Sunday, April 16, 2006


Whataway to break a fast!

There she is. Long time no see, ol' gal. Long time no see.

Drive by here at least once a day. But lately, I've been givin' you the cold shoulder ... It wasn't you, darlin' -- it was me. I had to sort some things out. Lookin' good, you.

Do what? Will I come in? Sure, if you'll have me back ... What? No need to explain? You're too sweet. But it *was* between me and the Lord. ...

It was a glorious Easter Sunday reunion!

After church, I came home and got Dr. ER, who planned to go with me but was not up to snuff early, and we made a beeline to the friendly neighborhood burger joint: Whataburger. Great burger place. Texas-based. You can't get 'em everywhere. Just in the South, and not everywhere here. Most excellent place to break 40 days and 40 nights without beef or pork.

We order -- double burger with cheese and bacon, please -- and wait. You have to wait at Whataburger. They only start cookin' after you order. This is a burger joint. But it's not fast food. Antici-pa-a-shun ...

I do what I can to prepare.

GLORY! Glory breaks open on a 5-inch bun!

This is *almost* burger porn!







Until all that remains is this lone survivor, a ketchup "tub" that got lost in the carnage!

Dr. ER is She Who Is My Wife. Whataburger was my helpmeat today (groan!) :-)


Until next time .... Hey, Dr. ER! Whaddaya wanna do for supper?!?


Talk about your Redneck Easter Dinner ... :)
Too funny! I'm glad you documented your feast so well!

I've turned down no less than four dinner invitations (and if you know how Methodists cook, you know what a sacrifice THAT was!). Instead, all I wanted today was my long-awaited post-Easter service nap. Ahhhh yes, the temptation of cool sheets teamed with the desire to go horizontal, coupled with the lack of any interference. Heaven. On. A. Pillow!

Now that I've seen YOUR Whataburger, I may have to take a Sunday drive over to the one closest to me, less than a mile away.

It seems a little strange that there is no food in my own kitchen at the moment, but there was this missing four hours, you see...
You enjoyed that so much, I'm almost ashamed of looking at the pictures...

I gave up smoking, but I'm not going back.
Sweetie, if you gave up cigs that long, you can quit 'em for good! Good for you.

I still smoke stogies a couple of times a week, and I can't go a day without at least one nicotine gum -- but come July 6, I'll be three years without a dip of Copenhagen, after spittin' the stuff for 28 years.

I knew I'd "crossed over" about a year ago when I realized that what I wanted -- and I do still want it, daily -- was *not* my next dip, but my last one.

The last dip I had lives in my memory as something truly wondrous. The next one would blow the top of my head off -- make me nauseous, burn my mouth like battery acid and make my teeth hurt.

Not having had a spit cup "incident" in the house for so long is just a bonus.

Man. Those pics made me feel dirrrty...
Along with my usual job buildin' sets for the pretty dancers to dance on, I also have been servin' breakfast at a local restaurant for the last several years. Today was nuts, to put it lightly.
We all kept on callin' it 'zombie day', as is our wont as secular humanist smartasses, but nonetheless there was that great feeling of community; everyone coming together to, if nothing else, celebrate the fact that we have each other. It's a good day, this thing.
The end of Passover, for my Jewish Redneck relatives, coincides with my stepfather's father's eightieth birthday. In his best Central Oregon humility, he 'didn't want any big deal' to be made.
Me? I ate a burger with bacon and smoked mozzarella at the end of my shift. Deeelish.
"It's a good day, this thing."


There's a reason we Christian humanist smartasses seem to get along with y'all secular human smartasses:

We both emphasize the humanity -- oh! the humanity! -- of it all. And the smartass part.

Peas, dude. :-)
Happy Easter to ya', ER! Glad to see you enjoyed it! :)
In 1988, when my wife was pregnant with my 5th and last child, we took a driving vacation to South Padre Island.

Whataburger was one of the places in Texas we learned to love instantly.

I wanted to go there when I saw the sign. It looked like the Wichita Wings (professional indoor soccer team) logo.

Our older son, who was 4, brought his Whataburger onto the beach with him. That was a mistake. Well, a mistake if you don't want to be attacked by a flock of seagulls, and I'm not talking about the band.
During my own time in Texas, I came to refer to the establishment as Whatamistake, because it seems I'd always end up there at closing time with a hankering for several greasy things that would not agree with me over the next four hours before I had to go to work.
No accountin for a man's taste or passions.
Why do they call something that takes so long and seems so slow a "fast"?
I know why they call the first meal of the day a break-fast, but why don't we have an begin-fast meal.
Oh we have a begin-fast meal. It's on Shrove Tuesday (Fat Tuesday), the day before Ash Wednesday. Lots and lots of churches have pancake suppers, not to mention Mardi Gras celebrations. One last fattening-up before the Lenten fast.
That's the tradition from which the insanity of modern Mardia Gras grew, isn't it?
Speaking of breaking a fast after Easter. Did the dude in Purcell plan on eating his little 10 year old victim or is that just on-line bullshit?
Mardi Gras = French for "Fat Tuesday". Yes, it's related to the Shrove Tuesday tradition of emptying the house of foods that won't be used during Lent.

Apparently the Purcell guy did plan to consume Jamie Rose Bolin. A magnitude of sick which is difficult to imagine.
We were just talking about Whataburger yesterday! Sadly, we don't have these in NC. Sniffle. I could almost taste one of those dee-lish burgers though, thanks to your awesome post! Mmmmm! Made me long for scratch-n-sniff internets. =D
No Whataburgers in NC! ... nd Dr. ER on occasion mumbles about us movin' there ...
We've got a handful of Whataburgers scattered along the I-10 corridor here in the Florida panhandle. None here at home - gotta go about 60 miles east or west to get to one. Not a bad place, but Mrs. Rem doesn't care for it so I seldom partake.
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