Grill Pat

Ladynyahh

He's big and fat, he's Patrick Tomlinson
He probably still uses a George Foreman grill. He posted somewhere once about some "business trip" he was on and he went out to dinner with some coworkers. I don't know where it was but it was a step up from outback, and he ordered a steak well done. I'm surprised he didn't ask for ketchup too. He's a classless Midwestern rube, as well as a fat, bloated alcoholic.
 

Ladynyahh

He's big and fat, he's Patrick Tomlinson
Morton’s Steakhouse.


Doubly gay, he ordered a filet (woman’s cut), well done.
Mortons eat pretty good and he orders a well done filet. As outrageous as it is I can't say I'm surprised. He consistently enjoys eating bar food, tasteless slop that we've all seen pics of. And he orders lasagna in some shit hole restaurant in Mexico. Everything about is enraaaaaging, what a scuummmmbag
 
Some cyberstalker actually sabotaged his grill recently. He and Nikki are devastated:

Screenshot from 2024-05-18 05-52-55.png
 

RobertMewler

He probably still uses a George Foreman grill. He posted somewhere once about some "business trip" he was on and he went out to dinner with some coworkers. I don't know where it was but it was a step up from outback, and he ordered a steak well done. I'm surprised he didn't ask for ketchup too. He's a classless Midwestern rube, as well as a fat, bloated alcoholic.
You're not witty, clever, or funny, Pat:

"I ordered my ‘starch’, mashed red potatoes with the skins left in, my meat, a filet mingon well-done, and another round of drinks.

"I’m sure some of you are cringing at the very concept of a well-done filet mingon, but the texture of rare meat doesn’t agree with my palate. I understand that many carnivores prefer their steak’s experience with fire to be limited to burning the hair off a still twitching slab of muscle tissue, but I don’t believe we stole fire from the Gods just as a way to smoke-up our tents. I want my meat good and dead. The trouble with this is, under normal circumstances, I ask for well-done with the expectation that the cook will assume I’ve suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury, leaving me incapable of forming or holding rational opinions, and therefore deliver a steak the way he wants to cook it, which is typically medium if I’m very lucky. The alternative is, since the furthest most cooks ever go with their steaks is medium, if they actually venture into the unexplored territory of cooking a well-done order, they invariably cook it until it has the texture of saddle leather found amongst the artifacts of a Civil War era battlefield."

 
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