This is not my photo. But I wish it was. This is also not my girlfriend. But I wish she was. I shall entitle this photograph: “I don’t care who you are, where you’re from, don’t care what you did, as long as you love me”
Notice the amateur in the background that has no idea what he is missing.
Please find her and send her to me.
UPDATE: Within 3 hours of posting this, a very talented photographer friend of mine, Ray Thomas knew who she was. Photographer and subject are one and the same:
Judgement Day. Well it’s finally happened, A Fatburger has opened in the backyard playground I call New York City. It’s located at 507 Third Avenue (Murray Hill) in the one double-O one six.
The next closest one for us NYers is in Atlantic City at The Borgata. I don’t know about you, but I can go without the trip down to “Sunglasses at Night Alley”
I have had a lot of great burgers, but Fatburger is kind of a stand alone when it comes to its mysterious allure and ability to produce a dangerous voracity in it’s pursuers. Yes, once you have had it…you too will become a pursuer.
That’s a fried egg.
You probably haven’t tried it yet. By all means, do not check it out. I don’t want you in line in front of me anyway.
But if you want to feel ravenous and yearn for something like you’re Everything But The Girl…
I suggest you go here when you are in the city and order XXXL Fatburger with EVERYTHING on it, including a fried egg and chili.
What can I say, I’m a fan of this place.
And here is why. My first introduction to the term “Fatburger”: