Greetings,
I hope this post finds you well.
Due to my diet and some ongoing health considerations, I usually avoid pasta sauces unless I make them myself. So this past week, for meal prep, I kept things simple. I picked up fresh beef and veal, ground them myself, and put together this straightforward herb pasta using herbs from my garden.
It may not look like much, but it’s hearty, filling, and exactly what I needed. If you’re looking for something easy and satisfying, give it a try. This portion is small, but it scales well for a full week of meals or to feed a family.
Enjoy.
I won't be posting on April, it's a special month for me for more than one reason, so I'll see what I cooked up for you Gobbos on May, eh? Take care & Maw Hong (if that's still a thing haha). Cheers!
We can't show this anywhere else on the internet but here. Enjoy.
Listen. This video is unbelievably stupid. But why not put it on Plus for the world to see?
Thank you for being here, paying member, or not!
Hey everyone! You've seen him many times on the show, but we are super pleased to announce that Cecil AKA "GoodBadFlicks" will be joining us here on Plus!
Check out his video below and feel free to comment on anything you would like Cecil to do exclusively here on Plus!
Bit of a personal one here. So I'm 30 in less than a month and it seems a period of transition is upon me. While I have a good life and am very blessed there are things that are on the verge of crumbling and honestly its scary.
On Mothers day (uk date) I found out my Mother is suicidal.
Since last Wednesday my job could very well be in jeopardy, how much? Right now I am unsure, it could go any which way.
Do I think I will get through this? One way or another yes.
The question is simply what will I lose and what will I gain? And honestly I'm bloody petrified.
It could be my mother will be fine and simply work will not be as good... it could be I lose both.
I'm trying my best to stay calm but unfortunately this is a time when the tism hurts most.
My brain cannot stop. The uncertainty is too much and although my dad has vowed to support me should the worst come to pass... I'm so fucking scared...
If I get put in a tough place it could break my mother, it could be too much. If I lose my mother it ...
We’re hooking you up with a full year of voting power at TheRealGameAwards.com for free.
As part of your PLUS membership, you’ll get complimentary access to the Nominate and Vote plan - normally paid, but 100% free for you. That means you can nominate your favorites, cast your votes, and help shape what gets recognized this year.
Side Scrollers PLUS members....
You already know you’re getting the best value on the internet – but today, we take it to a whole new, borderline ridiculous level. Forget exclusive shows, behind-the-scenes content, or bonus streams… you’re getting PREMIUM SCAR CONTENT. That’s right – the raw, unfiltered aftermath of my ankle surgery, in glorious detail, only for the chosen few. It's disgusting & will be GNARLY when it's healed.
You’re welcome.
With that said, what is the worst injury you've ever had? Have you had to have surgery before? Tell me in the comments PLUS Members!
We never meant for today to turn into a full-blown pilgrimage. Originally, we planned a livestream. Buc-ee’s would be the backdrop — oversized snacks, perfectly arranged brisket burritos, and the distinct scent of gasoline and nostalgia in the air. But, somewhere between idea and execution, we said “nah.”
Instead, we lived it.
Before we even stepped through Buc-ee’s automatic doors, we were greeted by a fan — a small but energizing reminder that what we do matters to people. And then, with the kind of anticipation you normally reserve for concerts or Christmas mornings, Blabs declared her one true goal: eat.
Blabs, already vibrating with excitement, stood before the sandwich counter like a worshipper at an altar. Her hands jazzed, clasped, fluttered, pointed. The Big Buckin’ Brisket Sandwich was tempting, but the Carolina Pulled Pork stole her soul. She literally hugged the sign.
“Ohhh, maybe I’ll get both,” she mused. “I’m getting fat-ass today.”
A bold declaration. A Buc-ee’s declaration.
She danced toward the bakery. Oatmeal raisin cookies, massive cinnamon rolls, muffins the size of small dogs — she surveyed them all like a war general planning a sweet invasion. Meanwhile, I was struggling with my own indecision. Chicken and fries? A burrito? Brisket? Cheesesteak? It was a battlefield of carbs and smoked meats.
Eventually, I landed on the pulled pork. Blabs did too. And just like that, we made our way out to the car — two champions, two sandwiches, no napkins.
We forgot drinks. That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was thinking I’d get the first bite in before Blabs.
Because by the time I opened my sandwich wrapper, she was halfway done. I've never seen anyone eat a barbecue sandwich with such speed, such joy, such… grace? Is that the word? Probably not. But impressive? Hell yes.
She danced with every bite. She hoovered. She transcended. “It’s so freaking good, bro,” she managed between mouthfuls.
It wasn’t just eating. It was a performance.
When the last bite vanished, she leaned back, fully satisfied, glowing like someone who just achieved true peace. Ten out of ten. Would eat again. Probably twice today.
Meanwhile, I was still on bite one.
But we weren’t done. Oh no. You can’t just leave Buc-ee’s after one round. We went back in, like hobbits returning to Mordor — except instead of a cursed ring, we were chasing pecans and Rice Krispie Treats.
Blabs wandered through the store like she was in a trance. Candies. Drinks. Nuts. Bakery goods. That glazed pecan display practically called to her by name. She considered everything and then some: peppered turkey strips, oatmeal raisin cookies (again), fudge, Rice Krispie Treats the size of VHS tapes. She caved. She grabbed a cart.
Women be shopping. Yes, even at Buc-ee’s.
There was a moment of existential crisis near the fudge. A penny press nearly brought her to tears of joy. She packed pennies. This was not her first Buc-ee’s rodeo.
At one point, we passed a teenage influencer loudly proclaiming to his 12 followers, “THIS is Buc-ee’s.” Blabs side-eyed him while gripping her peppered turkey like a survivalist. She wasn’t here to post. She was here to consume.
At checkout, the final damage: $39.16. Worth every penny.
She debated adding more beaver nuggets but showed rare restraint. As we walked out, the Texas heat hit like a wave, and the sadness set in. The doors whooshed shut behind her — the gates of Valhalla, closing. There was a look in her eyes. The look of someone who’d found love… and had to leave it behind.
In her bag: one brisket burrito, to be savored across the next few nights like a squirrel rationing acorns. In her heart: memories of pulled pork perfection.
And maybe — just maybe — we bring the King of the Couch crew here next time. An army of content creators, united under the Buc-ee’s banner, battling it out, fueled by brisket and joy.
Until then, we live with the memory. And Blabs? She’ll dream of that sandwich.
