BURGER BENDER
Some people go on Sexual Benders. Right? You know those lucky friends of yours, the ones who view the world as one giant Fuck Party and everybody and anybody seems to be invited? They're basically the people for whom those Hedonism resorts were invented, although, honestly, those on a Sexual Bender don't NEED those Hedonism resorts because New York City (or wherever they may live) is their resort. They fuck and fuck and fuck. And while it may not come with a free continental breakfast or a tan, it also might. I have NO IDEA. Because, sigh, I am not one of Those People.
Lately, however, I've been on a Burger Bender. It's almost exactly like a Sexual Bender except I think I have less risk of getting single or double herpes and I don't compare myself to the other women in the room while I am going to Mouth-Town on my meat and two-buns. But I do feel a sense of shame and lack of control and total indulgence and "yeah! let's do this-ness!" about it.
On Friday night I went to The Spotted Pig, a "Gastro-Pub" in the West Village. What is a Gastro-Pub? It's just a pretentious way of saying "This food costs more than other places but it tastes awesome accompanied by the crowded inconvience of a sports bar without the blaring tv sets or douchey frat dudes not that there aren't douchey people here they're just in Polo sweaters instead of college sweatshirts but you get the idea."
Now I LIKE The Spotted Pig, don't get me wrong. And I went specifically because I wanted to eat their cheeseburger and french fries. And their cheeseburger/fry combo is pretty posh; the burger's served on BRIOCHE (fancy!) and has some expensive BLUE CHEESE on it (double fancy!), and the fries are tossed with frizzled ROSEMARY (triple fancy!). It was good, but it wasn't GREAT. I thought the blue cheese TOTALLY overwhelmed the meat, as did the bun, but the fries, though shoestring thin, were undeniably yummers. Was it worth $15? Uh...SORT OF?! Not really. Corner Bistro's burger is STILL BETTER, as is Shake Shack's, and each costs less than $6. Still, you'd think The Spotted Pig's, though mildly disappointing, would be enough burger for a single weekend.
But as I said, I'm on a BENDER.
So Saturday night, after a late night out at my most funniest friend's 30th birthday, I was STARVING. And, as I usually find myself when I am STARVING, NOBODY ELSE WANTED TO EAT. What. The. Ef?! I mean, what was I gonna do..NOT EAT?! Even though it was two in the morning...? NOT EAT? NOT POSSIBLE!
Fortunately, my friend, who works in PR, was across town in the Meatpacking District CELEBRATING JESSICA ALBA'S BIRTHDAY WITH JESSICA ALBA! I know, I totally just name-dropped, but it's totally the truth, y'all! He called me and invited me to the club to hang out. With him and JESSICA ALBA and her small, NY posse. I swear to the holy G that I didn't want to go. I told him, "I am just TOO TIRED and TOO HUNGRY. I am going HOME."
"Megan, don't be retarded, girlfriend. JESSICA ALBA HOLY SHIT ARE YOU KIDDING?! I WILL PAY FOR YOUR CAB!"
"It's not that. I'm just...I'm really...I'm HUNGRY!"
"What is WRONG WITH YOU?!"
"NOTHING! I have low blood sugar! I NEED TO EAT!"
"Fine. I PROMISE WE WILL EAT RIGHT AFTER."
"Right after what?"
"Right after you get your ass OVER HERE with JESSICA ALBA! Am I not speaking CLEARLY?!"
"Where?"
"Where what?"
"Where will we eat?"
"What?! WHO CARES?! Just get OVER HERE Jessica is SO BEAUTIFUL you have to COME HANG OUT!"
"It's important...I'm HUNGRY!"
And here is why my friend is a PR genius. He knew exactly what to say to get me to come to his "event":
"Pastis."
Pastis is a French Bistro, and, like The Spotted Pig, it can be Fancy and Pretentious and filled with Douche Douchestoffersons. BUT, also like The Spotted Pig, Pastis has a Famous Burger, and I had never tried it. And wanted to. IMMEDIATELY.
"Oooh! Really? You PROMISE?"
"YES! Are you coming?"
"Only if we eat REALLY SOON after I get there."
"We will."
"At Pastis!"
"YOU ARE CRAZY! FINE! We'll eat at Pastis! COME NOW!"
I'm not going to get into the details of what it feels like to snort the purest, most Ivory-white Bolivian Marching Powder off of Jessica Alba's gorgeous, honey-colored decolletage, but only because I have no idea what that would be like. I will speak only to the IMPORTANT part of the evening: FINALLY getting to Pastis, FINALLY ordering a burger and fries, and FINALLY eating it. It was AMAZING. Pastis' burger was impossibly juicy and delicious, the meat fresh and perfectly cooked to my Medium specifications, and its proportion of meat to bun to lettuce/onion/tomato was perfection. I could write an epic poem that would make Ovid weep over their fries. Really. Pretty much the best I've ever had. It was all so GLORIOUS!
But now it's Monday and I feel spent. So much MEAT, you know? It's wonderful in the moment, but the aftermath...when I must look myself in the eye and deal honestly with myself, I feel...dirty. I just want to be alone. With some fruit or something. Maybe a salad. I hope I don't get a case of The Mad Cow.
Lately, however, I've been on a Burger Bender. It's almost exactly like a Sexual Bender except I think I have less risk of getting single or double herpes and I don't compare myself to the other women in the room while I am going to Mouth-Town on my meat and two-buns. But I do feel a sense of shame and lack of control and total indulgence and "yeah! let's do this-ness!" about it.
On Friday night I went to The Spotted Pig, a "Gastro-Pub" in the West Village. What is a Gastro-Pub? It's just a pretentious way of saying "This food costs more than other places but it tastes awesome accompanied by the crowded inconvience of a sports bar without the blaring tv sets or douchey frat dudes not that there aren't douchey people here they're just in Polo sweaters instead of college sweatshirts but you get the idea."
Now I LIKE The Spotted Pig, don't get me wrong. And I went specifically because I wanted to eat their cheeseburger and french fries. And their cheeseburger/fry combo is pretty posh; the burger's served on BRIOCHE (fancy!) and has some expensive BLUE CHEESE on it (double fancy!), and the fries are tossed with frizzled ROSEMARY (triple fancy!). It was good, but it wasn't GREAT. I thought the blue cheese TOTALLY overwhelmed the meat, as did the bun, but the fries, though shoestring thin, were undeniably yummers. Was it worth $15? Uh...SORT OF?! Not really. Corner Bistro's burger is STILL BETTER, as is Shake Shack's, and each costs less than $6. Still, you'd think The Spotted Pig's, though mildly disappointing, would be enough burger for a single weekend.
But as I said, I'm on a BENDER.
So Saturday night, after a late night out at my most funniest friend's 30th birthday, I was STARVING. And, as I usually find myself when I am STARVING, NOBODY ELSE WANTED TO EAT. What. The. Ef?! I mean, what was I gonna do..NOT EAT?! Even though it was two in the morning...? NOT EAT? NOT POSSIBLE!
Fortunately, my friend, who works in PR, was across town in the Meatpacking District CELEBRATING JESSICA ALBA'S BIRTHDAY WITH JESSICA ALBA! I know, I totally just name-dropped, but it's totally the truth, y'all! He called me and invited me to the club to hang out. With him and JESSICA ALBA and her small, NY posse. I swear to the holy G that I didn't want to go. I told him, "I am just TOO TIRED and TOO HUNGRY. I am going HOME."
"Megan, don't be retarded, girlfriend. JESSICA ALBA HOLY SHIT ARE YOU KIDDING?! I WILL PAY FOR YOUR CAB!"
"It's not that. I'm just...I'm really...I'm HUNGRY!"
"What is WRONG WITH YOU?!"
"NOTHING! I have low blood sugar! I NEED TO EAT!"
"Fine. I PROMISE WE WILL EAT RIGHT AFTER."
"Right after what?"
"Right after you get your ass OVER HERE with JESSICA ALBA! Am I not speaking CLEARLY?!"
"Where?"
"Where what?"
"Where will we eat?"
"What?! WHO CARES?! Just get OVER HERE Jessica is SO BEAUTIFUL you have to COME HANG OUT!"
"It's important...I'm HUNGRY!"
And here is why my friend is a PR genius. He knew exactly what to say to get me to come to his "event":
"Pastis."
Pastis is a French Bistro, and, like The Spotted Pig, it can be Fancy and Pretentious and filled with Douche Douchestoffersons. BUT, also like The Spotted Pig, Pastis has a Famous Burger, and I had never tried it. And wanted to. IMMEDIATELY.
"Oooh! Really? You PROMISE?"
"YES! Are you coming?"
"Only if we eat REALLY SOON after I get there."
"We will."
"At Pastis!"
"YOU ARE CRAZY! FINE! We'll eat at Pastis! COME NOW!"
I'm not going to get into the details of what it feels like to snort the purest, most Ivory-white Bolivian Marching Powder off of Jessica Alba's gorgeous, honey-colored decolletage, but only because I have no idea what that would be like. I will speak only to the IMPORTANT part of the evening: FINALLY getting to Pastis, FINALLY ordering a burger and fries, and FINALLY eating it. It was AMAZING. Pastis' burger was impossibly juicy and delicious, the meat fresh and perfectly cooked to my Medium specifications, and its proportion of meat to bun to lettuce/onion/tomato was perfection. I could write an epic poem that would make Ovid weep over their fries. Really. Pretty much the best I've ever had. It was all so GLORIOUS!
But now it's Monday and I feel spent. So much MEAT, you know? It's wonderful in the moment, but the aftermath...when I must look myself in the eye and deal honestly with myself, I feel...dirty. I just want to be alone. With some fruit or something. Maybe a salad. I hope I don't get a case of The Mad Cow.
posted by Megan at 11:20 PM
5 Comments:
Megan?!
What the.....???
Great blog!
Which one of these is not like the other:
one's mouth; a thick, juicy, delicious burger; Jessica Alba; a camel named maurice.
Give up?
Yes, this is a great blog. Where did this girl come from?
She works at Starbucks
during the day, I think.
At night, she does burgers with Jessica Alba.
Or Jessica Alba with burgers.
But she always nails great themes deep within her blogs.
Keep reading.
Maurice in the hiz-ouse!!!
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