I'm with you. I used to love them, and now I can hardly find one. Of course, when I do Stumble upon the hallowed ground the spongmonkeys sang of, nobody else wants to eat there. The bastards.

After the silent, violent giggle-shakes subsided, I shared this to Facebook. Because THE WORLD NEEDS TO KNOW.

What an adorable lady. She is exactly what the foodie world needs. These chains are popular for a reason—reasonably price, reasonably good food. Way to go, Marilyn!

I can verify the Salted Caramel is delicious.

So you did. You win this round, Pinkham.

I commented yesterday. No love for the Waffle of Luft?

DON'T YOU DARE! :)

That sounds really good, actually.

I'll pick up a top sirloin for myself next time. My hubs likes the visibly well-marbled cuts, but I like it on the leaner side. I think the sirloin sounds like a better cut for me.

My husband really likes New York strip and ribeye, but it's not usually from a butcher, it's grocery store fare.

LOL. Stumpjumper! ;)

Maybe someone can help me figure out a way around this, but I've been having a problem with steak lately. Every time I eat steak, I get a big chunk of gristle stuck between my back molars. When this happens (and I'm now gagging thinking about it), my tongue touches it and I start gagging, then I vomit, and then I…

I, an American, love poutine. I will pledge my undying love for Canada (ahem, Tim Horton's) if there is a warmish place I can move to. I'm in Minnesota now, so none of that Winnipeg nonsense, thanks.

You sure you're not Minnesotan? Because you sure sound like one.

Beating your wife unconscious / drugging and raping multiple people > being gay. God is great!

Yeah! One woman in corporate America is doing well, now ALL women can stop bitching!

Your comment succeeded only in cementing your status as a bona fide asshat with psychotic tendencies. No edge, just ass.

People like you are why corporal punishment is a necessary evil. Someone should have beat your spoiled, disrespectful ass as a child.

They are consistently good Twitterers.

I have white-coat anxiety from my diabetes diagnosis in childhood. Thirty-one years later, I'm still afraid of going to the doctor.