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maggiethecat

Competition: Round Seventeen

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I love brussel sprouts more than I love most of the human race. I carry a torch for creme brulee. Mac and Cheese and me? That's some Crazy Love.

For our First Annual Valentine's Day Smackdown, write a mash note to a food of your choice. Make that meatloaf (or larb or foam) feel the love.

You're discreet, right? I'll let you read mine. :wub:

***********

Baby:

Don't be mad at me; I never tried to hide my past from you. I know I've got a Bad Girl reputation in bars, IHOPs and noodle shops from here to Ho Chi Minh City. Hell, my behavior has raised eyebrows in a couple of joints with Michelin stars. I bet you've even heard guys joking about me in locker rooms: "She's got round heels for rye bread. " "Forget roses, Buddy. You'll get to third base with rice pudding." "She's a spaghetti Slut."

I've had affairs with every simple carbohydrate who so much as winked at me. A dab of butter behind his ear, some olive oil aftershave and I'm as easy as a bag of fast food fries. I can't bring myself to tell you about my squalid history with spuds and my unnatural acts with rotini---you wouldn't respect me. When I met you I was coming off a crazy fling with a risotto slick as a Lamborghini Diablo handrubbed with truffle oil. He hadn't told me about out his pencil-thin asparagus spears. Ciao, Baby.

I'd heard about you of course, but I don't get south of the Mason-Dixon very often. But I thought you were kinda cute the way you called me "Ma'am" at that Waffle House – maybe not Potatoes Byron, but a nice change from a Saturday night with polenta. So I said sure, I'd meet you for dinner.

I'll never forget the way you smiled at me across a crowded room, perched on that red-tiled bar. God, you looked so artisanal my molars floated! I remember thinking that you must have blown your whole paycheck on those shrimp. But Darling, I knew it was the Real Thing when I got up close for a sniff of your redeye gravy. Do you remember how good it was for breakfast next morning, after I'd rubbed you in melted duck fat and sizzled you under the broiler?

A long distance romance is never easy. But look on the bright side, Valentine -- up here you won't need to worry about me whoring around with hominy.

Because a good plate of shrimp grits is hard to find.

I know I'm corny,

Maggie

Get mushy here.

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Maggie, I'm not sure anyone can beat this anyway :biggrin::unsure:

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Maggie, I'm not sure anyone can beat this anyway :biggrin:  :unsure:

Thanks, Sistergirl, but you're wrong. Just think about all those bacon fetishists! :biggrin:

And you really should write a love letter to Butter Tart Squares -- or I will!

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Maggie, I'm not sure anyone can beat this anyway :biggrin:  :unsure:

Thanks, Sistergirl, but you're wrong. Just think about all those bacon fetishists! :biggrin:

And you really should write a love letter to Butter Tart Squares -- or I will!

got a better idea. A battle for the heart shaping up. Let me sleep on it! :biggrin:

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Damn, I feel like this calls for a missive about that on again, off again relationship I'm in with Beef (that big hunk!). Will have to look our old letters up! :huh:

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Damn, I feel like this calls for a missive about that on again, off again relationship I'm in with Beef (that big hunk!). Will have to look our old letters up! :huh:

Yeah, Beef, that sweet Big Lunk! Untie the ribbon that wraps that bundle of old love letters, Maybelline.

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Um, still waiting for the Ode to Okra -- and black and blue Porterhouse.

Deadline: Midnight February 14th in a time zone of your choice.

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I made hoecakes for breakfast, and I must say that they were so good that I considered a brief fling. But nah, not on Valentine's Day.

Poor larb...not so much a doily on a heart-shaped piece of construction paper.

Get romantic people. I, for one, am off to kiss my grits.

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