So, we went back and forth for a while trying to think of way to introduce ourselves. We came up with this:
J & T have been best friends since third grade and they are fabulous. This blog is our story. In all of it’s random glory.
So now that we’ve drawn you in, feast your mind on this amazing spectacle.
If you are squeamish in any way, you might want to shield your eyes from the pictures. A whole pig on a spit can be traumatic.
T & T recently moved into a fabulous old house, so what better way to celebrate? Roast a whole freaking pig. Yes. That’s right folks. T & T bought a pig that came to their house tattooed with all sorts of USDA markings, lubed up, and wrapped in cellophane. You’re probably thinking, “whaaaaa?”
No folks. It actually happened.
See? Told you.
At first, T & T were like “dude, we totally got this; our friend Rick does this all the time.”
Except Rick does rotisserie. And the “rotisserie” T&T rented wasn’t a rotisserie. It was a giant grill. You can see where this is headed, right? Downhill, fast. Except J, who has little to do at her day job, stumbled upon this blog post, from Peace, Love and French Fries about roasting a whole pig, on a giant grill. Woo to the hoo. The day is saved! I’m not exaggerating. It was literally saved.