Taylor Ham – A mixture of love and happiness
Every major city in our great country is known for something that makes it unique. Nashville is known for its music. Detroit is known for its black people. New Orleans is known for its world famous water park. Chicago is known for its food. The list goes on.
But with all the incredible food we have through all of Chicagoland, there is one glaring omission. We don’t have Taylor Ham. It’s kind of like people from Chicago going to Boston and looking for an Italian Beef joint like ‘Johnnies’ in Melrose Park. They have no fucking clue what an Italian Beef is out there, because it’s strictly a Chicago thing. Same thing goes for Taylor Ham in the Midwest. No one in Chicago knows that the fuck Taylor Ham is, which is a problem for a portly fellow like myself. Luckily for me, my mom was born and raised in Tom’s River, NJ, so I grew up with the shit. Had it last week for the first time in probably five years, and it was just as magical as I remember.
Anyways, Neil was pretty much begging me to write a post today ripping on Strasser cuz the Sox are about to sweep the Yanks. I said, “sure Neil, I could do that for you,” because I am such a dedicated employee. Before that, a couple of days back Strasser and I made a wager that the loser of the series would ship their city’s best food out to the winner. I picked a big ass roll of Taylor Ham. He picked a deep dish pizza from Lou Mal’s. Fair trade. The original proposition was loser has to “blog a dick pic” but there have been enough pictures of baby dicks on the site for the time being.
Even though we made the bet after the first game like retards, there is about a 2% chance the Sox don’t sweep tonight. Konerko is hitting well again, Dewayne Wise might be the second coming of Christ, and Sale is gonna have his best shit. I can feel it. I can feel it down in my plumbs. See ya in the playoffs, Strasser.