When he's had all the chicken 'n' dumplings and biscuits & gravy that he can take, we try to take him back to his roots for some authentic Chicago food. And that's hard to do around here! Sure - there are pizza places and hot dog joints, but nothing that makes him want to do The Super Bowl Shuffle.
Until we found Bobby G's. This is the real McCoy, folks. How do I know? Because they only serve Pepsi products and there's not a single Heinz bottle in the entire restaurant! Real southerners drink Coke and dip all their food in ketchup. It's part of our code of ethics right beside "watch NASCAR" and "always carry a shotgun in the back of your pickup truck".
Our family left with four full bellies of Chicago dogs, Italian Beef sandwiches and thin crust pizza. It was paradise.
On the way out, Bailey asked for a quarter. Since my stomach was so full that it was putting pressure on my brain, I didn't even bother to ask her what for. I just reached into my purse and pulled out a shiny, new quarter.
She walked over to the gumball machine and got a handful of candy.
|The germ machine|
I'm fine with getting tattoos or stickers or even those lame colored ducks out of a gumball machine, but unpackaged food makes me to re-visit that Chicago dog. Instead of the Super Bowl Shuffle, I'd be doing the Toilet Bowl Shuffle.
So I said,
"Bailey, do you know that somebody probably worked in their garden, changed their cat's kitty litter, sneezed, drove here in their dusty car, shook hands with two sick people, peed and then didn't wash their hands before bare-fisting huge scoops of candy into that dirty, spider-filled container that's probably been sitting there for eight years and has never been cleaned? Do you really want to eat that?"
And this was her response.
I think we're getting somewhere.