You totally did think I was going to say “goose.” Also: I don’t want to hear any of your shit.
Have I mentioned that my sister’s family owns the Wave Pizza Cafe in Duck? And that in my totally unbiased opinion, it is the best pizza south of the Mason-Dixon line, which is really much further north than one might think (i.e., Delaware, your national stop for duty-free shopping). But you might want something more ...
I’m guessing everyone punked out because of Labor Day, the one month I finally DON’T punk out. There’s a real O. Henry vibe going on here lately.
We are here once again for our annual relocation: Southern Shores, North Carolina. My family owns the Wave Pizza Cafe in Duck, which means ALL THE PIZZA I CAN EAT. And I gotta say, they kept some of their Jersey Roots, because they make an impressive pie. Which no one here would get, because they ...
And thusly, with an errant photograph of garlic, have you been snookered.
El Smackdown no esta aqui! That’s the extent of my Spanish (along with “Donda esta la biblioteca?” and “Yo no soy marinero, soy capitan”). And I’m pretty sure something about it is wrong. I have enough problems with English.
This week on Top Chef Vegas, some people try to cook, others get mad, Tom Colicchio sneers at someone and Padma narrates in an inappropriately loud and monotone voice. Good times!