Expert Food Blogging Tips

Pro-tip: While at your local hip cafe be sure to bring your laptop, dope sunglasses, blasé attitude and iphone to Instagram your hip coffee and pastry.

Why you ask? Because then the adorable owner will enlighten you on all his glorious confections in the pastry case. He uses only European butter in the hand made Mexican conchas mixed with Mexican vanilla and then allows the dough to rest for 24 hours instead of the pedestrian 8. You will also be given copious amounts of free samples that the other civilian customers could only dream of. Our friendly neighborhood pastry chef goes out of his way to give you a unique experience because he believes that you are a food blogger due to the fact that you are actually blogging and taking pics of your food.

What this entrepreneur doesn't know is that you are, in fact, NOT a food blogger. You blog about things like, "Can I fill my Culligan water cooler with vodka?", "Girl Scout cookies that are past their prime," "Am I too old for ripped jeans and crop tops" and "Who wants to pay for my master's degree in linguistics so that I can work for S.H.I.E.L.D".

It's ok, I will take the free Mexican concha and coffee and I will even pimp out your business right here, on this blog that no one reads!

Thanks again, La Panaderia in San Antonio, you are the best panaderia this side of the Rio Grande.

Dragnet:The Buffet Files

 "Ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent."  

I wish this story wasn't true but sadly it is. The most distressing part of this story being that I have been inside and proceeded to consume "food" products from the Golden Corral. If it makes you feel any better I did not pay for this "nourishment" and no, I didn't steal it either. My spouse and I were at the scene of the crime for a free military appreciation dinner. The "restaurant" was packed to the chocolate fountains with all kinds of miscreants, people on rascals, toddlers the size of small adults and stretch pants...oh the stretch pants. The health code violations abounded and the ambrosia salad runneth over...quite literally actually, it ran into the industrial size tub of ranch dressing. 

At approximately 8:55 pm (Eastern Standard Time), I became separated from my husband somewhere between the salad bar and the highly questionable "seafood" area. I was dressed casually, as one normally does when preparing to eat one's own body weight in hush puppies, soft serve ice cream and chicken tetrazzini. I was preparing to fill my soup bowl with my third helping of chicken pot pie soup (a truly unholy matrimony of foods, if ever there was one!) when a young man, no more than 17 years of age taps me on the shoulder. The adolescent stood no more than 6" 1' tall and the gauntness of his face, mixed with the rest of his slender frame and Insane Clown Posse (ICP) t-shirt caused me to question my own reality. How does one ingest a whole tray full of fried chicken and yet still appear to be so emaciated?  Surely, the demonry of ICP would hold these answers and more. Pulling me out of my own diabetically induced philosophical melt down the youth proceeded to ask me, "Do you come here often? Are you here with any one?" I remember thinking to myself, "Do I come here often? No, who goes to Golden Corral often? And, if I did, why would I admit to such a thing?" I immediately shooed the young man away with a ladle full of cream of broccoli soup and quickly sought out my non-teenaged husband. Later, in our "dinning" experience, the exact same teenager managed to get himself into a full on fist fight with another youth by the endless pizza bar. Police officers were called to the scene to apprehend both parties. 

I was left wondering. Did I miss out on the love of my life? Will the officer, in charge, accept this written testimony of love lost, weight gained, dignity cast away in a sea of jello salad and shame found in no less than three (Incredible Hulk sized)  servings of macaroni casserole. 

It's Pronounced, " 'Merica "

Things I miss from America:
Driving everywhere
Chick-Fil-A
Live music
HBO
Barbeque
Guns
Theme Parks and water parks
Movies
Bowling
NPR


Things I don't miss from America:
Country music
Chipotle
Republicans
Mega-churches
Guns (Ask me why guns are on both lists)
Fox News
Reality TV
Super sized things
Salt water taffy
Pick-up trucks and (more specifically) pick-up truck drivers

America, like anywhere and anyone, has it's good side and it's bad. She will ask you to take photos of her only after she has sucked in her gut and within that gut is Honey Boo Boo. America wants you to know about all of it's freedoms and proud history but not about reality TV and churches such as Hobby Lobby or is it a business...wait it might be a person too?

 America is confusing, at times,  and she keeps you guessing like a theme park based around the history of the Bible. I can honestly say, that through all of my travels, America is the weirdest place I have ever been/lived. That is what makes the United States so great! It's weird and you don't have to like it or apologize. Just wait. America is always cookin' something up. If you are tired of Republicans they will flip flop with the Democrats, eventually. If you can't stand country music just wait for the country/rock backlash where true musicians rise up and fight the tyranny of, "She Thinks my Tractor's Sexy".

 America is liquid just like the great Mississippi River or the Guadalupe; ever flowing and ever changing. America is more than just a land mass. It's ideals. It's Taco Bell. It's the constitution. It's Forever 21 and Elizabeth Warren. It's ridiculous and sincere. It has it's faults, mainly the San Andreas but also Sunny D (What is that stuff?!). Just like family members, we complain about them when their there but we miss them when they are gone. I do miss you America, the good and the bad. Wait, I take that back I just don't miss Honey Boo Boo...at all. 'Merica!

Dear Texas,

All my life I have been trying to escape cowboy boots, country music, trucks and Mexican food. Now, I am in a place that is devoid of all these things but also devoid of all the things that make Texas great. These things include but are not limited to: a freeway system that was NOT created by a meth addicted monkey; a ghetto that includes interesting ethnic graffiti NOT prostitution on a Tuesday at 2pm; a hip music/dance club on every corner NOT a place called the Thirsty Camel; Wal-Mart's that stay open past midnight; an air force base NOT a naval base full of seadogs; book stores; music stores; (apparently no one here can read or play)

Sorry Virginia, I hate to rag on you this much and maybe you're not really that bad? I'm being unfair comparing you to Texas. Doing that is like comparing a Klondike bar to crème brulee made in France. I still love Klondike bars; there's just no comparison the only thing that is binding these two confectionaries is the fact that they are both desserts. The only thing that is binding Texas to Virginia is the fact that they are both states...oh wait...Virginia is a commonwealth not even a state! Un-American, if you ask me.