I know what everyone’s been waiting for ever since chimpsahoy got back up and running…that’s right, a detailed examination of something someone ate. Well, who am I to argue with what the public wants?
For today’s lunch, I dined on petite Chef Boyardee raviolis, which I chased with several large gulps of Tropicana Pure Premium orange juice. Not exactly the pinnacle of culinary achievement, but it certainly satiates that gnawing, churning beast within me known as the “Ravenous Stomach Puppy.”
So anyway, I heated up the ravioli (covered, of course, with a paper towel so that, after cooking, the microwave doesn’t look like I cooked a hamster in it). Somehow Brad manages to eat that mass-produced quasi-Italian cuisine in its cold, straight out of the can state. I can’t do it…it’s way too much like eating eyeballs. Trust me, I know…
When I’m eating the ravioli, I like to pretend that it’s something really exotic and sophisticated, like escargot. The fleeting thought that I’m not a lowly person, putting away the Chef’s rancid meat-nodules somehow makes the whole experience slightly more pleasant. Quick post-ravioli shots of acidic orange juice also help the experience by immediately cleansing the palette and washing away any remnant of the nasty meat sauce (whose only real purpose is to lube up the esophagus and pave the way for the pasta nuggets).
I do have to be careful with the orange juice, however. When I got back from Wisconsin, I went on this OJ binge…I downed four jugs of juice and it resulted in me having a raw and swollen uvula for the next three days. I tell ya, it felt as if I had swallowed battery acid and then thrown it back up by using a filing-iron to induce vomiting. It was that bad. Anyway, now I’m leery of Florida’s beverage ambrosia; however, I can’t stay away long because it tastes sooo good.
Well, that’s my lunch. Hope it was as enjoyable for you as it was for me.