Jan Van de Boer believed that you should never trust men in porkpie hats, they are always loitering about on street corners, toothpicks dangling from their mouths as they suspiciously watch you ordering coffee at Starbucks
But if you’re looking to watch a few quick dance steps, they’re your men.
Of course this entry led me to look up porkpie hats and then pork pies and that led me the description of what’s inside and a picture of the unappetizing grey mess of “pork parts and pork jelly” inside which has me alternating between thinking about becoming a vegetarian versus building an alter (and perhaps a cult) dedicated to animal sacrifice, good bbq, avoidance of meat that’s grey or unnatural-pink and thanking the goddess-in-charge that I am not British.
Join ussss. Join us.
By “join us” I assume you mean vegetarian and thanking the goddess we’re not British.
Yes, I was. However, since the British thing seems to scare you more, perhaps I’ll set my zombie voice to laconic Yorkshireman.
(sigh) ‘mouse, I don’t know where you found your pork pie pictures, but a hundred bucks says that I could make you a raised pork pie that you could not only eat, but also enjoy enough to stop taking cheap shots at the British for more than seven minutes. Interested?
Bake, you know I only take those cheap shots to further motivate you to prove me wrong and to expand my small mind and limited palate. When *are* you gonna bake/cook for me?
If taking cheap shots at the poms (a common Australian past-time anyway) means Bakerina will bake for me, count me on Team ‘Mouse.
boot, honey, I will bake for you any day of the week. And I understand that whole taking-shots-at-the-Pommy-bastards-as-cultural-imperative thang. Carry on. :)
As for you, Counselor, well...okay, since this is a motivational exercise...keep your fingers crossed for next September. ;)