STATELY, PLUMP GUY FIERI CAME TO THE STAIRHEAD, BEARING A BOWL OF PEPPER JACK - ilxors knee deep in guy fieri nanowrimo project

I just found my back tattoo

Guy awoke with a jerk. "Man," he thought to himself, brushing rib crumbs off of his pert chest and rubbing the remnants of the dream from his eyes, " I really should ease back on the North Cali Mojitos. Those things can really take it out of you." He sat up on his divan (custom made by Ethan Allen, it was in the shape of his award-winning baby back ribs with throw pillows shaped like pats of butter and ranch-colored slip cover) and stretched, an insouciant yawn threatening to split his jaws apart.

Guy stood up and glanced towards his closet. "Gotta remember that couplet for my tramp stamp, though," he muttered, shuffling slowly towards his clothes as another mighty yawn escaped his gaping maw. "Now, what am I going to wear today?" he mused, slowly tapping a beefy finger against his almost-chin. "I can't just wander around naked all day, with Little Taquito swinging in the breeze-o like a dirty Cheeto." He began pawing through a giant mound of underwear, stopping occasionally to submit a particularly eye-catching number to a precautionary sniff test; few passed. "Damn, when was the last time I did laundry?" he asked out loud, idly scratching that one inflamed hair on the back of his left butt cheek that was almost but not quite nestled just on the inside edge of his ass crack, just north of the barbecue spot. Finally, he found a pair of boxers with red and gold racing stripes on the side and his grinning face silkscreened onto the front with the words "SAVOR THE FLAVOR" embroidered into the ample waistband. "Yes!" he shouted. "These do not smell like old pork roast, they're going on!" He quickly stepped into them and did a quick jig, followed by several minutes of wheezing and sweating. "Now," he gasped, "for some garters. Mama's gotta feel pretty!"

GUY FIERI’s practically standing still now. They’ve dropped ropes out of the nose of GUY FIERI; and (uh) they’ve been taken a hold of down on the field by a number of men. GUY FIERI’s starting to rain again; GUY FIERI’s… the rain had (uh) slacked up a little bit. The back motors of GUY FIERI are just holding GUY FIERI (uh) just enough to keep GUY FIERI from…GUY FIERI’s burst into flames! GUY FIERI burst into flames, and GUY FIERI’s falling, GUY FIERI’s crashing! Watch GUY FIERI! Watch GUY FIERI! Get out of the way! Get out of the way! Get GUY FIERI, Charlie; get GUY FIERI, Charlie! GUY FIERI’s fire… and GUY FIERI’s crashing! GUY FIERI’s crashing terrible! Oh, my! Get out of the way, please! GUY FIERI’s burning and bursting into flames and the… and GUY FIERI’s falling on the mooring mast. And all the folks agree that GUY FIERI is terrible; GUY FIERI is the one of the worst catastrophes in the world. [indecipherable] its flames… Crashing, oh! Four- or five-hundred feet into the sky and GUY FIERI… GUY FIERI’s a terrific crash, ladies and gentlemen. GUY FIERI’s smoke, and GUY FIERI’s in flames now; and the frame is crashing to the ground, not quite to the mooring mast. Oh, the humanity! And all the passengers screaming around here. I told you; GUY FIERI—I can’t even talk to people, their friends are out there! Ah! GUY FIERI’s… GUY FIERI… GUY FIERI’s a… ah! I… I can’t talk, ladies and gentlemen. Honest: GUY FIERI’s just laying there, mass of smoking wreckage. Ah! And everybody can hardly breathe and talk and the screaming. Lady, I… I… I’m sorry. Honest: I… I can hardly breathe. I… I’m going to step inside, where I cannot see GUY FIERI. Charlie, that’s terrible. Ah, ah… I can’t. Listen, folks; I… I’m gonna have to stop for a minute because [indecipherable] I’ve lost my voice. GUY FIERI is the worst thing I’ve ever witnessed.

I've eaten things you people wouldn't believe. Forty-foot smokers on fire off the shoulder of Austin. I watched sea bream glitter in the dark near the ESPNZone. All those moments will be lost in time, like wings in donkey sauce. Time to fry.

a clockwork orange bbq duck or
a clockwork orange spraytan?

for a long time, i ate lunch early

Choose Guy's. Choose a Brown Derby Cobb. Choose a Guy's Famous Big Bite Caesar. Choose a family-size portion. Choose a fucking big Huli-Huli Roasted Chicken. Choose Skyy Vodka, orange puree, Heartland Orange Cream Soda, and Haagen Dazs Vanilla Ice Cream. Choose poor health, high cholesterol and insurance claims. Choose Awesome Pretzel Chicken Tenders. Choose Bacon Chicken Mac & Cheese. Choose Motley Que Ribs. Choose Guy-talian Nachos and matching Sashimi Tacos. Choose a three part burger on garlic brioche drowned in fucking Donkey Sauce. Choose Rice-a-munee and wondering what the fuck it actually is. Choose sitting on that woven chair watching mind-numbing spirit-crushing disgraces to humanity, stuffing fucking junk food into their mouths. Choose your guts rotting away at the end of it all, shitting your dignity out back in your miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment that the shellfish and fucked-up pasta you have shat now has improved flavour. Choose your future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose Guy's: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when his food's this shit?

In NYC did Guy Fier'
A starchy Gastro-Dome decree,
His art, the sacred frosted hair
His cooking to thy guts unfair
The French fries taste like pee.

LOOK UPON MY DONKEY SAUCE, YE MIGHTY AND DESPAIR

omg jjj i love u

aujourd’hui, maman est morte. ou peut-être fieri, je ne sais pas.

An asshole with a Fender shirt
In a vision once I saw:
The food was so abyssmally made,
by men with awful bleach-dyed fade
Unhinging their massive jaw.
Could I revive within me
The sense of right and wrong,
To such deep distaste ‘twould win me
That with music loud and long,
I would smash that dome within the air!
That starchy dome, those drinks of loss,
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry: “Beware! Beware!
His fattened gut, his floating hair!
Greens are made of food not moss,
And close your eyes in holy dread:
For he on bacon grease hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Donkey Sauce!”

got the beginning and the end, now just need to work out the middle and my work here is done

This thing is coming together nicely. Anyone know an agent?

http://content9.flixster.com/movie/26/10/261011_det.jpg

hahahaaa