October 12, 2007

The Food Critic Gets Personal

"What kind of vegetable prostrates itself all over a salad like that? Huh!? What kind?! You call yourself a cucumber; I call you a lousy whore."

"Yeah? I knew a Crème Brûlée like you once... you smell a good game, but deep down inside, you know you're just a mutherfuckin' Crème Brûlée, and that's all you'll ever be!"

"Hey, salmon mousse? Fuck you. That's right - you heard me."

"One day, raspberry scone. One day, I'll find you, and then we'll see who's crying."

"So, we're just supposed to bow or some shit because your 'Cornish'? Really? I thought you were Irish, 'cuz you look like a piece-o-shit little chicken to me."

"I don't care if you're good for me or not; if you make my piss smell funny again, I will beat your sorry green assparagus."

"Well, well, well. We meet again, ginger carrot soup. To the death!"

"Just leave, couscous, alright? Get out! Now!! I'm sick of your fucking lies!"


Circe said...

Rice? You look like a bunch of filthy maggots to me.

ShOI said...

You say potato, I say go to hell.

Unknown said...

No, no, no, that's not maggots. It's Rice ala Rachel.

And what the fuck!?! You ask me for a new picture and you don't comment on it?

ShOI said...

BTW, I can't hear any reference to Cornish hens without thinking of my friend Devil Jackson. In college he lived on the same floor as this guy whose hobby was arranging his genitals into various familiar shapes. One day Devil answered a knock at his door, only to find his naked dormmate asking "Does this look like a Cornish hen?"
This isn't the reason I became vegetarian, but it helps.