I go away for a few days – a dirty weekend with my main squeeze – and my colleagues fail to post on BG. “I hit a dry spell” hangfire bleats like a shorn sheep. (Not Sean the Sheep. He’s got balls.) So I’ve got to step up and give gun/girl enthusiasts reason to live. It’s actually not all that difficult. All you have to do is type some keys words into Google Images and voila! Today’s search was “girl, gun, sandwich.” Surprisingly, there’s not a single image of a girl with a gun holding a sandwich. Maybe the girls look like they need a sandwich? Anyway here ya go . . .
Both of these images are from ninetymilesfromtyranny.com. I’m guessing they’re in Key West, ninety miles from Cuba. Which, as of last night, is our best friend! What did we get in exchange for diplomatic recognition of the fascist dictatorship? Cuban cigars! I’d say that was a fair exchange – only I recently bought a Cohiba which was so tightly rolled I couldn’t get a single damn puff out of it. $30 pissed away. The Montecristo was another story. I don’t think she’s Cuban though.
“Bauru is a popular Brazilian sandwich,” wikipedia.org tells us. “The traditional recipe calls for cheese (usually mozzarella) melted in a bain-marie, slices of roast beef, tomato and pickled cucumber in a French bun with the crumb (the soft inner part) removed.” Any guesses why I told you that? And yes that nearsighted gangstas-style gun girl is Milla Jovovich. Which kinda rhymes with sandwich. Which is probably how it ended-up here.
Ms. Walker’s blog has a soup recipe on it, which may account for falling into our search term net. Soup is, after all, the anti-sandwich. I’m wild ass guessing now. The Google search spider is as enigmatic as a gun girl website using the word “enigmatic” in a post.
I don’t suppose this woman has eaten what I’d call a proper sandwich – mayo and the rest – in years. If ever. Still, if you want to get this ripped – and I do, but I love sandwiches too much – you’ve got to cut the carbs down to zero. Great song by Joan Armatrading, BTW. Bet she doesn’t carry. And what is that gunk on the girl’s leg above? I’m not sure I want to know. Time for lunch . . .