Anytime a jagoff speeds past me on the road, I hear my Oldman’s voice.
“I’m not a rat and this isn’t a race.”
Or the other phrase was…
“Look at this CS! He’s in a hurry to his horrible life!”
My Dad was a Cadillac man, specifically the Fleetwood Brougham. He was never in a hurry…. Not because he drove a boat around Chicagoland, but because he consistently left early. Don Shepley was always six minutes early for any engagement on the calendar.
I like today’s quote.
Life is full of continuous fifty yard sprints. If given the choice to pick sprints or laps. Always pick sprints.
Today is Hot Sauce Day. Like most of us, my first hot sauce was Tabasco. I put that shit on everything and then my love affair for heat switched to Louisiana Hot Sauce.
Then came the hot sauce craze in the ‘90’s when everyone and their mother made hot sauce. We had a restaurant just outside of the Loop called Heaven on Seven. It was located on the seventh floor of the Garland Building. They had a wall of hot sauce…. Hundreds of them…. and I tried a large portion of them.
But I never strayed far from my Louisiana hot sauce. I don’t put that shit on as much as I did during my younger years. Let’s not get into that this morning.
Oh Baby…. I could really go for the corn beef hash with eggs over easy, smothered in Louisiana hot sauce. The best in the city is at Ceres Cafe in the lobby of the Chicago Board of Trade.
At the beginning of today’s blog I mentioned someone with the initials “CS.” That would be someone who puts a penis in their mouth. It was one thing to be a jagoff, but if the Oldman pulled out the nukes, it would be that one.
….and when he used that one, it sounded poetic…. Imagine Orson Wells.
It’s Monday, it’s the last full week of January and you’re thinking about hot sauce on your egg mac muffin!
Take it easy with the pour. Today’s a sprint and you don’t want to be tight cheeking it to the crapper!
