Pasta with gruyere. Fries. Flam's at will. Beer. Squeegee. MacDonald. Sandwiches. MacDonald. Pizza. Kebab. Pasta with cream. MacDonald. Beer. Pasta nature because nothing in the fridge. Sandwiches. Fries. Cooking in butter. Beer.
is his life!
is 16h, Sunday. Her belly squeaks past few hours already. But he is so not want to move ... Radar after an hour of dithering and now that hunger is stronger than the lazy, he travels the short distance - but oh so difficult in this day of the Lord - that separate the kitchen. The stomach cramps are becoming increasingly frequent. As if he birth of a Big Mac Alien out of her belly piercing in her womb. It was what the slab. It therefore opens the fridge, hoping to find something calorie and quick to do that would keep him until dinner. Kind of butter on bread. Or pie. Or even a Kinder Pingui. And then, horror. Woe. He caught cold by opening the door. Inside, it's empty. But really empty. Genre Normandy Beach in November. Y 'it just a pot of cream suspect that sits on the top shelf for several weeks now. And half a jar of ketchup. It closes quickly before catching pneumonia. At the bottom of a closet, he eventually found a packet of pasta. Finally this is left. That or Corn Flakes without milk or sugar. May be a need to ration to keep a few shells for tonight? And then not. This will be noodles into the water without butter, without salt and cheese, but with the right amount of oil with mayo. And tonight, well ... he will go to McDonald's and more on TV to a Bourvil and Fernandel which will be sufficient to make this gourmet meal!
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