Finally.

I finally found a new home. I purchased the building, property, and equipment in an established restaurant/bar. It took forever, I know. It is in a major city, though the financials look promising.

All righty. I'll be posting many updates as time goes on.

First, and foremost, I'd like to give a shout-out to Cletus and Bertha for making this possible for me. Without your constant drug abuse, drinking, drama, and well established hatred for one another, I would have never left that cesspool you two have managed to bring it down to. You are very welcome for the success you have because of my menu, management skills, superior work ethic, bookkeeping, and all around business smarts.

Cletus lacks teeth from the age of 25, hmm, wonder why, and Bertha lacks any self control from a Twinkie, even though they are now done. RIP Twinkie! I used to know you well as a child, and now Bertha will have to realize that you're not supposed to be her ass. Damn, that bitch is so fat. I'm not talking fat as most people would know that adjective, but like morbidly fat. She had D boobies and her gut sticks out WAY more than that. Plus, she tries to wear jeans. Why? Do you really think your tank ass looks good in them? Just wear a moo-moo you fat pig.

Cletus, lol, umm, the first party we did was for broasted chicken. Seems easy, no? You put the chicken in the broaster and let it cook. When it comes out, you temp it. It came out and he served it. 4 pieces came back raw!!! Then this toothless methhead tried to blame it on me because I had changed the broaster grease earlier in the day because he was too busy sleeping in from a hangover and smoking his sweet meth/pot mix. He said I filled it too full with oil and that's what caused raw chicken. Fuckin' Epstein! That was my first clue that he was borderline retarded. He's 6 foot 2 inches and 150 lbs., has no teeth, and hates his wife and kids. Shame on me for being optimistic.

Anyways. Until the next time in the life of a line cook.