A Poker Night Dinner? Impossible . . .

It’s poker night and I promised lasagna to the guys.

But then the week went by and the more I thought about it, the less sense it made so . . . it ain’t happening. I don’t feel like wasting my recipe on the kind of company that thinks Beef Wellington played for the New York Giants. And besides, they’re bringing beer- which goes about as well with lasagna as peanut brittle.

So I’ve decided there will be no signature recipe for the guys tonight. Which is just as well since I should be saving my handcrafted meals for family and females. The guys would be content sitting in the Burger King parking lot at two in the morning with a dashboard full of artery bombs that would make a defibrillator run for cover. I know this for a fact because they left me a voicemail which I retrieved this morning.

“Dude, we closed down the “Ville and now we’re stopping off at BK. You should have come out with us man!  Matt got that girl’s number and he wants us to go out with them next weekend on a triple date! Where are you?  Call back . . .”

I know exactly where I was. Sleeping.  But I have no blessed idea who the lucky girl is. Still, it’s heartening to know the boys have kept me in the loop despite the fact I rarely accompany on these frat house ventures.

It amazes me that guys ever get laid- what with sperm banks, Starbucks and the L Word. Then again, maybe men are becoming extinct and we don’t even know it. That would figure.

I’m not sure what a ‘triple date’ would look like but I’m not having any part of it. Sounds like something Charlie Sheen does, and that’s too crazy a neighborhood for my taste. Guys do this, they stack. We do it with burgers, dirty laundry and now, evidently, we’re doing it with dating.

Well, I won’t. Hell, double dating is problematic enough, why add a third wheel? Or is it a sixth one? See what I mean?

With a cold oven on the menu, I debated what to serve for a good thirty seconds. I thought about grabbing a dozen Big Macs or maybe a hundred wings and then it hit me. What is the universal response to Culinary FAIL? Well, pizza of course!

And it goes with beer. How mature is that?

Drink of the early evening- Absolut martini straight up with blue cheese stuffed olives. A little sophistication before all hell breaks loose.


3 thoughts on “A Poker Night Dinner? Impossible . . .

  1. Hey lady,

    I realize you were not aware that I’ve been working an alias on this blog and I wasn’t planning on divulging my name until season six, like Kramer did.

    Thanks . . . thanks a lot!

  2. ” . . . kind of company that thinks Beef Wellington played for the New York Giants.” This really got me going this morning and didn’t want to comment after having read Tara’s comments. She really burst my bubble! Listen–you’ll always be Cayman Thorn to me, so don’t tell us your real name.

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