It’s April! Have Some Cheesy Goodness…

April is special and I’m not just saying that because April Fool’s Day, Friday the 13th and Earth day are all inhabitants of this fantastic Spring month. I’m saying that because, above all else, April is National Grilled Cheese Sandwich Month. (Meanwhile, I’d like to personally thank whomever had the foresight to designate an entire month in honor of this special cheesy delicacy. )

To state the obvious: I’m Grilled Cheese’s number one fan. Spongy bread enveloping gooey Kraft Singles makes my heart go pitter pat. There’s nothing like a little GC to get over a bad day, a crushing heartbreak, a wicked cold, and most importantly, a nasty hangover. Not to mention I lived off those little cheesy devils for four years in college. Greasy little suckers.

Therefore, I was completely devastated to learn I had missed my chance to attend the 4th 2nd Annual Grilled Cheese Invitational on February 24th in LA.

Those lucky enough to take part in this groundbreaking tradition were welcomed with the following mission:

“While anyone is welcome to sign up and compete, only the few, the proud, the winners will be able to raise their cheese and butter speckled fists to the angry sky above and scream, ‘I am a Fucking Grilled Cheese Champion™!’”

Wow.  That gave me more goosebumps than the Braveheart speech.

After perusing some first-hand accounts of this year’s event, including one from the participating team, Cheesus Christ, I came across a description that will change my life forever. By the grace of God, one incredibly talented baker took it upon herself to create a “three-tier wedding cake made of over seventy grilled-cheese sandwiches, ‘iced’ with Mother Nature’s perfect food, E-Z Cheeze, and topped with a Peep bride & groom.”

I just teared up a little with overwhelming pride. Here’s hoping this Grilled Cheese Maestro is available in the Fall of ‘08 for the infamous (and never to be forgotten) Memos Wedding.

Because nothing says I love you like a little cheesy goodness…

 

I’m A Super Bowl Sucka…

DCist,

You are, by far, the best blog hailing from my former life in the Nation’s Capital. Therefore, I was not surprised when you read my mind this morning by posting:

“So we’re making this proposal to The Man, right here, right now: make the day after the Super Bowl a holiday. We’ll use it to celebrate sloth, gluttony, and our blessed capitalism. We can observe it by eating microwave burritos in our pajamas and watching our favorite Superbowl commercials on the internet. In return, we’ll give back President’s Day.”

Hallelujuah, DCist. After one too many servings of guacomole and seven-layer dip (oh yeah…and all that damn alcohol I drank last night,) I begrudgingly made my way into work this morning with an irritating hangover and an unsettled belly. Please god, why can’t the day after the Super Bowl just be declared a National Holiday already???

So that others can experience an inkling of the pain I endured this morning, here is a list of all things consumed by yours truly throughout the seven hour, two-party Super Bowl circuit I ate my way through yesterday:

(Listed in order of consumption)

• 1 Sierra Nevada Pale Ale to start the party-hopping off right
• 3 grapes
• 2 mini carrots…yes, I was trying to begin the night off healthy until I had…
• 1.5 brownies
• Another Sierra Nevada
• 2 handfuls of pretzels
• 4 gargantuan helpings of guacomole which obviously requires…
• many handfuls of Tostitos
• 8 olives
• 2 more grapes
• A tad more guacamole

(Interlude: arrive at second Super Bowl party)

• 1 glass of red wine…yup, at this point of the night, I decided to “mature” my drinking
• 5 handfuls of almonds
• More guacomole and then…
• Lots more guacomole
• 1 steak (yes, STEAK)
• 1 baked potato
• Another glass of wine
• And to top off the night…a piece of birthday cake finished with…
• A glass of champagne

SWEET JESUS. Who was tossing and turning last night, waking up in a cold sweat with nightmares of guacomole smothering her in her sleep??? Ummm, THIS GIRL.

Now if the nauseating list above ain’t reason enough to institute a National Holiday after the Super Bowl, then god help us…it’s never going to happen. Stay strong my fellow Super Bowl revelers…tomorrow’s another day.

Comin’ at you live from the girl who wants to give the inventor of drawstring pants a BIG HUG.