Oh yeah. Ribs!
MCat and I used to indulge in the Fogelsville Hotel ribs : at least once a month.
Never mind the drinks.
Then one night, a dish fell off the wall.
It was the anniversary of the death of MCat’s Brother.
Hey Bro! How the heck are you? And do you miss the Cat?
She misses you.
If only we could go back and hang out one more time at the track.
In the meantime, Mom sends her love and underwear.
And as we indulged on the ribs in Fogelsville, MCat never failed to call Mom, to let her know she and Harry G were ok.
The Hotel stopped serving ribs.
The C Butt and MCat moved on to the Long Room, in NYC.
Oh yeah! Great ribs.
Those ribs are worth a trip to NYC.
Now, the Chx Butt has found a surrogate rib joint.
Every 3rd Wednesday or so, the ribs smoke in New Smithville, Pa.
Really great ribs!
The Chx B indulged tonight.
MC’s brother suddenly appeared:
“Hey CB, I don’t know you, I have never met you, but my sister needs underwear. Ever since Mom passed, no one buys her undies.”
The CB, who was slightly inebriated, looked at MC’s brother with glazed eyes, and said: “No one buys me any, either.”
And so it is.
The world turns.
Some of us have undies.
But if you can find a rib joint that rocks, who the hell cares?
I would rather eat great ribs without undies, than wear undies without ribs.