Of all the things that make a man's life worth living, glory and fried food have to be two of the top five. So what better way to ring in the new year than inviting one's friends over, setting up a 30 quart deep fryer, and frying the shit out of some outrageously good food? 
On the menu for the night: Deep-fried turkey. Deep-fried jalapeno poppers with bacon and cheese. Deep-fried tempura vegetables. And for dessert, deep-fried twinkies. Not to mention PH's ooey, gooey, melt-in-your-mouth, orgasm-inducing chocolate chip cookies which, while not deep fried, were spectacular nonetheless.
Also, note the roaring hippopotamus standing guart atop the candle, watching over the bountiful feast. Bad ass.
Our good friend Mr. Utah made the long, dark voyage from the barren wastelands of the BRF to join us, and his presence was extraordinary as always. First, he devised a phenomenal name for the new firm, "Ismael, Vice, Goliath & Slagathor" (edited to protect our respective last shreds of
anonymity). Second, he whipped out quite possibly the greatest line of the night, and I quote: "I guarantee that in the modern age, Skeletor would get tons of poon." Touchee.
anonymity). Second, he whipped out quite possibly the greatest line of the night, and I quote: "I guarantee that in the modern age, Skeletor would get tons of poon." Touchee.Pictured to the right is Mr. Utah being heinously violated by Mr. Ismael.
Finally, Mr. Ismael now requests that he be henceforth referred to as "The Frymaster."
Hope everyone else's New Years were as sweet as this one.
1 comment:
Well, I thought that the two-day hangover was worth not remembering anything from that night.
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