No one cooks like Peter Proctor. The grits were slathered in butter and molasses. The eggs baked in butter with cheese melted all over them and smothered with butter-sauteed mushrooms and onions. Gorgeous sausages and bacon. And the biscuits were, well, biscuits.
So why does Peter have 3% bodyfat? Is there some painting of him somewhere that looks like Dom Deluise? It ain't right!
Dinner (brinner?) was sooooooo good it softened the blow of Carly going home. That ain't right either.
Peter knows The Bodyguard so well that I caught him mouthing the dialogue at one point. Of course, I do that with An Affair to Remember.
In short, we had a blast. Now, tonight I actually do go to pizza and the theatre.
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