Tonight we went to The Buenos Aires Grill. In case you weren't sure from the name, the menu reveals that it is a: grill. Just about everything on the menu consists of meat that has been grilled, on a grill. Tom and Sami got the special, which was grilled meat. It being a special, it also had demi-glace of some kind, and some portabello mushrooms. I, on the other hand, got the "Parrillada" which is, like, a mix of grilled meats. I wasn't sure if maybe it was for more than one person, but it was the price of a regular entree, so I figured it was just like a sampling of a few things.² So anyway, we got our beef empanadas and our lamb empanadas (not grilled), which were pretty good. That makes two different sorts of meat. so far.³

Perhaps it was some kind of premonition, but I decided not to have too much of the empanadas, wouldn't want to fill up too early. Eventually they brought out two plates with Tom and Sami's food, which looked really good. Tom made some joke about me not getting any food, and the waiter pretty much chimed in "Oh no, in fact you better make some room there!"⁴

So my stuff comes out, and instead of being on a plate like everyone else's it was actually a miniature table that they like set up on top of our regular table. The waiter had to all but sweep away all the blocking tableware with his arm like he was about to throw down his girlfriend for a quickie. On top of this miniature table was, I'm serious, like a pile of meat. Like they accidentally brought over the stuff intended for the 11-dude birthday party at the next table. Oh and then the waiter cleared some more space for my plate full of garlic fries.

The meat table featured the following: sweetbreads,⁵ sausage, skirt steak, short ribs, a chicken breast, some kind of steak, and some other kind of steak. Each one like enough for a regular meal. And some token grilled peppers, just so you get a balanced meal. Along with a taste of Tom's special, that makes a grand total of ten different kinds of meat. A personal best.

I'd like to say I'm the sort of man who can polish off large helpings of ten different meats and live (and then go drive my truck over some communists and make love to my three supermodel wives before passing out in front of a bass fishing marathon on my high-def cable). But I am not that much of a man.

Oh hey, did I mention that dinner was accompanied by the floor show of a hot (hot hot) couple tangoing all over the place every few minutes. They even got up and danced on the bar. And if you've never seen an already hot woman being tangoed all over the place while her hips sashay all around and her skirt flips all over, while you eat the biggest pile of fucking meat ever, you do not know hot.

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¹ I wouldn't normally say "fuck" in my journal, but I can't express how much fucking meat I'm talking about without strong language.
² I'm foreshadowing here, with irony. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then wise up, smart guy.
³ So far.
⁴ Foreshadowing, your sign of quality literature.
⁵ If you don't know what sweetbreads are, don't ask. And if you do, don't tell me.