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6 comments:
Like some sort of homing device, this post commands me to comment. I am a responding automoton.
Oops! Sorry, dude. I hit the "blog this" button at your place. I thought it would add you to my blog roll on the side, or maybe generate some kind of obscene image, as in "blog THIS!"
I can't get that "last meal" image out of my head. I keep thinking I wouldn't want a mayonaise and chicken sandwich sitting in my stomach for the medical students to see. Remember biology class in middle school? How we had to cut open a frog and see what he ate that day, and it would be a bug or something disgusting?
So, here's what my last meal would be should I ever find myself on the last day of Death Row: a fruit shake. with chocolate. or maybe a mocha frappaccino. with whipped cream. Both. I'd have both, and I'd take my time. and I'd have a passage from a Dave Barry book be read after I'm dead.
Geez. I'm feeling kind of sorry for myself. -Brenda
The mayo really throws me. I keep thinking that I would call it aioli to feel better about it.
What is "aioli?"
Mayonnaise spoiling inside a decaying body. Yup. Anything would be better than that.
I'm no Bobby Flay but: as far as it matters, aioli is a fancy word for a garlic mayo.
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