tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46429322614545471492024-03-27T00:17:23.713-07:00ADVENTURES OF A FATASSMELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.comBlogger154125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-18539019778471646882019-02-20T00:23:00.004-08:002019-02-20T16:59:40.261-08:00The Great American Wing Crawl <div style="text-align: left;">
I usually start off my blog posts explaining why I haven't written in two years and it typically involves lying about being in Mexican prison, but I don't have time for that right now because I INVENTED SOMETHING IMPORTANT. I invented something that will change the course of American history and alter the public's view of fried poultry entirely. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce <b>THE GREAT AMERICAN WING CRAWL.</b></div>
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I have taken it upon myself to curate an immersive experience where a select group of chicken wing enthusiasts/ass goblins (of my choosing) are led to Los Angeles' premier chicken wing establishments for a day of buffalo drenched euphoria. The world did not asketh, but I provideth anyways and you're all preemptively welcome. </div>
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After nearly a decade of rigorous and arousing research, I birthed what only can be described as the lovechild between Buffalo Wild Wings and<strike> the Fyre Festival </strike>Coachella. I ranked my top chicken wings in all of Los Angeles and hired a team of cartographers to map out our official wing crawl map. It was a pricey endeavor, but I, much like the great <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqM0yZK__gI">John Hammond</a> am not one to spare any expense. We are currently in the beta stage of development and what I am about to recount is merely a preview of what I have in store for America. </div>
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Our first stop on The Great American Wing Crawl was <a href="https://yerusticinn.com/"><b>Ye Rustic Inn </b></a>, which ranks at the very top of my buffalo wing list. It is a well known fact by anyone in LA that knows shit about shit that these are the best buffalo wings in LA and if anyone wants to contest that, I am more than eager to fist fight you. </div>
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I'd like to shout out my cousin/photographer extraordinaire, <a href="https://www.dianevalera.com/">Diane Valera</a> for photographing this journey since my iPhone 6s is actively battling it's planned obsolescence and cannot be trusted under any circumstance. Anyhow, LOOK AT THIS FUCKIN' CHICKEN STACK THO. Buffalo is the only flavor on the menu because they understand very well that certain traditions are not to be fucked with. However, there are various levels of spice that range from mild to suicide and there are several different levels of crispiness: regular, crispy and extra crispy.<i> I live to suck the shrapnel from an 18-piece order of regular hots off my buffalo stained fingers.</i> </div>
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You may also remember my friend, Jessie in the background as the dehydrated Chinese burrito from <a href="http://www.adventuresofafatass.com/2015/11/netflix-sweat-urban-sweat-lodging-at.html">this sad post</a>. </div>
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Many people asked: "Is The Great American Wing Crawl real or did you just make it up?" My response? IT'S FUCKING BOTH. And I think this photo of my turd friends posing in their chicken clothes proves that.</div>
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The next stop was <a href="https://www.kyochon.com.my/" style="font-weight: bold;">Kyochon</a>, home of the single-most addictive chicken wings in LA. Real talk, the Korean chicken merchants at this place know how to soy and garlic the shit out of a chicken wing and they have THE GREAT AMERICAN WING CRAWL'S tramp stamp of approval. </div>
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Look at those gorgeous lil' thangs. They look hella basic, but there is more flavor sitting on top of that skin than a pack of bacon has in it's entire dick. </div>
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The next stop on the tour was <a href="https://www.yelp.com/biz/ob-bear-los-angeles">OB Bear</a> in Koreatown. Half the wing destinations on the crawl are Korean wings because they are a powerful force in the LA chicken wing game and OB Bear is an <i>institution</i>. Angelenos have relied on them for nights of rowdy drinking and aggressive chicken consumption for centuries. </div>
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<b>HOT TIP:</b> Put your name down on their wait list through their Yelp page, so you can freely roam the skreets and local liquor stores until they summon you to come the fuck back. </div>
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We cheersed our little nutsacks off to celebrate the unofficial kick-off of THE GREAT AMERICAN WING CRAWL. As I stated before, we are merely in the beta stages and if my calculations are correct, the official crawl will take America by storm and make me the official ribbon cutter at every grand opening ceremony of every Wingstop to bless the earth's surface. So suck my dick, Rick Ross - <b>I am the new chicken wing king on both sides of the Mississippi</b>. </div>
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MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-22059527026949092732017-09-17T16:53:00.001-07:002017-09-17T22:40:10.197-07:00The Trials and Tribulations of a Plant-Based Diet Shit, I forgot I had a blog until I got an e-mail notification telling me they were gonna shut down my domain if I didn't fork over ten bucks. It was a tough decision, but I decided to just renew my domain for the sake of the American public. Heaven knows what they and the rest of the world would do without www.adventuresofafatass.com.<br />
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Anyhow, <a href="http://pagesix.com/2017/08/07/ne-yo-goes-vegan-after-watching-what-the-health/">like Ne-Yo</a> and every other basic bitch on the planet that's watched Netflix's sensational new horror film, <i>What The Health, </i>I pledged twenty five cans of red paint to PETA and announced (to my cats) that I would adopt a plant-based diet. I had eaten an egg that very day, which according to the film is the equivalent of smoking a cargo pallet of cigarettes, and my body was being terrorized by a belligerent group of carcinogens. The decision to choose forks over knives was a matter of life and death, so I chose <b>LIFE</b>.<br />
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I immediately jumped in my Prius and drove full speed (60 mph) to my local Trader Joe's to find plant-based sustenance. I did a lot of extensive Googling and found that many of their items were vegan friendly, so I filled my shopping cart with thirty of these and went on my merry vegan way.<br />
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Shout out to Trader Jose's for making veganism a total breeze and relieving me of the awkward burden of having to interact with fresh produce.<br />
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After a couple days of diligent frozen enchilada consumption, I found myself at a crossroads when I attended a happy hour that involved $1 oysters. <i>What The Health</i> failed to mentally prepare me for social situations where I might be surrounded by flesh-eating degenerates (friends), who will cruelly invite me to places slanging discounted crustaceans. How is one supposed to know that a place called <b>Big Catch Seafood House </b>would be filled with tempting shell meat deals?!?!?!<br />
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ALAS, I am Asian and cannot say no to a discount, so I limited myself to a dozen. My cultural disposition to eating sea life and saving money ultimately overpowered my vegan spirit. RATS! </div>
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I was placed between a rock and hard place when I noticed the truffle crab noodles on the menu. "Is that vegan?" I asked myself, to which I responded by whispering to myself, "There's only one way to find out." So when the dish arrived on a steel surgical tray with a gutted crab shell, I realized that this may not be vegan-friendly. But it was far too late to return it to the kitchen, because it had already found its way into my mouth. </div>
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Clearly uni is part of a plant based diet because we are merely borrowing the gonads of a sea urchin to make beautiful pastas like this and everyone knows sea urchins are willing to part with their reproductive organs for the sake of human enjoyment. But the real questions is: are gonads considered eggs? As I now know, eggs = carcinogens = cigarettes and that is no bueno because I am a lot of things and an asthmatic smoker is <i>not </i>one of them. But I am not a marine biologist, so I suppose I will never know how to properly categorize sea urchin gonads. </div>
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Calamari. At this point, I just stopped asking whether things were compliant with my new diet and was likely too drunk to care because HAPPY HOUR. </div>
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After that embarrassing public display of carnivorous indulgence, I retreated back to my freezer and ate three trays of enchiladas as a form of penance to the PETA gods. </div>
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A couple days later, I found myself face to face with the same predicament. I had met some friends at <b>Jon & Vinny's, </b>a restaurant that has emerged as Los Angeles' premier meatball and pizza emporium. Surely, they would have some vegan options...</div>
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We started out with the little gem salad with chili's and breadcrumbs. PLANT-BASED AF. </div>
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Spicy Fusili pasta with vodka sauce and basil. VEGAN AND ALCOHOLIC. Fuckin' killing this vegan thing. </div>
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Next we ordered the LA Woman pizza, which was just tomato sauce (vegan), basil (vegan) and large globs of burrata on each slice. Two outta three toppings were vegan? And come on, burrata is the precious nectar extracted from the mozzarella flower - it would be downright disrespectful to not motorboat a glob of burrata. </div>
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MEATBALLS with a glistening glob with burrata. After I bit into this juicyass meatball, I swore up and down to burn all my TJ's enchiladas to the ground. </div>
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Listen, I'm confused. I don't know what to eat anymore - between <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2017/04/the-next-gluten/523686/">lectins</a>, <i>Okja, </i>Russell Simmons and the recurring nightmare I keep having where the Taco Bell chihuahua keeps asking me the where the fuck I've been - I am crippled with the fear of dying by way of meat consumption and the fear of missing out on melted cheeses. </div>
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Until I'm able to wrap my head around plant-based living, I will continue to consume frozen TJ's enchiladas by the truckload and pretend I am not eating meat when people ask how my diet is going. </div>
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<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-10721503908537513042017-03-20T22:50:00.000-07:002017-03-20T22:50:29.230-07:00Taco Bell Nails Life Again: Korean Taco Bell + The Naked Chicken Chalupa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I meant to post this like a month ago, but I've been caught up in a vicious and unrelenting vortex of Hot Pockets and murder-related television dramas. I'm starting to think that my body is addicted to some kind of chemical inside Hot Pockets, but I don't know how to prove this and I'm sure it would involve some heavy blood work and I'm not exactly up for that at the moment? But anyway, here I am a month later blessing the internet with my thoughts on Taco Bell. </div>
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A few months ago, I found myself at the Incheon International Airport in Korea (which houses a vast selection of decent eateries) moving at a speed that I normally reserve for when I'm chasing stray cats for hugs. I'd been in Asia for nearly two weeks and was suffering from a severe tortilla deficiency, so when I spotted a Taco Bell, I knew that was my only chance at survival. </div>
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I ran up to the counter in a panic and was alarmed to find that their $5 box was $12,000. And by the looks of this photo, the guy in the kitchen saluted me? My e-mails to Taco Bell begging them to bring back the Beefy Crunch Burrito must really be making an impression if their employees are saluting me. </div>
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I found out that there TWO very thrilling distinctions between Korean Taco Bell and American Taco Bell: <b>1) BULGOGI IS A MEAT OPTION</b> and <b>2) THEY SERVE BEER</b>. I yelled out, "HOW IS THIS NOT HAPPENING IN AMERICA!?" and then the very aggressive Ukrainian sounding voice in my head that only speaks in rhymes said, "It's called the Kogi truck, you fucking schmuck." </div>
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This taco supreme was quite different from the traditional model in the sense that the cheese had a much denser shred, automatically making it more respectable than its stingier American counterpart. The shell tasted like the direct descendant of something that was once in a corn husk, while the traditional shell tastes like the cousin of a guy who once shook hands with a retired ranch hand whose grandparents once harvested corn. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3FpMqomWrHg1gtQ57zvjKmxtyBLM6KogH1J9ucFF_tOaV7ixRT79kXjIh-CdFc6dPBUE1-4duRnSrVzZ8bpMkXHgeMNh8RKKHTfUQwn_kDhdInU-48B_HN9NHzeWcUz5TtAM8EiZzsiqB/s1600/IMG_4635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3FpMqomWrHg1gtQ57zvjKmxtyBLM6KogH1J9ucFF_tOaV7ixRT79kXjIh-CdFc6dPBUE1-4duRnSrVzZ8bpMkXHgeMNh8RKKHTfUQwn_kDhdInU-48B_HN9NHzeWcUz5TtAM8EiZzsiqB/s1600/IMG_4635.JPG" /></a></div>
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This is the BULGOGI QUESADILLA AND BEER. </div>
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<b>ATTENTION TACO BELL: I NEED TO SEE THIS ON THE MENU OF EVERY TACO BELL IN AMERICA. LIKE, FOREAL. LIKE FROM SEA TO SHINING SEA, OKAY!?!?</b></div>
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Look at this luxurious spread of crisply ironed tortillas filled with lord knows what! They had bombass seasoned french fries and gave us actual salsa, which terrified me for no good reason. </div>
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And <i>that</i> was my great Korean culinary adventure. </div>
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Meanwhile, in OLD NEWS...the Naked Chicken Chalupa is a full-on masterpiece. Who's shocked? Absolutely <i>no one</i>. </div>
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A fried chicken taco shell was the only logical next step for mankind to make towards a more progressive tomorrow. Not only is this gluten-free (according to my calculations) and fried to golden brown perfection, it is a TACO. Well, I'll be...</div>
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I salute you for the billionth time, Taco Bell for grabbing globalization by the scrotes and not being afraid to take risks in the competitive arena of fried snacks. </div>
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<b><u>AND BRING BACK THE BEEFY CRUNCH BURRITO FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!</u></b></div>
<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-83357604163795753432017-01-28T12:59:00.000-08:002017-01-28T12:59:10.001-08:00My Taiwanese Snacking Adventure My already tattered mind is suffering from exhaustion after trying to decipher whether this past week's news headlines are reality or if I am indeed living within an exceptionally horrific <i>Black Mirror</i> episode. With that being said, I'm using this post to take a braincation to a less confusing and joyous time to be alive - my recent trip to the lovely city of Taipei, where the boba flows freely and the tofu is stinky AF. Taipei is a fatfuck's paradise and there is nothing more soothing for the soul than wading in a sea of dumplings with your mother.<br />
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Once I was reluctantly released from customs, my travel companions (mom and BF) and I got a ride to our hotel from a man who ate a pork bun the entire time he was driving. How and where my mom found this guy is beyond me, So pork bun guy dropped us off at <b>Hotel Papa Whale</b> (LOLOL) in the Ximending neighborhood of Taipei, which is a fairly poppin' neighborhood if you ask me. It was within walking distance of lots of restaurants, shops and even had a TGI Fridays. Tres chic. '<br />
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My very first stop in Taipei was <b>Ay-Chung Flour-Rice Noodle</b>, where I copped a bowl of their famous mee sua soup. It was just a counter slanging nothing but this soup and apparently there are usually long lines there, which is the number one indicator that something delish is happening somewhere.<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">I wasn't really sure what it was at the time, but I swallowed the entire bowl in under a minute. After Googling this place, I am now realizing I ate chicken intestine noodle soup. Good times. </span></div>
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I ate this bowl of soup while walking cause we were headed to <b>Taipei 101</b> to see about some dumplins. </div>
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We have <b>Din Tai Fung </b>in LA and I kind of go a lot, but Taiwan is where it all started. I want to say the one in Taiwan was better, but it's hard to say since the consistency at DTF is always pretty on point. </div>
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The one thing that I'd never had before were the <b>PORK AND BLACK TRUFFLE XIAO LONG BAO</b>. Black truffle and soup dumplings joining in holy matrimony is one of the greatest unions in history. I was very glad to house that happy couple in my mouth. </div>
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Their potstickers are basically a sheet of crispy noodle impregnated with a ball of pork. They are kind of awkward to pull apart and share, so I recommend ordering your own portion and telling everyone else to fuck off. </div>
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HOT FLUFFY PORK BUNS THE SIZE OF SOFTBALLS aka the official driving snack of all Taiwanese cab drivers. </div>
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These adorableass shrimp sacks,,,</div>
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Taiwan is all about dem NIGHT MARKETS and we hit up the most luscious one of them all, <b>Shilin Night Market</b>.</div>
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When I asked my favorite Taiwanesey, Steph where to go in her motherland, she responded with "EAT A FRIED CHICKEN SHEET THE SIZE OF YOUR FACE!!!" And that I did. </div>
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At the <b>Hot-Star </b>fried chicken stand, you get manhandled by this boss lady that makes the Soup Nazi look like a bitch. She was pretty scary, but knew how to batter, deep fry and season the shit out of a piece of chicken. </div>
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This doesn't quite capture how monstrous and sexy this fried chicken sheet was, but it was the highlight of the Shilin Market trip. OMFG I JUST GOOGLED IT AND THERE'S ONE IN ROWLAND HEIGHTS! YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!</div>
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Now that is a fuckin sausage. If for some reason I were to ever lose an arm or a leg, I would just import one of these sausages from Taiwan to use as a prosthetic limb. </div>
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The downstairs food court of the Shilin Market is full of stalls all selling pretty much the same standard Taiwanese dishes and we kinda just plopped down at one and started ordering. </div>
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The infamous oyster omelets were actually kinda weird. There was a lot more cornstarch going on than oyster and egg, which I cannot say I loved. </div>
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If you thought that last thing was strange, check out this fried shrimp topped with mayonnaise, pineapple and RAINBOW SPRINKLES. I asked my cousins why the hell they would order this, but then I ate it and it was actually pretty good. I suspect that this is Sandra Lee's interpretation of honey walnut shrimp. </div>
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This tiny mountain of soft shell crabs was wonderful, as all soft shell crab mountains are. </div>
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I once did a speech in my college Speech class on the topic of boba, where I declared, "The word 'boba' derives from the Chinese phrase, 'boba nai cha'. In English, that translates to 'breast milk'." After beginning and ending my speech with that statement, the entire class stood up and cheered. Needless to say, I got an A on that speech and that averaged out my final grade in that class to a C-. Not only was it the pinnacle of my academic success, but it was the day that I vowed to one day have real Taiwanese boba. Twelve years later, I found myself standing in this market at the <b>Kung Fu Tea </b> stand and I said, "<i>NOW IS THE TIME TO GRAB DESTINY BY THE SCROTES!</i>"<br />
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DREAMS COME TRUE, GUYS. The boba balls melted on my tongue and the milk tea was perfect. Breast milk, indeed.<br />
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The next morning, we explored the street food scene in the Ximending area. My boyfriend and I had a full breakfast between the two of us for FOUR BUCKS and it was not McDonalds?!<br />
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We found this woman selling these beautiful little potstickers and we copped 9 of them for a dollar. These were the most perfect dumplings I've ever sank my teef into - so light, crispy and juicy. We covered them in chili oil and ate them while squatting in front of an H&M. </div>
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A few feet away, this saint of a man was making fresh scallion pancakes. He pressed the dough with this contraption and grilled them to delicate crispy perfection. We got some with ham, cheese and eggs melted and sandwiched into them, which was probably the best breakfast sandwich I've ever had.</div>
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This snacklet will haunt me forever. </div>
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Pretty much right after we finished this life-altering breakfast, we went to <b>Mala Hot Pot. </b>This place is a chain restaurant that serves ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT HOT POT! There is a two hour time limit and we hit the ground running. </div>
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We ordered towers of MEATS ON MEATS ON MEATS. </div>
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And some shrimps, squid, crab and vegetables so that other people wouldn't think we're complete savages that only eat beef. </div>
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The spicy broth made me lose all sensation in my mouth and it hurt so good. </div>
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Allow me to blow your mind real quick...this place has ALL-YOU-CAN-DRINK BEER! I pretty much stood at this beer dispenser for two hours downing cups of beer while I had my mother fling beef across the restaurant into my mouth with chopsticks. Teamwork makes the dream work. </div>
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As if this deal couldn't get any better, there were three full refrigerators filled with self-serve Haagen Dazs ice cream. </div>
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<b>AND IT CAME OUT TO LIKE FIFTEEN DOLLARS PER PERSON!!.</b> </div>
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Unbelievable. </div>
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We had to try beef noodle soup at least once since it is the national dish of Taiwan. Or at least I think I heard Eddie Huang say something along the lines of that once. </div>
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I'm not sure what this place is called, but it was in Ximending and it was a hole in the wall filled with locals. </div>
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The noodle master dipping his noods. </div>
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They sat us down at a table with another family and we all smiled at each other nervously. That is them in the photo along with all the beef noodle soup accoutrements that I wasn't sure what to do with. </div>
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I ordered the beef noodle soup with the thick noodles and thicky-thick they were. The flavor in that broth was outta control. Like that broth has been through some things and you can taste it. The beef was so tender and pretty much just fell apart on it's own. Who needs teeth with beef like this? No one. </div>
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My online research and countless recommendations led us to <b>Addiction Aquatic Development</b>, which despite it's name is <i>not </i>a drug rehabilitation facility for crustaceans. It is actually a seafood wonderland that I can best describe as a hybrid between Disneyland and the Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo. </div>
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Once you're allowed to enter, you walk through this aquarium full of live sealife. I watched <i>Finding Dory </i>on the plane and this was totally the place Dory was from. </div>
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The other part of the development has a sushi bar, a market where you can grab to-go sushi and hot food and a restaurant where you pick out fresh seafood and it's grilled for you. This shit right here is a hunk of toro that made me sob like a child upon first sight.</div>
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If I didn't know how delicious the meat inside the legs of this monster is, this would terrify me.</div>
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We tried to wait for the sushi bar, but we decided against it when we saw how fresh the to-go sushi was. The sushi chefs were preparing these salmon chirashi bowls and I was seduced into grabbing one of them along with a box of toro and grilled eel. We ate this as a snack while we waited to be seated for the restaurant, which took around two hours. </div>
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We were shown cases of meats and fresh sea life after being seated and selected all the meats we wanted grilled. </div>
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They brought each item out one by one and placed them on these hot stones to keep them warm. Everything was so fresh and all we really needed was salt to sprankle on everything. The whole meal took forever so we almost missed our flight back, but IT WAS WORTH IT.</div>
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I cannot recommend Taipei more as a travel destination. The city was beautiful, the people were incredibly welcoming and nice and obviously, the food is on another level. I swear I did some sightseeing and didn't just stuff my face the whole time...OR DID I!?!? </div>
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<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-29516259529199339182017-01-07T20:20:00.000-08:002017-01-07T20:20:49.547-08:00Eating, Raging and Bacheloretting in Cabo San Lucas <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
One of my favorite people in the world, Vicki recently had her bachelorette party in Cabo San Lucas and I had the pleasure of attending this magical Mexican rager. I am still trying to figure out a way to regenerate all of the brain cells I lost that weekend, but her wedding is coming up soon and I will likely lose them again anyways. SUCH IS RIFE. </div>
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Upon being released from customs, I was greeted by a tribe of sexy ladies who were freely swigging from a bottle of Jameson next to the baggage claim at the airport. As fate would have it, these happened to be the same ladies I would be bacheloretting with for the weekend and my excitement/fear for everyone's safety was at a level ORANGE. </div>
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We stayed at the <b>Sheraton Grand Los Cabos Hacienda del Mar </b>and it was <i>NICE AS FUCK</i>. I jacked a bunch of these photos from the weekend shared file because all of mine were blurry photos of the inside of my purse. </div>
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<b>CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY LET ME IN HERE!? </b>That's the beauty of traveling within a large group, there's less of a chance that people will notice how ratch you are. If I were to walk up in there dolo, they would have been like "KICK ROCKS, DUSTY HOBO." </div>
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For dinner, they had this gorgeous buffet going on in the courtyard of the resort and we went all the way in. There was a seafood station where they grilled squidlings and such on a massive hot <i>comal</i>. There was also an ice cream cart that we gutted and it was amazing.</div>
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The next day, we rode this lovely boat out to sea and it came equipped with a bar, a captain and a skipper (both of which assumed the bartender role). Now THAT is what I call service. </div>
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Look at these fineass rock formations and that clear blue sea. DON'T HURT EM. </div>
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This is us not giving a fuck. </div>
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The highlight of the boat ride was when the skipper pulled out this gorgeous tray of homemade tacos filled with potatoes and pork (I think). My mouth had never met a realer tortilla...</div>
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For dinner, we headed to this outdoor cliffside restaurant called<b> El Farallon </b>located inside The Resort at Pedregal. This twelve woman dinner date was easily the most romantic date I've ever been on. </div>
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The menu was less of a menu to make selections from and more of a statement that said, "YOU ARE GOING TO EAT EVERYTHING ON THIS PAGE WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!" To which I responded, "THAT DON'T CONFRONT ME NONE." </div>
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LOBSTER POZOLE. </div>
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I was honestly too busy panting and moaning to take proper photos after the pozole because the waiters tirelessly served us course after course of straight panty droppers for at least two hours, so I had to steal these shots from the shared file. Again, being showered with ribeye, crustaceans and truffle mac for hours has been the highlight of my love life thus far. </div>
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We gathered the strength to hit up the clubs and bars in the downtown area with the help of several gallons of tequila and probably Jameson. I am not mad at the nightlife in Cabo. After three nights of steady raging in the downtown area, Vicki was unanimously elected as the new mayor of Cabo and she didn't even run for office. Magical things happen when you Danza Kuduro so hard. </div>
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We drunkenly stumbled into this place after a night out and returned like three more times throughout the trip because the <b>TACOS ARE STRAIGHT FIRE.</b> </div>
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If someone had told me that this is what a taco in Mexico looks like, I would have moved there when I learned to walk. It is a fresh handmade tortilla with a grilled poblano topped with melted cheese and asada SITTING ON ITS FACE.</div>
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The queso fundido was outta control. I love this for so many reasons and not just because it's a skillet of melted cheese. I eat lots of things because there is melted cheese involved and this just eliminates all the bullshit. This dish says, "CUT THE SHIT AND LET THE CHEESE BE INDEPENDENT. CAUSE SHE CAN DO BAD ALL BY HERSELF." Go 'head, girl. </div>
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Copped this chili dusted mango crafted into a rose at the beach. I attacked it pretty ferociously with my teeth, which left a curtain of mango strings hanging from them. Soooo elegant.</div>
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On our last night, we went to <b>Maro's Shrimp House</b> and it is pretty much like Hooters if you were to replace the waitresses with older Mexican men. It was an interactive experience where our waiter did a lot of gyrating, yelling and basically waterboarded us with liquor. This is their signature drink, the Bull Dog a.k.a. a bigass margarita garnished with an overturned bottle of Corona. It <i>taste like mother milk</i>. </div>
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A tiny chalice filled with melted butter is always a good indication that something amazing is about to go down. </div>
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This was so bomb. A big plate of freshass grilled shrimp and a whole lobster tail on rice and veggies. I SHALL RETURN FOR YOU ONE DAY. </div>
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Cabo was so dope and the bridal party did an amazing job planning this trip. I don't think we ate one bad thing and I probably experienced a total of five minutes of sobriety in four days, which is exactly how a bachelorette party should be. </div>
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I'm just gonna leave this here...</div>
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<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/7zp1TbLFPp8/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7zp1TbLFPp8?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-49437023977177644082016-10-29T16:56:00.001-07:002016-10-29T16:56:14.803-07:00You Haven't Lived Until You've Been To a T-Pain ConcertIt was nine years ago when I copped T-Pain's sophomore album <i>Epiphany </i>and it was a truly transcendent experience. I remember picking up my cousin, Diane and rolling around in my Prius blasting the album with the windows down and yelling "WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE LISTENING TO!?"<br />
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I almost crashed my car when the song <i>Time Machine </i>came on and I heard the following autotuned cockamamey:<br />
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<i style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">[Intro:]</i><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">Ya, yaaaaah, yeah</span><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">Tebunan, Pedalofogus, from the planet Telegusa, ya</span><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><i style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">[Verse 1:]</i><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">Illudium Q-36 explosive space modulator</span><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">Going on a trip, I'll be back home, boy I'll see you later</span><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">Going back to a time when I know everything was straighter</span><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">Everything's great now but back then it was greater</span><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">And I don't need no clothes I go in just what I'm wearing</span><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">Matter fact I just go back to what I used to wear then</span><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">No matter how the weather, everything back then was just so better</span><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;">I can dream, it's a simple thing</span><br style="background-color: #ccccdd; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;" /><span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13.4px; text-align: center;"><b><i>I'm building a time machine</i></b></span><br />
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Now <i>that </i>is what I call music.<br />
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When I saw that T-Pain was performing at the Novo (for $10!!), I immediately hit up Diane and told her to clear her schedule, because we were off to see the King of AutoTune a.k.a. Teddy Penderazdoun a,k,a, Rappa Ternt Sanga live and in the flesh.<br />
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We pregamed at <b>The Yardhouse</b> at L.A. Live because they have this classy crab dip that is served with both torilla chips <i>and </i>pita bread. Fucking world class. We were also very shocked to find out that we weren't the only people attending the T-Pain concert. The couple next to us reluctantly admitted to us (in their inside voices) that they too were going to the T-Pain concert. This was my first time meeting other admitted T-Pain enthusiasts. </div>
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The beautiful Novo Theater shining so bright. </div>
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THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND.</div>
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First off, the place was packed because it was SOLD OUT!? I had no idea he had such a devoted following outside of me and Diane. I also kind of suspect that there was some kind of ticket giveaway at USC because the crowd was filled with probable college students who were likely in diapers when "I'm In Luv with a Stripper" came out. </div>
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Second, his performance was absolutely breathtaking. He danced so hard that he took several breaks to catch his breath between songs and just propped himself against the DJ booth panting. My favorite part of the show was when he ran across the stage at full speed into his hypeman's arms. I'm not talking shit about the Queen, but I have never seen Beyonce attempt a move like that. Just sayin'. </div>
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Don't let the AutoTune shit fool you, this dude can SANG and sang he did. Check out this fiery video of him showing the fuck out on some NPR segment. </div>
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Let's also never forget...</div>
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Also, I made an official Instagram account at @adventuresofafatass. <u style="font-weight: bold;">PLEASE FOLLOW ME. </u> I have 10 followers and it is <strike>sad as fuck </strike> the most rewarding endeavor that I have ever attempted. I highly recommend following me if you would like to see a photographic timeline of my indigestion.MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-74274696888982761702016-09-19T00:49:00.000-07:002016-09-19T00:49:34.837-07:00Casa Bonita Is Real and It Is a National Treasure I remember watching the <a href="http://southpark.cc.com/full-episodes/s07e11-casa-bonita"><i>Casa Bonita </i>episode of South Park </a>on TV and thinking to myself, "Wow, that's funny - I wish that place was real." Fast forward to like two years ago, I was watching the Travel Channel's hit docu-series <i>Food Paradise: Mexican Food Paradise, </i>which featured Casa Bonita in Lakewood, Colorado and my head exploded into approximately one trillion tiny pieces because it was the<i> same </i>waterfall diving, sopaipilla-serving Mexican wonderland featured in South Park. It was then that I made the vow to one day visit non-animated Casa Bonita.<br />
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My friends and I recently did a weekend trip to Denver and fortunately, everyone shared the same Eric Cartman-like tenacity about visiting Casa Bonita. Fortunately, we are all adults and didn't have to fake anyone's disappearance in order to trick a friends parent to take us.<br />
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Casa Bonita is about a 10 minute drive from downtown Denver and tucked away in the corner of an unassuming strip mall. According to the eatertainment restaurants Wikipedia page, it was once a chain of restaurants that opened in the 1970's and this is the last remaining location, which is totally unfortunate since this great country was built on themed restaurants. You would think there would be some sort of preservation group for places like this and Medieval Times, Rainforest Cafe, etc.</div>
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Upon entering, I walked through a lengthy pathway that transported me to what looked like a cross between the line for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and a Vegas buffet line. It was all very stimulating, especially the ticker tape sign that assured me that I was in for some HOT DEALS!!!</div>
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If you go on the restaurant's <a href="https://www.yelp.com/biz/casa-bonita-lakewood-2">Yelp page</a>, you'll find a lot of slanderous reviews that abuse the word "filth" and there are many lengthy indictments from angry people who got crippling diarrhea from eating here. If you don't make it to the restaurant, I highly recommend visiting their Yelp page because the reviews are equally as entertaining as the restaurant itself. After reading all those spellbinding reviews, I was bracing myself (and my ass) for the worst and went for a taco salad. By the way, you are required to order something off the menu or they don't let you in - well played, Casa Bonita. </div>
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We were led to what I can only assume was a VIP table since it was located right in front of the waterfall. My friends were brave and ordered more exotic fare like fajitas, tacos and enchiladas. I have to say, I was not mad at my taco salad, but also not particularly impressed by it. I was more so impressed that I didn't immediately shit myself in public, which is always a plus. </div>
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It was my friend, Angie's birthday so we were definitely POPPIN' BOTTLES. Or at least carafes of Margarita. I'm not sure I would recommend coming here if this place did not have a liquor license. Otherwise, it would just be another awkward place for adults to convene without children - much like Disneyland. </div>
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The view of this Mexican oasis from the VIP section. We witnessed a lot of indistinct yelling from the teenaged actors that perform here. Nearly all of the performances ended with the teenagers catapulting themselves off the of the waterfall. ALL EXCEPT ONE. </div>
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We were very excited to see that there was something called a "Gorilla Show" on the schedule because any performance with the word "gorilla" in it is guaranteed to be magical. Or so you would think. It ended up just being a weird altercation between a teenager in a safari outfit and a gorilla wearing basketball shorts and a headband. They chased each other around the stage and <u style="font-weight: bold;">THE GORILLA DID NOT JUMP OFF THE CLIFF,</u> This was my only complaint about the entire experience and we were all very disappointed about the gorilla not diving into the water. And also very confused as to why the gorilla was dressed like an AND1 streetballer. </div>
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I'd say the all-you-can-eat sopaipillas were the highlight of the trip. Not just the trip to Casa Bonita, but of our entire trip to Denver. They served these hot fluffy fry breads to us by the basket and I doused them in honey before shoving them directly down my throat. </div>
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We kept begging our waitress to sell us a bowl of ice cream to accompany the sopaipillas, but said they only had FRIED ICE CREAM available. If that isn't a humble brag, I don't know what is. And yes, they serve the fried ice cream in a fried bowl. I fucking love America's misinterpretation of Mexican cuisine. </div>
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After we watched all that cliff diving and ate enough sopaipillas to make the restaurant file for bankruptcy, we headed over to <i>Black Bart's Hideout</i>. We weren't very sure what it was, but it was highly recommended to us to by no one in particular, but we saw a lot of children running through it. </div>
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I can best describe it was one of those haunted mazes you find at a county fair, only it was a dark cave with menacing gorillas buried between the rocks. As a grownass woman, I thought it was so bootleg that it was scary. Some shit has definitely gone down in that cave over the years and it gave me the willies. </div>
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As I was going through the security line at the Denver International Airport, the TSA agent asked me what we did in Denver and I told him that I visited Casa Bonita. He responded by yelling, "CASA BONITA!? How's your stomach feeling?" </div>
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All in all, this place is a national treasure. What other restaurant is famed for being the star of an iconic South Park episode and for being a notorious culprit for indigestion? </div>
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MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-92179810717839305432016-07-30T22:18:00.000-07:002016-08-04T12:42:51.268-07:00Things I Eat To Gain Energy For Pokemon Hunting<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/5167057/?claim=gph2yjavtqu">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>
I am proud to announce that I have become a full-fledged Pokemon Master and will not stop until I have captured all of the Pokemon on the planet and slaughtered everyone else's. <b>THAT IS A FUCKING PROMISE. </b><br />
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Yes, I have surrendered my womanhood to Pokemon Go and have zero fucks to give about what <strike>my mom and my boss</strike> the haters have to say about it. As Tupac once said, "All I need in this life of sin, is me and a thousand Poke balls, an active lure module and a lucky egg." Although, I would have to say the hardest part about being an adult Pokemon champion is maintaining a regular eating and drinking schedule. Sometimes I get so engrossed in the game, I forget that I'm a human that needs things like protein and gin tonics. So here are the few meals that I've managed to fit in between yelling at Pidgeys to fuck off and alerting everyone in my office that there's an Ivysaur somewhere on the premises. </div>
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After my rowing/TRX class yesterday, I was feeling lucky because I managed to not vomit, so I decided to do a victory lap around Koreatown to search for Poke Stops (places to get more Pokemon balls and other useless shit I have to throw away to make room for balls) with active lure modules (30 minute airborne drug that lures otherwise resistant Pokemon to a Poke Stop). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi695Z-3oVeBMGrfpTkeyQ5eShxEhKWQzmq-33ekIyW5JTYyer1YW2Iy8ccCFsEp9db7gadbQ8ocjp-VpzUTKEL_HlClbmAcgPJUe7o5c3tIl3ahOUSZWCa4Ko2q87z5Go-qlftw-oG-HGb/s1600/IMG_2177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi695Z-3oVeBMGrfpTkeyQ5eShxEhKWQzmq-33ekIyW5JTYyer1YW2Iy8ccCFsEp9db7gadbQ8ocjp-VpzUTKEL_HlClbmAcgPJUe7o5c3tIl3ahOUSZWCa4Ko2q87z5Go-qlftw-oG-HGb/s640/IMG_2177.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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I saw that my lovers over at <b>Halal Guys </b>opened their Koreatown location and noticed that their line wasn't offensively long. I actually drove past it and said "FUCK THAT", but then I saw that it was located next to the Indonesian Consulate, which happened to be a Poke Stop, so I drove back and got in line. </div>
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DAT WHITE SAUCE powered my hands with super-human strength to hold my phone and fling balls on my screen for DAYS. I should rub this on my eyeballs to enhance my vision, so that I can rapidly spot wild Pokemon. If you didn't know, white sauce is like Middle Eastern Tiger Balm. </div>
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My friends invited me to dinner with them for Dine LA at <b>Connie and Ted's </b>in West Hollywood and I was reluctant about it interfering with my Pokemon time, but it turns out it was a POKE STOP. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3lYZfEGFo5xxCtNos2QKL0BCDpeQj_9k2voCW2-qHgCQgRsNkW9S4lGx_os8p_HbzbKiY3hoTfeIROuA6cjLlsxoaVaDQUpxEt1hkKLfiDCmQ2oGDtX2TROB2iovuzf6hfJOoa797DED/s1600/IMG_0070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3lYZfEGFo5xxCtNos2QKL0BCDpeQj_9k2voCW2-qHgCQgRsNkW9S4lGx_os8p_HbzbKiY3hoTfeIROuA6cjLlsxoaVaDQUpxEt1hkKLfiDCmQ2oGDtX2TROB2iovuzf6hfJOoa797DED/s640/IMG_0070.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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How could I not get a lobster roll here? You can't see it very well, but that lemon is wearing a condom. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOtP6f5UGsRQmEUm5avVxWah7n6UzbE8Y-n14o2mLhwgQ-Hso8V0A7uGFXbzgdpUSrtAaM0L1oUx0veHREe4-8Lpv96mkDjketDGc62oJDyiF0ajZdHi6aRel8tvr5Jwe1V1gHCaPnZFMX/s1600/IMG_0071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOtP6f5UGsRQmEUm5avVxWah7n6UzbE8Y-n14o2mLhwgQ-Hso8V0A7uGFXbzgdpUSrtAaM0L1oUx0veHREe4-8Lpv96mkDjketDGc62oJDyiF0ajZdHi6aRel8tvr5Jwe1V1gHCaPnZFMX/s1600/IMG_0071.jpg" /></a></div>
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The Dine LA deal here is actually really good. For $39 bucks I got a cocktail, half a dozen oysters, a lobster roll and a panna cotta. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6Tyfb4JbZ_flZG-TLqTs3bDQl44j4mKzZuewfBijpRGbQlO0yV3TniaFh2OZI5UaFmUEM6K3sIz1fONpnVKdwgLNq1l1s_POpv2aVs5GLMapJ-cUBtLmtr3pzuPmFd-f8Jw6JP0Ahyphenhyphenun/s1600/IMG_0072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6Tyfb4JbZ_flZG-TLqTs3bDQl44j4mKzZuewfBijpRGbQlO0yV3TniaFh2OZI5UaFmUEM6K3sIz1fONpnVKdwgLNq1l1s_POpv2aVs5GLMapJ-cUBtLmtr3pzuPmFd-f8Jw6JP0Ahyphenhyphenun/s640/IMG_0072.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Some kind of bourbon cocktail. There's nothing better than drinking, catching Pokemon and ignoring your friends at the table. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCI_rLV3pS1F8rj1wJxrfBTydyMV9uxmA9pbrDCxdh5ogxxldF4ARCPfs28pJr3lR3VVyS_38SstQXs30m_OREQP_jWexLv9Sx9vdTOBuP3hmrVU9pjV7dgEN80vf3FbxK3HJMNTqqJCyo/s1600/IMG_0073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCI_rLV3pS1F8rj1wJxrfBTydyMV9uxmA9pbrDCxdh5ogxxldF4ARCPfs28pJr3lR3VVyS_38SstQXs30m_OREQP_jWexLv9Sx9vdTOBuP3hmrVU9pjV7dgEN80vf3FbxK3HJMNTqqJCyo/s640/IMG_0073.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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My boyfriend and I have been frequenting <b>Shaka's </b>in Alhambra because they are a nearby Poke Stop that happens to have <u>ALL DAY HAPPY HOUR</u> on Sundays. This here is the DEEP FRIED SPAM MUSUBI, which is totally nutritious and riddled with Sriracha mayo. Again, nothing better than drinking in public (at a discounted rate), catching these little fuckers in those balls and ignoring my boyfriend. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFW4C5_62fg40zAtsIUDxKnsiTrt6zk0H0SMYNq_bQtZexPdHTj56sHnALLauODvwZYOe2yzWB8i9Wno5yEoOPcOZnctinzxIcO57B7tV9cuW1rMyy8kzeR-5FpH7zWFlKTgn_45d-Mtx6/s1600/IMG_2198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFW4C5_62fg40zAtsIUDxKnsiTrt6zk0H0SMYNq_bQtZexPdHTj56sHnALLauODvwZYOe2yzWB8i9Wno5yEoOPcOZnctinzxIcO57B7tV9cuW1rMyy8kzeR-5FpH7zWFlKTgn_45d-Mtx6/s1600/IMG_2198.JPG" /></a></div>
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My family convened at this Chinatown plaza that houses all the hottest new yum yums in LA. We came for Howlin' Rays hot chicken, but the line was way too long for us to wait in, so we ended up having <b>Chego </b>and <b>Amboy</b>. Oh yeah, this place also housed a Poke Stop with an active lure module, so I isolated myself in a corner and yelled at my phone the entire time. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXR0KpzaSF_0UK-FLKCSX7N_affaS3lNB2l4wRvq-M_DE4vhgl_Uafs543Hu18XT-cT9izuVZB39-mVEfPpvcO9_WZLnesngXi_9b9dOC1xJL5P-NkUiThbhiiyuyF3jJhqNIYMdN1wvD/s1600/IMG_0068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXR0KpzaSF_0UK-FLKCSX7N_affaS3lNB2l4wRvq-M_DE4vhgl_Uafs543Hu18XT-cT9izuVZB39-mVEfPpvcO9_WZLnesngXi_9b9dOC1xJL5P-NkUiThbhiiyuyF3jJhqNIYMdN1wvD/s640/IMG_0068.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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We got some spicyass noodles, chicken adobo and these Sriracha mayo-esque cheese fries from Chego. All bomb AF and they did a good job of distracting me from hoarding cartoons. </div>
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We also procured this Whole Grilled Magikarp and Primeape Belly from Amboy. Yes, I just substituted Pompano and pork belly with Pokemon names. </div>
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Now here are some photos of creatures that are either my pets or Pokemon. I can't tell the difference anymore because I can no longer distinguish the difference between real life and Pokemon. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxemDrglAWrfqqhbtvgqm457_SdcuIDhYKFtI-XR4ZQSdUL0yM9oJakqx0CXDN_Vby287j1FmJVrBOEl6yJQ_sFV-9O9aS24KugFfSyUHbrGALNckkmCUELss-KOPVp7LKNV2tIcv-Cr77/s1600/IMG_0074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxemDrglAWrfqqhbtvgqm457_SdcuIDhYKFtI-XR4ZQSdUL0yM9oJakqx0CXDN_Vby287j1FmJVrBOEl6yJQ_sFV-9O9aS24KugFfSyUHbrGALNckkmCUELss-KOPVp7LKNV2tIcv-Cr77/s640/IMG_0074.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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This is Squirtle. She is my boyfriends twenty year old turtle and she mean as fuck. She likes to run around and bully me into feeding her deli meats because she is a manipulative bitch. In this photo, I tried to feed her Aquatic Turtle Entree, so she tied me up and beat me and proceeded to steal turkey slices from me. As you can tell by the look in her eye, she is not fucking around. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONOnSDDyfxLUFROq3KmJta8bsZQuJeVGR7cujocGec537P0CHVN04o_PPGYGxo3YHjZHAQ2P6CqXIs6FeNwi5Ew9-NSfoE3nhnCX1FXsU1ud_sceEsg6ftTsf632Jrtb5jJXNNofuHTnB/s1600/IMG_2165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONOnSDDyfxLUFROq3KmJta8bsZQuJeVGR7cujocGec537P0CHVN04o_PPGYGxo3YHjZHAQ2P6CqXIs6FeNwi5Ew9-NSfoE3nhnCX1FXsU1ud_sceEsg6ftTsf632Jrtb5jJXNNofuHTnB/s640/IMG_2165.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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This is a Mankey and he is in the middle of catching a Pokemon on his iPhone. He too is an untrustworthy little minx that should be incarcerated, but instead lives on my bed. </div>
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MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-87997672183181586982016-07-13T22:15:00.001-07:002016-07-13T22:34:24.032-07:00Gettin' WEIRD in Joshua Tree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I'm interrupting my nightly skincare routine of slathering Korean snail schmears into my pores to announce that the DESERT IS FUCKING MAGNIFICENT. I went to Joshua Tree with a few of my friends the other weekend and I feel like an entirely new hoodrat. As someone who has spent most of her existence dehydrated, I really had no business being in the desert in the first place, BUT that did not stop me from showing up with my crockpot, a 6 lb can of nacho cheese sauce and an open heart. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiax75xEhHGyDwetg1yXytMCDWnPRvBdYY68-KMmtRELe3n0bhyZcZp5QJN_nQMwrXqE1Poxm_igEIAu8X7qu7d2rb0v8JXaFpJ4i9clOMiKhx8m4onN9iQjwTwGByRjiEBSgu21qyjQ0Fm/s1600/IMG_1631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiax75xEhHGyDwetg1yXytMCDWnPRvBdYY68-KMmtRELe3n0bhyZcZp5QJN_nQMwrXqE1Poxm_igEIAu8X7qu7d2rb0v8JXaFpJ4i9clOMiKhx8m4onN9iQjwTwGByRjiEBSgu21qyjQ0Fm/s1600/IMG_1631.JPG" /></a></div>
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This is gonna sound crazy, but I took this photo myself and it was NOT stolen from the internet. Looks like this little lady may have some marketable skills after all. Anyhow, my friend rented this dome out for her birthday and I fell in love with it instantly. Mainly because I mistook it for a refurbished Teletubby dwelling that had been stripped of its astroturf jacket and lord knows I love me some Teletubbies. (I am so confused as to whether I meant that?)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflwQocYxK1NRXWKGYCD5cdzN3E8MPwA2lCa3FZBX-dKjRr2wPsuuh6DK6WvN2xC-SdIN9CQtlcTUBgm2FW6S-0DnvSRoEQR-_VyCXpcjHj7OgfDaX2avffB2O4jUFpHawPOI9HYKNHyJX/s1600/IMG_1598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflwQocYxK1NRXWKGYCD5cdzN3E8MPwA2lCa3FZBX-dKjRr2wPsuuh6DK6WvN2xC-SdIN9CQtlcTUBgm2FW6S-0DnvSRoEQR-_VyCXpcjHj7OgfDaX2avffB2O4jUFpHawPOI9HYKNHyJX/s1600/IMG_1598.JPG" /></a></div>
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The dome came equipped with a full kitchen for me to plug my crock pot into and a loft supplied with dream catchers, fortune telling guides and a Ouija board. I love when Airbnb's amenities include seance instruments because you never know when you'll feel the urge to conjure up some paranormal activity. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholdmHcXMGePAGAWTm7RSuazLFiv0lw3-0OMja2pVY-GsExKIvY2ZfNvwrgPFIX2t2exduoYguE5GDIEN-9H1PeY2XDQOpMg2fAvAbcm5FuVIJ2taiKWXS2hL8TOvQMPG8XrdQrahwqLQH/s1600/IMG_1604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholdmHcXMGePAGAWTm7RSuazLFiv0lw3-0OMja2pVY-GsExKIvY2ZfNvwrgPFIX2t2exduoYguE5GDIEN-9H1PeY2XDQOpMg2fAvAbcm5FuVIJ2taiKWXS2hL8TOvQMPG8XrdQrahwqLQH/s1600/IMG_1604.JPG" /></a></div>
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The decor really captured the spirit of the desert and I feel like it would be in line with my decorating style if I were to ever develop one. Right now, my style is limited to using baseball game giveaway bobbleheads as bookends and using Glade Plug-In's as decorative accents. I'm thinking of recreating this whole look in my apartment, so if anyone knows where I might procure a technicolored deer skull and a vintage typewriter, please let me know. In the meantime, I've resorted to mounting a couple dozen chicken wing bones to my wall and placed an old Blackberry on a table below it. </div>
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After we settled in and put our chonies away in their respective corners, we all yelled, "NACHO TIME!" and plugged this elegant Baroque printed beauty in. Yes, this is the third time in this post that I am bragging about my crock pot and frankly, I don't think that I've bragged enough. </div>
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Dropped a can of beans into the indigestion cauldron, set it on high and instantly made breakfast, lunch and dinner for two days. Sandra Lee would be so proud. </div>
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We sat outside and basked in the glory of the desert sunset, while sipping on muddy looking vodka cocktails from mason jars and blasting 90's R&B from a blue tooth speaker. My friends and I kept telling each other that we were just like the ladies from <i>Waiting To Exhale</i> and I believe Terry McMillan would have agreed to disagree. </div>
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I saw the stars for the first time in around eight years that night and nearly broke my neck from stargazing so hard. I even saw two shooting stars, which incited an internal battle over what to wish for and regretfully wound up wasting both wishes on my cat. </div>
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The next morning, we filled ourselves with a hearty breakfast of bagels and vodka because VACATION. Then we made it a point to actually go into <b>Joshua Tree National Park </b>because that may or may not have been the point of being there. </div>
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There were all these gorgeous rock formations scattered throughout the park that we stopped to climb on. I was the only one in my party who wore sneakers, so I had a fun time running to the top of the boulders and heckling at my friends as they struggled to climb them in their sandals. </div>
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I really connected with a formation called Cheese Boulder some unexpected reason. </div>
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After sliding our bareass thighs down a bunch of scalding hot rocks in 100 degree weather, we sat our asses in this beautiful desert oasis for the rest of the day. Las Vegas pool parties don't have shit on this set up right here. Thanks to Target, you can get heat stroke in a murky pool for a total of $29 versus the $50+ you would spend at any other day party. (I made that figure up, I have no idea how much those things cost.) </div>
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We spent the remainder of the day getting WEIRD. I love getting out of the city and getting weird with my girls because being normal is so taxing on my spirit. </div>
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The next morning, I fried up this buffalo wing feast in honor of my friend, Mimi's (non-30th) birthday because buffalo wings are her favorite food group. You heard it here first - <i>bottomless buffalo wing brunches are the new bottomless mimosa brunches</i>. </div>
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Desert, it was fun and I don't even mind that you are really just a massive ant colony. You are more than just an excellent place to dispose a corpse or the perfect place to discretely do peyote. And most importantly, you are more than the wrong way to spell "dessert". </div>
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<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-33902094527175161792016-06-11T14:04:00.001-07:002016-06-12T15:38:16.259-07:00Taiwanese Treats: Pine & Crane and 85C BakeryAs you all know, I subsist on a strict diet of dumplings (and vodka tonics) and with this diet comes a great deal of responsibility. The responsibility of documenting every dumpling I slide into my mouth and reporting their sexiness to the public. I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS BURDEN, IT WAS SIMPLY PLACED UPON ME. NOW LOOK AT MY PICTURES!!<br />
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I went to <b>Pine & Crane</b> in Silverlake with my friend, Amelia because my brother and sister-in-law are avid visitors that claim that this is their favorite Taiwanese food in all of Los Angeles. I may have heard that claim wrong, but that's what I told Amelia to convince her to come here with me.<br />
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When God giveth a hoodrat a dumpling, he commands the sun to shine down through the windows and provide them with the most optimal lighting imaginable. Look at how the light hits the Pan Fried Pork Buns in such a way that it makes them look like black sesame seed dusted snow balls from the powdery alps of Taipei. </div>
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These were like a cross between a sheng jian bao and a cha siu bao. If you don't know the difference, 1) YOU BETTER LEARN or 2) KILL YO SELF. "An encyclopedic knowledge of dumplings will take you far in life" is what a very <strike>stale </strike>wise fortune cookie once told me. Food for thought. </div>
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The Spicy Shrimp Wontons were one of my favorites. They were mercilessly soaked in hot chili oil before I stuffed them in my mouth, so their violent execution turned out to be a pretty delicious experience for me. </div>
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The Dan Dan Noodles were bomb as fuck. I want to say they were handmade noodles? But they too had a nice hot chili oil and peanut sauce bath. I learned something about myself that day and that is that I am most definitely about that Taiwanese hot chili oil life. </div>
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The Three Cup Jidori Chicken was recommended by my brother, who advertised it to me as Taiwanese adobo. Filipino adobo is pretty much chicken or pork in equal parts soy sauce and vinegar. This version had sesame oil, soy sauce and rice wine. All I know is, all these combinations are very sexy on top of a bed of rice and in between my teeth. </div>
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This could possibly be my favorite beverage on earth. This is the Sea Salt Black Milk Tea, which is a concoction made of whole milk, simply syrup and sea salt cream. That thick creamy saline marine layer on top made a gorgeous moustache on my upper lip, which gave me a refreshing new look. Actually, Hennessey is my favorite beverage - what the hell am I talking about?</div>
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A new bakery opened up down the street from me in the good ol' U-S of Alhambra called <b>85C Bakery</b>. Being the fat, nosey bastard that I am, I crept up in there with my iPhone and photographed the shit out of all their breads for like an hour.</div>
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They keep the carbs trapped in these glass cubbies and it's self serve, so you can just walk around with tongs and grab (and shove them down your pants) as you please. I told this case of Bacon & Cheese bread to stop threatening me with a good time. </div>
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Employees emerge from the kitchen every two minutes or so with a hot tray of bread and scream, "FRESH BREAD!!" and the rest of the staff respond by screaming back "FRESH BREAD!" at the top of their lungs. It was like a chorus of glutenous praise and I was more than happy to join in on the chanting. Sometimes my boyfriend and I scream, "FRESH BREAD!" at each other when we are bored now and we have 85C to thank for that. </div>
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I had a nice mix of sweet and savory breads going on my tray because carb loading is all about balance. </div>
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My curiosity about the calamari bread was killing me, so I ate it while I was still in the store. I was expecting it to be full of tentacles and marinara sauce, but it turns out the bread has squid ink in it and it had an oddly pleasant garlic and cheese thing going on inside. Very peculiar bread, but I liked it. </div>
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The iced coffees shit on most other iced coffees because they are densely blessed with cream and sugar. I too, like my sugar with coffee and cream. </div>
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OKAY I NEED TO GO TO TACOLANDIA RIGHT NOW AND I CANNOT BE LATE FOR THIS. I'LL TELL YOU ABOUT IT LATER. BYE!!!</div>
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<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-46264901662052247232016-05-21T22:18:00.002-07:002016-05-21T22:21:22.279-07:00Factory Kitchen and Other Things I've Romanced Lately<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I've been on a carb kick lately and have not one fuck to give about it. Some (most) days, I just don't care about what my fupa is doing and how extra she is being because she is grown and has a mind of her own. Sometimes I just trap her in a pair of these and we come to the agreement that I am invincibly sexy in these pants. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZaRv2OMmx7ieHpNS5OTerr90H7bRSuov1oxYcbmjDDc5SbdtqXOD2_scVobMmMywrbesPqsAIGM_d5hHykLIJdBbF9c_-rv4h6S5tIzvyDKmX1eiuOAiuPGQhziXCaYd5hMZU7CLq3eNA/s1600/G209%2521GIA-686_d.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZaRv2OMmx7ieHpNS5OTerr90H7bRSuov1oxYcbmjDDc5SbdtqXOD2_scVobMmMywrbesPqsAIGM_d5hHykLIJdBbF9c_-rv4h6S5tIzvyDKmX1eiuOAiuPGQhziXCaYd5hMZU7CLq3eNA/s400/G209%2521GIA-686_d.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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DROP-CROTCH <i>HEAVEN</i>. In addition to being timelessly fashionable, drop-crotch pants are excellent if you ever have the spontaneous urge to do capoeira or need somewhere to hide stuff when you are shoplifting. </div>
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YOU DIDN'T REALIZE YOU WERE READING A FASHION BLOG DID YOU!? </div>
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Okay, back to the cheese talk.</div>
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Last night, I went to <b>Factory Kitchen </b>in Downtown LA's Arts District. I've been Yelp stalking this place for a while now and visited it's new sister restaurant Officine Brera, so I thought it was about time to make out with some proper pasta at this Italian gem. </div>
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It's discreetly hidden in a small street next to the gun range and a rock climbing place, so this restaurant is sitting on some pretty hot property. My ideal date night would most definitely include fresh pasta and recreational gunfire, so if someone could relay this message to my boyfriend, it would be greatly appreciated. </div>
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I ordered this rye cocktail called Laurel Ridge because the combination of rye, bitters and simple syrup is a clear sign that this will give you more bang for your buck. </div>
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My friend, Waz and I ordered this lovely sheet of cheese-lined bread called <i>Focaccina calda di recco al formaggio</i>, which translates to Italian quesadilla. It's a crispy, paper thin flat bread with melted cheese embedded into its sexy body. We were confused as to how this was not their signature dish and how they weren't slanging these out of a window to a crowd of ravenous cheese goblins for $95/sheet. I could eat this <i>every day</i> if it had nutritional value (blatant lie) and didn't cost as much as a full gas tank for my Prius. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgrVtbWupQCzBic3MU2aZ2-NJTCPBcgeBnp2iHJWL7uW_GGgKuR6u4FymJxYOFkGui-EWJ81_wmerhW0C897olpLgG66-5U-3YiKvuyV2CSHPP7Mevpnz854WpOTwkcukkVnXfeSCcH1lt/s1600/IMG_0044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgrVtbWupQCzBic3MU2aZ2-NJTCPBcgeBnp2iHJWL7uW_GGgKuR6u4FymJxYOFkGui-EWJ81_wmerhW0C897olpLgG66-5U-3YiKvuyV2CSHPP7Mevpnz854WpOTwkcukkVnXfeSCcH1lt/s640/IMG_0044.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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We didn't realize the <i>Focaccina</i> was actually cheese covered in a thin veil of bread, so we ordered the <i>Cremosella</i>, otherwise known as balls of creamy mozzarella with pea shoots and green beans. SO MUCH CHEESE. </div>
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We were in poor form after cocktails and appetizers, but agreed that the <i>Mandilli di Seta </i>or the handkerchief pasta with Ligurian almond basil pesto, was something that we could not avoid. The waiter said it was their signature dish and it was some of the most gorgeous pasta in life. I've tried making fresh pasta before and it is a SON OF A BITCH. To get pasta this thin and delicate, but still maintain that toothsome quality that distinguishes fresh pasta from Kroger lasagna index cards, is a real ass skill. </div>
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We had grand plans of ordering the cod, but we were delirious from eating all that cheese and said "RAGAZZO ARRIVEDERCI" (BOY BYE) before we face planted into the ground from overconsumption. </div>
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However, we were not totally incapacitated and headed to <b>Van Leeuwen Artisan Ice Cream</b> in the Arts District for some icy treats. </div>
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After sampling pretty much all the flavors, we both settled on the honeycomb flavor. After having a 10 minute long discussion about how much we loved honey, an employee interjected and said, "you know, there's not actually any honey in that." And I was like, "IS THIS JUST CARAMEL ICE CREAM?!" The answer was yes. My brain was telling me, "bitch, this is caramel" but my ballsack was saying "eat ice cream before melt and make cry on hands". </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYl_J_To6la9zE_sztOi64J6O0fzxPe89pl5ZTpJyCqjCeWL2qPFv3f93UWU1zoHOGmhKZNfSj1CtlZRVRX_4jgpnRrqZxjgaBGp4N9zhuU9kWiNqgYAeDPjQylRsz6DpU_-DvCqke5ErI/s1600/IMG_0050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYl_J_To6la9zE_sztOi64J6O0fzxPe89pl5ZTpJyCqjCeWL2qPFv3f93UWU1zoHOGmhKZNfSj1CtlZRVRX_4jgpnRrqZxjgaBGp4N9zhuU9kWiNqgYAeDPjQylRsz6DpU_-DvCqke5ErI/s640/IMG_0050.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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After three hours of total dairy immersion, I needed a night cap and headed to <b>Westbound. </b>This bar is attached to that largeass dormitory that they built on Santa Fe and it was a delightful find. They were playing Mary J. Blige when we walked in and had 21st Amendment's Hell or High Watermelon Wheat Beer, so I felt pretty at home. </div>
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And finally, I made it to the <b>Philz Coffee</b> in DTLA. I was overjoyed to find out my favorite coffee from home was now in LA and that mint mojito iced coffees were a mere 15-45 (traffic) minutes away. It's been there for nearly a year, so I was a bit slow to make it there, but you know me - livin life on the late train.</div>
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MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-62790363727768920492016-05-01T13:21:00.000-07:002016-05-01T13:27:45.499-07:00House of Prime Rib is BaeThe other day, my friend asked me what my favorite restaurant was and after a sweat-filled and mentally strenuous thirty-minute pause, I blurted out, "HOUSE OF PRIME RIB!" If you've read this blog before, I know what you are thinking and no, I did not misspell "Taco Bell". And trust me, Taco Bell is my Lord and savior and all, but as someone who grew up in San Francisco, I cannot deny that the enchanting meat rituals performed at the House of Prime Rib shaped me into the <strike>creepy hobo</strike> woman I am today.<br />
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On a recent trip home to the Bay, my angel of a mother bribed my brother and I with lunch at House Prime Rib if we attended mass with her on Easter in our Sunday's best. Being the gracious daughter that I am, I happily accepted her bribe and showed up to mass in a modest frock. But to her displeasure, I wore sneakers with my frock and "reeked of booze". To be fair, she didn't specify what kind of footwear I needed to wear with my dress and it is not my fault that Easter takes place on a Sunday, which happens to be the day after Saturday night, which we all know is party time. Perhaps Jesus should have risen on a Tuesday if he expected us to be sober on Easter, which surely he didn't because he strikes me as a pretty methodical individual.<br />
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After an hour of chanting, sitting, kneeling and standing a.k.a. participating in Catholic calisthenics, I worked up quite the appetite and was ready my meat reward.<br />
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The feeling I feel when I see this sign and those red awnings are akin to the feelings of unbridled joy and nostalgia that children and untrustworthy adults experience when they approach the gates of Disneyland.</div>
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After being led to an elegant and buttery leather booth, my family and I chose a bottle of wine from their extensive wine list. We picked this Chalone Pinot Noir because we heard that 2013 was an extraordinary year for that varietal in the Gavilan benchland. Just kidding - we just picked the cheapest Pinot Noir. </div>
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Aside from the prime rib, their hallmark is the epic salad show put on by their waitstaff. Our waitress expertly spun the salad dressing into salad with such grace and showmanship that we were on our feet cheering like we were at a Warriors playoff game. The salad show prompted this kind of response from every guest at every table whenever a salad was served, which meant that it sounded like Roaracle Arena up in that bitch.</div>
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The service at House of Prime Rib is outstanding. The waiters and waitresses are all blessed with that old school charm and make you feel like you are a part of the family. They perform their jobs with such joy that I told my mom that I was moving back home to San Francisco to get a job at HOPR. She reminded me several times that I do not possess the charm or experience necessary to get a job there, but I have seen <i>Rudy </i>and know that anything is possible. </div>
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This is the only salad that I truly enjoy eating because it is garnished with the understanding that I am about to be presented with a beautiful cut of prime beef. This salad whispers into your teeth while you are chewing it and says, "Yes, you are here and you are going to shit yourself in approximately fifteen minutes when that metal rollie pollie comes around with that roasted torso that you dream of every day and night." </div>
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What metal rollie pollie, you ask? THIS METAL BEEF TROLLEY THAT I WISH I LIVED IN. I'm gonna go ahead and assume that NASA welds these from recycled aluminum alloy from old space stations, so I should probably stop asking my boyfriend for one of these every Christmas? I so desperately wish that I was one of these master beef carvers that get to roll these puppies around and deliver au jus covered plates of ecstasy from table to table. </div>
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This medium-rare slice of fatty heaven, that velvety pile of mashed potatoes and gravy and that fluffy piece of Yorkshire pudding are likely what I will be thinking of when I take my last breath. </div>
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Leftovers so wonderful that I ate them while walking back to the car. </div>
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<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-70859456521511316332016-04-09T09:18:00.003-07:002016-04-09T09:18:58.055-07:00How To Survive Shake Shack in LA + Amboy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I have been trying to go to <b>Shake Shack </b>for <i>years.</i> Granted, I put in very minimal effort into actually going, but many close and failed encounters left me feeling desperate and defeated. I once tried to visit the location under the Brooklyn Bridge, but it was still under construction. I tried on at least three separate occasions to make it to the one at JFK, but who the hell gets to their terminal early enough to eat a meal before boarding? I once went to Miami for 24 hours and asked a car full of friends, "Hey, don't they have a Shake Shack here?" and everyone ignored my question.</div>
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FAIL, FAIL, FAIL. Such is life. </div>
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So when I found out they were opening their first California location in West Hollywood, I was like "maybe". They opened right on Santa Monica and La Cienega, which is one of the busiest intersections in the Western Hemisphere and the idea of trying to find parking anywhere near there made me consider waiting until they open a location within 5 miles of my house, which will happen approximately never. However, West Hollywood is a 15 minute drive from my office, so I had zero excuses to not go after work, which is precisely what I did. <i>DO YOU SEE WHAT KIND OF MINDFUCKERY PEOPLE HAVE TO DEAL WITH IN ORDER TO GET A NEW AND EXOTIC BURGER IN THESE PARTS!?</i></div>
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My apologies, this is not an indictment against driving/parking in LA - it is a celebration of burgers and dairy treats, so I will act as such. </div>
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I parked, saw this line and screamed "WHAT THE FUCK!?" from across the street. This was the line on a Thursday at 6pm. When I walked out nearly an hour and a half later, the length of the line had doubled. Bring some sunscreen, a snack or some psychedelic drugs if you plan on waiting in this line. </div>
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I got in line and started working on my eventual sunburn until my friend, Mona arrived. I appreciated the outdoor patio, because it meant I could indiscreetly eye-fuck other peoples meals while waiting in line, which is something that I find myself doing far too often and have come to accept it as a part of life. </div>
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After waiting 30 minutes or so in line, I finally made it inside and ordered half of the menu because that is what any sane person would do after waiting that long in line. </div>
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Oh, the trials and tribulations I had to endure to finally get this spread in front of me. I had to down a large ShackMeister Ale in order to get my shit together and prepare</div>
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for what was about to go down. I also furiously stuffed the entirety of those sexyass crinkle-cut fries in my mouth because I could not restrain myself from doing so. WILL YOU LOOK AT THEM!?</div>
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I ordered the Shack Stack burger, which is a cheeseburger with a <u>fried Portobello mushroom STUFFED with muenster and cheddar cheese</u>. Yes, that fried thing sitting on top of cheese is full of cheese. Although the burgers are much smaller than I thought they would be, adding cheese filled frieds to them definitely compensated for that. This burger was fucking amazing and I was not disappointed, well worth the sunburn from waiting in line. </div>
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This sticker tried to tell me to contain my nuts and to that, I said "FALL BACK". One cannot simply contain their nuts when there is a slab of frozen custard waiting to be destroyed. This here is the Brownie Points concrete, which is vanilla frozen custard with salted caramel chocolate brownie, peanut butter sauce and chocolate toffee mixed in. </div>
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Overall, I would return. Possibly on a weekday between lunch and dinner, but no other time. Also, I don't know who keeps comparing this to In-N-Out, but they need to be stopped. They are two completely different things that need to be appreciated separately, like <i>Ace Ventura: Pet Detective </i>and <i>Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls - </i>both individual masterpieces that cannot be compared. </div>
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If you have a low tolerance for bullshit and refuse to wait 30 minutes in line for a burger a.k.a. a normal, sane person, you should hit up <b>Amboy</b> in Chinatown. My new favorite chef and probable cousin, Alvin Cailan (the genius responsible for <b>Eggslut</b>) opened this Filipino barbecue spot in the Far East Plaza. </div>
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It was kinda hard to spot, but it's hidden behind this discretely marked window inside the plaza. I kinda just crept up to the window and whispered, "Amboy, ka yo?", which may or may not be Tagalog for "Are you Amboy?" I'm not sure, my Tagalog skills are tragic and the lady at the window clearly was not Filipino, so we kinda just stood there staring at eachother. Thankfully, there was a menu that confirmed that I was indeed in the right place. </div>
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They were out of the pork belly and the grilled whole fish, so I was a little bit sad. But we settled on the steak and pork shoulder instead, which are two choices no one can complain about. </div>
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WILL YA LOOK AT THAT!? The steak and brown rice were beautifully wrapped in a banana leaf and served with a pickled tomato salad and this fireass hot sauce. It was so simple, but so good. My boyfriend just kept muttering, "so fresh" and groaning the whole time. </div>
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I got this gorgeous pork shoulder, which had the same setup and it was fucking lovely. There is nothing better than smoky tender meat on a bed of carbs. It's the simple things, guys. </div>
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Ugh, I WANT FILIPINO FOOD AGAIN. OR A BURGER.</div>
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ME HUNGY!!</div>
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<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-71254872851948234822016-03-30T23:39:00.002-07:002016-03-30T23:39:46.843-07:00Mature Decisions: Justin Bieber Concerts and The Wizarding World of Harry Potter Last week, I believe I experienced somewhat of an overdue quarter-life crisis and made zero mature choices over the course of 24 hours.<br />
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It all started when I wore overalls to the Justin Bieber concert on a Monday night. When I bought the overalls on ASOS, I thought I would be channeling Aaliyah, but when I tried them on, I looked a lot more like James Earl Jones in <i>The Sandlot</i> than I would have liked to.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRJ2EkPr-XxSeHHxNLSA1B5yB5_sDB-xctTdGQmefJ5Nch-decuiPxerz8TGqJW8wXjBqOCN4MoiuPV4cmaDFCRii7wcg7m-QKEG9Ag7KpjIslCRIzX1bLZPKA4-REuKPfKqavN2R-rZP/s1600/tumblr_mmt45f2hkj1rj6fo9o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRJ2EkPr-XxSeHHxNLSA1B5yB5_sDB-xctTdGQmefJ5Nch-decuiPxerz8TGqJW8wXjBqOCN4MoiuPV4cmaDFCRii7wcg7m-QKEG9Ag7KpjIslCRIzX1bLZPKA4-REuKPfKqavN2R-rZP/s320/tumblr_mmt45f2hkj1rj6fo9o1_500.jpg" width="227" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZBc6a0WVgkYkXrvadto1nuc9dxjjWP9aail53WAxDkfXShooaCR_BhrvBy7IhUCpgyXRtq1hpMDuNDdKY0dPc3M893hN7adlJba7tGYXEgU7YVldc5ABfF-axxZTkVJF8pnTEHA3f56Q_/s1600/4217_5.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZBc6a0WVgkYkXrvadto1nuc9dxjjWP9aail53WAxDkfXShooaCR_BhrvBy7IhUCpgyXRtq1hpMDuNDdKY0dPc3M893hN7adlJba7tGYXEgU7YVldc5ABfF-axxZTkVJF8pnTEHA3f56Q_/s400/4217_5.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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As you can see, one is not like the other. If you are female and ever find yourself resembling any character from <i>The Sandlot </i>that is not Wendy Peffercorn, <b>change your clothes immediately. </b><br />
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My friend, Tina and I pregamed at <b>Ford's Filling Station</b> inside the J.W. Marriott at L.A. Live in preparation for the Justin Bieber concert.<br />
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Unlike the other Beliebers who presumably snacked on Go-gurts and Capri Suns, we snacked on deviled eggs, lamb meatballs and Manhattans. So unBELIEBABLY chic. </div>
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Once we had downed several Moscow Mules, spent an ungodly amount of money on merch and bought a 10-piece McNugget, we retreated to our seats located in the very last row of the Staples Center. I had never dreamed of being 25,000 feet above sea level while watching my favorite Ruby Rose impersonator lip-synch while jumping around on a massive trampoline, but that somehow turned into a reality. </div>
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Needless to say, all that headbanging and raging did not sit well with my geriatric body the following morning, so I took the day off to recover and reflect. I reflected for about two hours and decided not to waste the day, so I drove directly to <b>Universal Studios Hollywood. </b></div>
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<b>The Wizarding World of Harry Potter </b>isn't officially open until April 7th, but I heard a rumor that they were letting guests in early and I took it upon myself to investigate. </div>
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My heart stopped when I approached the entrance and saw that they were letting people in. I hadn't been this excited since I saw Daniel Radcliffe standing next to that horse with his peen flying free. Just kidding, that was totally traumatic. </div>
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<b>FUCKING HOGSMEADE, YOU GUYS!!!!!!</b></div>
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This was an absolute honor to stand in front of the Hogwarts Express and I was filled with nervous excitement. Like, I couldn't even take a proper photo of it and took a photo of this family instead. </div>
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Word of caution: THIS IS NON-ALCOHOLIC. When I handed the teenager manning the butterbeer dispenser my ID, he laughed in my face and I told him to shut up and give me the novelty glass. This tasted exactly like those weird butterscotch grandma candies in the yellow cellophane, so I can't say I was happy about drinking this without any booze in it. Can someone in the Ministry of Magic do something about this?</div>
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The Harry Potter and The Forbidden Journey ride was located inside HOGWARTS. Be sure to bring a change of panties because this ride is <i>scary as fuck</i>. You're harnessed into a four-seat car and get thrown around the entire castle, getting dangled in front of dementors and dragons and like, half of it is in 3D. I shattered my lungs screaming "HELP ME!" and "WHAT AM I DOING HERE!?" for three to five minutes - however long that ride was. I walked out of the ride unsure about what I was doing with my life and developed a fever of 105 degrees. </div>
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This ended with me staggering out the park in desperate need of a nap and an intimate session with my Waterpik since I'm pretty sure that butterbeer left a thick film of butterscotch in my mouth. </div>
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And to top all of this fuckery off, I bought a <b>Kylie Lip Kit by Kylie Jenner</b>. No one in their right mind or with a life owns one of these. It involves lots of Instagram stalking and research to even find out the exact minute to buy one of these and when you do find out when they're being released, you need to properly position yourself on her website at the right moment to get one before they sell out and these sell out in 0.0000001 seconds. One could safely assume that only an unemployed person would have the time and dedication to secure one of these, but I finally bought one after months of shitting myself and crying in front my computer.</div>
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When this arrived, I screamed and asked my boyfriend if he was ready to see my new lipstick and he responded with, "GO AWAY." I retreated to the kitchen to marvel at my $28 ($40 including tax and shipping, but my brain doesn't process those kinds of details.) liquid lipstick and lip liner in the <i>Kourt K </i>shade, named after the minimally knifed up Kardashian sister. I put it on, Snapchatted all of my friends of me in it and they all assured me that I was an idiot for patronizing Kylie Jenner's overpriced makeup line. </div>
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Join me next week when I recap my upcoming trip to Legoland and review the kids menu at Sizzler, as that is likely where I will be spending my 30th birthday later this year. </div>
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<span style="color: red;"><b>FML. </b></span></div>
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<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-16214089820385990702016-03-20T08:44:00.002-07:002016-03-20T08:56:58.102-07:00DTLA Gems: RiceBar & Gelateria UliDowntown LA has rapidly emerged as my hearts favorite place to palpitate over the past couple of years. Some of the city's best restaurants and bars have opened up Downtown, which has been a total blessing for me because I can Uber/Lyft there from Alhambra pretty easily and heaven knows I need a break from my hectic dim sum eating schedule every now and again.<br />
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I'd been hearing very erotic rumors about a new Filipino spot opening in DTLA that everyone's been nutting themselves over (I'm lookin' at you, Jonathan Gold) called <b><a href="http://www.ricebarla.com/">RiceBar</a></b>. I believe they initially were only open from Monday to Friday during lunch hours, which made it impossible for to go unless I took a three hour lunch break and made the arduous trek from the Westside, but that would result in me getting mercilessly beaten by my boss with a roll of fabric. Fortunately for me (and my bosses sciatica), they extended their lunch hours to weekends and I finally made it to RiceBar to fulfill my Filipino duties of investigating all silog (meat, egg and rice) plates within a 50 mile radius of my home. </div>
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It's located on 7th and Olive and is a literally just a bar surrounding a kitchen. I loved the intimacy of being able to ask your neighbor to borrow their vinegar and eye-fucking their food up close. The woman sitting next to me bore an uncanny resemblance to my mother, so I asked her if I could sit on her lap and spoon-feed me. She kindly told me to go fuck myself in Tagalog, which is more or less than same reaction I would have gotten from my mom. </div>
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This carbonated abomination is called <i>Sarsi, </i>which is some kind of Filipino soda that tastes like black licorice and the La Brea tar pits. I used to drink it when I was younger because my dad would buy it, but it's not nearly as magical as I remember it being. BUT, that is not to say that I wouldn't down a whole bottle in under 30 seconds again. </div>
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I ordered the longanisa plate, which came with garlic rice and a fried egg. In the motherland, this is what we would call a <i>longsilog, </i>which is the standard Filipino breakfast meal consisting of a meat, rice and a fried egg. They make the longanisa in-house and I had the pleasure of interrogating the chef about his sausage-making methods because I have a hard time finding other sausage-making enthusiasts to discuss my #1 hobby with. I loved his take on longanisa because it was still slightly sweet, but very peppery and rich. Also, be warned that longanisa burps are the deadliest burps on the planet and will cause mass hysteria amongst everyone around you, so maybe go out into an open field to burp yourself after you eat this. </div>
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My compadre got the bistek, which is marinated beef with onions and it came with some exotic Filipino grain that was delicious and a fried egg. RiceBar offers a variety of non-GMO, fair-trade grains, which is always a plus in my book because it helps me rationalize the consumption of carbs with better ease. I would come back for this and not give one fuck about carbs just based on how bomb it was. </div>
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Overall, I love this place and it reminded me that I need to be eating more Filipino food because it tastes like home. Although, this was a much more elevated version of the Spam/corned beef/hot dogs I would likely be eating at my moms house. God bless the Filipino diet.</div>
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The next day, I was in Downtown AGAIN because me and my pal, Amelia went to visit our friend and favorite person, Mona at the L.A. Zine Fest. </div>
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This is Mona and all of her lovely zines and artwork. As you can see from the photo, she was very excited to have us there and will not likely kill me for putting this on here. Additionally, I highly recommend the Zine Fest because I found the most amazing Selena coasters for $8, which has turned out to be a fine investment on my end. </div>
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After 10 minutes of zine-filled confusion, Amelia and I headed a few doors down to <b>Beelman's Pub</b> on Spring. I love this place - you can watch a game, they have great beers and snacks and it is just a normal, solid bar, which is somewhat of a mythical thing in L.A. We both got hot dogs and gravy fries, which as you can see, are FINE AS FUCK. </div>
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We were on a roll with the come-up's (hot dogs, Selena coasters, etc.), so we thought that gelato would likely be the next and only winning move. We found <b>Uli Gelateria</b> a couple blocks down on Spring and we of course, were right because hello, gelato. </div>
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After being the dicks that sample every flavor and becoming even more confused, we both ended up getting the Speculoos Cookie gelato because it was hands-down the greatest Speculoos anything we'd ever had. </div>
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TASTED JUST LIKE A COOKIE. How does gelato do that!?!?!? Or I suppose the fine people at Uli do this. Whatever, great job and I will be back and you will regret it.</div>
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I will leave you now with an image of this Satanic, toothless creature that haunts my apartment. I've tried to sage my living quarters countless times, but his bare gums and demonic cries are louder tan ever. <b><i><u>SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME! </u></i></b></div>
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MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-18442404412926737782016-03-03T22:55:00.000-08:002016-03-03T22:55:32.229-08:00McDonalds Breakfast Bowls and Other Slimming Snacklets Since I have an upcoming Vegas trip, I have been on a mission to lose 30 lbs in two weeks. I haven't been to Vegas in like five years, but if it's anything like how I remember, my friends and I are gonna have to do our best impressions of prostitutes in order to get into any clubs without being treated like lepers. Thus, I have embarked on my 12th diet of the year and my sweet loves at McDonalds have released a low-cal breakfast option just in time to help feed my delusions of healthy living.<br />
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I pulled up to my favorite McDonalds located in the Target parking lot on La Cienega and Rodeo because it's like Cheers - everyone knows my name. And I am the equivalent of Norm. The guy at the drive-thru window actually worries about me when he hasn't seen me in over a week. The chick manning the window on this particular day gave me a high-five and complimented my lip color. I think I only come here because it's the only place in LA where people are excited to have me there. </div>
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I ordered the Egg White and Turkey Sausage Breakfast Bowl because it only has 250 calories. I was very pleased to find that the MyFitnessPal app already had this entered into its database, so I had to do very limited data entry, which is always a plus for my lazy ass. </div>
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Once I got to my desk at work, I dove into this low-carb fast food miracle and was very pleased with myself for not ordering my usual McMuff's. The egg whites were somewhat fluffy, the turkey sausage didn't taste like shit and the kale/spinach/tomato topping were curiously non-offensive. Above all, it didn't smell like fart like most of their breakfast items. I'm pretty sure that is all you can really ask for in a hearty fast food breakfast. </div>
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Once Vegas is over and done with, I'll definitely be tackling the Scrambled Egg and Chorizo Breakfast Bowl because that one has a hash brown thrown in there and I love when they sneak frieds into healthy shit to make it edible. </div>
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Another place I can always rely on for a nutritious, calorie-deficient meal is <b>Tender Greens</b>. Of course, I always order the hot plates because they come with a side of Yukon Gold Mashed Potatoes a.k.a. a softball sized scoop of thigh-insulating butter. Yes, the salt and pepper chicken and arugula salad were beautiful, but I gravitate toward this place because of those butteryass mashed potatoes and that greased up crostini. </div>
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The other night, we hit up this new restaurant and wine/beer bar in Echo Park called <b>Sub-Tropic.</b> This place is my new jam because it's just a large comfy space that serves booze all day along with a solid selection of snacklets. </div>
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We shared this well-endowed cheese and charcuterie board filled with capicola, brie, romesco and some gorgeous bleu cheese. This is healthy because it's a communal dish that you're supposed to pick at sparingly because you don't want to look like a dick that doesn't know how to share. Unless you order this board for yourself, which would probably indicate that it's either your birthday or you're on your period and those conditions qualify you for calorie counting exemption. </div>
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After all that nervous sharing, I was like fuck it, I'm ordering a salad with a glob of cheese on it. I ordered the Beet and Citrus Pesto Burrata Salad, which was just a stack of yummy squishy things. There was a sizeable glob of burrata on this and I savored every piece of it. This was healthy because it' had the word "salad" in its name. </div>
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Lastly, we shared a <u>CHURRO WAFFLE</u>. YES. YES. YES. Come here and rub it all over your sad little body. Rub it into your scalp. Stick it in your panties. Just do whatever it takes to be in and around this masterpiece of a snack. And I know what you're thinking, "bruh, that is not healthy" and to that I say NAY. What you are neglecting to notice is that the whipped cream is made of GREEK YOGURT a.k.a. the nectar of the Slim Fast flower. <i>Anything </i>containing greek yogurt is automatically waist trimming. Throw out your waist trainer and just guzzle greek yogurt whipped cream - you'll thank me later.</div>
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I know you noticed how much sexier my photos are and that's because I got a new phone. Getting wasted at a child's birthday party and losing my phone when I flew off the mechanical bull turned out to be a blessing in disguise after all. </div>
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MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-72539997869660251612016-02-22T23:13:00.001-08:002016-02-22T23:13:25.158-08:00Eating My Way Through The Blues Trail: MemphisAfter immersing ourselves in Nashville's vibrant and bustling <strike>country music</strike> hot chicken scene, our spirits were rejuvenated and ready to take on Memphis. We half-consciously drove three hours down the interstate at 6 a.m. and made it to our Airbnb located in downtown Memphis just in time to not collapse to our deaths from exhaustion. I learned a very important lesson on this trip and it is that years of sitting in LA traffic have destroyed my patience for driving. Like, I'm about ready for my "FUCK DRIVING" neck tattoo and to trade my car for a one-way ticket to New York to fulfill my dreams of becoming a pedestrian. So if you know of any airlines that are willing to barter tickets for an old Prius, please let me know.<br />
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We didn't have chargrilled oysters in New Orleans, so when we saw <b>Pearls Oyster House</b> had some of the best ones in Memphis, our fat asses ran (Ubered) directly over there for lunch.<br />
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Had the Oyster Sampler with Chargrilled Oysters, Oysters Rockefeller and the Hot Shucks with jalapeno and pepper jack cheese. SWALLOWED 'EM WHOLE and no, I'm not okay. </div>
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We shared the Shrimp Boil and it was like eating Boiling Crab's grandmother. She was sweet, had the decency to arrive on a plate with silverware and didn't make me say the word "bang" when I ordered her. </div>
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It was New Year's Eve and around 30 degrees out, so we had to throw on long johns and galoshes along with our party clothes. We hit Beale Street because they were doing a guitar drop at midnight at the Hard Rock Cafe and we were eager to be a part of the shit storm. </div>
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This glorious R&B band performed right before midnight and the guitar dropped at like 12:30 am. It was as if I planned it myself. </div>
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It was lovely pummeling my way through a crowd of drunk people. I really felt like I was in my element. </div>
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<b><u>IF YOU ARE EVER ON BEALE STREET, YOU MUST GO TO CLUB HANDY.</u></b> We walked by and there was a live blues band just <u>killin' it</u>. I think it was their house band and we went here both nights we went out to watch them and their patrons, who are some the nicest and most clinically insane people I've ever met. Cheap liquor, a dopeass blues band and crazy people are all you really need to run a thriving business. </div>
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At around 3 a.m., we mosied on over to <b>Dyer's Burgers. </b>I'd seen this place on TV before, presumably on some variation of<i> Fried Paradise </i>and I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment for having this as my first meal of 2016. </div>
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This place is known for frying their burgers in cast-irons full of grease that has been preserved for almost a <b><i>century</i></b>. Like, they've been saving this shit since they opened in 1912 and have been frying burgers everyday in it since. I'm just gonna go ahead and assume that this is safe since the Tennessee Department of Health hasn't shut it down? </div>
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My expectations were pretty low and I was about twenty sheets to the wind, so I was blown the fuck away. I got a double cheeseburger, which was just meat, cheese, mustard and onions. First of all, I love me a simple burger with a fat-laden juicy patty and American cheese, so this was straight up heaven/a caloric catastrophe.</div>
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The next day, we did absolutely nothing. I was comatose and already embalmed in Dyer's grease, so I just went ahead and pronounced myself dead. </div>
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Miraculously, I snapped out of it the next day with the healing powers of Gatorade and Advil. We were very behind on our BBQ eating schedule since we were immobilized from not having seen a vegetable in a week, but knew we would regret it if we listened to our bodies cries to stop poisoning them. After much debate, we settled on going to <b>Cozy's Corner BBQ. </b>From what I gathered, it was a favorite amongst locals and that was good enough for me. </div>
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The original Cozy Corner restaurant was closed because it was damaged in a fire. If you encounter this, <b>WALK ACROSS THE STREET</b>.</div>
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It's hidden in this plaza, disguised as a deli that sells wraps and salads. I once bought discounted Disneyland tickets from an office hidden inside a fake deli, so this seems to be a popular front for people slanging majestic goods. </div>
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The instant we walked in, we made a few friends (more friends than I currently have in California) who recommended pretty much everything on the menu. We could not pass up getting a rib plate because it would be criminal to not eat ribs in Memphis. Like, TSA would detain me for being an idiot. And boy am I glad for that because this osseous, sauce-drenched miracle made me a <u>woman</u>. </div>
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Secondly, I'd like to introduce you to the Sliced Pork Sandwich that impregnated me with joy. He arrived alongside his two accomplices and my new sister wives: Cole Slaw and BBQ Spaghetti. Our babies are all deformed. </div>
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If anyone knows anything about me, they know that my #1 hobby is chicken wings and these happen to be drenched in my number #6 hobby, BBQ sauce. I'm not sure I've ever had BBQ'd chicken wings that have been smoked in a real-life smoker and drenched in non-KC Masterpiece BBQ sauce, so this was a very transformative experience for this callow youth.</div>
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Our next stop on our 5 hour tour of Memphis before our flight was <b>The National Civil Rights Museum</b>. I cannot recommend this museum more. It was built on the site of The Lorraine Motel, where Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated and is actually attached to the former motel itself. </div>
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This is the memorial in front of the room where MLK was shot. I don't think any American (or human) can visit this site without shedding a tear, so bring tissues. It was so powerful and haunting, I had a hard time keeping it together and I hadn't even entered the museum yet. </div>
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The exhibits walk you through the beginning of the slave trade to the rise of Jim Crow to the Civil Rights Movement. These were some of the most engaging exhibits I've ever experienced and they did a great job presenting everything in such a compelling and absorbable way. Like, there was an actual bus that we could walk onto and sit next to a statue of Rosa Parks and we could walk through the inside of Lorraine Motel and see MLK's motel room. </div>
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My boyfriend and I agreed this was the highlight of our Memphis trip and yes, we took into account the century-old burger grease when we decided this. I would even say that this was better than when I saw <a href="http://americanhistory.si.edu/collections/search/object/nmah_1287219">Jerry Seinfeld's puffy shirt </a>at The Smithsonian and John Wayne Gacy's clown suit at the Crime Museum - and that is a powerful statement, my friends. </div>
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Once I was able to harness my emotions again, we headed a block or two up to <b>Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken </b>to get an (un)necessary last-minute meal before we hit the airport. There was an insane wait, so we got a Half Chicken Plate and a slice of chess pie to-go. </div>
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We actually ate this plate on our laps at the gate at the airport. Nobody looked at us weird and we experienced zero humiliation and that is why I LOVE MEMPHIS. The chicken was crispy, juicy and deserves all the accolades because that was some bombass fried chicken. I found out they're opening a location in LA and I fully intend on trying to get a job there ;)</div>
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The Chess Pie was kind of like a custard pie? It was possibly too sweet, but the crust was so good that I stuffed the whole damn thing in my mouth before I could even make up my mind about it. </div>
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I know, what you're thinking and correct, I did not eat nearly enough barbecue, but it's safe to say that Memphis is one of my new favorite cities and I would 1000% return. How does one apply to be a judge at the World Championship BBQ Contest at Memphis in May? </div>
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MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-76422830633439413002016-01-23T14:43:00.001-08:002016-01-23T14:43:43.910-08:00Eating My Way Through The Blues Trail: Clarksdale and NashvilleAfter spending three days in New Orleans, our vital organs were threatening to file motions for legal emancipation from our sad excuses for bodies, citing neglect and wanton endangerment. Thankfully, my liver and I came to an agreement that I wouldn't touch Fireball for the remainder of my adult life if it promised to not fail on me before the opening of Eataly's Los Angeles location. I can't afford to not experience that milestone.<br />
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Our journey through the South continued onward toward Clarksdale, Mississippi. We intended on driving straight up Highway 61, otherwise known as the historic Blues Highway, but Google Maps told us it would take around an hour and a half longer. We decided against it because the romance of taking a road trip died after about an hour of us getting lost in various seedy Louisiana bayou towns. I'm sure Muddy Waters would have taken the least bullshit route if he had access to Google Maps as well.<br />
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The five hour drive through the Mississippi Delta was not the most scenic drive to say the least. It was kind of like driving up highway 5 in California, except instead of enjoying miles of fragrant cow feedlots and slaughterhouses, you get to enjoy miles and miles of marshland and an occasional Cypress tree suffering from seasonal alopecia. Unfortunately, the Mississippi Delta is eroding at an alarmingly rapid rate because of sediment-trapping levees, the dirty runoff from the oil rigs and wells off the Louisiana coast and a number of other factors that are fucking it up that you can read about <a href="http://www.mississippiriverdelta.org/discover-the-delta/what-went-wrong/">here</a>. The desolation had much to do with the fact that there is hardly anyone there (I say this as someone coming from Los Angeles, which is essentially a sardine can compared to Mississippi). The Delta has some of the highest poverty and unemployment rates in the country, which has resulted in a massive decline in population over the years. Considering these factors along with Mississippi's extremely checkered racial past, I realize it was kind of a strange choice for me to visit there. However, I simply wanted to experience as many parts of the South as I could, listen to the blues and eat the local tamales.<br />
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I'm also not sure what I was thinking when I booked a reservation for us to stay a night at <b>The Shack-Up Inn </b>in Clarksdale. Initially, I was just looking for cool stops along the way to Tennessee and then I saw all the rave reviews of this place and loved that they had lodgings named "The Biscuit Shack" and "The Gravy Shack". Yes, it was oddly fun and a unique experience, but there was something unsettling about staying on the grounds of an old plantation in refurbished sharecropper shacks. In hindsight, this sounds pretty offensive, although I don't think that's the intent and is likely supposed to be more of a quirky restoration of a historical site. There are different ways of looking at this place and I'll leave it at that.<br />
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This here is the elegant <i>Biscuit Shack. </i>It bore an uncanny resemblance to the shack from the<i> Pirates of the Caribbean</i> ride at Disneyland, which was very alluring to me. A series of tornadoes ravaged the area the week before our visit, so I didn't get much sleep that night because I was afraid this thing was going to get uprooted by a tornado. And yes, this came equipped with a full bathroom and we did not have to use an outhouse.<br />
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As our luck would serve, we arrived on a Tuesday night, which meant that none of the blues clubs were open. I was really hoping to visit Morgan Freeman's <b>Ground Zero Blues Club</b>, but I guess I will just have to get my Morgan Freeman fix via <i>The Shawshank Redemption</i><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>showing on every cable network every weekend for the rest of my life.<br />
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Instead, we hit up <b>Abe's Bar-B-Q</b>, which has been in business since 1924.<br />
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The BBQ rib plate was BOMB. The ribs were smoky and tender, the coleslaw was drenched in vinegar (my favorite condiment/cleaning solvent) and those baked beans were off the hook. </div>
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The infamous TAMALES. Southern-style tamales are pretty different from regular Mexican tamales (confirmed by my Mexican traveling companion) since they're smaller and drenched in this spicy barbecuey-type sauce. THAT MASA MELTED IN MY MOUTH THO...</div>
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The next day, we waved goodbye to our beloved Biscuit Shack (my boyfriend flipped it off - his boughie ass hated it) and headed downtown to check out the sights. </div>
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We paid the <b>Delta Blues Museum</b> a visit. We came 10 minutes before it opened and the people inside were nice enough to let us in early. Pretty much everyone we met during our brief stay in Mississippi were extraordinarily welcoming and polite. Southern hospitality is a real thing and us city slickers could learn a thing or two about it. </div>
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The museum was SICK. It was like the Smithsonian of Muddy Waters memorabilia.They even had a replica of his cabin made with the remains of the actual cabin. I wasn't allowed to photograph it, but there was a very lifelike statue of him in it that scared me shitless. </div>
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<i>The Crossroads</i>, otherwise known as the junction between Highways 61 and 49. This is where blues legend, Robert Johnson allegedly sold his soul to the devil. This is also where I attempted to make a special pact with Lucifer; my soul in exchange for another plate of tamales. He of course declined and told me to get my fatass out of Clarksdale.</div>
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We hit the road toward Tennessee and I had my eyes peeled for exotic Southern fast food places the entire drive through. I finally saw a <b>Steak 'n Shake </b>along the highway and made an unnecessary pit stop because I couldn't resist it's loud, greasy call. </div>
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ALRIGHT, YOU WIN. </div>
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Ordered the Chili Mac Supreme because I'd never seen anything like it in all of my years. CHILI CHEESE SPAGHETTI!?! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!</div>
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Got the Frisco Burger because how can you resist anything between two slices of sourdough?! The closest comparison I can make to Steak 'n Shake is that it's like Johnny Rockets, but even then they're still fairly different. It wasn't life altering, but it was decent. </div>
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Nashville wasn't originally part of the plan, but we could not visit Tennessee without saying hello to Nashville Hot Chicken. We decided to spend a night in the Hot Chicken capital of the world and that is pretty much all that we saw. </div>
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We decided on dinner at the legendary <b>Prince's Hot Chicken Shack</b>. I've seen this place about a thousand times of TV, so I was star struck to say the least. </div>
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After grilling the nice cashier lady about what level of hotness she thought I should get, I settled on mild because I am a coward with a childlike threshold for heat. </div>
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My boyfriend got the HOT chicken because he has no regard for his digestive track. I took a nibble of his, which nearly resulted in a nosebleed.</div>
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My mild chicken was still spicy as fuck, but it was just enough spice to keep me out of the emergency room. The fries were crinkle cut pieces of heaven and they were kind enough to sell us ranch to spackle onto everything. We got sides of coleslaw and potato salad since we knew our mouths would need the soothing comfort of mayonnaise in order to survive this. </div>
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I can comfortably say that this dining experience alone was worth our 4 hour drive out of the way. We saw the Parthenon, had a couple beers at a local bar and then went back to the Airbnb because we were exhausted and had a long drive to Memphis to look forward to in the morning. </div>
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I'll recap all of BLUES AND DEBAUCHERY from Memphis in my next post...</div>
MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-22575002181261185422016-01-05T23:38:00.000-08:002016-01-06T09:37:57.045-08:00Eating My Way Through The Blues Trail: New OrleansI've just come back from a week-long road trip through the South and am in desperate need of a vegetable and a pore cleansing face mask. I haven't encountered a vegetable that wasn't slow cooked in hamhock juice for a week and my face is very upset with me for using it as a canvas for grease splatter.<br />
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Our plan was to drive up The Blues Trail from New Orleans to Memphis, but we ran made a few pit stops and ran into a few hiccups along the way - but that's what happens when you hit the open road. This was my boyfriend and I's first time visiting the South, but based on all of the Food Channel, Travel Channel and Cooking Channel watching that we do, we felt like we were entering sacred grounds that we'd already traveled mentally via Guy Fieri's Camaro.<br />
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We arrived in New Orleans on a Saturday night and our first stop was <span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18.2px;"><b>Lüke </b></span>in the French Quarter. They had glowing reviews on Yelp and it was less than a quarter of a mile from our hotel, so we figured we would slosh our way over there.<br />
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First off, the P&J oysters were some of the freshest tasting oysters in life. I'm not sure why they showered the platter with saltines, but I interpreted it as their way of saying "psst..stick these in your purse" and I was more than happy to oblige. </div>
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This may come as a shock to many of you, but I haven't had many encounters with gumbo. It was very exciting to finally have gumbo in New Orleans and this surely was the shit. </div>
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The Jumbo Louisiana Shrimp en Cocotte aka THE SHRIMP AND GRITS were hands down the best I've ever had. They were roasted jalapeno cheese grits with andouille and green onion sausages. First off, gulf shrimp are far plumper, juicier and sweeter than any shrimp I've had out here and there was a blanket of cheese on the grits that made my eyes roll back in their sockets permanently. </div>
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You cannot go to New Orleans and not go to Bourbon Street. Yes, it's touristy and yes, all of your Uber drivers will advise you not to go there, but it is absolutely magical. And gross. But fuck it - you must go at least once in your life. It's as if the Bastille district in Paris knocked up Reno out of wedlock and Reno gave birth in a swamp. </div>
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Here's me enjoying a breathtaking view of countless titty bars and miscreants who have sold their souls to Drew Brees, while sipping on a mysterious cocktail most likely made of moonshine and crocodile placenta. I'd never felt so <strike>drunk</strike> alive. </div>
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Our intentions were to find a nice jazz bar where we could just chill out and have a couple drinks. </div>
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Instead, we found this Metallica cover band that shattered my brain into a million tiny pieces. I believe this is where we took test tube shots of Fireball and head banged all night. I didn't even know that I knew the words to "Enter Sandman", but apparently I do and almost lost my voice. </div>
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I almost fell off a balcony at some bar because this menacingly large Saints blow up doll startled the shit out of me. I'm assuming this blow up doll is the Grand Marshall of the Mardi Gras parade this year and not just an oddly placed, oversized inflatable gargoyle. </div>
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The most important building on Bourbon Street is this Krystal burger, which is essentially the White Castle of the South. I swore to myself that I would make it here one day and boy did I make it rain on them hoes. </div>
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I woke up the next morning to find that I had ordered a family meal with a side of chicken wings? </div>
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Breakfast in bed. </div>
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We miraculously made it to the legendary SUPERDOME to watch the Saints take on the Jaguars. I heard rumors of exotic snacks here and I just love anywhere I'm allowed to spontaneously yell in public. </div>
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I ran directly to the concessions that were selling the Pigskin Po'Boy a.k.a. a PORK BELLY PO'BOY.<b> WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT?!!?!??!?!?!?!!? </b></div>
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I generally don't give a rats ass about the Saints (please don't kill me), but I was definitely bandwagoning sitting in that crowd. The Saints fans are some of the liveliest and most spirited sports fans I've ever encountered. I don't think I've ever seen a crowd do the wave for that long and probably dislocated both of my shoulders participating in the wave for 45 minutes straight. </div>
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We went to the historical <b>Sazerac Bar</b> at The Roosevelt Hotel because I vaguely recalled seeing it on <i>Best Bars in America </i>once. </div>
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I mistakenly declared that this was the birthplace of the Sazerac to my boyfriend and have yet to correct myself - not sure I can burst his bubble. Aside from me being totally misinformed, these were damn good Sazeracs. </div>
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We needed some po'boys, so we headed to <b>Killer Po'Boys </b>located in the back of the Erin Rose bar off of Bourbon. </div>
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These were fuckin' ridiculous. The one on the left with the fat shrimps hanging out was clearly the shrimp po'boy and the one on the right is the pork belly po'boy. Yes, I had two in one day. I cannot stress how important and delicious the shrimps in this region are. AND LOOK AT THAT BREAD!! </div>
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After eating these, I could no longer look Bourbon street in the eye because I was sure that it was killing me, so we took the advice of the locals and went to Frenchman street. It is where people with self-respect and dignity go to listen to world class jazz bands. We only lasted so long here before someone in my party vomited. I took that as my cue to get some beignets by myself.</div>
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Visited the world famous <b>Cafe Du Monde</b> where I enjoyed stack of beignets topped with a mountain of sugar alongside a hot chocolate. Needless to say, I didn't sleep a wink that night because I consumed enough sugar to power a preschool. </div>
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The next day, my boyfriend was feeling under the weather so I bought him a bunch of liquids and Pepto Bismol and told him I was gonna pick up some fried chicken right quick. So I hopped in an Uber over to Treme to <b>Willie Mae's Scotch House. </b></div>
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If you're gonna wait in line for an hour by yourself for fried chicken, DO IT HERE. </div>
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I was led to my table for one and ordered an order of "America's Best Fried Chicken", butter beans and rice, mac and cheese and corn bread. I was nervous with excitement to eat this and almost cried when they started playing Michael McDonald (my favorite singer) before I bit into this chicken.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAXk6Q9zq0Dlp5EuV3AsPx6pE_TkbdniX3H4819MSZdTOuorJvdaLiQSVugAV-89i29EDqnmnoD_r477yw-CwvkIddliFY6_-FCMyyn4jHJLNlAu1Z7J6ztVCNZzk5uSg-osMlGJLPXF0/s1600/IMG_6050.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAXk6Q9zq0Dlp5EuV3AsPx6pE_TkbdniX3H4819MSZdTOuorJvdaLiQSVugAV-89i29EDqnmnoD_r477yw-CwvkIddliFY6_-FCMyyn4jHJLNlAu1Z7J6ztVCNZzk5uSg-osMlGJLPXF0/s1600/IMG_6050.JPG" /></a><img height="16" id="zdfj8ystxk8j" src="data:image/gif;base64,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" width="16" /></div>
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I have never seen chicken just fall off the bone. Like I literally peeled off the skin and it just popped out and rolled onto the table. It was miraculous. (Please excuse my hands - I realize they belong on a man and not a female.) </div>
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This meal commenced my journey through the Great Southern Fried Chicken Trail, which is what I renamed our trip because we ate <i>that </i>much fried chicken. I have to say Willie Mae's was my favorite based on juiciness and the balance of seasoning. And the sides were bomb as fuck too. </div>
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After a lengthy nap, we headed back out to Bourbon street because we clearly don't care about our physical or mental health. </div>
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Since I am obsessed with the book <i>A Confederacy of Dunces,</i> I couldn't help but accost a hot dog vendor for a frankfurter. The gentleman manning the cart bore no resemblance to Ignatius C. Reilly, but was kind enough to talk to us for a while and when I confessed my love for Ignatius he told me that there was an actual statue of him around the corner. </div>
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This really was a phenomenal chili dog. </div>
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The Ignatius C. Reilly statue is much thinner than I imagined. I hope when people make a statue of me one day, they will have the decency to make me waif-like and sexy like they did with this statue. </div>
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And that was the end of my first encounter with New Orleans. Expect me back soon because there's no way in hell I'm done eating there and I don't believe I even put a dent in seeing all the sights. Hopefully on my next visit I can pry my ignant ass away from Bourbon Street and experience more of the city. </div>
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Stay tuned for my next post cause I'll be covering the next few stops on our road trip through the Blues Trail/Fried Chicken Trail. </div>
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<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-63149760526915287282015-12-14T22:57:00.002-08:002015-12-14T23:42:24.849-08:00Sausage Making 101: The Hot Link ExtravaganzaAs the seasons change from Autumn to Winter and Hollywood to New York (Love and Hip Hop), my meat consumption rate accelerates from aggressive to neck breaking. I've consumed record shattering amounts of the finest rotisserie chickens, New York strip steaks and pork chops that my local Albertsons has to offer. There is just something about 60 degree weather that makes me want to fill my innards with innards.<br />
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(You: <i>BITCH</i>, WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH THIS!?)<br />
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(Me: I'M NOT SURE YET, JUST LET ME FINISH.)<br />
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However, a woman can only consume so much slow roasted grocery store chicken before her sensibilities begin to seek more refinement and she develops a yearning for some creative release.<br />
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I decided to dust off the ol' meat grinder and weiner stuffer<strike> I begged on the street for</strike> the BF got me the other year and make some well-endowed contributions to my family's thanksgiving spread this year. I've only used them once, but am always very eager to admit that my favorite hobbies include sausage making when I meet new people. People who most likely did not ask about my hobbies.<br />
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I have a KitchenAid mixer that my mother gifted to me, so my meat grinder and sausage stuffer are just KitchenAid attachments. These are practical for rookies like me who aspire to produce sausages on a commercial level, but only make sausages once every two years. If you do not have a sausage stuffer, I believe a funnel and a clean finger would make fine substitutes, but it would probably take you a week to stuff one sausage.<br />
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***DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT***<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbffzLAHhFNkIAu02umxEhnEcTbdE7Jq4gMrvMwSOLSgB8-6NokYIEBbYCC9y9APkDm2Ob2l-SYu6_uVD9FiIai3j0oN_5wRyRSqX3mx75zZKjppFkklrUAL8cTAJcv2usYhavanu-Pcvv/s1600/IMG_5555.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbffzLAHhFNkIAu02umxEhnEcTbdE7Jq4gMrvMwSOLSgB8-6NokYIEBbYCC9y9APkDm2Ob2l-SYu6_uVD9FiIai3j0oN_5wRyRSqX3mx75zZKjppFkklrUAL8cTAJcv2usYhavanu-Pcvv/s640/IMG_5555.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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I went to the local Mexican superstore, the <b>Northgate Market </b>in Boyle Heights because a butcher here once told me he would sell me the hog casings they use to make chorizos. It only took me a year to come back for them. I got around 500 yards of casing (that greyish looking blob at the top) for $6.00, which is a much better value than the dried hog casings I bought off of Amazon last time. I also bought 10 lbs of pork butt and a couple pounds of pork fat. Mexican and Asian markets are always your best bet for finding weird cuts of meat. I also loaded up on El Guapo spices for $0.89 each because I didn't want to deplete my spice supplies on a single project.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLabclJn6u_yQxuR69YkCu0dPA1EA7cCOgaBjtrMGBrnP4bkCUHkcVA8oR6P91ovCNVcGZ87PgHEHD5CCSyLnwX0jGLTJKAR8JaB-8AiJw9DkECs2ethuvGwAYLjSKTXh2FBqjwmMkF2j5/s1600/IMG_5587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLabclJn6u_yQxuR69YkCu0dPA1EA7cCOgaBjtrMGBrnP4bkCUHkcVA8oR6P91ovCNVcGZ87PgHEHD5CCSyLnwX0jGLTJKAR8JaB-8AiJw9DkECs2ethuvGwAYLjSKTXh2FBqjwmMkF2j5/s640/IMG_5587.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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I chopped up all the pork and the fat and run it through the meat grinder. Meat grinding has all the same aerobic benefits as a TRX class, so make sure you stretch first. Also, it's important to get the right meat to fat ratio when making sausages because The Golden Rule of Sausage Making is: <u>SAUSAGE IS ONLY GOOD BECAUSE IT IS LIKE 40% FAT</u>. I don't know the exact ratio, but I just like to follow my heart. </div>
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I added the following ingredients to my ground meat. I used a mix of spices that I got from a few different hot link recipes I found online. The exact measurements of which are totally unknown. </div>
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- Granulated Garlic</div>
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- Fresh Garlic</div>
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- Ground Bay Leaves</div>
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- Dried Oregano</div>
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- Dried Fennel Seeds</div>
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- Cayenne Pepper </div>
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- Chili Powder</div>
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- Paprika</div>
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- Ground Clove</div>
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- Ground Mustard</div>
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- Crushed Red Chilis </div>
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- Coarse Black Pepper</div>
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- Kosher Salt</div>
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- A Splash of Budweiser</div>
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You can pretty much add whatever you want to these. We made some spicier by adding more cayenne pepper, chili powder and various hot sauces. We also made some mild sweet ones by adding molasses to them. We fried up tiny sausage patties to test them out until we perfected the seasonings.</div>
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Before stuffing, you need to soak the hog casings in water for at least 30 minutes because they are covered in salt. Then you need to rinse them out by running water through them in the sink to get rid of the salt inside. <b>If you don't do this, you will have <i>very </i>salty weiners. </b></div>
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This is really a two person job because you need one person shoving the ground meat down the chute using this large plastic screw with a handle to push it through the stuffer and another person to hold the casing at the base of the stuffer and finesse that meat into the casing. It's all very erotic. If you don't have someone to do this with, I imagine it wouldn't be hard to find someone on Craigslist or Tinder to willingly assist you. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS7LTb851Byb8kf4fxbKbKcyhj_E9fLWK7TB3UCRC2CbOW6inXlsVHCP-Gm03X7hyphenhyphenKJyHjRMfL5CwrNEoX_yIJu7rP5PQhuuaGjIe4oBsUPtxeQujyTgaqn_qBbz5MEGm4DyMg0dpCDBl2/s1600/IMG_5606.JPG" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Wcz6OSKyQKH-1MGhLwpdo2llhwt_JOmopaejz1fXILcfQWbeYD-1iURB4L0hMLBM6AlTg_TpHlCE6pN-WolcAmIKVI1UTuerxXg8C13ai0O7nWzow016oluRGccFVn0GObp2qelNIjwC/s1600/IMG_5599.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Wcz6OSKyQKH-1MGhLwpdo2llhwt_JOmopaejz1fXILcfQWbeYD-1iURB4L0hMLBM6AlTg_TpHlCE6pN-WolcAmIKVI1UTuerxXg8C13ai0O7nWzow016oluRGccFVn0GObp2qelNIjwC/s640/IMG_5599.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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We made these monstrously long and girthy hot links because I think we had the stuffer on full speed and probably should have stuffed them slower so we could make them thinner. But who gives a shit!? </div>
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And there you have it,,,presents for my family to eat during the holiday season! I was going to drape the turkey with these links, but I didn't want it to cave in and shatter it's little bird back. </div>
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I'll leave you with these photos of when I dressed my cats, Angus and Hank up like skanky frankfurters. Neither have spoken to me since. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQ-xFImAdZL18cmyfNvlkW-YvdM5WDFQE0PzvZ93jvK7gaQ5w8HKnaIQ4F_mq85Z9jvPOF9VucOq_Wwd0kTszKTrsfdEiK0OkTZHPk4fieuWLMZcRwH0yUSOQJKPJZpHHeGDc7b-LV1xF/s1600/IMG_4950.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQ-xFImAdZL18cmyfNvlkW-YvdM5WDFQE0PzvZ93jvK7gaQ5w8HKnaIQ4F_mq85Z9jvPOF9VucOq_Wwd0kTszKTrsfdEiK0OkTZHPk4fieuWLMZcRwH0yUSOQJKPJZpHHeGDc7b-LV1xF/s320/IMG_4950.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38I7F3vt-cixmAPw2v-2YnCN5wJjzWjvaXxQ46W_RnlBjcTRYSUNZMTYqhsS9b7GqruPzWJk9fMApisChyphenhyphenUsjBNIyOFs0ZwvNcpvjk7ZGGgIPsEetYY4M7uLEgbQ_mqjd4fjhW2tXn5nW/s1600/IMG_4945.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38I7F3vt-cixmAPw2v-2YnCN5wJjzWjvaXxQ46W_RnlBjcTRYSUNZMTYqhsS9b7GqruPzWJk9fMApisChyphenhyphenUsjBNIyOFs0ZwvNcpvjk7ZGGgIPsEetYY4M7uLEgbQ_mqjd4fjhW2tXn5nW/s320/IMG_4945.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sorry if this was gross...cat photos and all. </div>
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<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-82913009894518322192015-12-03T22:02:00.001-08:002015-12-04T07:17:17.698-08:00Answered Prayers: HALAL GUYS FINALLY IN CALIFORNIA (and Petit Trois)I would like to preface this post by saying that I am partially (if not, fully) responsible for bringing Halal Guys to California. Below is an e-mail that I sent to the Halal Guys cart on May 18th, 2012.<br />
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<i>"<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Every time I am in NY, I make it a point to visit your cart because your lamb and chicken plate is one of the best things I have ever eaten. I think it would be an incredibly wise decision on your part if you were to open a location in Los Angeles because there is absolutely nothing here like your </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Halal</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> cart. It would be an excellent opportunity for you to capitalize on this gap in the local marketplace. You have many fans out here on the West Coast and countless New York expatriates who would be thrilled to have you here. Thanks for reading this and keep up the excellent work, you are a truly amazing establishment!" </span></i></div>
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Creepy, indeed. </div>
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I received the following response and was starstruck from even having an e-mail from them in my putrid little inbox. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><i>"Thank you for your kind words, they are very much appreciated. As you many imagine, we have fans from all over the world. To maintain our quality and taste we have decided not to expand throughout the country at this point and stay serving our niche market in the NYC area. Please keep visiting us when you do come !"</i></span></div>
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Rejection had never hurt so good. </div>
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The recent opening of it's brick and mortar location in Costa Mesa leads me to believe that I am the one that got away in Halal Guys' eyes. It's around 45 minutes away from LA, but <i>still. </i>I appreciate you being close enough for me to slide up in your parking lot unannounced wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a debit card.<br />
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I made the trek on a Friday night and to my dismay, the line wasn't painfully long. You know my Asian ass RUV RONG RINE for food. </div>
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10 minute wait...pffft. Everyone knows that the most delicious amuse bouche is a wait of AT LEAST 45 minutes. Preferably outdoors in the sweltering heat or in below zero temperatures. </div>
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Once inside, I tried to order two (the maximum order per person) chicken and lamb platters, which is my usual order when I'm ten sheets to the wind in New York. I was told that there was no lamb and they had beef instead. I was taken aback, which is the first time I'd ever had that kind of reaction to beef. </div>
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After driving speeding down the interstate at 55 mph (the maximum speed a Prius can reach without exploding), I finally arrived at my local liquor store. My friend, Jessie and I purchased a bottle of Sluricane and retreated back to my place to pregame before eating our halal platters. </div>
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After getting sufficiently turnt, we finally unveiled our halal platters and it was BEAUTIFUL. I never thought I would be able to enjoy a fresh platter of halal in California. I don't even know why I bother with the meat and rice, we all know those are just vessels for the sweet Middle Eastern nectar of the mayonnaise flower otherwise known as "White Sauce". This was basically white sauce with a side of meat scraps, garnished with orange rice. <b>JUST HOW I LIKE IT.</b></div>
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Welcome to California, White Sauce Guys. I mean, Halal Guys. </div>
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After taking a 24 hour nap, my friends and I hit up <b>Petit Trois, </b>located in a tiny Hollywood plaza next to a Yum Yum Donuts. </div>
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That's my cousin, Diane. She reluctantly showed up after I promised her that I would stop telling people we were cousins. </div>
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<b>Petit Trois </b>is a French Bistro owned by my favorite angry TV chef with a heart of gold, Chef Ludo Lefebvre. He also owns <b>Trois Mec </b>next door, but that is a space reserved for ballers, so you know our DiGiorno munching asses stuck to having brunch at the bistro. </div>
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The place is small, but do not panic. They have a bar that serves excellent cocktails for you to pass around to all of your girlfriends to try until you have a created a cocktail of backwash. </div>
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We scored seats at the counter, which is a front row seat to the kitchen. Apologies to the chefs who had to try to go ignore my blank stare and uncontrollable mouth breathing the entire time I sat there. I blinked not once. </div>
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Someone that is not me took this gorgeous aerial shot of the starters. I was in the corner eyefucking the kitchen and whispering "send those pictures to the shared file" to my friends. At the top we have steak tartare, below that is escargot and on the right is french onion soup. I cheered every time the kitchen removed a french onion soup from the salamander. </div>
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The Croque Monsieur or Madame...I don't know the difference, whichever one is fattest.</div>
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The bombest most creamiest most fluffiest most delicate eye mask in all of life. Just kidding, it was an omelet and it was the sexiest variation of an egg that I've had since I swallowed that Cadbury Creme egg whole last Easter. </div>
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Did we order the entire menu, you ask? Yes, yes we did. </div>
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And alas, we have the <i>Big Mec. </i>I believe that is French for "sandwich for heavy bitches only". This thing has garlic aioli AND bordelaise AND caramelized onions AND American cheese. </div>
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<u><b>DO NOT COME HERE IF YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR CARDIOVASCULAR SYSTEM</b>. </u></div>
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Or I mean, you can. Just don't order the entire menu and then walk out wondering why you feel fat. But really, that's how every brunch with my friends ends. </div>
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Okay, I need to go. <i>Nathan for You </i>is on and I need to get my laugh on. </div>
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MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-32726390231146312872015-11-14T16:56:00.004-08:002016-02-22T14:14:20.820-08:00Netflix & Sweat: Urban Sweat Lodging at Shape House My lifelong dream has always been to somehow lose weight while laying down in front of a television. I had always placed that dream outside my realm of possibilities next to my dreams of winning Star Search and attending the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That is until I heard about <b>Shape House</b> on the radio. I almost crashed my car when I heard that you can lose up to 1,000-1,200 calories laying down and sweating in 50 minutes. I immediately looked it up on Yelp and people were reporting that each sweat station is equipped with it's own <i>TV with a fully loaded Roku</i>. This is when I realized that contrary to what I had always believed, Jesus <i>does </i>listen to my prayers.<br />
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Since my pal, Jessie was going to be in town from San Francisco, I thought I would give her the full LA experience by making her partake in fad exercise. She also shares my opposition to movement and love for on demand television, so naturally this would be the perfect bonding activity for us. I found a Groupon for $29 for one session, which is a great deal since it's normally $45 per session. We made our reservations through their website for the Pasadena location. I even called ahead to make sure they sat us next to each other and the nice woman on the phone said, "Okay, I have you guys next to each other, we can leave the curtain open so you guys can sweat together." So romantic. </div>
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The website explicitly advised against consuming alcohol before and during the sweat, which was kind of a problem for us since we had brunch scheduled at <b>Franklin and Company</b> before our sweat session. Since I was scared of fainting or getting a nose bleed during our sweat, I insisted Jess and I just share a small daytime cocktail. </div>
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And so we shared this elegant jar of bloody mary garnished with what looked like a deconstructed appetizer sampler from Applebee's. And possibly a glass of mimosa each. WHAT!? They were only $3. But I made sure I drank tons of water...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRfrz1zj9T5yrxnPRcO_hoeALfclOQplal8ViZ9oO1NBfYVbm7Kg2kDZtfgbFOtWezVzAxgPQHQ0Pz1IbtPUn54TKrlGPCoMHdUDE0SIXg_TiOv8Yg3-0KjChGKi9NLRFxgdnhGxM4y0gK/s1600/IMG_5147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRfrz1zj9T5yrxnPRcO_hoeALfclOQplal8ViZ9oO1NBfYVbm7Kg2kDZtfgbFOtWezVzAxgPQHQ0Pz1IbtPUn54TKrlGPCoMHdUDE0SIXg_TiOv8Yg3-0KjChGKi9NLRFxgdnhGxM4y0gK/s1600/IMG_5147.JPG" /></a></div>
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This is the exterior of the Pasadena Shape House location. "An urban sweat lodge" is a perfect description of this place.<br />
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The waiting area where we signed something on an iPad that I assumed was a waiver? Not sure, didn't read it. I was just struggling to use something as advanced as an iPad. </div>
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The nice ladies at Shape House lent us sweats, large orange shirts and socks since we had neglected to bring an extra pair of clothing to sweat in. I honestly thought we would be in our underwear during the session, so I mistakenly wore a nice lace bra and panties. So much for that. </div>
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After we got dressed in what looked like my grade school P.E. uniform, we were led to the dimly lit upstairs area where all the sweat stations are. We were helped into the sweat beds and given a large fancy glass of water. They taught me how to use the Roku and showed me the call button in case I needed more water or needed encouragement. Then they wrapped me up like a burrito in this heavy heated blanket thing. I'm gonna be honest, I was already sweating after I walked up the stairs, so I was sweating pretty profusely once I was secured inside the heated tortilla. </div>
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There was a 4 minute introductory video and then I got to choose between Netflix, Hulu, HBO GO and like a million other streaming apps. It was fucking luxurious. I settled on Aziz Ansari's hilarious new show, <i>Master of None. </i></div>
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At first, the heat was kind of uncomfortable but I just drank water and focused on the television. I eventually got used to it and then it became pretty tolerable. I also did some fantasizing about cancelling my ClassPass membership because this was clearly a better workout for me. </div>
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Every now and again, I would glance to my right to make sure that Jess was still alive. Just kidding, I was just treating myself to this hilarious sight. </div>
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Time kind of flew by, but it progressively got hotter inside the burrito. According to the intro video, the last 20 minutes are supposed to me the most intense. I noticed the both of us had freed our arms from the blanket and were flailing our arms around above our heads because it was too hot toward the end. The ladies came back around with cool lavender towels, which I really needed and appreciated. </div>
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After the sweat, they lead you to a recovery room downstairs where you can chill out and eat oranges.</div>
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Apparently Jess was on the verge of quitting throughout the entire sweat session and was a much more violent sweater than I was. I assume this is because I made her drink the majority of that hamburger cocktail. </div>
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I asked her if she pissed herself, but she claims that this is just booty sweat. </div>
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Overall, I thought urban sweat lodging was delightful. Everyone that worked there was really nice to us and made us feel comfortable and I literally burned hundreds (possibly thousands?) of calories while watching television. Shape House really turned this little lady's dreams into a reality. </div>
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To reward ourselves for treating our bodies to such a detoxifying cardio session, we decided to get ice cream.</div>
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We hit up <b>Cookies and Milk </b>in South Pasadena for this delightful open face sandwich with taro salted caramel ice cream and a strawberry chip cookie. </div>
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Stay tuned for all the other fat, non-calorie burning activities we did throughout the weekend. Why? Because it involves eating an extraordinary amount of dumplings!</div>
MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-28973180556315822502015-10-24T10:39:00.003-07:002015-10-24T10:39:57.443-07:00Good Stuff: Odys + Penelope <div>
I had a very titillating (it took me like three years to spell that word right even after I Googled it and apparently it has nothing to do with tits?) encounter with some food the other day. My friends and I randomly selected Odys + Penelope from some list of hot and new restaurants in L.A. and decided to give it a visit. I was pleased to see that it was located across the street from my old stomping grounds on La Brea, where I used to slang sneakers and expertly fold t-shirts so that tourists and Omarion could unfold them 10 seconds later. Back in my day, we didn't have such luxurious lunching options on the block and I was limited to Ralph's sandwiches and bean burritos (indigestion) from Chevron. So this place gets 9 stars alone for being located in an area that makes me nostalgic about frozen gas station burritos. </div>
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So from what I gathered on the internet, Odys + Penelope is owned by the people that owned Hatfield's (never went there) and it is a churrasco/grill style place. </div>
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There was no fucking way we weren't going to order the cheesy poofs. These were like the cheese breads from Fogo de Chao mixed with Red Lobster biscuits mixed with a croissant served with a sexy orange dipping sauce (smoked tomato romesco). </div>
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These were the Grilled Wild White Prawns with Garlicky Buttered Potatoes....D-LISH! </div>
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The Pork Belly Bolognese Pappardelle contained my two favorite things on earth: pork belly and fresh pasta. I carefully draped the pasta on my head like a wig and asked my friends if I looked pretty and when they all responded with "no", I asked the bolognese out on a date. (I am clearly running out of ways to describe how delicious food is.) </div>
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My friend ordered the Oak Grilled Branzino, which I helped myself to when she went to the bathroom. It was an absolute masterpiece. </div>
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This is the Slow Grilled Tri-Tip with Bearnaise and Charred Broccolini. My eyes rolled back in my head and got stuck there for a solid half hour the instant that beef with bearnaise hit my tongue. Yes, I looked like I needed medical attention, but that is just what I look like when I eat perfectly cooked red meat or when I look at Nick Jonas. </div>
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I know what you're all wondering, "How does she take such professional looking photos?" The answer is poor lighting and an antique iPhone 5s with a camera lens covered with grease and carb debris. I can rent mine out to you for $100 a day. </div>
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In conclusion, Odys + Penelope gets 10 stars from me. Or an A +. Do I have the authority to grant Michelin stars? If so, this gets 3. If I am not mistaken, this is exactly how Jonathan Gold reviews restaurants. The only difference is I am doing it better, so WATCH OUT, GOLD!<u><b> I AM COMING FOR YOUR JOB. </b></u></div>
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MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-19587705712980977012015-10-04T15:03:00.000-07:002015-10-04T15:10:13.535-07:00Goodbye Summer, Hello Churro Ice Cream Sandwiches!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Since we don't experience any sort of seasonal climate changes here in L.A., the only way I know that summer is coming to an end is the sudden influx of events at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery and the arrival of that evil Jezebel (The L.A. County Fair) with her alluring cabinet of fried curiosities. Who doesn't love turning up at the cemetery and/or the fair?! That's why I use these events to trick people into hanging out with me in public. </div>
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My friends and I went to the <b>Miguel </b>concert at the <b>Hollywood Forever Cemetery. </b>This cemetery doubles as a concert and outdoor movie venue in the summertime. Yes, it is creepy as fuck walking through all those grave sites and you run the risk of having a disturbed spirit follow you home, but I like to protect myself from this by stuffing my bra with crystals and cloves of garlic. If you were there, you may have recognized me there as the girl with the jagged boobs drinking from a bottle of sunscreen. </div>
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As grownass women (lazy people), we opted to sit as far as possible because we cannot be bothered to stand up and had some serious snacking to do. It's also imperative to sit as far away from the stage as possible at a Miguel concert if you want to avoid getting your face kicked in when he attempts to do an aerial splits. </div>
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The beauty of the cemetery is that you can B.Y.O everything...blankets, Cheetos, vodka minis, wine bottles, reefer, dog biscuits, cigars, Egg McMuff's, bulgogi, etc. My friend brought a fake sunscreen bottle as a concealed flask for our vodka. I saw this drinking tactic used on an episode of <i>"It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"</i> and I've always thought it was genius. Even though you can drink openly here, it was still fun to drink from a sunscreen bottle and pretend that we were being sneaky. </div>
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BEST CONCERT VENUE EVER. Shout out to Miguel for putting on a hell of a show and the friendly staff for humoring us and giving us a 30 ft ride to the porta potty's in a golf cart. </div>
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They've finally started promoting my biopic at the local movie theater. I am so excited for its release!! </div>
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Now for the <b>L.A. County Fair. </b>This is the perfect place to go if you can't decide between spending your Friday night at a Dave and Busters or a Big Lots. Lynard Skynard was performing at the Grandstand that evening, but my boyfriend and I were not chic enough to be ticketholders, so we went on the hunt for scary hybrid foods on sticks instead. </div>
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Seeing a sign for "BIG FAT SAUSAGE" and "BACON WRAPPED PORK BELLY" resulted in a lot of uncontrollable weeping on my part, but I managed to hold it together long enough to offer these people all of the money in my bank account.</div>
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<b>BACON WRAPPED PORK BELLY. </b>I made the staff lineup so I could run through and high five everyone for doing such a wonderful job. Then we smothered this thing in BBQ sauce and shared it while riding the people mover, as I waved it around chanted, "PORK ON PORK ON PORK!" above the fairgrounds. Or actually, the only accurate part of what I just said was "we smothered this thing in BBQ sauce." </div>
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I would lay on top of this if it didn't mean third degree burns and permanent grill marks on my face. </div>
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I found an alarming amount of photos on my phone of this man posing with this smoker full of meat. I asked him if he wanted me to send him some so he could make one his Facebook profile picture but he told me to get lost. </div>
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Next stop was this gelato barn for this beautiful creation...</div>
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A MINT CHIP GELATO CHURRO SANDWICH!!!!!! I had a full on anxiety attack when they asked me to choose a gelato flavor and I haven't quite recovered from not having chosen them all. I want these people to make me some churro ear muffs out of these buns because come wintertime, I'm gonna want me some edible headwear. </div>
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All I wanted was a corn dog, so I bought this BACON CORN DOG. At this point, it was pointless to even order something with more bacon, as my mouth was already permanently coated with bacon grease from the bacon covered pork belly. Still finished it though...</div>
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The "Chi-Chee Fries" is pretty accurate because that's what it sounded like when I ordered these while having my third stroke of the evening. </div>
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I was filled with disgust after all that eating and decided to ride the ferris wheel so that I could yell, "PACK YOUR SHIT AND LEAVE!" to the fair. Unfortunately, it listened. That's what happens when you hastily yell out hateful things you don't mean. Whatever, that bitch will be back next year...is what the fair said about me as I was escorted out by security. </div>
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If you think I learned my lesson or felt some kind of remorse after eating all that junk, you are sadly mistaken. My family and I went to <b>Churro Borough </b>in Los Feliz the next day and had my SECOND churro ice cream sandwich of the weekend. This one was kinda superior because they had horchata ice cream and the churro ear muffs were thinner and easier to eat. I need to go back for their milk shake and churro fries combo ASAP or like at least after I get a colonic. </div>
MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4642932261454547149.post-7895741659214950952015-09-25T13:17:00.000-07:002015-09-25T13:17:19.470-07:00Eating My Way Through Japan: OSAKAThe next stop on the Back Fat Express was Osaka.We had great expectations for Osaka since we heard many tales about all of their fried specialties and it's fame for their <i>takoyaki</i> (fried octopus dough balls).<br />
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But obviously, our first stop would be the <b>Momofuku Ando Instant Ramen Museum</b>. What kind of people would we be if we didn't pay homage to the founder and creator of Cup Noodles, Momofuku Ando?? We also heard a rumor about <i>free admission</i> and the opportunity to customize your own Cup Noodle, which is something every woman should take advantage of at least once in her life.<br />
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We began to notice that the majority of the museums visitors were children and the only other adults there were either employees or people accompanying children. I don't know who these children belonged to, but I do know neither belonged to anyone in our party, which would explain their impeccable style. I should probably alert The Sartorialist about them. </div>
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Upon entering, we found a long majestic wall showcasing every Cup Noodle product ever produced. We spent around an hour furiously vogueing and holding an impromptu photoshoot in front of this wall. </div>
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This Cup Noodle Drama theater showed a compelling educational film about the company's history. We watched about 5 seconds of this and walked out to look for a better photo op.</div>
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There was no shortage of groups of children on field trips. Please excuse my shameless photographing of strange children, I couldn't help it since they were the only other kind of people there. </div>
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We finally approached the Cup Noodle customization line and we were met with yet another vending machine. For the low price of 300 yen, we got a styrofoam cup and access to a myriad of savory powders and dehydrated vegetables. My finger also insisted on making a cameo in this photo...that bitch. </div>
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Filling the cup was a lengthy and somewhat stressful process. You surrender your cup to the young ladies screaming into their headsets at each station, where they manually crank on machines and fill your cup with noodles and such. I took the exotic/confused route and did a curry powder with bacon, fish cakes, green onions and red pepper. </div>
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Once your cup is filled and sealed, they release you into a room full of cafeteria tables supplied with markers so that you can decorate your cup. As women in their late-twenties, we took this step very seriously. </div>
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Again, this is an absolute must-see experience in Japan. That reminds me, I still have this in my pantry and need to see how much it tastes like an armpit considering the fucked up combo I chose.</div>
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Our next move was to the <b>Osaka Owl Family Cafe</b>. Yes, an OWL CAFE. This Japanese animal cafe trend was very alluring to us because we are all city dwellers whose interactions with animals are limited to yelling at our neighbors chihuahuas and cursing at seagulls that steal our corn dogs at the beach. </div>
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I have to admit that it was upsetting to walk into a room full of beautiful owls and seeing them all chained down. I think my dumbass forgot that they are wild animals and thought they would be flying around freely and harmoniously amongst a room of strangers. As awful as I thought this was, I was already inside and could not resist the chance to contract bird flu on top of the fever I already had. I also had never met an owl before, so I figured this was my chance. </div>
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This is Mimi and Momo. Mimi was delighted to share her head with Momo, the 10 lb owl who is clinging to her scalp for dear life with his claws. We all took turns placing owls of various sizes on our heads and and things got weird when I tried to make out with the largest one. Again, there is no reason to have owls and humans confined together in a room. </div>
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We also encountered a species of alcohol that is extinct in America. The only alcoholic beverage on the menu at this place was <b>ZIMA</b>. I believe Smirnoff Ice's have long replaced Zima's as the pussiest drinks on the market since its departure from America, but it looks like Japanese owl cafes are still all about it. </div>
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In conclusion, I would have preferred to have met an owl under more Harry Potter-esque circumstances where I would be gifted an owl that would deliver my mail, but once again, beggars can't be choosers. </div>
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My friend Jess found a comprehensive list of must-eat places in Osaka on a blog that is much more informative and helpful than this one, which can be found <a href="http://www.ladyironchef.com/2014/10/osaka-food-guide/">here</a>. We referenced this list as a guide to help us find the best fried goodies in the city. </div>
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The first stop on The Great Takoyaki hunt was <b>Creo-Ru</b>. </div>
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Cooking takoyakis is on the same level of difficulty as ice road trucking. It requires serious focus and and finesse to flip dozens of balls around with two tiny sticks. So hats off to all the takoyaki artisans around the country for their skill and dedication to making sure drunk folks have a delicious way to burn their mouths. </div>
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<i>Voila! </i>Luscious octopus balls. I recall these being squishier and more gingery than the ones we had in Tokyo, but still delicious. </div>
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After this snack, our fat asses walked directly over to <b>Kimukatsu</b>, where they are famous for their pork tonkatsu. </div>
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Tonkatsu was pretty much the only thing on the menu, so we got three different kinds to sample: original, garlic and CHEESE. </div>
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The special thing about this place is that they layer paper thin slices of pork on top of each other and delicately fry them. Look at how gorgeous those layers are. It's details like this that count the most when you are eating fried foods. </div>
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THE <b>CHEESE </b>TONKATSU!! Look at that meltedass cheese peeking out from there. I believe this has the same allure that cleavage has on boob lovers. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimYVb4Oj_1J5CvbsNxH3Z_Bp6P_P0ixxw-WIFIcAhlyrW030PHqpqHLsqWspJpV_zBMvHedqT5-UYrsFhsMGs6iNkH79u1aKm07i6bW46X5KWOnD99UL25KFV1p1sV57Ucf5zf11vgoToa/s1600/homer-simpson-drooling+a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimYVb4Oj_1J5CvbsNxH3Z_Bp6P_P0ixxw-WIFIcAhlyrW030PHqpqHLsqWspJpV_zBMvHedqT5-UYrsFhsMGs6iNkH79u1aKm07i6bW46X5KWOnD99UL25KFV1p1sV57Ucf5zf11vgoToa/s320/homer-simpson-drooling+a.jpg" width="276" /></a></div>
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From there, we walked around 100 feet to<b> Dotonbori Konamon Museum </b>to get MORE TAKOYAKI. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisEeDnAL0kRAN33dzTPSrkFRVIQ87gADzuBe4ZGdDM1AAZhSE9dYBxGFVKs7bYo7y6M7MAf4gT7Bfwqiyjuc_53fj7A-zDu8FsJL3AjEAPNNMc0kg8C0LwUYzy0imVAArGfoIcaH6mQ3xL/s1600/IMG_4492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisEeDnAL0kRAN33dzTPSrkFRVIQ87gADzuBe4ZGdDM1AAZhSE9dYBxGFVKs7bYo7y6M7MAf4gT7Bfwqiyjuc_53fj7A-zDu8FsJL3AjEAPNNMc0kg8C0LwUYzy0imVAArGfoIcaH6mQ3xL/s640/IMG_4492.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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You cannot miss this place because there is a massive octopus attached to the front of it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fhC2Col4ebutYie6nEGDtVSoUHPx73Gu6bn7JkQTzBoY_d4oxSaIE-31co_DuQqHq5PCNs6JLd3BKw5Nqc7ocRjPGx3cqvVZdDOOcnqgJSvvSDG4ehOUFlP8zL01hJSROvT3IWlInJIp/s1600/IMG_4493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fhC2Col4ebutYie6nEGDtVSoUHPx73Gu6bn7JkQTzBoY_d4oxSaIE-31co_DuQqHq5PCNs6JLd3BKw5Nqc7ocRjPGx3cqvVZdDOOcnqgJSvvSDG4ehOUFlP8zL01hJSROvT3IWlInJIp/s640/IMG_4493.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Very talented people who are in my opinion eligible for canonization as saints. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-elTGU5Hf1H4AB-sjuCErzNRHJgL-cef7W_9TxRTU8Zf51QIzzbGU2zlrjgzHnp1s2O8RF3y61-BhbcNuJ5lQHYve7X7ASP9p-VmfaJZkBKWwGjsQERNBnCYq8xcIJnOA39GaqsbB_YEu/s1600/IMG_4494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-elTGU5Hf1H4AB-sjuCErzNRHJgL-cef7W_9TxRTU8Zf51QIzzbGU2zlrjgzHnp1s2O8RF3y61-BhbcNuJ5lQHYve7X7ASP9p-VmfaJZkBKWwGjsQERNBnCYq8xcIJnOA39GaqsbB_YEu/s640/IMG_4494.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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This was the final takoyaki of the trip. I don't know when I'll get to experience this again, but I challenge someone to open a takoyaki place here in LA. Probably on Sawtelle...SOMEONE?! PLEASE!!? </div>
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And after that, the only thing I consumed was water, vitamin C, ibuprofen and heavy doses of cold medicine because I was sick as a dog. Japan, you almost killed me, but I love you. Keep being weird and cranking out some of the most delicious food on the planet. </div>
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Love, Neko Lover (Cat Lover) </div>
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<br />MELhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17397843101686600778noreply@blogger.com0