I look to the package of murrel steak in my freezer
I often hear of your trips to the furrier
And some purple-speaking gal attracts snakes bc they see warrior
In your faint mustache of some sort.
And I reckon myself rowdy when my mother tells me
“‘It’s fish sinigang.”’ You said the same about Xchoco-lat-e. Mother.
But I think of that Superbowl from 13 years ago. We had knick-knacks and finger foods.
The ultra-vainglorious fried chicken livers, rings, sausage balls, and others what else – chips. Proteineated.
And I think of those damn teriyaki ribs.
That look like tilapia skin.
My fucking mouth salivates every time I think of those.
And you guy’s thought the East-side canned version was weird. [The Original Version, even in Asia._]
I declare the West had been won on the side of the rattles of bronze-born-boom.
The asian leave request dismal and wait for the next round of tuna belly. Pork, and monkfish liver.
Sinigang sisig and haggis. These guys know good eats. I love a fucking starry pie with minced on top.
Teriyaki ribs. I suppose it is a rib of some sort in Teriyaki Sauce. You were correct for these dear. They are pretty dang tasty.
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