Babes in Poland

Waiting For FaBill

Waiting for FaBill

We ate a delicious lunch at a traditional Lithuanian restaurant. They had potato pancakes just like my mom makes at home and, for the first time since I came to Eastern Europe, I cleaned my plate. But, like everywhere in Europe, the service was slow and Crac was getting antsy.

“I wish the bill would come.”

That is what she said. But what I heard was, “I wish Bill would come.”

So I said to her, “You think the waiter’s name is Bill?”

She looked at me crossly.

“No, THE bill.”

But what I heard was, “FABILL.”

So again, I said to her, “You think the waiter’s name is FaBill? What the hell kind of name is that?”

Then she got really mad.

“NO, I WANT THE BILL. THE CHECK. THE TICKET. THE INVOICE. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE WAITER’S NAME IS.”

Then she smacked me.

TGI Friday's World Tour

Thank God for Friday's. It was our first stop in Vienna. Here I am kissing the hallowed ground. Do not adjust your monitors, my ass really is that big.

Chickenshit

Last night, Cracola and I finally made dinner at home. We needed some protein so we bought some not yet rancid chicken at the Polish Wegmans. I asked the guy at the store for 1 breast and even though he spoke no English and I spoke no Polish, I gave him the international sign for "1 chicken breast" by pointing at him with my index finger, grabbing my boobs and beginning to cluck like a chicken.

We bought the Dolly Parton of Polish chicken breasts because the breast was HUGE. It was so thick and meaty that there was no way that it was going to cook up in our meager pan. And to prevent the salmonella we knew was hiding in the breast, we knew we needed to cook the shit out of it for like hours.

At home, I would have used a hammer to pound the breast into a thin wafer of meat but our apartment had no hammer. Enter, Law of the European Union which I used to beat the crap out of the chicken.

I am a culinary master!

The Polish TGI Friday's

I told Cracola before we set out for the mall today that I hoped that there would be a Friday's or the equivalent at the mall. And there was!

Allow me to introduce you to Jeff's Mexican Festival aka the Polish TGI Friday's, where the menu is in english and there is no Mexican food to be found!

We dined, no, FEASTED, on onion rings and salad. We don't know who Jeff is or why he calls his American place a "Mexican Festival" but Jeff, these Babes in Poland Salute you!

Dinner

This is what we ate for dinner last night. Yes, that is a pan of corn and no I am not making this up.

And on the Third Day, Delirium Set in...

And we ate the food. And not just a little, a whole bunch.

We ate lunch at this little Italian place and ate pasta. And cheese. And meat. And tomato sauce.

Then, as if we hadn't tempted fate enough, we ate huge ice cream sundaes. With fresh strawberries.

I expect that we will both be spending the rest of the night on the shitter. But as I told Cracola, that's what toilets are made for.

For Only $1 a Day You Can Feed a Starving Babe in Poland

Because, you know, we can't feed ourselves.

Millions of Peaches, Peaches for Me

Yeah, I wish.

Behold! Out dessert!

Cracola 0, cracow_couture 1

Cracola was the first one of us to experience intestinal distress from the poison Polish food. It seems Cracola was far too bold yesterday putting milk in her coffee at the cafe we were at. Faaaaaaar too bold. She won't be making that mistake again.

War Ration Dinner or We Need a Victory Garden

Cracola and I cooked dinner for ourselves.  And when I say "dinner" I mean a "meal that resembled a dinner from 1945".

Our fabulous meal included 3 small pierogies, a small sauteed onion and a can of peaches. Between us.

Why?   Why such meager portions?  Because there is nothing, absolutely nothing to eat in this country.

Please send food.