Happy belated Fourth, bitches!
We are all nursing a hangover from celebrating our country’s birthday. She’s a beauty at 237. I’ll more than likely be taking a dirt nap at that point, but on the off chance super science lengthens our spin on this planet to a couple of centuries plus, I hope I look this good. America has great curves. Fairly chiseled as well.
This week, we broke one of our only rules here at Pete’s for the Fourth of July, and we cooked out. Sausage and burgers from the local butcher. We got our buns from the bakery up the road. We tried to keep it all local except the Heinz–it’s the only way to travel. Time to drop the ketchup product name and just start calling it Heinz. It’s like Hellman’s, or Kleenex, or Cadillac. There is no acceptable alternative. I sound like Don Draper all of the sudden. I’m very serious about my Heinz, I suppose.