


“Steaks here are ridiculous – not so much in diameter, since they rarely overhang the plate by more than an inch or two – but in thickness, having roughly the proportions of an American canned ham. But what the Argentines have really mastered is flavor. Strange cuts of meat that would be ground into flavorless paste up north come to your table here infused with a delicious texture and flavor, provided they are cooked right. And they are invariably cooked right. The waiters are solicitous about asking (in English) how you want your meat done, but if you let them make the call, you get a two-inch thick of meat that transitions seamlessly from carbon to bright pink and back.”
CHRIST, I feel like someone’s been POUNDING OUT my fucking LIMBIC SYSTEM on a BUTCHER BLOCK like it was a fucking ABALONE STEAK!
My THELEMIC er THALAMIC SYSTEM is a complete PIECE of SHIT here!
I got 25, and the threshold for “spoiled” is supposed to be 40. I still think I’m pretty spoiled, though. Are you?
ENFJ? Hrmrrmrmr.

Goatonapole is the philosophy of being that holds that there is a Goat and a Pole and that the Goat is on the Pole. In the relation of Goat and Pole we Goatonapolists find an eternal thread of unfathomable cosmic significance, a point of reference in which all opposites dissolve into a unity of infinite breadth, a universal truth underlying the very fabric of existence. Upon contemplation of the Goat, the Pole, and their relative positions, one cannot help but realize that we’ve always been talking about Goatonapole. Whether we accept, reject, or live in ignorance of Goatonapole, we are all Goatonapolists.

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All the dusky chocolate of mocha with the light, creamy touch of octaroon: in one nutty beverage!