ALRIGHT GET READY FOR THIS GOOD SHIT
So Thursday I took my lazy undomesticated ass down to Williamsburg to hang out with andythanfiction and winjennster. First, we hit up this awesome little coffee shop and listen to some epic stories courtesy of the proprietor. Then, my eyes are opened to the wonderful world of good ass chocolate for cheap ass prices. Thirdly a picnic on the grounds of beautiful Colonial Williamsburg, complete with Authenticity.
Now. When Andy told me he’d bring a picnic lunch, I was like, “oh, a’ight. we gon have some bitchin’ sandwiches, ‘cuz his burgers were the shit”
Uh uh. This asshole shows up with some of the greatest fucking salmon fruit and veggie stuff and ancient grain salad shit that I have tasted in my entire life. We wrapped that bitch up in some fresh lettuce and dayum… talk about a picnic.
I could go on for another three paragraphs about the epic frolicking in the rain that followed, but you? You wanna know about that good shit up there, don’t you? Yeah, I bet you.
That shit up there? That was a damn near religious food experience, I shit you. I cried over that fucking food. Andy was there, ask him. My eyes were welling up. He could have asked me to do anything: marry him, mow his lawn right smack in the middle of that fucking t-storm, kill a man, and I would have seriously considered it for that moment. You don’t even know. Like, there are no words to describe the onslaught of ecstasy that my taste buds experienced over at his house.
And this wasn’t from some recipe that he pulled off the net, oh no. I watched him come up with this shit, every single fucking piece, right off the cuff. HE EVEN GAVE ME FUCKING META FOR IT.
Now, I don’t quite think you get the whole picture. I like food. I love food. Fooooood. But when I got home that night? When I looked at my fridge before stuffing it full of the leftovers that I couldn’t believe I got to bring home? I didn’t want SHIT.
The food that this man gave was single-handedly the greatest meal I have ever eaten in my entire life.
And that includes both the sentimental value of eating at the Three Broomsticks and the taste value of ribs in Memphis.
Now, you wanna know what all is in this shit?
Andy, monsieur, you have the floor.