Arty Shit

On the road-- the hub was hungry so we had to stop. Where else do you go but DQ? I find the place only fit for the grungiest of hangovers, but whatever-- I wasn't eating...

I was stricken from the moment I went in by the decor-- this was over the top even for Dairy Queen. Maybe I don't get out enough but I've never seen this kind of communal flower fountain dining anywhere else.

I was, am-- in awe!








Check out the chick-- I don't think she can believe it either.

On to food-- belch!







Is this stuff ok? I mean really... I'm not going to lie, I had a bite-- it was good. What kind of low calibre taste buds I have are more than apparent now-- I'm, I'm -- hell-- I'm vato (with manners).

What kind of facilities are in a fine dining establishment like this you ask---->

Here you go-- here's the proper. Yes proper.








So from this I go to the fine, the holy, the temple of foods, whole foods. It's almost too dirty to have in the same post, like going from a sleazy club to a restaurant with a sommelier. It doesn't jive-- but hey, I won't complain.







Gelato- enough said.







Avocado gelato-- illegal?







No, stop! I beg you!







And! The beer cooler. The shame of not taking it all was so great, I'm hardly forming words still.








And if all else fails -- you get the chicken killer-- because you are a chicken, you are not worthy and you must be slaughtered in THIS way!