Me? Hell, just looking at those damn photos means another 45 minutes on the elliptical tonight.

Thanks a hell of a lot.

That's more disgusting than shitting in the bathtub...CFS does NOT have brown gravy.

And that overly white shit that looks like paste is not authentic either.

It's a rather high-end steakhouse, so you'd think they'd have, like, gourmet CFS, and you'd be right: their CFS is made from fancy imported Brazilian beef coated not with breadcrumbs but smashed up Tim's Cascade Jalapeno Chips, and who doesn't love those? It's fried in some not-going-to-kill-you-today oil and served with garlic homefries, 7-grain toast with whipped butter, and two poached eggs.

It sounds lovely, doesn't it?

It was what I imagine eating a 6-day old corpse to stay alive after a plane crash in the Cascades would be like.

With the first bite the entire promising outside of crushed Tim's chips slid off like some sort of limp-yet-crunchy Jalepeno condom. What was left looked like a piece of leather doused in slime from the set of Ghostbusters 2.

The gravy had a fine texture but had the taste that one of your grandma's orthopedic shoes might right before it gets replaced with a newer model. It was like licking the back floor of a taxi in the U-District.

The rest of the meal was pretty good, but somehow a steakhouse I'd always wanted to eat had fucked up chicken fried steak. And it cost over $40.

I've never gone back there again and I won't.

And why can't I have this job? Are you hiring?

Your manliness has set my computer all aflutter! I love it when you do that. Can you post again? Something about guns? Or bikers? Or just something about the huge hunk of maleness that is Bob. Anything will do.

Plus, it's fun to watch a few of you guys and gals (see, for example: Elenchos) snap at it nearly every time I post one.

I'm guessing more than a few of you possess a somewhat insecure and meager appraisal of your abilities in an actual barfight. Anyhow, the problem with barfighting these days is all the fuckers carrying.

I'm saying how much I admire that. And I'm pretty sure I've caught every one of your Internet Tough Guy posts. If I missed any, can you point them out? I have a collection. A beautiful collection of Bob the Internet Tough Guy, extolling his own manly virtues. It's quite something.

Best CFS Seattle story of all time:

Over ten years ago, I and my sweetie swung into Luna Park at the West Seattle foot of the bridge. It was and remains a reliable hipster-retro diner, so I was *THRILLED* to note CFS on the menu. I ordered with glee.

Imagine my puzzlement when the item brought to me appeared to be MUCH larger than the usual pounded-and-suspect deep-fried base. Instead of a quarter-inch thick, it was nearly a full inch in height, but otherwise appeared more-or-less right - breaded, fried, gravy'd.

Cutting into it my eyes grew wide. For reasons that will forever remain unknown, the cook had chosen to bread and fry an inch-thick sirloin steak. I inhaled the mutant at speed, debating whether I should ask if this was the normal way that the CFS was prepared at Luna Park.

In the end I did ask, and no one working seemed to think it was either strange or anything other than normal practice. Since then, I have had the Luna Park CFS on numerous occasions, and it is NEVER prepared in the manner I experienced it on that one glorious day.

Of course, I have rarely been able to order anything else at Luna Park since, due to the random positive reinforcement effect. I invite you to join me!