about REAL food

Today I committed a pho paw, a fow pa, and a fo paa.  So many ways to misspell it phonetically.

I was in line at Joe's REAL bbq.  You know, the place that serves REEEAAALLL bbq, rather than the made in China bbq that uses pork-food and bbq sauce substitute.

But I digest.

In line, next to the REAL bbq cashier, were desserts that looked REAL fake.  Plastic-fake.

So I asked her if they were real.  Except I didn't ask her if they were real.  Maybe I thought to ask her if they were real?  Except I didn't even think to ask her.  I just stuck my finger down through the top of the lemon cake.

I'm super mature - said no one ever.

The REAL cashier looked at the newly formed sinkhole, then at me, then back at the sinkhole.

I offered to purchase the cake.  I did...'nt.

We locked eyes for 3.256 seconds.  Then she smiled and said "don't worry about it.  it happens all the time."

She was REAL understanding.


(this photo is irrelevant except that every time I come across it, I want to pull Clint by the shorthairs and quietly whisper in his ear that I will raise fifty shades of hades if he ever again leaves the nutcase in the blue shirt by himself on the edge of a precipice)