Aug 182012
 

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The fries I had with my sandwich at Frank & Shirley’s were the kinds that make me close my eyes and cry out in disturbing ecstasy. Deep-fried crispy shell with a buttery middle that melted on my dirty tongue, holy shit I ate those bitches like it was a fucking religious experience.

“I can’t remember the last time I had fries this good,” I moaned. I’m the kind of broad who will pick through fries on my dining companions’ plates, searching for “good ones.” Past boyfriends have written case studies on it.

“California,” Henry answered.

“Huh?” I asked, tonguing a masticated potato like I was being filmed for money.

“At that Greek restaurant, remember?”

“Um, Henry? I barely remember anything about that trip [to Coachella in ’04]; I had major rage blackouts.”

And then Henry finished the rest of his omelet with a frown, because I guess that trip meant more to him.

  7 Responses to “The French Fries”

  1. I saw french fry soup last week. I almost bought it to make Kai taste it, but it was just too gross. Just something about boxed french fry soup is terribly wrong. 

  2. Your comments also confuse me. Also YES I am so happy Andrea is making Goth Marry Poppins. It’s so her. XD

  3. The Foster House in Monesson..the french fries are perfection.

  4. I am a french fry snob. I haven’t had really crazy good fries in such a long time. I’m a little jealous.

    • Fries are so inconsistent! My favorite place to get them changed the way they made them a few years back & it just isn’t nearly as good.

      It had been a long time since I last had the good kind!

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