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Donnez Moi les French Fries

It'd kill Dr. Atkins (oops, too late), but I have poutine on the brain. No, not poontang, but poutine ... that oh-so French-Canadian concoction of french fries, cheese and gravy.

I'm not really sure where this culinary craving came from today. It certainly couldn't be the smart martinis I swilled at our own private version of Halo last night. Nor could it be the ensuing cocktails that tattooed muscle bartender-cum-manager sent our way while negotiating his bartending gig at Larry's upcoming bday bash. Oh, and as a quick aside, whoever told me that boy was straight was quelle misinformed.

Anyway, since a trip to Quebec is probably not happening during lunchtime I'll just have to go out and hunt me down a big gooey order of cheese fries (hey Karen ... let's go to AT2s). Add some dark gravy and I'll be set for the afternoon. Or at least for an afternoon nap.