Saturday, June 1, 2013


I considered writing something deep and profound to help launch me into my late twenties.  Something about where I am in life, what beautiful boys I managed to make, and how I am looking forward to the next 26 years and feeling like a real adult soon
(that happens at thirty, right?)
But seriously…all I can think about is this burger.


This fucking burger.
Oh, I have been waiting MONTHS for a taste of home. For a taste of this burger.
Just look at it. Admire it. It really is beautiful.




This, ladies and gentlemen…is a burger
and not just any burger.
Let’s break it down.
This burger was ground in my Grandpa’s shop, from a slab of meat cut off of an elk that somehow survived crossing a Montana highway just to be shot and after traveling 532 miles in a cooler today, end up here. On my fucking plate.
Tillamook cheese? You are good for just about everything, but a burger like this demands a different kind of slice. The kind that comes individually wrapped in plastic and tastes of nothing natural. I’m sorry, Tillamook, but your measly paper dividers just won’t do, nor will your thick delicious sharpness. American only…just like this fucking American burger.
Birthdays don’t give a shit about healthy. For on May 31st, I shall channel my inner obese southern diabetic. So, whole wheat-organic-non-gmo-buns? Next time, my friends. There is room for you in this world. Just not today. NOT today.
Today is for white bread. The kind with more ingredients than meth.
 (and probably some of the same too.)
Fluffy, airy, white, hamburger buns. Yeah. Smear that shit in butter and toast that bitch.
Tomato, onion, lettuce, mayo, mustard, ketchup? Listen up- I am going to need all of you…every single one to make this a success. And don’t get all mixed up either. I can’t have the lettuce on top of the tomato and you all acting like a bunch of assholes. Just stay in order where you belong…on top of this fucking burger.
Oh, beautiful Birthday burger…you make me wanna turn 26 every day. And ex-husband who smuggled this beauty across state lines to make my dreams come true? Thank you. This is the best gift you have ever given me.
Well…next to our kids.
Even then, though…it’s pretty fucking close.