Better Than Drugs
Whenever I take the time to grill, something magical happens. I'm not sure if it takes place during the cooking...the preperation...I don't know at what point some supernatural mixture of garlic and olive oil (or maybe onion?) combine to release the Almighty. I don't pretend to understand. All I do is grill like I know how to grill...but when the time comes to sit down and eat my creation, I experience a feeling that can only be described as Absolute Internal Satisfaction...and to say that this level of pleasure was formed by my hands alone would be foolish.
During the first few bites of the meal (be it a greasy cheeseburger or a delectable chicken breast), my perception will shift, as if the lights around me just got brighter, or a veil was being lifted off of my head. My vision seems wider and deeper. Time grinds to a halt as the food in front of me disappears. My pleasure seems timeless and limitless. As if the entire universe, the time that existed before the meal and the time that will come after it, was created just for me to experience the juicy wonder of this chicken breast and these perfectly roasted side items.
As one might expect, I overeat shamelessly during these meals. Unwilling to stop myself from experiencing wave after wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
If God could grill the perfect chicken sandwich, custom-made just for me, it would be this.
And so it was.
Fresh corn-on-the-cob, red peppers, and tomatoes from my garden...marinated with garlic, dressing, some spices...a large store-bought onion. Chicken breasts marinated in a similar mixture, grilled and smothered in melted pepper jack cheese. A perfectly toasted sesame seed bun.
Fuck yeah.
This must be how Buddha's belly feels all the time.
Whenever I take the time to grill, something magical happens. I'm not sure if it takes place during the cooking...the preperation...I don't know at what point some supernatural mixture of garlic and olive oil (or maybe onion?) combine to release the Almighty. I don't pretend to understand. All I do is grill like I know how to grill...but when the time comes to sit down and eat my creation, I experience a feeling that can only be described as Absolute Internal Satisfaction...and to say that this level of pleasure was formed by my hands alone would be foolish.
During the first few bites of the meal (be it a greasy cheeseburger or a delectable chicken breast), my perception will shift, as if the lights around me just got brighter, or a veil was being lifted off of my head. My vision seems wider and deeper. Time grinds to a halt as the food in front of me disappears. My pleasure seems timeless and limitless. As if the entire universe, the time that existed before the meal and the time that will come after it, was created just for me to experience the juicy wonder of this chicken breast and these perfectly roasted side items.
As one might expect, I overeat shamelessly during these meals. Unwilling to stop myself from experiencing wave after wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
If God could grill the perfect chicken sandwich, custom-made just for me, it would be this.
And so it was.
Fresh corn-on-the-cob, red peppers, and tomatoes from my garden...marinated with garlic, dressing, some spices...a large store-bought onion. Chicken breasts marinated in a similar mixture, grilled and smothered in melted pepper jack cheese. A perfectly toasted sesame seed bun.
Fuck yeah.
This must be how Buddha's belly feels all the time.
posted by The Youngest at 12:11 PM
1 Comments:
I must agree with you, very good factors you have made for your case.
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