I'm Michelle, and you're on Thursday Night Smackdown, the only food blog named "Least Likely To Be Invited Back to the Book Club After That Incident With the Melon Baller." Do you like good food? Then stick around, loosen your belt and make yourself at home.
It seems I’ve been going about this “religion” thing all wrong. Thank goodness for late-nite televangelists, or not ONLY would I be going to hell, but I’d never get the Most Holy Aga 6-Burner Range of my dreams.
I know this is supposed to be a food blog, but I can’t help but be troubled by the continued effort of many U.S. states to colonize my uterus.
Because I really only have one outfit that’s funeral appropriate, and I don’t feel like getting it dry-cleaned over and over. Also, if all my friends jump off a bridge, that’s a hell of a sign that I am a poor judge of character.
Apparently there’s some kind of big match-up today that involves my local sporting franchise, which also features a halftime show starring the skeletal remains of Madonna, the Lady Gaga of the 1980s.
Remember when I told you to ignore the USDA and cook your duck to 130? I take it all back! I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry, USDA! I’ll do whatever you say, just stop the green shits.