Monday, December 13, 2010

fried chicken review

There is no reward without great risk, so quotith Euclid or some other ancient Greek pederast. The same aphorism may be applied to my dining habits. Every time I step inside the bulletproof glass for a late night meal, my heart beat quickens--not only because I am surrounded by what seems to be G-Unit, but also because I will eat a meal so loaded with trans fat that my subsequent steps will be inside the cardiac unit at the nearest medical centre.
The food quality works much like sex appeal at a party. When dining at Crown's Fried, one must adapt the same "Beer Goggles" mentality. Whereas Crown Fried might taste acceptable at noon, it will taste much better at 3 am after drinking from the sweet teat of the PBR Keg.
The menu consists of mostly the aformentioned fried chicken. It is usually greasy and not hot, but again, perfunctory details. Who needs taste when you can breathe in the refreshingly pungent smell of urine cleverly shrouded in 99 cent store cleaning product?



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