Me and Emily are Going to Cook

So Emily Roberts and I Brenden Darby will start cooking at a minimum of once a week on a college budget. Both of us will put in five dollars and travel to farms and markets all over Rhode Island and the east coast. Our goal is to eat organic and inexpensively. We are culinary students so with our combined knowledge and Emily's kick ass baking skills we will feed our-selfs through he school year. lets get started!!!

Tribute To Late Nights in Denver

               That drive to pick up that late night comfort. You pass by those girls that you know who cant satisfy your need. You see Annie on that same corner you see her every night, but she is never out when you  need her, and that double D is a cost your not willing to pay. Don’t forget the mother on the other side of the street. Fuck, that’s a risk your not willing to take. but the place your looking for is right across from that Mrs. Robinson. That pimp across the street has just what you need.

              You walk up to his flashy self and wait in line with all the other poor suckers who didn't find a girl to take home. That wait in the cold night air is partially bearable thanks to the shots and beers that are keeping you awake. The shock of the occasional transvestite and drug dealer tries to scare you away but you know that the cold air and the Colfax scare are worth the wait for this cozy broad.

              Finally your turn to select that guilty pleasure. That lady that takes your order every time say in a raspy smoke seared voice. " how you want it Hun" and your response the usual black with nothing sweet. The warmth caresses your lips and tingles run down your spine, god dam it just a tease of what you need. The raspy voice brings out what your inebriated thoughts have wanted all along. You do everything you ever wanted. The moans and groans don’t disturb the atmospheric norm of Pete’s place. He sits and watches as the love making at his booths. You surprised every time at how fast it took you to finish and look around making sure no one else noticed. A sigh of relief and a coma of comfort passes over for about thirty seconds then the homeless guy outside taps on the glass and you snap back to reality. Time to pay. You walk up the register and the old woman behind takes your money and looks at you knowing what you just did. She looks as if she does what you did a little to often. The tip is left and you walk out the door looking at all the other drunk suckers waiting in line. Driving home past the girls that weren’t good enough you know there is no better place to eat after  two in the morning. Pete’s don’t pretend you haven’t been there.