Sunday, March 7, 2010

Grease Bombs

My, my, the things one stumbles upon in otherwise perfectly respectable venues, in this case the Houston Chronicle. The paper this week was gearing up for the mad, gay extravaganza of the Houston Rodeo (when I was just a wee little thing, the rodeo was still referred to as the "Fatstock Show" and let me tell you, a lifetime exposure to that term has not dimmed its inherent weirdness. Doesn't "fatstock" sound like some pervy interest in overweight dragqueens wearing fussy, but cheap lingerie?

A feature focused on food at the rodeo and highlighted a number of artery clogging specials, including
Deep Fried Mini Cheeseburgers.

I would like to maintain some facade of food hauteur and claim I am disgusted, but truth be told, they sound pretty darn alluring. Certainly more so than Fatstock Porn, featuring Chi Chi Larue in a bustier.


  1. Don't be alone in your love of native foods. Back home there is a town named Bucyrus that annually hosts the Bucyrus Bratwurst Festival. Imagine a town of 20,000 swells to 100,000 strong and man woman and child alike comes together on theier hand and knee to praise a sausage. And we all have our favorite makers, too.

  2. Hm... coated in? Miss J is hazardign a guess: corn meal batter? Oh, yes. There is a certain appeal.

  3. Oh Texas, where everything is friedier!

    I have a recipe somewhere for Texan deep fried coke cola.

  4. I should probably try one of these.


In Which We're Calling It In

In the middle of an unnecessarily annoying and complicated day last week, my phone decided to commit suicide. I was Ubering along playing Ya...