Monday, March 12, 2012


Deep fried. Cash only. And Spanish for fat...




Brunch, bracketology and a couple loads of laundry became wine, sing-alongs to Sir Paul and a coconut cream donut drowned in chocolate. And maybe, just maybe, a dueling rendition of the ├╝ber-classy "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Because what's more appropriate when waiting for donuts from an airstream trailer?

I scraped quarters from the bottom of my purse to pay for those hot, doughy pillows, knowing good and well I'd be cursing them the next morning when tugging on my skinny jeans - which (full disclosure) were promptly wadded up, tossed aside and replaced by the shift dress with no waistline.

Yes, Gourdough's will probably give you the sugars. Health nuts, you'd be better off eating a stick of butter, paper wrapper and all. But if you come to Austin and don't partake, you're living life dangerously unfulfilled. And if I can't convince you, the Mother Clucker will.



1 comment:

  1. "the sugars" just killed me dead. butter and oil, b. delightful post.

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