so fat.

i'll give you the rundown, neighbors-
double bacon chili cheeseburgers.
how fat?
how sloppy?
how gluttonous?
how gross?
how expert??
all of that, just for dinner,
to eleven.
too much is the right amount,
and therefore,
these particular little big ol' 'guinis are just right.
check the tubby-double-trouble-type teleport:

woah!!!
kids,
just look at how thick those massive mutha-'uckers are.
they're pretty heavy, too.
i mean it.
double seitan slabs, medallion-style seared,
after being dredged in flour and spicy cayenne spice.
two of 'em!
so burly,
especially when in-between there're layers of bacony brick-colored circles.
because the cucch insisted,
'if we're doing chili cheeseburgers, we gotta have bacon on 'em'
and rules is rules, no matter what.
so, baconish happened, too.
what?
oh,
well,
that's a ciabatta bun, toasted and buttered and fried up,
and there's also two incredibly dense doses of chee', too;
a custom cashew-tofu-nootch-blasted blend to activate and act as a binder.
that's when you know it's gonna be a real bomber...
and really real bombin' is expert!
and then there's still two scoops of two bean/two-alarm poblano chili.
uh-huh.
hot and wet and red all over the place.
black and kidney jauns, poblano pepper, ho' sauce, sweet onion,
diced tomatoes, all the appropriate spices,
and a lot of simmering,
so that the butt-blasting barbarian brutality would really start doing it's thing.
mmmhmmm.
friends,
it's sandwich week,
and that means hurting ourselves.
because when it's broken, it's fixed,
and when it's overdone, we know we're on the right track.
y'know?
yeah.
we are clearly exactly where we're supposed to be.
***********
breakfast?
yeah.
breakfast!
what's on the plate today?
goddammit.
sandwiches.
are you even paying any attention?
teleport:

toasted whole wheat everything bagels,
because if they aren't whole wheat,
they're not everything, now, are they?
roasted garlic hummus,
sprouts, shredded carrots, and some ensalata mixte.
we forgot the ho' sauce,
but i think the hundred cloves of garlic in the chick pea paste
more than remedied any lack of self-harm we mishandled during
the construction of our farewell breakfast.
hmm?
yeah.
the cucch heads south again,
just in time to miss out on more sandwiches, and more big fun,
and go to work instead on his berfday tomorrow.
awww, man!
hard styles and heavy hearts ensue each and every time
when my ace hetero-life-partner leaves.
and he always leaves.
womp womp.
that's the way it works, anyway.
without the bitter,
the sweet is not as sweet.
we'll always have the sandwiches, though.
and that's well worth it;
never quiet, never soft.....