On Saturday, I went to Ipanema with Tristan and Daniel for Rodizio. Daniel’s vegetarian girlfriend was out of town for the weekend, and thus we felt it was right and natural to cram him full of meat, like Atkins on overdrive.
What is Rodizio, you ask? Only the greatest invention in the history of time, where handsome men bring a variety of twenty-two different meats skewered on swords tableside, cutting you slice after slice until you absolutely cannot eat another bite and then you eat one anyway because it’s all so delicious. THAT is Rodizio. A veritable orgy of meats, excess to the point of feeling foolish for having also gotten veggies, because while the balanced diet can include the occasional eating contest, you don’t win friends with salad.
They brought us sword after sword of meat–pepper steak, parmesan pork, spicy sausages, The Most Tender Chicken On Earth, garlic steak, tri tip, sirloin…I can’t even remember it all. Tristan asked if we’d ever eaten so much we’d gone temporarily blind, and it seemed like if it was ever going to happen, that would be the day. Our organs were all crammed full of meat, even ones outside of the digestive tract. Our lungs were full of meat. Our sinuses were packed with meat. My uterus was storing a pound of pepper steak. And still the handsome waiters kept circling. All I could think was, “What’s happening to me? There’s still food, but I don’t want to eat it. I’ve become everything I’ve ever hated!” Even attempting to summon up the competitive spirit of Eater X could not convince me to eat even one more bite, aside from the fried banana. And the remainder of the veggies on my plate. But that was it, I swear.
I stared at the table and groaned while the boys continued to eat. Eventually, they flipped the card on the table, signalling ‘OH GOD NO MORE’ to the waiters, and we cracked wise that I would go off to my afternoon meeting with Lurch smelling like Eau de Au Jus*.
Actually, I probably STILL smell like Eau de Au Jus.
*Yes this phrase is completely and utterly meaningless in French but I maintain that it’s funny and punchy regardless.
My goal for this week is to take a vegetarian out for Rodizio.
That’s wrong!
…and yet so right.
A bunch of us dragged a vegetarian to Salt Lick Bar-B-Que in Austin once. It was rather sad, really, ’cause all she ate was coleslaw, beans and bread.
Awww 🙁
*edit* Thank you so much for the amaaaaaazing Valentine!
Oh, yay, I’m glad you got it. Was wondering. 🙂
Isn’t it CUTE??? Printed the originals from here.
I think I used a paint sample card on yours, too.
Hmm, I hadn’t noticed, I’ll have to check it out when I get home.
No paint chip!
Eau De Au Jus is far better than playdo.
You make an excellent point.
BTW, if I want some clit crack before Kirsti and I raise hell in Vegas (I fly out on the 26th), should I order it now or can I wait for the party on Saturday? I want to make sure we have it on time. 🙂
If you order Saturday you’ll get it by the 25th. They are quick with the Fed Ex’ing.
Kick ass. 🙂 See you Saturday!
Hellz yeah!!!
Is it wrong that I got extremely turned on by the thought of a uterus filled with pepper steak? It’s like oral sex with a bonus. Or dinner with a bonus. Or a bonus with a bonus.
Maybe a little. One thing’s for sure: it won’t smell like Pine-sol down there. Only I still can’t stop imagining the pushy black woman screaming at you to smell her cooter even if it IS full of pepper steak now instead.
Maybe it’s lemon-pepper steak, so it’s more like Pledge rather than Pine-Sol.
Then she’d be demanding “Go on, get in my vajayjay and look! See? No waxy build-up!”
Rodizio sounds like the place I’ll ascend to when I die. Or, if I find a similar place, the cause of death.
Thank you for giving me some further aspirations…
Look for a Brazilian style grill when you’re ready to die by deliciously marbled meat.
Your..
Aunt Flow will be fierce and well ironed.
Re: Your..
Gross, dude. GROSS.
You do realize that ‘eau de au jus’ is ‘water of to juice,’ right?
Sure, whatever. Parfum de beouf doesn’t have the same ring.
There’s a restaurant that we have here that my friends dubbed “The Meat Faucet”. I do believe you understand why. 😉
Perhaps I do. Perhaps I do.
I’ve considered opening a vomitorium next door to Ipanema. People could nip over individually while their table is still eating, pay a reasonable fee, have a quick vomit, and then go back and continue to partake.
This is brilliant!
In Memphis, the equivalent restaurant is next door to a mostly-abandoned mall, so rent for the vomitorium would presumably be quite reasonable.
I applaud your subtle Simpsons reference.
It’s rare that I write something that DOESN’T reference the Simpsons. I’ve become That Nerd.
Mmmmm, I love me some churrascaria. We used to have one in my town, but it recently closed because apparently Dentonites are cheap bastards.
It’s probably good I don’t live near this place or I would surely die AT this place.
:drool:
Just realized I haven’t eaten lunch.