Juicy Lucy with an "i"

I finally had a Juicy Lucy.

What you ask?

A Juicy Lucy.

Sounds explict, you say.

I am not embarrassed to admit it because it is indeed not an awkward new sexual trend that no-one really knows how to do and no-one enjoys (you know what I am talking about, rip-finger throat pelvis cresting aka The Brunt Ramen.)

A Juicy Lucy, if you are not familiar (stupid tourists) is a burger with cheese inside the the meat of the burger, I know, cheese INSIDE, the burger. Not really that groundbreaking, but people make a big deal about it.

So today I ate one. Obviously I was at the 5-8 Club in Minneapolis not Matt's Bar because I spelled Juicy Lucy with an "i." (Chill out Matt's Bar, I will go to you and eat your burger.) At Matt's Bar they spell it Jucy Lucy with no 'i', I guess they're dumber over there (I am not saying the burgers are less stellar, just that the intelligence of the folk may be stupid. Cool it.) There is some kind of weak rivalry or something there, but seriously, cheese inside a burger, that is what it is. Guess what? There is pudding inside donuts.


But first, we decided to get onion straws to set the mood. Little did we know we would be getting.......

The Mountain of 8,000 Onion Straws! (Evil laughter!)

Too much onion, too much salt, the basket was like the Harry Potter Sorting Hat, we just kept putting it in our mouths. But also like the Sorting Hat, it could not be defeated.









Then, like any good date or properly contracted whore,  Juicy Lucy came.

   There I am,  half way through, it was just like a regular cheeseburger, except cheese INSIDE the meat.

I look like a proud 6 year old, holding a frog I found in the driveway. A frog I found in the driveway and was eating when my mom showed up to take a picture.


I am drinking water. And I have french fries and coleslaw.

I am also looking awkward because we sort of new the people sitting behind us and I am felt a little weird knowing that they could see me and I knew that his wife had an inverted nipple.

Here is Naomi! Also looking like a proud small child displaying her find!

Naomi does not have french fries and coleslaw. She can have some of mine.

So with the mountain of onions, giant burgers, fries and coleslaw, we had a hard time completing our lunches.

That is the sad remains of Naomi's burger.

I ate my burger, good for me, my blood threw me a party about it.

But the onion straws, oh the onion straws, they were boxed up and sent home to Ryan.





One word.


Magic.