Some time ago my awesome friend and client, Charlie, had a night or two to himself. His awesome wife took their kids to the beach or something, which left him in Columbia to ‘fend’ for himself. For some reason we got on the phone when he said, “Yeah, brotha. They all gone. It’s an eat the fat night at my house.”
I’ve not forgotten the quote in over five years and actually share it often. He’s a great husband, dad, and family man, but he recognized the moment and verbalized it in a fashion millions of dudes can relate. After all, there aren’t many fellas that wouldn’t want to go all Fred Flinstone on a thick piece of red meat with no one around to judge.
Fast forward to tonight…
Jennifer left for the beach with all the girls and I had a thick slab of cow in the fridge.
I’m not one to post food pics on social media but I thought this was worth a few paragraphs.
Thank you!
I need a nap.
Franklin
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