandwich and some poutine (yeah, it was a healthy meal—actually two meals as I saved at least half for leftovers!) and someone from the restaurant would walk it over to my apartment. (It was very cold outside! ❄️❄️❄️)

These days when I am feeling like I want something tasty because I’m in a mood, but I don’t know what I want it to be, I recreate that sandwich and it always works. (I’ve also made it bun-free as a salad.) It is the one and only time I use that orange Kraft French dressing, and it is absolutely required. (A few dashes of Frank’s also make for a good addition.) It should also be accompanied by some very cold and very fizzy water on ice (although I say that about everything ever since I gave up Diet Coke).

26. What movie would you want to live in?

When Harry Met Sally is one of my all-time favourite movies (which will probably not come as a surprise to anyone who read the story where I had Sara and Grissom (re)watch it over the phone), and honestly I think that would be a pretty good place to live. Everyone has good jobs but never seems stressed about them. They have large NYC apartments. There’s cozy sweaters and walking through the fall foliage and museum-going and sports and movie-watching and lunching in Central Park and big games of group Pictionary and fancy NYE parties and drinking champagne from coupe glasses. 🍾 Plus Carrie Fisher is there. If I were in love with my best friend and he ran through the streets of NYC on NYE to tell me a bunch of the things he loved about me, etc., that would be cool, too. But overall it’s just a pretty nice life, you know?

[nel-world]

hi

Hey, everyone! Wow, it’s good to be here. You know, I just got to America, and I have to say… I thought I knew what America was all about from watching TV, but man, this place is something else! I mean, I watched all the music videos before coming here, and it looked like a nonstop party! I was ready for it! I was like, ‘Yeah, I wanna be like these guys! I wanna be like Drake, Kendrick Lamar…’ You know, just have people think I’m cool for once in my life.

So, I get here, and I’m thinking, ‘Alright, I’m gonna do this! I’m gonna bring that Drake vibe everywhere!’ I’m at school, walking down the hall like I’m in the “Hotline Bling” video. I start singing, ‘You used to call me on my cell phone… late night when you need… a tutor for your math homework…’ And my classmates are just staring at me like, ‘Did this Indian kid just remix Drake to ask for homework help?’

And inside, I’m like, ‘Yeah, I’m not just some kid who only knows Bollywood! I’m out here, listening to Kendrick Lamar, motherfuckers!’

Then, one day, I’m walking around the school, feeling all confident, singing ‘Ever since I left the city, you…’ Like I actually left a city, you know? I’m thinking I’m Drake, but my life looks more like a Bollywood movie, dancing around trees and hoping my crush notices me.

Now, I couldn’t rap or dance to save my life, but I was committed to living that superstar lifestyle. My cousin, he gets this bootleg copy of some beat-making software, and I’m like, ‘This is it! We’re gonna be the next big thing!’ We set up his living room as our “studio”—which was really just some blankets over the windows and a karaoke mic we found in his garage. We call ourselves ‘Desi Dreams’ because we had dreams… big dreams.

Well, as big as dreams can be when your beats are made with a keyboard that plays ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ in the background.

Meanwhile, my dad… oh, my dad, he had his own vision of America. To him, America is like the biggest buffet in the world, and he’s got a VIP pass. This guy would buy anything on sale. ‘Buy one, get one free?’ My dad’s first in line. ‘Buy two, get the third 50% off?’ He’s loading up the trunk.

But his favorite? Pizza. And not just any pizza—he wants to try every type of pizza out there. So, I say, ‘Dad, how about some pepperoni?’ And he looks at me like I just insulted the family honor. He’s like, ‘Pepperoni? Pepperoni? We didn’t come to America for you to eat plain pepperoni pizza, yaar! There’s barbecue chicken, Philly cheesesteak, even mac and cheese pizza! How can you settle for pepperoni?’

Then he gets these crazy ideas. One day, he’s watching the Food Network, and suddenly, he’s like, ‘I’ve got it! We’re gonna make a pizza with naan crust, topped with butter chicken, but wait, that’s not all! We’ll drizzle it with mango chutney and put crushed papadums on top for crunch! And for dessert, a pizza with gulab jamun slices. Sweet and savory in one bite—nobody’s done it!’

And I’m like, (singing) ‘No one, no one, no o-o-one…’ like Alicia Keys, ‘…has ever thought of gulab jamun pizza!’ Because, yeah, there’s a reason for that, Dad!

But he doesn’t stop there. Oh, no. ‘We’ll have a pizza with layers like a biryani! Imagine, rice, chicken, spices, all on a crust! We’ll call it "Biryani-Zza!" And for drinks, we’ll have lassi slushies and masala chai floats. Why stop there? Samosa calzones! Paneer tikka bagels! We’re gonna revolutionize American fast food!’

He’s running around the house like a mad scientist with naan in one hand and a blender in the other, shouting, ‘I will make the world’s first Butter Chicken Smoothie! Protein-packed and delicious!’

He even wants to install a “Chaat Fountain.” You know, like those chocolate fountains, but instead of chocolate, it’s just chutney flowing in all directions, with samosas on sticks to dip into it.

(Singing like Drake) ‘Started from the bottom, now we’re here… building a chutney fountain for our pizza joint, yeah!’

I’m just standing there, thinking, ‘Dad, I don’t think Americans are ready for a fountain of tamarind sauce at their pizza party.’ But hey, you gotta admire the enthusiasm, right?

And he starts calling all our relatives back in India, pitching this plan like he’s about to open the next big franchise. (Singing like Taylor Swift) ‘Look what you made me do, look what you made me do—made me wanna sell paneer tikka tacos too!’

But he’s not done. Oh no, my dad goes full-on Willy Wonka. He’s like, ‘You know what the world needs? A pizza with pakoras baked into the crust! And for breakfast, we’ll do pizza parathas—stuffed with aloo, gobi, and whatever else we can think of! And get this: "Tandoori Tater Tots." No one’s seen it coming!’

And he’s not stopping there. ‘We’ll open a chain of food trucks,’ he says, ‘with crazy combos like Vindaloo Vada Pav! And the pièce de résistance—a pizza cone filled with chicken tikka, topped with melted paneer, and a sprinkle of chat masala. Mobile dining meets Indian street food meets Italian cuisine. It’s genius!’

(Singing like Kendrick Lamar) ‘We gon' be alright!’ Except by “alright,” he means serving pizza cones filled with chicken tikka out of a truck shaped like an auto-rickshaw.

At this point, I’m starting to wonder if my dad is secretly planning to take over the world, one insane food idea at a time. ‘Dad,’ I tell him, ‘You’re basically describing a food court from a parallel universe where everything is mixed with everything else!’

But you know what? He’s so committed, he starts designing the restaurant himself. ‘Picture this,’ he says, ‘The walls will be painted like Bollywood sets, with neon signs quoting Drake lyrics in Hindi. And the tables? They’ll be repurposed tuk-tuks. Customers can sit in them while eating their masala mac and cheese pizza!’

(Singing like Bruno Mars) ‘Treasure! That is what you are… a repurposed tuk-tuk to eat in, by far!’

And don’t even get me started on his dessert ideas. He’s like, ‘We’ll have a section called "Drake’s Sweet Spot"—with gulab jamun-stuffed donuts, rasmalai cheesecake, and kulfi milkshakes named after Kendrick’s greatest hits. And, for the adventurous, paan-flavored ice cream sandwiches. We’ll take the Instagram world by storm!’

By now, I’m just imagining people walking into this crazy fusion restaurant, not knowing whether they’re supposed to eat the food or take selfies with it. And my dad? He’s standing there like some culinary superhero, cape made of naan, ready to save the world from boring food.

So, the night before he’s supposed to sign the lease, he goes all out with this enormous dinner—biryani, samosas, and yes, the infamous butter chicken pizza with mango chutney. And he’s like, ‘Do you see this pizza? Do you know what it’s saying to us?’

And we’re like, ‘No, what, Dad?’

And he goes, (Singing dramatically like an opera) ‘It’s saying, "I am the future of foooood! I will unite nations, I will bring peace to the world—one slice at a tiiiime!" Like Kendrick, I will bring people together with a message!’

You gotta hand it to him. My dad had dreams bigger than Kanye’s ego. He thought he’d cracked the secret: just combine everything—food, culture, and a whole lot of chutney.

And that’s what America is, right? One big, over-the-top experiment that we’re all trying to find our place in. Whether you're starting a rap career in your cousin’s living room or opening a restaurant that’ll change the world with samosa-stuffed pizza crusts.

So here I am, in this fusion food, hip-hop fantasy, trying to find my own flavor.

(Singing like Kendrick Lamar) ‘And we gon' be… alright!’

[faomtholly]

Just Some of The Local Mount Holly Businesses We Love at Our Dispensary

At Fire and Oak, we don’t consider ourselves just a dispensary in Mount Holly. Rather, we take pride in being a dispensary that’s a part of Mount Holly. This is our community. This is our home. We are grateful to be one of the many fantastic businesses in and around the area. There are many businesses throughout this great region of ours that we frequent quite a bit. We’re always glad to have you stop by our boutique dispensary, of course, and, while you’re in the neighborhood, you may want to stop by some of these great establishments, too.

Kitchen87

Marijuana and food go together. Whether you’ve got the munchies or you don’t want to partake on an empty stomach, Kitchen87 serves good, simple food at a very high level. As you most likely know, just any food goes with cannabis and cannabis-related products. That said, stuffed french toast as well as chicken & waffles hit the spot no matter how much (or how little) cannabis you’ve consumed.

Their “Grown-up Grilled Cheese” more than lives up to its name while the “Build Your Own Burger” offers options that you might not find elsewhere (such as pork roll, a great portobello patty, and much more).

They’re open from 6 AM to 2 PM, so they’re a great way to start off your day or a fantastic lunch/brunch that must be experienced to be believed. You’ll often find Fire and Oak team members there for breakfast and lunch, if you see us, say hi!

Stratosphere Brewing Company We started our dispensary for many reasons, not the least of which was to be able to provide high-quality cannabis products in a unique, boutique location. So, we have quite a bit in common with the Stratosphere Brewing Company. As they say, they were “inspired by people who love beer.” That shows in all of the great beers that they brew.

At any given time they have a wide range of on-site beers brewed on tap. Stouts, fruited sours, IPAs, IPLs, shandys, and many more – whether you’re a connoisseur or just someone looking for a new favorite, they’ve got something that you’ll like.

Just like us, the owners (who also manage the place) always wanted to create an environment that was as warm as it was comforting. That’s true with their decor and their location, yes, but it’s also true with the food, too.

If anything, they might sell themselves short a bit. While they say that they don’t “try to reinvent the wheel,” you can find unique, delicious items on their menu like fried cauliflower, cheesesteak egg rolls, dry-aged burgers, steak au poivre, and so much more.

Check out their coasters (both sides) and you may be surprised, consider taking one to go.

The Sweetest Spot in Mount Holly

Mini cheesecakes. If you’re like many, just reading those words makes your mouth water. At “The Sweet Spot,” you can have the absolute most delicious cheesecakes in Mount Holly or, frankly, anywhere else.

Whether it’s Blueberry, Strawberry, Oreo, or “Original,” each cheesecake that they serve is truly out of this world. (Part of the reason we like the minis so much is that you get all four at one time.) Of course, they have much more than just cheesecake, but, we dare you to eat there and not have at least one cheesecake.

Everyone Wins at Salon Rock Paper Scissors “… a statement of style, an affirmation of beauty, and an expression of self-love.” That’s how the folks at Salon Rock Paper Scissors describe hair, and, when you see the work they do, it’s easy to agree. For well more than a decade, they’ve helped folks to walk out of there not just looking their best but feeling it, too.

Sure, there are plenty of places throughout the area to get your haircut, but at Salon Rock Paper Scissors, you get a unique experience unlike anywhere else. You can feel their passion for their art and their craft and, if you stop by for a new do, you can experience it for yourself.

Robin’s Nest Right Across the Street If you look out the window of our dispensary, it’s possible that you’ll get a good look at the Robin’s Nest. Just as we do everything we can to make ours a neighborhood dispensary where folks can feel warm and comforted, they do the same for their guests.

Plenty who’ve enjoyed a fine meal at Robin’s Nest (whether it was the beef burger, the BBQ pork sandwich, the honey salmon, or something else scrumptious) have stopped by here to find something calming for the rest of the evening.

By that same token, many have found something they enjoyed at our dispensary and, feeling the pangs of hunger, wandered across the street to partake in their incredible meals. We highly recommend stopping by Robin’s Nest for brunch then coming to see us after.

The Colonial Cafe

Maybe you woke up this morning and felt a bit more tired than you thought. Perhaps you’ve got a long night ahead and are looking for something to get you up and going right now. A great place to head to for coffee and more: the Colonial Cafe. Mitch and the team keep the Fire and Oak team well caffeinated.

Their coffee flights are a trip worth taking. The house blend “Iron Works” works quite hard at getting you up and moving while tasting amazing, too. You can make a day of it: stop by the Colonial Cafe in the morning or at lunch and then come by our dispensary to find the cannabis that can help you to relax at night.

The Trainwreck Distillery Live music. Karaoke. Fun events. All with some of the best drinks anywhere. That’s what you’ll find at the Train Wreck Distillery. A local, family-owned bar, it’s a cozy spot right there in an old train station. If you perhaps are lacking a bit of the courage necessary to get up and showcase your favorite go-to karaoke song, we have the items at our dispensary to help you feel elevated, euphoric, and ready to go.

Our Dispensary in Mount Holly NJ Those are just some of the fantastic local businesses in and around the Mount Holly area. There are many, many others. If we were to list all of them, this would be less of a blog and more of a new version of the Yellow Pages. Here in Mount Holly, you can find just about anything you would want or need and we’re here to support our local friends. Shop anywhere in Mount Holly and spend $20, come visit us after and get 10% off your purchase with a receipt.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Greasy Foods Day

Deliciously satisfying bites with a hint of indulgence, these comfort eats are a guilty pleasure that never fails to hit the spot.

”Greasy food might not be good for your body, but it does wonders for the soul. A healthy diet may prolong your life, but what would you have to live for? What is the point of living to a hundred if you have to subsist on bland food? One may as well die of boredom.” ~ Jessica Zafra

The world is full of a veritable cavalcade of delicious foods, and the vast majority of them are filled to the brim with fats and grease! While those who are on a crusade for better health often find themselves avoiding these amazing foods in favor of a thinner waistline, Greasy Food Day encourages us to take a day off from that diet and remember the good things in life.

Otherwise, as Ms. Zafra says, what else are we living for?

On this day, it’s time to celebrate living for Greasy Food!

History of Greasy Food Day

These types of food certainly get a lot of hate from health fanatics, those delicious meals that make everyone’s mouths and souls sing out loud with joy. Granted, this day definitely wasn’t started by a doctor or nutritionist who was on a health food kick.

Whether talking about the rich stretchy cheese that graces the tops of people’s favorite pizza dishes, or the flavorful and delicious sub sandwiches that are shiny with grease as they are unwrapped, greasy foods can truly be said to be one of the greatest things in life. (That is, at least, while they are being eaten. For some people, that doesn’t necessarily hold true afterward when their stomachs are all tied up in knots.)

Now it is true that greasy food should be consumed in moderation, but sometimes moderation is a thing for the other 364 days out of a full year.

Greasy Food Day encourages everyone on earth to indulge in their favorite things and remember what it was like to truly be able to enjoy anything without consequence.

What’s your favorite greasy food? Juicy hamburgers? Hot dogs bursting with flavor? Sausage Rolls? Maybe some Canadian will enjoy the overwhelmingly flavorful and greasy dish that is poutine?

Whatever the chosen poison, Greasy Food Day is the perfect excuse to dive in and enjoy it like there’s no tomorrow. Get ready to celebrate with Greasy Food!

How to Celebrate Greasy Food Day

Enjoy a Greasy Food Meal

Go out to that special dive restaurant and order your favorite greasy dishes, and don’t forget to bring some napkins! Sometimes nicknamed a “Greasy Spoon” these restaurants are all about cooking with the tastiest of fats. Almost everything is deep-fried in oil until deliciously crisp, and often dripping with grease.

Whether french fries, onion rings or a greasy slice of pizza, this day is all about enjoying the drip. So pop into that restaurant and order up all the things that would normally be on the list of “no-nos”.

Enjoy the Greasiest American Foods

This day is all about paying heed to greasy foods. But even among them, some are greasier than others. Try out these ideas for how to bag the absolutely greasiest foods that American Culture has to offer:

Philly Cheesesteak. Cooked properly, this sandwich will require not only a pile of napkins but also perhaps a bib in order to eat it without getting extremely messy. Beef steak, chopped and cooked over a grill is made even greasier with the addition of cheese and onions.

Buffalo Wings. Named after the city in New York in which they began, these chicken wings are dipped in batter and deep fried before being coated in a buttery hot sauce. Finish it off with a dip in some blue cheese or ranch dressing.

Cheese Curds. How to take cheese and make it fattier? Deep fry it! A Wisconsin favorite (perhaps due to its dairy production) these little balls of cheese are dipped in batter and then, of course, deep fried to perfection. For an Italian twist on this northern favorite, try fried Mozzarella sticks.

Watch One (or Both) of the Grease Films

In keeping with the theme of the day, while downing those greasy foods, why not take in the guilty pleasure of watching one of these Grease themed films?

Grease (1978). This American musical romantic comedy film starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton John is what drove the careers of these two to the top. Based on the 1971 stage musical of the same name, this story of two young high schoolers who fell in love has been a hit for generations.

Grease 2 (1982). Quite a bit less popular than the first (possibly due to the absence of Newton-John and Travolta), this followup film didn’t score well at the box office. It was okay for Michelle Pfeiffer, however, and her career moved forward because of this.

Make Some Greasy Food at Home

Is your favorite greasy food a family recipe? Alright then! It’s time to get the family together and celebrate Greasy Food Day with a rich dish that is steeped in tradition. And be sure to pass that on to the kids so they can continue the celebration once you’re gone. Rich greasy food is often a comfort food for many people, so don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t deserve a bit of comfort. In fact, get as comfortable as you like on Greasy Food Day!

Source

[virescent-v]

Never had old bay seasoning, found out my grocery store has it (I'm in Europe, idk when they started selling it here). Going to try it on mac n cheese cause it looked good af on the photo you posted the other day (and also yes pancakes for dinner sounds like a great idea)

OMG!!!! This makes me so happy!!!!!

Old Bay goes on EVERYTHING.

Try it before you put it on anything though, some people say it’s got a kick to it lol.

My favorite things it goes on: popcorn!!, chicken, broccoli, cheesesteaks, mac and cheese, and, of course, SEAFOOD. it’s brilliant on crabs (blue crabs of course 😋😉) and shrimp. It’s also good on fettuccine Alfredo pasta and eggs. Sometimes I use it as a seasoning when I’m too lazy to think of other stuff lol.

But, this is all coming from a Marylander. Old Bay here is like a drug; we’re obsessed with it 😂😂

Also, I cooked it in the mac and cheese as I was melting down the cheese :)

[actingdeep]

[IP] Record Store

So there was Preston in the back storage room slash business office with his feet up on the desk reading Tess of the D'Urbervilles picturing Colin Farrell as Angel Clare right around the part where he's carrying Tess and the other milkmaids across the pond and tuning out easily at this point the steady rumbles of what's obviously Mary and Jer disintegrating into the void to 'Xtal' by Aphex Twin up front, the equally steady pot smoke creeping through the cracks, creases and that still unseemly hole in the door Tanner brought to perfect life Last Summer and he heard the bells jang as September came in with everyone's pick-up orders from El Borrego with her magic voice announcing "Buuur...iii...tooooo's" to the tune of Thus Sprake Zarathustra, sending the signal it was time to find a good place to leave off the novel and fall back into the fold. "Unda Prez-a," Jer was totally vibing. Preston carefully plucked out the grusomely funneling joint from Jer's outstretched arm struggling to grip the shabby and dessicated roastbone without burning his eyes or lips, only half-succeeding in getting a decent hit, mostly because of Jer's terrible joint-rolling skills but also partially because a portion of his focus was on currently fire-engine-red-haired Septy whisking by him with a definitely-something glance and a bag of smelly Mexican goodness. The EDM or IDM served well as an assuring mutual friend slash smoothing harbinger for the smoke and it's subsequent high. "No drink, Presty?" Preston heard September asking with a smile as she sat down on the register counter two massive bulging plastic bags, gently shooing away Andy, one of Mary's many in-store male cats. "Must be reading. What was it...? Tess of the Baskervilles, somethin?" "Yes but done for the day. Was about to grab a Yuengling, you want?" "Are you crazy, man? El Boreggo night calls for Modelo, no substitute. Drink Yuengling with like, a cheesesteak or somethin," said Jer, horizontally-compromised joint in mouth, coming over and grabbing his molettes and salsa verde. "No mo Modelo, ese. Yuengling, Hamm's, Michelob, or Redd's." "Don't touch my Redd's," said Mary jokingly and pointing with mock authority, seatting herself behind the register and struggling to unpack her huareches and tripe tostadas above and around Andy, all grey and meowing pathetically, circling round her lap and sniffing precariously with black nose the plastic bag handles. "Yuengling it is," Septy answered, holding out to Preston his classic steak tacos with cilantro, onions and lime wedges parallel to her other outstretched hand, indicating the trade. "Damn, man. That's major rough-goings," Jerry admitted, settling for a Michelob. "Verge? Redd's?" "You already know." Quiet munchage amidst the sonic fog of the Selected Ambient Works, Marvin, Andy, Cheech and Jupiter all in subtle greedy cat-orbit and Septy looks up and says: "Do you guys realize literally how many movies there are? For example." She set down her massive chicken-steak-carnitas burrito and wiped her hands. "How many Pink Panther movies do you think there are?" "Six." "Seven." "Eight." "Nine." Fucking nine? "And that's not including remakes. Technically, theres at least eleven that we know of," she added, reassuming her attack on the steaming rito. "Fuck. Killer." Jer. "And how many have you seen?" asked Mary while trying to convince a skeptical grey Andy into tasting a piece of tripe. "I've seen the first one." "Kinda buff are you?" Preston poked, knocking back a glug of beer with eye contact. "I know." "Don't blame you, Sep--that cartoon is fucked. That music is fucked. Major bad vibes," said Jerry, spilling salsa on his shirt. "Oh, come on, man..." "Thing is Jer they're not totally cartoons, that was a kids show based off the movies. It's got actors. Peter Sellers." Preston informed him. Mary was laughing at Andy's nervous nibble and traumatised flee. "So wait, is he in all nine?" "Basically. Maybe like, six or seven," September answered, glib as always about her obscure knowledge of the medium. "So why only the first, Septy? Wasn't a fan?" "Not that. Just far too many original films out there to be wasting time on sequels. I never watch a sequel." "Bullshit," accused Preston, closing the styrofoam box lid which just popped right back open. "Empire Strikes Back? Terminator 2?" "The Godfather 2?" Mary added, Preston pointing madly at her with reinforcement and going "mmm..! mmm..!" since his mouth was occupied with incoming beer. "Cheech and Chong's Next Movie?" Jer threw in. "Okay--Empire, yes--but only because I was a kid, and hadn't developed my own movie-watching proclivities yet. No Terminator. No Godfather. No Cheech and Chong. Sorry, Jer." "So you mean to tell me that assuming you've watched Star Wars as an adult, you decided not to catch Empire Strikes Back?" Preston. "Yes, because I already saw it as a kid! And before you ask, yes, same goes for Return of the Jedi." "So you didn't like Star Wars," Mary, attempting to clarify. "No no, I did. I liked all of them." Confused looks and incredulous upturned palms. "What I'm saying is, is, okay. That particular trilogy was made purposefully to be just that--a trilogy. The story of Luke and Leia and all of em was designed to spread over three films, correct? And since I have in fact seen all three, I have completed the experience of the the whole story. Thus, I have never felt the need to rewatch Empire or Return of the Jedi by themselves, because it's only part of the story. If I want to experience the story again, it would require that I watch all three, start to finish, or else it would seem too strange." "I get it, I think," Jer was nodding, basically following, throwing back what was left of the salsa verde like a shooter. "Fair enough, but here's my question," Mary continued. "So according to that logic--well, before I ask, I'm assuming you have indeed seen Godfather, willingly, as an adult, yes?" "Of course--a bit overrated, bad sound mixing, screaming babies and all that, seven-point-nine outta ten--but yes. I know where you're going with this, I think." "You watched all three Godfathers for the first time all in a row," Preston concluded aloud, this time Mary being the one mid-gulp with the excited hums and concurring pointing. September smiled, looking coy. Good detective work, buddies. Only one problem. Before she spoke up, Jerry, whom the other three friends just assumed was not really even listening, made clear the answer. "No, she didn't. Coppolla never wanted there to be sequels." "Eeex-act-ly. I'm impressed, dude," said Septy, giving Jer a proud slap o' the leg and head tilt. Mary was impressed, too--by Jerry's basically enigmatic success in his conclusion-drawing, yes--but mostly with Septy. Is she a little closed-minded? Sure. But, hey, no blatent hypocrisy as far as she could tell. Preston on the other hand was feeling something a little less satisfying, something in the realm of 'I gotta hand it to em' with just a splash of violent rage, because well of course there's that Nietzschian-level pride of his and can you fucking believe it that goddamn Jerry out of all people figured a thing out before he did, although virtually none of this could be detected on his face.   "Gotta hand it to you, Jer." Preston raised his bottle to him--already back to happy normal--having in the last ten seconds recognized the sorrowful re-emergence of this contemptible pride, it's recent wound, it's subsequent patching and tending to, and finally his psycho-doctoral prescribing of something like concentrated ego-poisoning magnanimity for the allowance of it's recovery and subsequent re-dissappearance, now directly returning back into the fluid intangible abyss, if for nothing else but a necessary energetic reattuning if you will for both the short- and long-term betterment of his double-crossing, ever-wayward, fickle blackguard of a soul.  "So you guys get it, right? If it's a truly worthwhile story, it must be enjoyed from the beginning. Preston. You know what I mean, right? Have you ever started reading a book for the second time, and just start in the middle somewhere?" "All the time." "Oh...okay. Well." "Still, you really ought to see Terminator 2. Whether Cameron planned it or not, I don't know. Same goes for Godfather 2. Not all sequels are a waste of time, you know," said Mary. "Wayne's World 2? Del Preston? You mean you haven't seen Del Preston telling the story about Ozzy and the brown M&M's? That's a fuckin' shame, Septy, really," added Jer. "Oh, shit! Del...Preston! Prez, I'm totally calling you Del from now on!" Preston smiled. "I had to beat them to death with their own shoes." Septy cupped her chin, considering. "I suppose films are films. I dunno. I'll think about it, I guess." Mary smiled, encouraging: "And all those horror movie sequels? I mean, come on." "Speaking of horror shows. Tanner will be back tomorrow for sure, right?" Preston asked Jerry. "Pretty sure. I mean, unless his Dad does somethin, which, I mean..." They all muttered in understanding. When Tan's Dad fell into that coma Last Summer it took weeks before he stepped foot back into the Store, and only then it was a quick in and out to pick up a small stack of records, CDs and an old player that, when accosted by his slightly concerned friends, he claimed were his Dad's favorites over the years. 'Soon enough,' the others figured. Just let him be. It wasn't until somewhere around the week before Thanksgiving that they had all agreed that no longer could they stand Zack Mixon being Tanner's replacement, the fact that he wasn't being paid nonwithstanding: the kid was just too fucking annoying. After catching Tanner one grey November day in the back, slumped down on the low sofa with half the lights off, two empty Olde English fortys at his feet with one also in-hand plus two more unopened ones laying next to him along with some small white dots of cocaine speckling the table in front of him, half-listening to Placebo's "Without You, I'm Nothing" and barely keeping in his mouth a mass of wet sunflower seeds, Mary and September had exchanged glances, sat on either side of him, decided this was not the real Tanner they loved at all and attempted to put together a soultion that would combine everybody's interests. Spending nearly every day at the hospital wasn't doing him any good at all at this point, they said, and not to mention that they're all seriously missing him at the Store and how him returning for at least a couple or three shifts minimum a week starting after Thansgiving would be the implementation to get Tan back to himself. After this plea from the girls, Tanner consented immediately, knowing in his brain already this was basically the thing to do: return to work, fall into routine, drop the worrying. Just needed to hear it from someone else. Everyone was finished eating. Mary was collecting the miscellaneous scraps of meat or cheese from everyone's styrofoam and putting them on four small plates used for teacups and spreading them around the floor, the cat's making a cute but rather obnoxious onrush of meowing all the while, the ones finishing first being greedy and moving to a different cat's plate. Preston grabbed another beer, took a swig, set it down and proceeded to clear from the tables everybody's trash: picking up napkins and wiping up salsa, collecting unopened plastic silverware, empty pico de gallo side cups and  bits of chip and tomato, all with a certain you could say urgency. Septemeber was looking at him like boy oh boy look at the clean freak. Jerry, having finished and crushed his empty beer can handed it to Preston and said to Septy, noticing her gaze: "Like Jack Lemmon in The Odd Couple, eh, Septy?" "You're on a roll, today, Jerry."

***

Jerry was due at any moment to clock in. So far today there came in about ten people since opening, most of them twenty-something semi-regular browsers who stop in once or twice a month and usually head straight to the Newly Acquired section, having browsed the regular shelves pretty much to their full extent already. A middle-aged mom came in saying she was only killing time until her dentist's appointment around the corner. Is it me, or does something smell in here, I can't place it? Day off for Septy. At the register, Tanner was staring sideways out of the windows and noticed an older couple approaching the entrance. The husband carried a cane, and Tanner placed the both of them anywhere between seventy and eighty years old. His wife walked directly beside him with her arm through his, leading him forward with affection and staid dilligence.The old man had a countenance that revealed a steady resilience of mind. Tanner checked him out, and could tell this old man was going to do what he wanted, when he wanted, despite the latent haze of tainted logic, begging for surrender. A look at the wife, and you could notice her admiring this quality in her husband, proving his air of steadiness not to be stubbornness and resenting, but humble, dilligent nobility. After a few seconds of watching the couple approaching the curb, Tanner noticed he had been spaced out for he didn't know how long, not really thinking, but not really content. His brain finally jostled itself loose when he noticed the white-haired wife bracing herself just a little in order to help get the husband up onto the curb. He hurried around the counter to pop outside and assist them to the door. The wife smiled with tender gratitude, and asked that Tanner first help herself onto the curb, at which point she would be able to help her husband up on her own. Once they got inside, Tanner holding wide the door for them, the wife sat her husband gently down into the nearest chair. Once her husband got comfortable, she turned, smiled, and asked Tanner politely if they sell here a CD copy of something by Waylon Jennings, anything would do, but preferably a greatest hits compilation. She talked briefly on how her husband sang in a country-western band back in the day that often covered Waylon songs. She went on, telling how they had a rather long drive out-of-state to attend a funeral for one of the husband's former band-mates. They were leaving the day after tomorrow, and it came into her head that maybe her husband would like to hear some of the songs they used to play as something to do for their car ride. Tanner found this very thoughtful of her, but did not smile. He checked the shelves and after a moment returned with a few different discs for the couple to choose from. He fanned out the handful of CDs for the two, and moved them over to directly in front of the sitting husband at the wife's request, so as to let him see better and choose. Tanner did so (speaking a little loudly, also requested by the wife) and pointed out the ones that were greatest hits. The husband looked them over carefully one at a time, and Tanner could see a flash in his eyes as they passed over 1967's Waylon Sings Ol' Harlan, at which Tanner loudly asked if he recognized that one. "Yeah. First one I bought from him. Wasn't forty-five, though. Big thirty-three. Do they have a thirty-three?" He turned to his wife. "This is for in the car, Richard. Them albums can't play in those. It's a CD, not a forty-five. Is that one a compilation, honey?" she asked Tanner. "No ma'am, I don't believe so. I know this one and this one is," Tanner pointed out 1979's Greatest Hits, and a 20th Century Masters comp. "But not this one?" She pointed to Waylon Sings. "I don't believe so. I can't be sure, because I actually haven't listened to this one yet." "Oh, you like this old music? Well do you know which one would be good?" Tanner, having never heard a Waylon Jennings song once in his life, decided to point out Greatest Hits as his favorite.   "Okay. Richard. This one isn't a compilation, it's just a regular album. Do you want this one or do you want one of those others? Because these others he said are compilations." "Hm?" "This one right here? This one you said you liked? It's not a compilation. So you won't get as many songs. Is that okay, or would you rather have one of these here, with more poplar songs?" "Uh-huh. No, no." "So which one do you want, this one, or one of the compilations?" He looked from her back down to the fanned CDs, pulled an arm up and set a finger on Waylon Sings. "Yeah. I had that one. Big thirty-three." "Alright, we'll get this one," she was talking to her husband, slow and loud. "But I'm gonna get this one too, that he recommended, okay? Just in case this ain't as good." After a few seconds, the husband gave a gruff sound of consent. "We'll take these two, honey. Thank you so much. Can you ring them up for us while I'm bringing out my purse?" "No problem, ma'am. You guys can just stay right there, and I'll be right back to let you know how much it is." Tanner was a little loud saying this, in hopes that the husband would register that they would be done soon and wouldn't grow unnecessarily impatient. The husband did not display any outward sign at all that this would likely happen, but Tanner's acute empathy as always suggested he ought to pre-ameliorate and so he felt that possibly humoring him couldn't hurt. After allowing the wife a minute to pull her husband to his feet, he handed her the bag of CDs and brough her her change, quickly heading back and forth from the open register to the couple. He opened the door and was eager to help them all the way to the car, but detected that likely the two would rather be alone again quite quickly, so he simply took them to the curb before returning inside. There also came in before the older couple a father and his boy who were around thirty-five and thirteen, respectively. They had been coming in as a pair like clockwork, twice a month since around the new year. Their tradition was to find a good day when neither of them had any previous plans or obligations, usually a Saturday, and to go to breakfast together followed by a drive someplace else on town, so as to spend his (the son's) allowance. At breakfast, when the father asked his son where he would like to go after they'd finished, the son would always answer with "the record store." Upon their entrance, the father, who gave a friendly nod to Tanner and browsed at a leisurely pace, let the son take as much time as he wanted (well, to a point). Tanner didn't mind working weekends as some of the others and so it happened that almost every time the duo made their ritual appearance, Tanner was there, manning the register or going through boxes somewhere. He began to grow quite fond of spotting the boy, making his way with care up and down the aisles, full of enthusiasm at discovering a hard copy of his own nascent musical interests. He smiled at seeing the kid so excited, because Tanner could tell that this was and has been for a while the highlight of the kid's week. Tanner could tell the son was introverted, a bit neurotic for his age, but brightly open-hearted and just stewing in quiet passion. Once inside the Store, the kid would remove his hat and gloves with care, head for the closest shelf and slowly work his way toward the edges of the Store. He would deliberately look down one side of an aisle, then come back up the aisle scanning the opposite side, doing this down every aisle, in order, usually twice. Suddenly, something would grab his attention, an album or sometimes DVD that he recognized, and if he was interested in buying it, he would give it a thorough look-over and leave it sitting on top of the section to go find it later, so as to have free hands throughout this whole blessed experience. If he saw something he recognized and approved of, but didn't want to buy, he would show it to his father, smiling. He would always get get a manly and approving "Yeah" or "Nice" and would put it back right where it was to continue on. Sometimes he would browse for over thirty minutes, at which point Tanner or whoever was there could tell his father was understandably growing a little impatient. With this, the son would return to whatever items he had left out of place and either collect them or put them back, head up to the counter with pride and shyness, check out calmly, but giddy on the inside, grab his bag of goods and tear them open as soon as the two were back and sitting in the car. In back, Mary and Preston going through shit and bopping their heads or singing along to the last chorus of 'Before They Make Me Run' by The Stones, from their Some Girls album, smoking a vape pen with a high-content THC cartridge. They could hear the bells jang and a muffled Jerry's voice greeting Tanner with over-the-top clownish vocal inflections. "Heeey, Mr. tambourine man!" "What's up dude. Having a jingle-jangle morning, I see." "It's tight, I guess." Jerry sniffed. "So, affirmative?" "I got you, man." Jer handed Tanner his baggie and headed towards the back room and the music. "Get outta here. Be up there in a minute." Jerry approached the door and tapped speedily on the wood with both index fingers like a drum roll before entering the back office slash storage space, Tanner hearing the music heighten and lower again as he went in. Once he was alone, Tanner pulled out his keys and pressed Unlock twice. After a side-to-side look, he drove one of the keys into the baggie and took a bump. He continued staring out the front windows, spacing out once again rather than auto-starting the car. "What's up, sluts?" "Well, well. The actual beast of burden. Uncanny," said Mare as Jer shut the door. "Where we at?" Mary cleared some albums off her lap and pushed herself up and out of the Indian stance with unexpected grace. "So this box needs dusted, and these still need tested, both sides." Preston was also standing up and stretching, pointing at the work they had left and handing Jer the vape pen. "As far as the testees go, You got a Kings of Leon, a Linkin Park or two, some other shit and still about a thousand Cat Stevens in the back, if, you know. I dunno what else. But I saved you a Prodigy. You're welcome. I'm outta here." "What! No shit, which one? Mare? Who the fuck brought a Prodigy?" "I, don't..." "The other day, I forgot to tell you. Just some old dude with a dopeass Killswitch shirt, had lots of nineties and aughts stuff," said Mary, throwing on a jacket and pulling out shoes. "He brought everything there. Besides the Yusef, obviously." Jer went up to the box of testees Preston had indicated and the two headed out the back door for smokes and Jer rifling through, going "Jilted, not Fat...Jilted, not Faaat..." The dorky-but-somewhat-likeable eighteen-year-old Zack Mixon single-handedly brings in an average of eleven percent of the Store's revenue from the past year, September found out one day. He also came in today. Usually it's around four p.m. every other day for him, but it was indeed Saturday, so he showed in the morning, before the middle-aged mom, and the older couple and the father and son. Once dressed for outside, Mary squeezed a tube of purply brown soft cat food onto a plate, set it down on the floor and clicked her tongue. "Preston's out, I'm just going to smoke. Bee arr bee."

***

Return To Sender: Dive into Remembrance. Bathe in Everlasting. Dissolve and be Whole. TONIGHT: Stylings of Hakim Papoola. Nervous Muskrat Lounge. 9PM.   Drinks tonight at the Muskrat. Mary had a plus-one: that being Reggie, or, Rigaud, Lagnier, Blandois. Preston had met dark-eyed Reggie outside the Pump and Dollop a couple months back, well after all the hubbub from Last Summer had burned out; lanky, shirtless and looking like a blackguard playing loosely on an oversized acoustic guitar various Latin and raggae-ish melodies to passer-bys and singing with open guitar case at his feet. He looked to Preston rather vivacious and forward-looking for a bum, around his age, billy goatee, newly homeless he could tell--possibly by choice; decent clothes, no smell, no loitering bags of any kind: plastic, trash, or sleeping. Total Dharma. In the late morning light he moved in a way that, to Preston, made him come off as replete with a strangely drawing blend of dissonant and primordial energies. Pres was walking in to grab javas when he spotted Reggie singing powerfully and playing with almost dubious fervor; like he might have been planted and had grown instantaneously to create some impromptu and natural distraction. Anyway, Preston dug him. Coming out from P&D he gave a hallo in Reg's direction, and after introductions the two agreed that Reg aught to come by the Store, address here on this business card, to set up and do his thing sometime this weekend, maybe. These days Reggie sets up out front about twice a week, typically Thursday and Friday night, playing for passer-bys usually when Mary or September is working, because the men often grow tired of the music he plays. When that happens, Preston will tell him to take a break or put on his headphones; Jerry will put on a record and drown out the sound, sometimes inviting Reggie in; Tanner will run out there and tell him to fuck off for a while, sometimes smiling. During her smoke break, Preston and Mary headed down the street a couple blocks toward the Nervous Muskrat Lounge to see if anything good was going on that night, talking along the way and stepping to avoid puddles of melted snow. "Chu gonna do all day?" "Would love to get some writing done." "Well that goes without saying. What else?" "Hmm. Space Golf on PlayBox." "Gotta get that eagle," said Mary, hitting her cigarette and looking up at the Walk/Don't Walk sign. "I'm also rewatching Cosmos on VHS. Carl Sagan. O.G." "I've always wondered if he was pronouncing Uranus correctly." "Got that turtleneck and chain." "Sagan got a a chain? Ayy." "How much my chain cost? Billions and billions." "He never really said that." "That book made me cry." The pair had only to walk a couple blocks down and take one turn before they could see caddy-corner from them the familiar brown bricks and triangled corner building with the long vertical sign of tubey lettering reading MUSKRAT when you looked up to down, all dead and dark and not yet the neon. Posted in the leftmost window near the street was plastered a Hendrix-y colored poster with classic hippie-inspired and the-most-impossible-to-read-font-until-death-metal-came-along lettering that moved in circular spiral-like directions that normal sentences aren't usually supposed to go, enveloping the image of Gustav Dore's depiction of Satan from Paradise Lost, but modified so that in this depiction, the fallen angel is wearing eight-bit sunglasses and smoking a joint. Mare read out the title, struggling through the acid font. "In this window?" Preston pointed, looking over at Mare. "Yeah." "I'm gonna invite Septy. This might be good." "Is she not working tonight?" "I dunno." "Maybe I'll ask Reggie." "Girl, if Blandois saw this sign, I'm pretty sure he's already goin." "Oh my god, stop calling him that." "Did you see this one? 'Bathe In Everlasting.' 'Scuse me?" "Yeah bro. Should be a trip. I'm headin back." "I'll hit you up later. Enjoy the Prodigy."   "I will!" The thwack of Preston's deadbolt, and inside he went. Flipping every light switch from front to back, he sat down a grocery bag on the island between the kitchen and living room, making sure not to set it on top of his copy of Tao Te Ching he likes to leave out from the bookshelf for easy access before carefully untying his shoes. After putting away sundries,  he flipped on his console and television; not to play or watch anything, but so as to have an aesthetic background screen rather than a blank, black mirror. He changed into pajama pants and opened a beer, pouring it out into a glass down the side proper. He thought about September. He grabbed another cigarette and went out to his balcony with Lao Tzu. Mary was balancing herself against the wall as she pulled off her shoes; her bottom half being rather disproportionate once it hit below the small waist. She could hear the muffled glitches and grinds of 'Voodoo People' from out front. She pulled her coat off and walked over to a lounging Cheech to rub his belly, and gave a general hallo to all her cats that were appearing out of corners and under shelves with nap-end back arches and toothy yawns. She slid into her foam sliders which she always wore at work rather than her regular street shoes before going to the front where Jerry was obviously going ape or ham on the vape pen. "Hiroyuki Sakai!" Jer yelled with a beckoning gesture. "Chen Kenichi!" Mare pulled out the barstool next to him, the one Tanner occupied at day shift. "The ever-explorative Verge, the Redd queen of the highway. What's good?" "Just a-swingin." "With those thighs, I reckon so." Jer leaned over and turned down the Prodigy a bit, not noticing an older male customer on the upstairs-landing Jazz section giving off a sidelong stink eye like "finally" and upward appeal of passive-aggressive kind of "Thank God" relief. "Talk shit, get hit." "Middle school cool kid." "That's me, alright." "Really? Cuz I coulda sworn you were Roksaburo Michiba!?" "Only on off-days, Fukui-san." "Speaking of being off, you got plans tonight?" "Dude, me and Preston saw the wildest poster at Muskrat just now." "Oh, shit, you went down there? How long you been gone? Damn." "Preston wants to go pretty bad, so we were thinking me, him, September and Reggie if I can find him." "What kinda music?" "I don't know if it even is music, it just had a guy's name, Hakim something. If it is, probably psychedelic doom type shit from what the poster looked like." "Oh, shit. I'll be there." "I could be totally wrong though. Didn't feel like a band poster. It said 'stylings.'" "Ah, you shoulda said that before. Poetry--not my thing. Anything else? Ryot Gear perhaps?" The back wall of Stewey's was where they kept all the clear liquors, which is where Preston had been shifting from foot to foot for about three minutes now. At checkout, he ended up with a three seven five of Tanqueray, a picollo of moscato, three plastic waters, and a single plastic shooter of New Amsterdam peach vodka.  He was twisting the cap of the gin once he got outside and across the street; but just as he was putting the bottle to his mouth, he felt the vibrations in his pocket and saw the confirmation text from Septy that she'd be off at eight, and would be able to get there by nine thirty. He smiled, replied, and put away the gin and instead chugged the moscato, and tossed the empty mini bottle in a sidewalk hedge with a flourish of inspired artistry as he made his way downtown toward the Muskrat.

***

"Love letter leaf Are you just Passing through Or are you Waiting for me?

"Gust of rose Covers up dust Sense so bright It hides in light All where it goes.

(light applause)

"Emerge from the Earth. Immerse me in mirth. Your cruel love questions What wonder is worth.

"Fall below best. Rise above rest. Your body feels free, Fair, unbound and blessed.

(light whistle)

"Jesus died for you. Jesus lied, it's true. Death will be barren. Heaven shall fall through.

(light applause. Preston whistles with pinky fingers. September smiles. Reggie crushes beer can and whoops).

"I just came down with a case of the rhymes from the attic. Never a witness. Dust off the table and unroll the art. Here comes the illness. Put it on my chart. I must insist.

("Okay." Light whistles)

"I just came up for a quick kiss to boost your self-esteem. You need to taste yourself in a way not so profound. You don't need to waste yourself in a way that won't astound.

("Damn!")

"After all, I'm the one who's supposed to go down.

("Maybe." "I can dig it." Loud whistle. "Okay.")

"Takes time for other minds-- The ones that I wish were mine. On days like these, I make myself obsolete.

("Oh!" Applause. "Go there." "Okay." "I see it.")

Well there's this, at least. The brilliance is earthshaking-- So effortless, it's painstaking-- Even my failures are groundbreaking."

(Large applause. Many whistling. Mary shouts: "Gat-damn, that's whassup!")

"I'm faded so far away from anything relatably debatable. I'm unstable and unable to remain in the same stable."

("No." "Yes.")

"Table tennis of the mind.

("Yup.")

"Take a tip from passing time ("Stop.")

"To say when, And stay bent. Same place and mind As a stint in an insane asylum, Ay."

(loud, long applause. Long whistles. Many shouts and cheers. Reggie barking like a hound. Jerry flashing ironically. September and Preston making crazy-eyed glances of surprise).

The stage of the Mukrat was adjacent to the three-by-ninestool bar, and covered only a small pocket of the north-east corner of the main drag  of the inside of the building; giving a band of five or more members a nice opportunity to reach out and platonically touch fingers, whenever they so desired (as if the practice room weren't enough). Hakim was alone; just him and an ambient background score he put on via laptop and connector cable. Some scrappy notepad papers in his left hand, and he performed the final leg of his act, bringing forth a healthy final applaud. Behind the bar was Voodoo Mama, as always. She bartends any night the Rat is open for business. Off hours, over half the crowd will stay for a majority of the nights of the week well past closing. Mama never cared. She'd always just sit at that table on the second floor landing and count money. She never had a security system. Just her peeled eye, peering like a lion behind the grassy green gen-pop income. It was around ten forty five when Hakim left the stage, and the house band returned; re-dressed, and well smoked, and well doped. It was of course Reggie, with his beach bum energy and Bob Ross-esque inviting type of tone that lured the lone poet forward, not ten steps from the stage. "You halal, mah brotha?" Reggie sounded off, ripping  the skinny Hakim into Mary's empty chair; her having  went out for a smoke with Septy, but just now returning. Preston noticed the layer of sweat and pushed over an unopened water bottle over to the wide-eyed performer (Preston kept plastic bottles of water well on-hand when out in public--to save money, he claimed). "Anyone smell sushi omelette? Conger fishmeat?" Jer. "Voodoo Mama?" "Don't be rude." Hakim laughs sorta. "You ever been someplace between a greem chili gizzard shad and a Japanese horseradish ice cream?" "You'll have to forgive Mary and Jerry, here. They have their own language that for some reason revolves around phrases most commonly found on Iron Chef," Preston informed. "You people are odd." "Seven Eleven." "I can't argue that," Papoola replied to Blandois. "Wer' nut always doin' business, but wer' alllways open." Septy, downing a bluey Cuervo shooter Preston snagged 5DD). "Yo, but that poetry was straight wrong." Jer. "Forreal, what are you on, man?" Preston inquires. "Mamas milk brutha. My shit don't come from nowhere that ain't purific." "Shame." "Forreal." "Still though." Mary grabs Jer's vape pen. Septy pounds back well shots like a commercial interruption. She keeps on going. Preston keeps on giving languid looks to poor ol' Jer with his attachable interest. Mary watches. "You ever feel less than, hoople-head?" Septy slurs at HP. "No. Not really. I do my thing." "Ain't that the purest form of nigger logic." "Yo, Sept. That ain't cool. Sup wit chu?" "Why did she call me 'nigger'?" Preston wonders. Am I a nimrod, or is this hard-on genuine? Reggie asks: "Are you from here?" Mary eyebrows lift. "Egypt." "No shit?" "How bout that water erosion?" "What? What do you mean?" "I nose the truth! Can I get an Amen for pussy?" "Seriously, Sept. stoppit." "Eat my ass, Presley. I'm all shoo-kup." Mary looks at Preston, then September. "Hey Septy." Mar. "Y-yyyes, ma'am?" "Enough is enough." Mary looks at Jer. ( Oh no. Here it comes, the Russian sleeper code). "Enough is enough! I have had it with these muthafuckin snakes on this muthafuckin plane!" Septy shifts to feet to declare, overpowering the round little table. Preston rolls his eyes. Hakim chuckles. "Unboud and blessed." Voodoo Mama lightly encourages the audience to give it up as the house band--one drummer, one guitar, one standup bass and one pianoman--finishes their set, coming back in twinny. Joint press, no doubt. Preston kisses her cheek as he goes to the main for a refill like any used mechanical vehicle. Mary and Rigaud make nice. Jer laughs hysterically at Hakim struggling to be polite to a drunken September he did not expect and puffing lightly on that same vape pen. He tries to pass it to Preston for a minute straight before realizing his chair is empty. "He's outside, Jer. Give it to me." Mary. Mary hits the vape, turns it to Reggie for his for-the-roader as they both stand and head after Preston and the band for the back alley via the band entrance. The couple lean against a shadowy wall along the widespread flannel-tearing cement with red and white make-out fury for a brief hop and spell out of time except for that squeaky-ass metal frame door that squawls each and every set change. Down the line a bit, and Preston is grabbing a three-point-five from the band's guitarist, which Preston figures probably came from the vocalist. "Perfect, man. I'm gonna head back." "Woah, woah, woah. Forget somethin?" "..." "The bread, ese." "Right. Yes. I knew I was forgetting somethin." "Ight, we good. Thanks, mano." "Great set last weekend. With the black chick...?" "Thanks, mano." Preston comes in the band entrance, right between the stage's edge and bars end. He spots September and Jer at the bar right under that one working overhead light, and they're both very into whatever topic they're into along with Voodoo Mama on their opposite. He was about to head straight for them with the good news, with the intention of bringing them right back outside to smoke, but decided to wait, as he noticed Hakim looking like he was preparing to go back on for another set (you know--all focused and staring forward; wrapping a scarf without looking down; drip of spit.) "Round 2?" "Yes. Wish me luck." "Who needs it?" "Exactly, my friend. Exactly." "Did I strike a nerve? Whadduyu mean?" "To be honest, tat is the truest thing anyone in this whole town has said tonight to me. Luck is not real. Trust me, man, I know. What I have been through? What I thought was right, and what I was told would be honest, humble, and brave? Everything we are, everything we think we see and know? It is all nothing but history, energy, and circumstance. We are animals. Yet, we are also conscious. My promise to you, Presty. Take it easy. Anything else would be overkill."

***

"It's so cool that we're all here." "Hey, Mar. Should i put on Yumeji's Theme?" It's 10:36 AM, at the Rcord Store. The next day. "No Septy. We are not in the mood for love." "Ohmygod. Nothin tingles my pringles like a reference understood!" "You made us endure a full viewing of that one, if'n you don't recall." "What? In the Mood For Love?" please. You could never do that live." "Yeah, but hey man, at least it wasn't as bad as Salo." "Oomph. Hard times." Mar. "Or Human Centipede 2." "That was a rough one." "I'm starting to feel really glad I never went to those." Tanner. "You're a horse with no name." "If that were true, there'd be ain't no one else for to give me no pain." La laaa, laa...la-uh le-luh luh..." The playlist turns to California Dreamin' (Single Version). (Silence, until Jer kicks in singing after the panpipe solo.) "I've been for a wa-aaalk..." "On a winters' day..." "[Got down on my knees...]" "You're all like..so gay," says Tanner. "Hey, you guys. What if I told you I have invented an idea for one of the most profitable apps to ever exist?" Jerry inquires. "I'd say where's the stock?" Mar. "What's the app?" "Okay. I call it QuickHook. Say you're on Instagram, and you see that your ex is at Starbucks. Okay. So. You show up there, and pretend you're just getting a coffee and minding your own business. But then, you get on QuickHook, and you connect with a hot chick thats only 1 mile away! You have her show up, make out with you for 20 minutes, and then leave!" "Why?" "Why?" Because a hot chick is in to you, of course! Think about it. What sells? Anything that lasts forever. And what lasts forever? Jealousy. And that's what QuickHook is about! Shallow green leads to deep green." "It's like Grandeur Grindr!" Septy. "It's like insecurity insurance." Tanner. "It's like beta bait!" Preston. "Cuz I'm good, yeah I'm feelin alright..." Jerry grabs the phone with audio connnection. He checks for a second. "Oh L'Amour." "App would never work, Jer. Not enough folk out there quite that level of petty." Preston. "And plus besides who even uses Instagram anymore? Specially pins," September mumbles from under her heaped-over dozy carcass. Voo-teevah, mon," Jer yells from the aux station. "Ya'll don't know. It's a wild world." "Don't bring Yusef into this." Mary, petting Jupiter in her lap. "Hey ya'll, I think I need to drive her home," Tanner feels, indicating September. And look at that. Tanner brings September back to her apartment. Nothing too crazy there: a tiny dog, some Xmas lights, a few dozen modern paintings and a wok. Loose hairties, wadded up toilet paper, smudged Whitney Houston lines of white dirt here and there, conter-wise, a pot and dirty pan. "What is she?" he asks. Tanner stays a few steps away. "What is she, really?" "Can we please? Please, Tan. I need you." He undresses her, in that drunken friend way to prepare her for bed. But. That rack looks back at him from a certain past. He can't resist. In he goes. She says "Yes." But that's just a response here. What it really means is more than can be explained. "What even happened to you?" "Protect me." He rolls her into bed. "Tanner, why can't you be with me? Why...cuz I miss you and stuff." "Because." "No because. Because yer dad." "Yeah." "B-cuz yer dad...is dyyy-iiiing! And you don't like that." "Pretty much, Septy. You're too much right now." "Right now...or right nooow now?" "Just now." "So what am I now now?" "Now now, you're just a fuckin' fuckin drunk Tom Hanks bullshit baby." "HA! Yaaaaay, Wils-ooon! But that's not yer dad. your dad is FELD-son. Right?" "Yeah. Martin Feldson." "His name sounds plaid. Like if plaid color had a name. ALso, he's dead. HAAA." "He was a good man, Sept." "Sure, suuure, sure. Yes. Yep. I bet he was. I love you." "I wish he could have met you." "HE HAS! I went nd saw him?" "Yeah. But. I dunno." "Tan." "Sept." "....." Outside is hot. Bugs fucking everywhere. Tanner slams the door and slams they key but doesn't know what to slam when it comes to the window, his wondow into her heart. There she ism basically fucking Preston at this point, blacking out every weekend, talking about such random shit and leaving me back for the rats, the roaches. Where is her mind? I'm sorry, but seriously. We used to work. We used to fuck like crazy. What even is this?" I need to see Dad." Tanner is 25, and his mom has health insurance, and she knows this whatever kind of stuff. September coughs blood. "This is weird." "Hello, September." "Yes. Hi, weird. Why are you the weirdy weirding weird?" "It's been eleven hours since you've been anesthetized. Are you feeling this way still, truly?" "Tcherr-tr-trueee. Trueee. Blue as true is blue is you. And me. And pee. And poop. Ha-ha-ha...poop. Poop the scoop. Scoopy doop. Scoops for me, Scoops for doop, and choc and choc and chocolate chip and rocky road, yo, gimme a goad...toad...Frodo froad..." "September you need to listen." "Skoad, chode, listen." "Yes, I'm Doctor McNamara and you need to listen to me." "To me...tooo me. Toomee. Toomee. Yes. Listen to Mac Na-Romalds." "September? September? Please. THis is important. Very, very important. I need you to listen." "Neeeeeeed...ta listen-eeen. Nee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-eeeeeeeeeed. ta liss-eh-heeeeeen." "Okay. Sir. Are you the next of kin? A friend?" "Just a friend, yeah. I'm real sorry, Doctor. SHe is usually chill, but last night was..." "I don't care in the slightest what happened last night, son. It's whats going on now. September is sick. You need to realize that, even if she cannot." "Sick. Okay, can you be a little more fucking specific dude?" "SHe has cancer. In her stomach. Not to mention a couple of ulcers. It's bad, son." "Tanner. " "It's not looking good, Tanner." "So is this from drinking? The ulcers? I mean I know cancer runs in the family. Her dad had it." "Tanner, cancer does not run in the family. It's not congenial. SHe just spent too much time drinking, yes; but much more of this is from smoking, It's a problem we must deal with. Now, I'm afraid." Do you know of any immediate family I could contact?" It's a matter of legal procedure, Tanner. I know your support alone might suffice just fine. But as I've said, this is serious. So please cooperate, and stay positive." "Dude..."