Late-night fucking sandwich

In the beautiful tradition that began this fucking blog, we came home drunk and were starving. To death. I am totally serious.

So we decided to make some fucking toast, because toast is fucking great when you're drunk and starving.

Except that we did not count on getting hijacked by a chef. Not just any chef, a fucking one-armed ninja chef. And suddenly instead of toast, we had open-faced lamb, spinach, and cheddar sandwiches with green goddess dressing.

LOOK. AT THIS. FUCKING. SANDWICH.

I almost forgot to take a picture, it was so fucking good.