"He knew the score and he conquered. The last words of Caesar? No. I challenge you to the next certain. Couldn't copulate neither next to broken glass or studded noon somewise. But certain somewhere at 4 and still looking for crusted slices and he knew the score, impressed his friends, cut the cake eight ways and won the ugly wallpaper. Love you forever for that.."
This is the review I had started last night, just after diving right into the delectable delights of the Vanoosh. Incoherent? Possibly, but it gives us an interesting insight into what happens when a white male is star-spuckered on Country Choice, fed a late-night pizza, and then ram-jammed in front of a computer screen at four in the morning. I digress, let's get down to the real gritty-nitty. The tomatoish base reminded me of my womb-life flashbacks, whilst the jalapenos gave me sensations of tingling excitement I haven't felt since I started sleeping in the kennel after my divorce. Cheese? Oh yes, and boy could it, just could it be organique? Posiblemente.
They lose points for not providing me with the pint of rose-water mayonnaise I come to expect from snackeries worth their salt, but then times have changed and maybe I'm just a dinosaur with an over-aired quiff. The pot of standard mayo was sufficient for a good porking, to say the least.
As my teeth, tongue, and stomach did the work for me, I just sat back in my smoking jacket staring at the stars and thinking about how beautiful life was once.
Did I mention that they deliver late? No, but I implied it. read more