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A few months back I wrote about Knocked Up and how it was actually a chick flick in disguise, or a reverse chick flick. They set you up with some dick and fart jokes, the regular guy gets the chick, then totally trashes his life for this chick who is really just a bitch that he happened to impregnate, which eventually is what makes him happy all along. I felt betrayed and hurt that the man who brought us Anchorman was fucking us over with a movie that basically said that the only way to find happiness was to sell out completely. It made me want to run around in the summer sun and drink milk.

So, with great trepidation, I decided to check out Forgetting Sarah Marshall, the latest movie from the Judd Apatow camp. The ads showed a forlorn guy (Jason Segel from How I Met Your Mother fame) trying to get over his hot ass (but kind of cross-eyed) tv actress ex-girlfriend (Kristen Bell aka Veronica Mars) by going to a Hawaiian resort where he just so happens to run into his ex who is there with her new rock star boyfriend Aldous Snow (played to narcissistic perfection by Russell Brand, some British dude I never heard of). There was certainly a lot of potential for reverse chick flick action.

Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed Knocked Up, but the whole reverse chick flick thing left me kind of hand-shy. I didn’t want to get smacked and scolded about how I’d never find happiness until I gave up everything I loved to make some ho happy. But I had read some things online, and the buzz was convincing enough that I decided to go see it. I was not disappointed.

Forgetting Sarah Marshall (which in my head I’ve called Forgetting Sara Silverman about a hundred times) is a date movie for sure, but it’s not a chick flick. Sure Peter Bretter, a slacker musician that happens to score the fake CSI knock-off that his girlfriend Sarah Marshall stars in, is lazy and goofy, but he’s a good guy. Where Knocked Up made Seth Rogen look like a stoner loser that couldn’t get his life together, this movie shows Peter as a guy that knows where he wants to be, but is tied down by stability: an easy paycheck, a stable, long-term relationship, a comfortable couch. As the movie progresses, a couple of flashback sequences show how Peter was a pretty great boyfriend that happened to suffer from the occasional bout of laziness. Another flashback sequence showed how Sarah really wasn’t all that great. Besides being hot and all, she was mostly a very selfish girlfriend who got worse the more famous she got. Did you see what they did there? They made the guy look good and the girl look bad! What can I say? I like my movies fair and balanced, just like my news.

Back to the plot, after the break-up and a string of unfulfilling one night stands (the best kind of one night stands, really), he jets off to Hawaii to a resort that Sarah always talked about. Well, wouldn’t you know, she’s there on vacation, too! Awkward… Fortunately for Peter he gets bailed out by the exotically hot, yet unappealingly tan, front-desk clerk Rachel (Mila Kunis).

He spends the first part of his vacation wallowing in misery and alcohol. Then he mans up and asks out Rachel, who is a low maintenance free spirit that appears to be hiding out from real life in Hawaii. Rachel takes Peter out for a good time, even coaxing him to do a song from his work-in-progress Dracula rock opera at a local bar.

As Rachel and Peter get closer Sarah realizes that her great new relationship with Aldous isn’t all she hoped for. He’s incredibly shallow and self-centered and doesn’t cater to her like Peter did. Sure, he fucks like Superman, but she starts to pine for Peter, particularly when she notices the burgeoning relationship between him and Rachel.

The rest of the plot you can probably figure out for yourself. Even though it’s a little on the predictable side, the story manages to keep you entertained with the little twists and turns that flesh out the rest of the story.

I’d say the strongest part of the movie is the supporting cast. Apatow regulars like Jonah Hill, Paul Rudd, Bill Hader, and even the girl that put the period blood on Jonah Hill’s leg in Superbad are all here. The resort workers are a riot, with the South Central LA refugee bartender who wants to take Peter snorkeling because it’s “sea turtle fucking season and they get it on for three hours,” and the gigantic but sweet chef that puts the whipped cream or berries on your waffles.

But let’s not forget the newlywed that is deathly afraid of his new wife’s insatiable sex drive played by Jack McBrayer (30 Rock’s Kenneth). I fucking love that guy. The way he always plays the innocent makes me really wonder what he’s like. I like to picture him as a black metal listening sex fiend that spikes his YooHoo with absinthe. He’s a scene-stealer, for sure.

Another interesting aspect of the movie is the relative nonchalance of the sexual matter in the movie. None of the love scenes seem exceptionally lascivious, but they seem very matter of fact and true to life, besides the acrobatic first scene with Sarah and Aldous, which is just ridiculous. The movie even manages to make a blowjob not look totally filthy, which is a rarity in the movies. Something that was once very taboo and solely the realm of sluts and hookers in movies is used in a very commonplace way, much as it is used in peoples’ regular sex lives.

I definitely recommend seeing this movie. It’s a genuinely funny movie with a heart. It’s not the greatest movie of all time or anything, but it’s nice to see that someone made a date movie that’s not a chick flick. But don’t think that they forgot you, ladies. You see Segel’s dong something like three times. Yep, full frontal dongage. Fellas, you’ve been warned.

 So there I am, hunched over the toilet in Fogo de Chao, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure in my stomach by pulling the trigger. I gag but nothing comes up. I feel like I may burst.

And I couldn’t be happier.

Okay, let’s be honest, I could be happier. I could be not deathly full and not trying to make myself throw up. I could be receiving a b.j. whilst playing NCAA Football on the PS3. But despite my urgent stomach pains brought on by my own gluttony I still couldn’t help but smile. Damn, that was a tasty meal.

While on an airplane and flipping through the in-flight magazine, some of the more typical steakhouse ads had been replaced with ads showing smiling fellows holding skewers of meat. “Tell me more about this, smiling man,” I said to the magazine, because apparently I do that from time to time.

Upon further inspection I found that this fellow was a full-fledged gaucho barbecuist at a place known as a Brazilian barbecue. Now I consider myself a fairly well rounded epicurean. I am familiar with many cuisines from around the world, but I have to say that all I really knew about Brazil you could fit on the back of a postcard: soccer, fine women with super-bundas, City of God, Carnival, and that a Brazilian wax is the polite way to request a landing strip from your local neighborhood aesthetician. I knew nothing of their food, but being a junkie for anything barbecue I decided I had to find one of these places and get some meat off of a skewer.

Not more than a month or two after my initial encounter with these ads, my college roommate Andy told me we had to go try this place called Fogo de Chao that just opened up in Baltimore, that it was a Brazilian barbecue, and that you basically get pummeled by a tidal wave of meat. Well, surf’s up. We made the reservations and made our way.

Before I get to the actual Fogo de Chao experience, allow me to dispense some words of advice for the first timer. First, make sure you’ve got plenty of room for food, because there will be a lot there, it will be delicious, and you will want to keep eating it. Second, do not take your lady there if she is vegetarian. (And if you’re a man and you’re a vegetarian I suppose we don’t have too much more to say to each other.) Even if she just sort of likes meat a little bit, it will be a waste of your time and money. This place was designed for red-blooded carnivores. Third, and this is important, DO NOT DRINK YOUR FACE OFF BEFORE GOING! See, when Andy and I get together and there is booze around you might as well put “Louie Louie” on the hi-fi and back up. Someone is getting drunk. This is normally not a bad thing, but you need that gastric real estate for meat.

Thanks to Andy’s wife Christy who served as our designated driver, we made it down to Pratt Street to Fogo de Chao. We pull up to the curb, hand the keys to the valet, and make our way inside. This is a seriously nice looking restaurant. Dark wood seems to be the interior theme. This is not a Golden Corral. It may be all you can eat, but it’s a nice place, so try not to look like an asshole when you go, okay? The lobby was chock full and the restaurant was bustling. You will more than likely need to make reservations. After a few moments we were led to our table. I do not remember this walk. I do remember that there was what appeared to be a salad bar on our right as we made our way in. A walk to the salad bar was, while not out of the question, not really high on my priority list. I have come for the meat, and tons of it. Not to mention that gauchos were scrambling between the tables at breakneck speed while holding sharp metal skewers of meat, so I decided to sit this one out. The wife came back and gave me the scouting report. “Even the salad bar is full of meat,” she reported with bemusement. The ladies returned with white asparagus that I think was wrapped in some kind of cured meat. There was also cured meat by itself and some cheeses, I hear. I’ll have to remember that.

We were seated and asked for our drink orders. Might I recommend the national drink of Brazil, the caipirinha. A caipirinha is a spiritual cousin of the mojito. It features cachaca, (I can’t do the funny looking c thing that looks like an evil c with a beard, but it’s under the third c. Just try to imagine it.) a liquor which is made from sugar cane, much like rum. There is also a preponderance of lime and sugar in there, too. I also think that there may have been some mint, but I am not 100% positive as my memory of the drink was fuzzy. What I do remember, though, is that the drink was damn tasty and very refreshing.

At this point the most observant people at your table will notice the disc card sitting next to their plate. One side is red, the other is green. Like most well adjusted children you have probably played Red Light, Green Light. The concept is pretty much the same.  Green means “bring on the meat, gaucho, I am not afraid.” Red means “please stop, sir. Have mercy!” Feeling as though I have waited my whole life for this moment, this circumstance in which I command the flow of meat to my plate in as great of a quantity as I wish, I flip my card to green.

Let’s just say that if these gauchos wanted to have a career in drag racing that they’d be naturals. As soon as the card hit the table four gauchos came up to the table, each with a different skewer of meat. Fogo de Chao serves 15 cuts of meat: top sirloin, bottom sirloin, filet mignon, beef ancho (a spiced ribeye), leg of lamb, pork ribs, pork sausage, chicken, and babies. That’s all I remember, but their website says they’ve got another seven kinds of meat. They will also cut the meat off of different sections depending upon your desired doneness, which really impressed me since they’re literally shaving this meat off of a huge hunk. How do they do that? All of the meat that I had was delicious, tender, juicy, and perfectly spiced. It was everything I hoped it would be.

Then there’s the cheese bread, which is worth the price of admission alone. I am dead serious. They bring out this basket of what looks like little biscuits or popovers and you’re thinking “aw, isn’t that cute.” Then you put one in your mouth and you get punched in the face with a roundhouse of flavor. Holy shit. Seriously. By the end of the meal I was so full but all I wanted was to taste the crispy on the outside, moist/chewy on the inside, “hey, is there bacon in the bread, too?”-ness of that bread one last time. This bread will make you drop kick your mom. Even if the meal was just alright, which it was certainly better than that, I would go back and drop the cash just for the bread.

After a couple of rounds of meat dueling with the gauchos (not nearly as hot or gay as it sounds) the men at the table were looking mighty defeated. There was much rubbing of stomachs and “holy Lord, I have never been so full in my life”s going around. The girls were not finished and they were ready for some dessert. I looked at my wife in horror and disgust. How could she possibly have room for anything else (besides the cheese bread)? She advised that since the girls went to the salad bar and had something besides meat they were not as full, and therefore ready for some dessert. Or maybe she has a tapeworm. The tiny bite of key lime pie I had was very good, so you’ve got that to look forward to if you make it the whole way without bursting.

So all was well and good, then the bill came. I was in no condition to handle finances at this point, I just handed the wad of cash to wifey and told her to handle it. I did not receive much change. I’m not 100% sure, but I think dinner is somewhere in the $42 - $45 range. The caipirinhas were a little pricey, I think. But I don’t remember how much those cost, either. If I were to make a guess I’d say $7 or $8, but they’re a very labor-intensive drink, so I’ll let them slide on the cost. For the two of us we dropped about $120 with tip, but it was totally worth it. The restaurant also features what appears to be a very nice wine selection if that’s your thing as well.

We rose up, significantly less wealthy and more full than when we came. The clientele seemed out for a good time, especially the table of strippers behind us with one of them wearing a tiara. I think it was her birthday. Or she may have been crowned Miss Funbags USA. (Do you like how I remember a detail like that, but I can’t remember significant details like the bill?) I don’t think I’d call Fogo de Chao a good date restaurant. But I would say it’s a good celebration restaurant, for birthdays, promotions, or finally running enough change through the Coinstar to be able to pay for a night at Fogo de Chao. That’s certainly worth celebrating. It’s a bit loud what with all the gauchos running around and strippers in tiaras clucking, and you will not be in the mood to bone after eating there. But it’s a great place to go out with friends and eat heartily. When you go, tell them Josh sent you. Granted, it’s not going to get you any special treatment, but I always wanted someone to say that when they went somewhere.

And please, don’t judge the guy in the next stall over. Trust me on this one, you may be joining him sooner than you think.

What up, ya’ll. Yeah, I’m back, now don’t go getting all goobery on me. Can’t really say that I had a good reason to not write except for maybe that I didn’t really have a good reason to write. Or so I thought. It’s hard to come up with massive posts about pooping and other such trivialities on a regular basis. So here’s the deal. I’m not going to break my neck and only post when I have long ass features. I’m going to do a little more “quick-hit” kind of things and just try to get some content going, but I promise I won’t regale you with dumb ass stories about my pets and stuff, because even I have a hard time getting excited about that stuff. But I’ll still have some features, just not as my regular posts. I have a couple in the pipe (my butt) that are almost ready to post (pull out of my butt), even.

I just want you to come back regularly. And, if you like it send some friends my way. And if you don’t like it eat your own poop. Either way is good with me, really. It’s a win/win on this end.

So that’s the deal. Sorry I’ve been gone so long, but I’ll try to make sure I don’t go running out on you like that again. I know how baby gets lonely. Stay sassy.