As we were looking for a lunch destination last Saturday we noticed that the parking lot at the afore mentioned Olive Garden wasn't full. DG wheeled us into the parking lot and we walked to the door anticipating a wonderful Italian lunch.

"How many today?", the greeter asked as we opened the door ourselves as she watched from her station.

"Just the two of us", I replied.

"We will have a table for you.... (hands me the pager which was about the size of my head) ....in ..... ughhhh.... in awhile."

"Ohhhhhhhh Kaaaaaaaaaaa" I said, thinking, "What the hell does that mean?".

"Here you go, here's a pager so we can let you know when your table is ready.", she said, with absolutely no memory that she had just given me a pager 1.5 seconds before. I didn't even mention to her that I was going to be standing three feet from her and probably didn't need one much less two pagers (Did I mention they are as big as my head?). I probably couldn't have held them both without a shoulder strap.

I reached out as if to take the pager from her and said with a surprised look on my face, "Oh, I already have one. I guess I've had it for awhile."

I noticed that we were one of four couples waiting. One in front of us and two behind. Suddenly the spaceships lights started flashing and I had to look away to prevent a seizure. As the seater, who was different than the greeter, took us to our seat I realized that I still had the spaceship and it was still flashing, flashing, flashing. So I went back and handed the pager to the greeter while shielding my eyes from the incessant flashing, flashing , flashing and said, " Here hold this for awhile, I'll pick it back up on our way out."

I caught back up with DG and the seater, and I say caught back up because they had been steadily walking toward empty tables on the far side of the restaurant and then at the last moment the seater turned down a little stubby hallway and made another turn and brought us all the way back to within ten or fifteen feet from where we were standing and waiting originally. It was like he thought we needed a little run before the pasta. Seriously, I  had seen the table we ended up in while I was jogging to catch up and wondered why the heck we couldn't sit there.

As we sit down I realize that he walked us around the restaurant past other empty tables and then seated us next to the swinging kitchen doors. Great... lunch while listening to the sound of multiple people yammering and pots banging bounces off of 1000 stainless steel surfaces mix with the sound of wet food products hitting the floor.  No problem though ..... someone has to sit there... might as well be us. It became apparent that the plan is to make you wait even if there are tables so they instill in you that they are much sought after....

The next person we see is holding a bottle of Chianti that was large enough for Barbra Eden to actually get into. "Would you like to try a glass of our blah, blah, cellar, blah, wonderful, blah with your lunch today?", she asked while holding her hand in front of the bottle like one of Barker's Beauties.

"No thank you, I will have a glass of diet Coke and my wife will have a glass of water.", I politely replied. It is 11:00am. It is not Spring Break on South Padre Island and this is not Planet Hollywood, what the hell is wrong with these people. Is it even legal to offer someone liquor before noon?

"How bad can this get???", I wondered.

The answer to that question came quickly as out waitress (Chianti Girl) arrived and asked very matter of factually, "Are you in a rush or will you be having a leisurely lunch with us today?"

At this point DG is totally dumbfounded. She looks up at Chianti Girl and says, "I have absolutely no idea how to answer that question." (Chianti Girl looks confused..) DG, still staring at her says, "No, really.... I have no idea how to answer that question. We are having lunch."

See that is where DG and I differ. I knew exactly how to answer her question.

"We are here for lunch. We will order and you will bring our prepared food. We will begin eating and you will occasionally stop by to fill our drink glasses and ask if we need anything.  We will eat and talk and we will keep eating and talking and drinking until we are finished. It might take twenty minutes or it might take an hour and a half. Pretty much you will know when we are finished because one or both of us will more than likely belch, we will leave money on the table and then we will get up and leave."

But I have a filter. So I just sat there and stayed quiet. It was a battle of wills with Chianti Girl determined to get an answer to the speed question and DG determined that Chianti Girl would resubmit her question in a form that  had some relevance to the situation. DG stared her down until Chianti Girl gave up and said, "I'll give you a few minutes and then I'll be back to take your order."

That is when it happened. Directly beside DG's side of the booth across the isle was a little cubby hole where the serving tray stands were stored. It appeared to have been built for maybe 6 stands. As a waiter flew by in the isle he tossed a tray stand toward the cubby hole. The hole already had it's allotment of 6 stands, so it just bounced off the other stands and slammed against DG seat and her side of the table. Jarring the table so badly that the contents of our drink glasses were sloshed onto the table. 

"OH HOLY HELL!!", DG yelled as she jumped sideways to try and get away.  Even if it would have saved her life she could not have gotten away. We were in a booth and the table and seat were fixed to the floor and wall. there was 14 inches of area between the table and the back rest of the seat. I measured because I could barely fit in the little space. Talk about cramped spaces. That is a pretty small space even for someone little like DG. So she was trapped which scared her almost as much as the slamming of the stand against the booth.

"We need a different table over here.", DG said in a loud voice.

There were at least three employees standing within 5 feet of her as she said it. The guy that tossed the stand wasn't one of them. He had just kept right on running down the isle. Those standing around just walked away. DG and I just stared at each other, kinda shrugged our shoulders and decided to leave. About that time a supervisor stopped by and said, "Did I hear that you need a different table?" I only assume she was a supervisor because her shirt was a different color and she wasn't carrying a bottle of Chianti.

I had already pulled out money for the drinks so we told her that we had changed our minds and we would just leave. I tossed a five on the table and we started to make our way to the door. As we passed through the crowd of people waiting to get one of the empty tables. I said loudly, "You couldn't pay me to eat here.", as I passed greeter girl. She looked after us as we went out the door and she said, "Thanks... Come back again." To which I replied, "It will probably be awhile."

I think this is the very first time we have ever walked out of a restaurant without being served.

We still needed to eat so we picked one of our old "stand-by" restaurants, "Lone Star Steak House". It is definitely not a five star establishment but it is trustworthy. It is not great but it is always good. We are partial to their dinner salads and hot rolls. The salad is served in a bowl with the best purple onion you have ever tasted. But, the high point of the salad is the Southwest or Texas Ranch dressing. The dinner rolls are steaming hot and the honey butter spread is creamy and soothe. As entries DG goes for the Sweet Bourbon Salmon and at lunch I chose a 7oz. Ribeye. Those are our tried and true choices. Always safe. So we place our normal orders.

I guess I should say that it has been a long time since we have been to "Lone Star". And I also guess I should admit that restaurants are the same as people from your past. When you haven't been exposed to them for long periods the changes are very pronounced.

The salad arrived on a plate not in the bowl. So now I am forced to chase the tomatoes around the plate. Except... imagine that... the cherry tomatoes have been replaced by "diced-stored on the counter one day too long-tomato globules." We had to send DG's salad back because it had the wrong dressing. Not that difficult to notice the regular ranch that she received is white of course and the Southwest or Texas she ordered is pinkish red. Both salads seemed to be composed of a grassy tasting leafy plant, possibly dandelion leaves and a large quantities of lettuce stems, stalks and cores. In other words the dressing was the only thing on the plate worth eating. And the dressing was as thin as water and tasted of old vinegar. Not at all the dressing of the past.

Don't cry for me Argentina Wethersfield, Connecticut the purple onions are gone. There is not an onion in sight. I guess they are too expensive. So charge me more.

We are about finished pushing onion free salad around our plates when we decide to go for one of those hot dinner rolls and honey butter. The buns were as flat as a pancake. And filled with gooey uncooked dough. And the honey butter was cold and looked kinda splotchy like the honey was separating from the butter. We asked the waitress for a replacement basket of rolls. She asked what the problem was and we said we thought they should cook awhile longer.

The replacement basket arrived and the rolls looked great all glistening on top with oil, puffed up like a roll should be but cold as a well diggers ass inside. The honey butter was just as unappetizing this time around but we figured what the hell. If we send them back again they might come back filled with spiders or something. At least they are edible this time.

Entrées arrive.... My heart flutters and in my excitement I almost belt out "WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS" but think better of it and settle for "yeah"... you can imagine how bad this attempt at lunch has been when you realize that the simple arrival of food is taken as a great accomplishment and reason for celebration.

The first thing I noticed was that the "Ribeye" on my plate seemed a little thin. In fact it looked like one half of someone's butterflyed fillet. But at this point I am going to eat what is in front of me. It has been too long since sugar and I'm starting for feel a little woozy. DG's salmon looked good but two bites in she noticed that not only did they omit the sweet bourbon sauce, they failed to cook it thoroughly and the center of the salmon was raw. And the center of both baked potatoes were cold and the bottoms were burnt from sitting on the warmer too long.

As if by magic the waitress appeared and asked if everything was ok. DG explained that her salmon was raw. The waitress offered to have it put back on the grill. DG then explained that wouldn't really do much good because the part that was cooked tasted bad. After all it was salmon with no seasoning, no spices, and most importantly no bourbon to comer the taste that could only be equated to how the inside of a minnow bucket must taste. The waitress asked if my Ribeye was ok and I said that it was fine. I hunched over my plate covering it while protecting the sides with my arms like a prisoner guarding his chow. There was no way anyone was taking this food away from me, I don't care how bat bad it tasted or how not a "Ribeye" it was. The waitress then offered to bring DG a fillet. DG accepted and she waited for the fillet to be cooked and served. I didn't wait. I wanted to finish this "not a Ribeye" and crappy potato before someone tries to take it away again.




DG's fillet arrived and low and behold it really looked like a fillet. It was even thicker than my "really not a ribeye". And it actually tasted pretty good as opposed to the liver tasting "really not a ribeye" and the sushi salmon. DG finished eating her steak and I watched and shared a bite now and then. When the waitress returned DG asked for a box so that we could take the remaining rolls home so that we could "try them hot".



I haven't mentioned this because it is really fodder for another post someday.... but.... the entire time we were trying to relax from the near death experience at Olive Garden while experiencing all these crappy food issues at Lone Star, in the booth behind DG an exhibition was going on. There was giggling, screaming, jumping on the booth seat, climbing on the booth back to peer over and stare at the top of DG head while making faces and flying acrobatics off the bench onto the floor in the path of tray carrying wait staff. No this was not a troop of Gypsies circus midgets, it was the children of the couple in the booth behind DG. I snapped some pictures of landings and bounces for your viewing pleasure.

I almost stabbed myself in the throat with a steak knife just so I could go to a quiet place.

What could go wrong indeed.....

And if by chance the parents of these little heathens have a problem with me posting their pictures on the Internet, might I suggest you take them to The Olive Garden next time.

I lived out a scene from a movie last Thursday at lunch. There was moaning and groaning, gasping, expressions of love, lust, desire and even some table pounding. No the scene was not from Caress of the Vampire 2 : Teenage Ghoul Girl a Go-Go. I'm talking about When Harry Met Sally re-filmed at "The Back Porch".

Let me set the scene.....


After we ordered we had a chance to try a small bowl of the "Mexican Green Chili Stew". We both tried it while we were waiting for our lunch choices. I loved the stew.

It is made with roasted pork, potatoes, crispy tortillas tomatoes, onion, green chili peppers and white hominy. Did I say I loved the stew? Dream Girl on the other had was not a fan. She has hominy issues. The only three things that I know of that she doesn't eat are hominy, sauerkraut and beets. We are so much alike it is strange that she hates three of my favorite foods. I can eat hominy (yellow or white) cold out of the can with a spoon. I guess that explains why I like the stew so much. The hominy provides a base taste like barley in other soups and stews and it blends with the flavor from the pork really well.

Dream Girl and I had finished our lunch, mine of chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, jalapeño gravy and green beans, and her grilled chicken salad with candied pecans and southwest ranch dressing, when the waitress asked if we would like some pie. I told her to let us think about it for a bit.

I was full but I think the pie was calling my name. When the waitress came back around to top off our drinks I ask for a slice of the buttermilk pie. We had decided on buttermilk again because it seemed the least rich of the available choices. The apple was rich enough alone but would needed some Blue Bell Ice Cream (which I have since learned, from Ms. Owner, is available on request) and the chocolate fudge pie is like a meal by its self.


So the scene is set....

As we began sharing the piece of pie we began the aforementioned moaning and groaning, gasping, and pounding. This pie is to die for. It is very creamy, almost the texture of firm pudding. The crust is flakey and perfectly baked. The only "custard type" pie better than this was my mom's egg custard pie.

I would skip lunch and just have pie if this was one of the choices. As we were eating and proclaiming this pie to be the king of all perfectly proportioned personal pie pieces purchased previously, we just keep looking at each other and continued on speaking in broken mumbled sentences as our mouths were seized by the multiple, simultaneous oralgasms we were experiencing. I guess we were a little less than discrete in our appreciation of the pie. We heard someone in the next booth say something like, "We want what they are having."

It had been awhile since we ate at the local Greek restaurant, El Greco. I was jonesin’ for some pitas so we went by on a recent Saturday afternoon. One couple was just leaving when we arrived, which left us as only patrons there in the middle of the afternoon.

El Greco has simply fantastic food and the atmosphere has always been relaxing. I do have to comment about their recent remodel. Same building, just moved to other side of it. While the interior is new and lovely, the tables are now much closer together. I don’t understand why they would want less floor space; maybe for the gigantic bar that I have never seen anyone sitting at? I actually got up from my table one evening when the place was packed and accidentally pushed my chair right into a woman squeezing between the tables. Ouch!

The service has always been excellent. You know the kind where you reach for your drink and it has been mysteriously refilled? The owner’s daughter is our favorite server; she is friendly and goes above and beyond to ensure you have a great dining experience. Her and her mother have a cooking show on the local television station on the weekends showing you how to make some of their ethnic specialties. Too bad she wasn’t there this Saturday afternoon.

We were seated and ordered our drinks and some Satziki (cucumber dip) and pitas. This sauce is so good, I could probably just go and have it for a snack sometime. Our favorite dish is the Soutzoukakia; it’s delicious meatballs. They actually took it off of the menu as an entree by itself; this happened about remodel time. However, it is part of the combination platter and the daughter had previously told that we could just order it anyway. We did and the waitress went back to the kitchen to check its availability. She returned and told us that they didn’t have enough available. I looked around at all the empty tables and wondered who they thought might be eating their precious meatballs. I quickly scanned the menu for a replacement item because I really only came here for the meatballs; and the pitas, of course. At this point, I didn’t want to order the combination meal that included the Soutzoukakia; it was the principle of the matter, you have it, I want it, sell it to me, I don‘t care what it costs. We both decided on the Gyro Plate with roasted potatoes. The waitress then tried to steer us towards the lunch Gyro. No, I assured her, I wanted the plate with the all the vegetables, a salad and more pitas included.

We were devouring our wonderful Satziki sauce and pita; until we ran out of pitas halfway through the bowl. We asked the waitress to bring some more pitas. “You want more? They come with your meal,” she replied in a snippy tone, “How many?”

How about you trot your little butt back to the kitchen and just keep bringing me pitas until I say, no, I couldn’t possibly eat one more pita. “Two,” I answered; hoping that was the correct cucumber dip to pita ratio.

She returned with the steaming hot, heaven on a plate, pitas. “Could I have some ice, please?” was my next demand on her time. I left out the part I was thinking; how ice is what defines water as ‘ice water’ and in my humble opinion, actually makes it drinkable.

Next she brought out the salads. Their salads consist of shredded lettuce with an oil dressing accompanied with pitas. I’ve never found these to be all that great, but I did like dipping my warm pitas in the dressing at the bottom of the bowl. Guess what, no pitas. Luckily, I still had a couple of wedges left.

The girl brought out our plates of food. We dove in. “Wait, wait, we didn’t take a picture.” I can’t tell you how many times we don’t think of the blog picture until the meal is halfway consumed. I pulled the camera out of my purse, “Stop eating. Move your fork. Wait, don’t take another bite.” It’s hard to quit eating once you have begun.

The Gyros were fantastic as usual. Even their green beans are exceptional. I ate till I was about to explode. I imagined the rest of my afternoon being spent longing around in my stretchy pants, watching NASCAR, unable to move.

The waitress had missed all the picture commotion as she had retired to the kitchen area in the back of the building. Too bad for the man that came in a short time later. He stood unnoticed at the front counter for about five minutes before he turned around and left.

“I guess they’re not saving those meatballs for him,” I said sarcastically.

Oh, and by the way, we did not get more pitas with our meal. What the heck? Also, we were not even offered dessert. Not that we had room for it or any more pitas; again it was just the principle of the matter at this point.

Usually we order pitas to take home with us. They are fantastic heated up and smeared with peach spread for breakfast. Yum, yum. We didn’t want to put the waitress out any further, so we didn’t even ask for our usual to go order of pitas.

Seriously here, a restaurant should be trying to sell as much product (food) as possible to the consumer (eater). Again, I looked around at all the empty tables. We paid our quite substantial bill and left. I didn’t even look to see what we were charged for; at this point it didn’t really matter. Food 10, service 2.

Okie Sister

www.okiesister.com

Just back from another lunch at the Back Porch. I like everything about this place. The wait staff is great. If your glass is ever empty it is because you blocked the attempts of the staff to keep it filled. They are very attentive without being assuming like some of the "franchise" restaurants. I have been to Lone Star Steakhouse many times only to find the waitress trying to sit down with us. Not at TBP. They are helpful and concerned about your dining pleasure without being pushy. The cliental is great. We see people from all over town, not just the downtown area. Suits and overalls dispersed equally across the dining room, sometimes at the same table.

The owners have created an ambiance that lends itself to friendly banter between patrons at adjacent tables, and some times across the restaurant. At the same time it is quiet enough to hold a private conversation at your table without the need to lean in causing you to sop up gravy with your tie (thanks a lot Cracker Barrel).

As I said in the last post, this was an excursion to sample the Wednesday Special which was macaroni and cheese, meatloaf w/ mushroom gravy and a buttermilk biscuit. It was excellent. I am accustomed (my mom's and Dream Girl's) to a meatloaf that is ketchup/BBQ based. This was a refreshing detour from my norm. Another excellent twist on the standard offering. I believe that is what sets TBP apart from other restaurants in town. The chef takes the time to make each dish a little different. His little twist. Not different enough to scare conservative eaters away from the table but enough to make each creation his own. I would rank Wednesday at #4 after Thursday (chicken fried steak), Friday (catfish) and Tuesday (BBQ). I haven't made it in on Saturday (brown beans and jalapeno cornbread) so the rankings are not finished yet. All in all, another great lunch at The Back Porch.

We also had lunch this week at Big Chef. Big Chef is an old fashioned diner with counter service as well as booths. It has been located in three or four different locations and held a couple different names but the food has always been the same. It has a very large menu and is open 24/7. At least it was in the past. I don't get out past about 8:00pm these days so I can't testify about the whole 24/7 thing. But I can tell you that most anytime it is open you will see local and state law enforcement dining there. You know what they say about finding a good restaurant. Look for the truckers and law enforcement. You will definitely find them at Big Chef eating together or separately at any given time you will find the county Sheriff, Lawton Police officers, OSBI and Highway Patrol. This is another melting pot for city and country folks to eat. Dream Girl opted for the cheeseburger and onion rings while I went for the open face chili burger with fries. They both arrived piping hot and tasted wonderful. Big Chef is always the same, good.

I am so ashamed. I have been putting off posting about our last lunch trip to the Back Porch. We ate with some friends and the special of catfish, fries and brown beans looked so good I dove right in and neglected to take any photos. To make matters worse we were treated to a slice of each type of pie being served that day.... and yep.... no pictures of the freshly home made Buttermilk pie, apple pie or the, gift from a benevolent pie God, chocolate pie either.

All the pies were good, really good. The buttermilk was the only one that a human could actually eat in one setting. It was the least rich but still caused me to wonder aloud why I had "that one last bite". The apple pie was simply a really good apple pie. All it was missing was a big-o dollop of Blue Bell Ice Cream. The chocolate pie was by far the best. I don't know what was in it. I probably don't want to know. In fact, I know I don't want to know because I am sure that the crust is the only thing that I am allowed to eat... being diabetic. It almost has the texture and taste of a chocolate brownie batter poured into and baked in a pie crust. And the chocolate chips... I did mention the chocolate chips...that's what I'm talkin' bout.

I am such a failure. I know I have let you down and I apologize. In an attempt to make up for this recent photo failure I fully intend to have the Friday Fish special again this coming Friday. It is a hardship but I am willing to endure it for the sake of my readers. I will tell you that it was the best catfish I have had in years. It had to be fresh. The fillets were thick and meaty. They were very flaky and had no "fishy" smell or taste. What they did have was that wonderful taste of corn fed catfish. The tarter sauce seemed to be an original creation with minced onion and a southwest spicy base of some kind......

Wait.... I feel the urge for Wednesday's Special at TBP, Meatloaf, Macaroni and Cheese with a buttermilk biscuit. I'll let you know how it was when I get back. YES, WITH PICTURES.....

There is a new restaurant in town. They have been in the process of opening for a couple weeks now and we have been watchin' the progress. Driving by.....peering around corners, peeking through windows with eyes shaded by hands.... stalking... that is how bad we need a new lunch choice in the downtown area. That's not to say the places we have are not good, they are great. There just aren't enough choices or seats to feed everyone that works in or visits the downtown area.

Finally the doors were flung open and an entire city tried to eat lunch there the first week. They were the downtown equivalent to a new Olive Garden, cars filling the parking lot and pouring out into the street. (This is a side effect of the fact that Oklahomans and Lawtonians  in particular have not embraced the whole carpooling/energy efficient vehicle era as of yet. Most of them still believe in the philosophy that as Americans they have the God given right to go where they want to go, driving what they want to drive. And on top of that they'll "let the son of a bitch idle with the heater or A/C on while I'm in here if I damn well please. After all my dad my grandpa my neighbors sisters boy I helped grow that oil working out there on the rigs and I'm sure as hell gonna use my share before it's all gone.")

Oops, I kinda went off there for a bit....

• Grilled Onions
• Sweet relish
• Bacon Wrapped
• Pickled Jalapenos
• Shredded Cheese (Cheddar or Pepper Jack)
• Sauerkraut

Or... if you're feeling really deserving you can go for the Ultimate Bacon Wrapped Chili Cheese Dog. I felt it was my responsibility to test out the UBWCCD. (Did I mention it was deep fried after the bacon was wrapped around it?) I think anything that bills itself as the Ultimate is just begging me to try it.

I will admit it was good. In fact it was very good. That's it on the left under the mountain of chili, cheese and onions. Was it the Ultimate Dog?...... No..... BONK.... thanks for playing todays edition of "Make Randy's Belly Blissful" we have some wonderful parting gifts for you. Just kidding, it made my belly very blissful, it just wasn't the Ultimate Dog. It could come close if they would get rid of those amature wienies and go for the real deal and start serving Nathan's. They are the real deal and will make a 100% difference in the taste of these dogs. (Previous comments mostly intended for management if they happen to read this post.)

This visit also cause the following quotes of the day from "she who is my dream girl";

Last night I called Lynna and asked her what she wanted to eat for supper. She said that she was planning on eating leftover Mesquite Smoked, Rotisserie Chicken and a salad that I bought for her the day before. I told her that I would just stop and pick up something for myself.

I instantly realized that this was going to be my first chance to try the Jumbo, Juicy Love (69 cent hotdogs) from the Stripes around the corner. I drove my dads new Mercedes into the parking lot, hopped out and built some Juicy Love as fast as I could. I sat them gingerly on the seat of the car, contemplated how I might strap them in with the seat belt but soon gave up and simply forced myself to drive slowly in the breakdown lane so as to not disturb them on the ride home.

(Dad sorry about that smell. From past experience I can tell you that the only way to get the smell of Juicy Love out of a car is to go to Sam's Club and buy one of those 200 count containers of grape bubble gum. Then leave the container open on the front seat for about a week.)

And there they are on the left. Four of the juiciest dogs you have ever seen, on fresh buns with Habanero sauce, onions and sweet pickle relish. Four, count them, four... look at them sitting in those little paper holders of love. Screaming EAT ME, EAT ME, EAT ME, NO EAT ME FIRST......  LET US SHOW YOU OUR JUICY LOVE.

I wanted them so bad but I knew that it would just enhance my enjoyment to put it off for a few minutes all the while just looking at them and enjoying their enticing aroma. So I used the time to feed the puppy dogs. Actually I usually feed the dogs first so they will leave me alone while I eat. It never actually works but it makes me feel better every time just imagining that it might.

It look me about 25 minutes to get their dinner made and get them fed. The whole time dreaming about that Juicy Love. About how good they will taste after I heat them up a bit in the microwave. Which got me to thinking about how it will not actually be "just a bit' but more like two minutes. We have a brokeass microwave oven. You can heat a dish of food faster by holding it over a lit match. I don't know why we don't just buy a new one. A new one that will cook more food in one minute than a 1960's school cafeteria could in an entire day, costs about $12.

I decided to get a picture of the Love to share with all of you, so I gathered up the camera and aimed and fired off a flash shot. You can't tell from the perspective of this shot above but the dog on the far left has already suffered a big bite on the far end. What the...... Who the hell stole a taste of my Juicy Love? I looked at each of the puppy dogs and they were gulping down their rice, boneless skinless shredded chicken breast with carrots between burps. No manners, none at all.... It wasn't one of them. I already knew this because they can't pickup a hotdog out of a tray because, thank God, they have no thumbs. If they had thumbs I would starve to death and couldn't have the remote for the TV even when Lynna is gone.

It wasn't the dogs so who.... I looked toward Lynna and I hear, "Can I have some Jumbo Juicy Love?"

"I thought you were having chicken and salad. But yes by all means have the one with the missing end and while your at it, wipe the relish off your lip.", I said with the a true feeling of loss, tears welling up in my eyes.

"Are you sure your not going to eat it?", she asked with a tone of false concern, mocking my tears.

What I'm I supposed to say now; Yes, I'm a big fat pig that can't get enough of the Jumbo Juicy Love. I would have bought and eaten more but I only had two hands? No, I can't admit the truth so what I said was, "I only bought four because of symmetry. If I had only bought three the second tray would have been unbalanced. Go ahead, I was planning on throwing it out anyway. But do you think I could at least watch as it gives you pleasure and can I maybe take some pictures?"

She said yes. So, I did watch and I did take pictures while my Jumbo Juicy Love was getting warm in the microwave set to two minutes. Can I just take time out here to say she has no morals when it comes to Juicy Love, she ate it cold from start to finish. That is just wrong.

So... I sit down and eat my warmed up Jumbo Juicy Love. Two of them, because that is how many will fit on the tray. If I had heated up both trays at the same time I would have looked like a pig again. The puppies were circling me, standing on their hind feet so they could reach the top of the TV table and pawing at the tray full of Love. But I stayed my course. I didn't share with them, how could I, I was already one Juicy Love short of satisfaction.

Then I noticed that Lynna was wandering around the kitchen, opening the fridge, closing the fridge, wandering... circling, if you will, the last Juicy Love on the counter. I knew she was Jonesin' for it. She's got a monkey on her back, and that monkey is Jumbo Juicy Love. She's had a little taste but that wasn't enough..... she had a need that only more Jumbo Juicy Love can fill. I could have tortured her but I didn't, I knew her dilemma. I've been there, so I said, "Sweetie why don't you eat that other dog?"

"No, that's yours, you eat it.", she said in half hearted protest.

"No, I've had all the Juicy Love I can handle, you eat it." I said.

During the old Tarzan movies, remember the sound of the native, carrying the hunters trunk, being eaten by the piranha? Tearing gnawing and thrashing....