Happy Meatster!!

Ah, Easter Sunday, when we celebrate the birth of Zombie Jesus with rabbits shitting multi-colored plastic eggs, and for some reason, folks eat those disgusting Peeps.  

Tina and I decided to throw a twist on the traditional Easter brunch this year, and instead dined at Nelore Churrascaria in Winter Park.  At first, some would find it odd to dine at a Brazilian steakhouse on Easter Sunday, but rest assured those Brazilians love them some Jesus.  They even erected a "Christ-zilla" statue in Rio de Janeiro.  

We got seated around 2:30 pm - dinner prices started at 3pm...SCORE!!
Our waiter brought us a bowl of cheese bread and fried bananas, and two glasses of  the blood of Christ.

Speaking of which, if red wine is the blood of Christ, does that make white wine the piss?  You know, cuz it IS yellow.  Is "Pinot Grigio" Hebrew for penis juice?  Hmmm, anyways...

Tina and I went up to the salad bar for some asparagus, hearts of palm, artichoke, artisan cheeses, smoked salmon, lobster bisque, etc.  Very important not to load up at the salad bar, just grab 1 or 2 pieces of whatever looks good, and save the rest of the room for dead animals.

Back at our table, toasted our Jesus juice, and it's game on.  Green means go...

Within seconds, we were swarmed by servers with skewers of meats.  I love that their uniform consists of Hammer pants and knee boots...badass.

They brought us bacon-wrapped filet mignon, bacon-wrapped chicken breast...

...spicy sausages, chicken legs...

...a house special sirloin that was unbelievable...

...I don't even know what you are, but I'm gonna fuckin' eat you...

...with all these carcasses being served so rapidly, I had to set down the camera and eat.  They brought by some leg of lamb and lamb chops which prompted Tina to say, "Poor Bambi".  I just stared at her until she said "Oh, wait..."

We ate garlic beef, BBQ baby backs, flank steak, ribeye, and some beef ribs that were so damn huge they coulda knocked over Fred Flintstone's car.

Tina quit first, after complaining that she felt like she was gonna give birth to a meat baby.  I followed soon after I began profusely sweating gravy.  NO MAS!!

Oh man, I can't eat another bite of...oh, what's this?

We finally left after over an hour of sport-eating and for some reason stopped for gelati on the way home because we are obviously stupid.  We spent the rest of the evening fully reclined on the couch, reeking of gluttonous shame but sporting Cheshire smiles.

Now if you'll excuse me, there's a toilet with my name on it...