Where's the Summer Sausage Blimp?!
I won't lie, while the Arizona Cardinals make history against the Pittsburgh Steelers this weekend, I'll be going a little crazy. Everybody knows about the annual License to Crunk on Super Bowl Sunday. While for some it's whiskey and pharmaceuticals, for me it's about a midmorning nosedive off the wagon for the junk-in-the-trunk nosh I've been deprived of all year. CPR may happen at my house, but it won't involve the cops. I'll be laying the foundations for this clearly American innovation early Saturday, so that Sunday morning I can get that Bacon Explosion on before the corn syrup, carageenan, guar gum, refined sugar, and fatty carbs disable my grilling skills. Those aren't sausage girders you see there, but don't worry, the Twinkie walls are strung with bacon to keep the Doritos from littering the field. Don't even talk to me about Monday morning.