Atlanta, GA – On a recent trip to an Altanta Brazilian Steakhouse in the barely-suburbs of Atlanta, Ted M., a man whose last name is as short as his appetite is long, had the uncommon opportunity to do two new things for the first time in his life. He got to date a bonafide Playgirl, and he got to dine in an authentic Brazilian Steakhouse… To his dismay, the two things didn't jive as his carnal desires may have hoped.
To his "may", however, the two did get to co-exist, and affordably so. His ability to reconcile the two, however, was entirely a different matter.
Upon sitting down in the multi-million dollar facility, exquisitely crafted by a master architect, Ted and his newfound lady friend from Craig's List, who wishes only to be known as "please don't talk to me, I didn't agree to this interview, go away" each ordered the standard all-one-should-dare-to-eat buffet.
They hit the salad bar, which Ted called the "warm up round", but which his date called the "I'm so fat already I can't eat anything more" section. Ted warmed up, but miss "Go Away" cooled off.
Once the gauchos began their regular rounds of table-side visitation, Ted considered it "game on", while his date considered it, "game on, but I'm not going to keep eating, because I'm demure and pretending to be still kind of a vegetarian, even though I obviously love the meats."
Sources close to miss "Go Away" assert she is anything but demure and far from meat-averse, and in fact just reserved when it comes to a first-date night on the town with a new suitor with cash in hand the likes of Ted. Ted, undeterred, laced into the feast with fangs a'flying, and laid virtual waste to whatever came by the table, while his card remained upturned to the "green" (or "yes please, more" side) to the delight of his eager innards, despite his non-girlfriend's pseudo-reservations.
"I love this place," quipped Ted, who has traveled to Brazil himself. "This is by far the best Brazilian restaurant I've seen in Atlanta, but probably anywhere."
"He's a nice enough guy," quipped 'please don't use my name', cordially. "Ted's pretty successful and I'm in to successful guys, so I think that means I'm in to this place too, right?"
She seemed at first unsure, but was quickly reassessed as insecure, but remained as scorching hot as ever, throughout the evening.
Ted, having gorged himself on endless rounds of sausage, chicken of assorted finish, and more beef than a bull could veritably shake his less-than-proverbial stick at, ultimately retired on a glass of steward-selected Argentinean wine and a decadent chocolate dessert.
At the end of the evening, all were impressed by the fare, the fair and yet the unfairest of them all, the former and aging playmate model, still succumbed to a single night of earthly delight at the hands, face and feet of Ted, presumably because of his breath of bovine delight. If one is what one eats, Ted was plainly a pound of flesh that night, but much of it may have been that of his fleeting mistress as much as the steakhouse itself.
Sources close to Ted report that he, "Totally hit that goofy beehotch, no matter what she says," adding, "oh, and I know she stole more meat off my plate than she did out [of] my pants, if you get what I mean."
We do indeed get what he must have certainly meant, Ted, and so does the world at large, even if not at quite-as-large as what you suggest she buried, you dirty bird, you.
