Gettin’ Da Panties Wet
Robert Downey, Jr. is HOT; HOT like a habanero chili pepper soaked in Tabasco sauce, wearing a wool sweater in the flaming recesses of Hell.
I was tempted to limit my post to that one sentence, but I thought it would be a waste. I mean, with so many words in the English language, surely I could expound on my feelings for this man (no offense Jan, but you know how it is).
Last Saturday Jan and I made plans to go to dinner, then see Iron Man afterwards. Needless to say I was 
pretty pumped about the whole evening. We wound up going to Marie Callendars where I gorged myself on their sinfully delicious Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo. My God that dish is good. If you want to know what it feels like to have your taste buds reach a level of euphoria known only to the few strong enough to survive such pleasure, then I suggest you order this entree next time you make it into one of these fine establishments (Best. Sentence. Ever). The sauce was full of flavor and so rich and creamy, the chicken was delicious and tender, the pasta cooked to perfection. Yeah, it was definitely some good shit. I could practically feel my arteries closing up as I shoveled bite after bite into my greasy face. But fuck it. My mom always said I would die with a full stomach, and dammit she’s right. It’s no secret I love a good meal.
