A fearsome foursome of the GPaK crew was reunited for the first time in weeks today, and it made for a lunch to remember.
As regular readers of this blog already know, we are a light-eating bunch. Today, I went with a green salad, no dressing. Brady had a 2.5-ounce steamed-tuna-on-crackers sandwich. Scrunch had bread with water. Wingnut was still too full from his birdseed breakfast, so he decided to dine on conversation alone.
At least, that's what would have happened in bizarro world.
In the real world of the GPaK, we went to Iggy's. From the moment we were greeted by the Elvira-clone hostess at the door until we arrived back at the office, it was a festival of manning up.
It's true that we were thrown a bit off our game by an encounter in the elevator before leaving the DN building. As a result, we started the meal as a GPaK crew full of rage. But we quickly recovered and had our normal jovial conversation, but for a few minutes of serious discussion about Michael Vick. I really don't know why we talked about Vick. Maybe it was the sporty atmosphere, with TVs showing clips of football and baseball games. But there you go.
I'll let the boys talk about their own meals, but let it be known that Brady's decision to order a steak — and then his ability to devour all of it, along with a hefty portion of mashed potatoes and, strangely, some vegetables — made him the man of the hour. I'm guessing he's already fallen asleep in his way-too-large-for-his-job-title third floor office, probably resting his head on one of the 50 gazillion computers he hordes down there while denying the smallest technology trifles to the rest of us. Yes, he is my hero.
As for me, I had the All-American burger. I ALWAYS have that at Iggy's, and it never disappoints. The burger is big. It's meaty. The cheddar cheese is always melty, and the bacon is cooked right. I also love the Iggy's fries. I don't know what kind of batter they put on those little bits of potato-y goodness, but it works. And the loaf of bread they give you at Iggy's to start your meal makes you feel special. Nice.
Two interesting side-notes from our meal. First, they were filming a commercial at Iggy's while we were there, and the person who started as our server was, apparently, one of the stars, so we ended up having four different people wait on us during our time in the restaurant. And second, a $10 bill that I used to pay for my meal also had been in the possession, at least briefly, of Scrunch, Wingnut and Brady, in that order, before it came to me. Truly, the GPaK that pays together, stays together.
Food Quality: 9
Fizz-o-meter of Coke: NA (they serve stinkin' Pepsi)
Man-up possibilities: 10 (I still can't believe Brady ate that entire steak)
Service: 8
Overall: 9
— GPaK
Again, today, we feature some quotes from the GPaK during the meal. I didn't say any of these things, and I'm appalled at most of them. As far as you know.
"I am not googling sweaty ball sacks."
"We'll have to edit it down."
"Does your group have a name?"
"Don't we miss stories anyways?"
"It seems like an angry GPaK crew."
"He totally ruined our mojo."
"You gonna prina up?"
"Is it a prerequisite to look look like a mini-Elvira?"
"Can you see up my nostrils? Am I flexing?"
"Look at the size of that pickle."
"Stunt eaters....I could do that."
"It was good for my ego."
"There are some things that are off the record in the GPaK."
"What's with the f-bombs?"
"She said, 'F-off, daddy.' "