<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss version="2.0"
	xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"
	xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"
	xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"
	xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/"
		>
<channel>
	<title>Comments on: Taster&#8217;s Cherce</title>
	<atom:link href="http://www.bronxbanterblog.com/2012/07/19/88748/feed/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
	<link>http://www.bronxbanterblog.com/2012/07/19/88748/</link>
	<description>Development site for Bronx Banter Blog&#039;s upcoming look and feel</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Wed, 19 Jun 2013 04:17:46 +0000</lastBuildDate>
	<sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod>
	<sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency>
	<generator>http://wordpress.org/?v=3.4.2</generator>
	<item>
		<title>By: Chyll Will</title>
		<link>http://www.bronxbanterblog.com/2012/07/19/88748/#comment-284656</link>
		<dc:creator>Chyll Will</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 20 Jul 2012 00:57:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.bronxbanterblog.com/?p=88748#comment-284656</guid>
		<description>Back around Memorial Day, my big brother (the comedian of our brood) came over from the Bay Area to have dinner with the rest of the family; we organized a night out at Outback and I drove him, Uncle Woodrow and my niece Nikki up to White Plains where we were met by my sister and her husband. We sat down at a round table, made our orders and chatted while nibbling on seasoned wings and Bloomin&#039; Onion...

I had ordered a Caesar salad to go with my meal, which always comes before the actual entree and sides, and I happened to look up at my brother who was waiting on another plate of wings and looking famished. I offered him some of my salad. He  gave me a sidelong glance, his eyes darting between me and the plate of salad, his expression comically repulsed. I asked, &quot;are you sure?&quot; 

He leered at me and replied, &quot;I don&#039;t like salad... &lt;i&gt;and don&#039;t wanna know anyone who does!&quot;&lt;/i&gt;</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Back around Memorial Day, my big brother (the comedian of our brood) came over from the Bay Area to have dinner with the rest of the family; we organized a night out at Outback and I drove him, Uncle Woodrow and my niece Nikki up to White Plains where we were met by my sister and her husband. We sat down at a round table, made our orders and chatted while nibbling on seasoned wings and Bloomin&#8217; Onion&#8230;</p>
<p>I had ordered a Caesar salad to go with my meal, which always comes before the actual entree and sides, and I happened to look up at my brother who was waiting on another plate of wings and looking famished. I offered him some of my salad. He  gave me a sidelong glance, his eyes darting between me and the plate of salad, his expression comically repulsed. I asked, &#8220;are you sure?&#8221; </p>
<p>He leered at me and replied, &#8220;I don&#8217;t like salad&#8230; <i>and don&#8217;t wanna know anyone who does!&#8221;</i></p>
]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
</channel>
</rss>
