Great Sunday Funday

There has not been a single Sunday in the past few years where I have gotten up and said "Ok Sunday I am ready for you." It is more likely that I was sitting on the couch in the living room making groans and grunts because my body was sore from all of the toilet hugging I took part in just a couple hours earlier.

So...In my family I never really remember having these extravagant Sunday feasts that you often see in movies and media. They portray these events as some sort of great gathering, some kind of shin dig where fucking knights on horses come to the table and blow into their bugle horn with white heavenly light shining down on the baked ham and side items, angels singing falsetto hook lines from your favorite motown classic, alcoholic beverages being guzzled down, your grandpap farting at the table, the dog shitting in the house, your drunk Uncle eating all of the mixed nuts and other coffee table treats, holy jesus I could go on forever. In my family I just remember having simple meals and talking about how shitty my grades were, unless of course I was at my Grandparents house for some sort of holiday, then it was exactly like everything I described above...Knights and all...Just kidding.

Fortunately I live in a house with three people who are all in or have graduated culinary school. That makes me the odd man out. The great thing about this situation is the fact that we all LOVE food. There isn't a moment that passes where we are not pondering what to make for dinner. If we should or should not throw a dinner party? Should we have a theme? What kind of alcohol should we get? Can we put a stripper in a giant cake? All things are considered. But the one thing that is truly amazing is the unity involved. It feels like a family. Something I did not really get to expierence with my family growing up. It was all hustle and bustle. 

My favorite quote growing up was "You can't play outside until you clean off your plate." The meaning of "cleaning a plate" to my Grandma Libby, meant to lick the fucker dry. Heaping piles of fried southern proteins with butter soaked vegetables and a massive lake of dark pan gravy covering my starch. This was no easy task. I think back to those days and wonder...The reason I eat so fucking fast is because I was always looking forward to the events after dinner instead of focusing on the food in front of me. Now I am 24 and things have changed. I still eat fast but i have developed this secret way of disecting a meal, finding every ingredient used in the construction of whatever is in front of me. 

So to sum up my rant on how my sunday's are spent, I would like for everyone to know that if you have the oppurtunity to feast on Sunday with your family or friends you should take advantage of it and deffinently get a giant cake with a busty blonde or brunette crammed inside of it ready to burst out like a zit you've been squeezing for days...Gross