This is the reason why I have yet to post about lasagna adventures. At least, part of it. The work cycle is getting crazy again. One deadline just melted into another and I'm scrambling to get things in order. But before I could check another thing off of my list, I had to come face-to-face with these greasy fried nubbins. The time was set for 7:30. A few intrepid friends and I would sit down to a piping plateful. By 5, I was getting nervous. My stomach churned a bit. My friend Jared's text gave me something else to think about. "I'm scared," he wrote. "You think you're scared?" I replied. "You just have to eat them. I've gotta do that and tell the world that I ate bull's balls."
Behold: Rocky Mountain Oysters. Bulls (sometimes sheep!) balls. And they were going into my mouth. Yeah, the shit I do for work.