Alternate Title: Five Guys I Could Kiss between the Cheeks (So to Speak)
Today, inspired by Lisa's lunch plans, I took Tim to Five Guys Burgers and Fries for dinner. He didn't feel like cooking, and once I'd tied my apron on over my bathrobe and looked in the fridge for a futile five minutes, he said, "We can go out." That man always knows the best times to let me off the hook.
Now, I haven't eaten a burger in many, many months. My "last" red meat was a steak in June, though since then I've had it twice in meals prepared by others. I'm polite like that (I'm polite?). But today, my beef fast ended with a resounding groan of double-patty joy.
Today, besides craving a burrito and smelling ice, I was shockingly totally undisgusted by the idea of consuming a hamburger. I think progesterone poisoning (like PMS, but different) is really kicking in. In fact, I believe PMS officially begins tomorrow night at 10:00 PM. Watch out.
So we went into Five Guys, and I ordered a regular burger. Ooh, with bacon. Oh, and definitely fries. And, while I was at it, I figured why not go for a large, non-diet, caffeinated beverage. We found a freshly wiped (slightly damp) table in the middle of the crowded dining room. I sipped my favorite carbonated calorie nightmare. They called our number.
When I unfolded the foil from my burger (which was, for once, right-side-up in its wrapper), a shudder of food-joy shocked my spine as the sweet aroma of BBQ sauce hit my olfactory thingies. And it only got better from there. I'll spare you the deliciously juicy PG-13 details. If you've ever eaten a bacon burger with me, you know how it goes.
The fries went into the ketchup, and then the fry sauce. Sometimes they went from the fry sauce into the ketchup. Sometimes they went back and forth a few times before the greasy goodness of freshly fried potato straws finally came home.
Today was a good day.