smooshed frog on the ground
baked crunchy and black, made me
drop the nail polish
Well we are trying to sell our house. One smartass realtor, after bringing a client through the house, recommended we put some "color" in the front yard. Now there is OPI "Its My Party Purple" on the driveway. There's your color, bitches!
There are no pictures for this post. But there is a review of a fun evening that we had last night. We attended the Wine Festival at Bon Vie. It was $30 a person, included 5 tastings (good sized pours by the way) and a smattering of passed horse ovaries. I do not wish to spell or look up the spelling of that word that begins: hors. There was a cheese tray with brie, bleu cheese, white american ( I remarked it tasted like a Kraft Single), and another with a red vein running through it. There was smoked salmon on a slice of cucumber, which I have never liked cucumbers and after attemting a bite, I can safely say I still do not. The slice of bread with fresh mozz on a tomato was much more my style. These little pizzas that tasted like quiche, which prompted TJ to ask, "Do you want a little quiche?" and then giggle.
Next was something that I would not recommend to be passed without a fork or plate. A mussel, still attached to the shell, with a crab breading baked on top. It did not slide into your mouth. You can't bite it off the shell, because, well, who would want to? You have to pull it off, and even then, it doesn't come in one piece. You get this circular rubbery piece, that I can only equate to a flat bicycle tire. And then you are supposed to put it in your mouth. But really, do you WANT to put something that looks like THIS in your mouth?
Sadly, I don't want to mention this next part. There were little legs of lamb. They looked delightful. We saw them come out once, and Mary didn't bring it over to us. And then they never appeared again. TJ was distraught about the lamb. Didn't stop pining over the lamb. Even told the waitress we named Mary that he would love it the next time they came out. Instead, she brought us the last chocolate mousse on her tray. Mousse and Lamb...not even close. Perhaps there should be a haiku for this too:
Mary had a tray of lamb
You went right past us
You are now a lambless Ho.
Even the small creme brulees that were passed next couldn't silence TJ. They couldn't silence his inner need for the lamb. Silence the Lamb.