Gnomey meets the Ghetto Burger

We were originally going to have lunch with Surf down in Morrow, but decided at the last minute that we could stick around here since Gnome, Sham and Surf have plans for dinner near Skiddoo's place tomorrow.

So, we headed for Ann's Snack Bar, which likely would be a hit for sumo wrestlers in Gnome's state of Hawaii.

I went there last about seven months ago, which is the minimum amount of time between Ann's visits if you care anything about your cholesterol. lol. Last trip report here.

If the seven stools at the snack bar are occupied, you have to wait outside. Plain and simple. Ann came out and chased away a bunch of people loitering on the stairs outside her snack bar.

You can't sit on the tables outside, either. She came out to scold a young lady doing so. "The tables are for eatin', not sittin.' Thank you. I appreciate it." Her cadence sounds a lot like how Denzel Washington talks.

You can't double park outside. She chased away a white dude with his black SUV.

Gnome and I waited for about an hour and a half. With no broadband access or laptops, we talked about poker hands. And poker sites.

Finally, we got to sit in one of the famous stools. Ann cleans off the entire grill, empties the grease traps and gets everything reset before she goes to work.

The Ghetto Burger is two patties, chili, bacon and Kraft cheese. Gnome and I likely would be able to feast on just one of the patties and both be full; instead we have to each tackle two patties, which are like a full pound of meat. The meat for seven burgers uncooked completely covers her grill with no space in between.

"No matter how succesful in poker I become, LJ will never eat here," I joke, after watching her order a porterhouse at the Bellagio's Prime and about five other things at breakfast at Harrah's and just nibble on all of them.

Ann does everything in order. She'll offer you a drink while you're waiting, about 20-30 minutes after you order. Then she'll bring out some nicely cooked crinkle fries as a first course. Then comes the burger.

Ann dispels recent media stories that I hadn't read about her retiring at the end of the year. She says it's her place, she'll quit when she wants to.

I think about having a "last longer" bet with Gnome, but that's just too sick to consider. During the meal we learn through Gnome's e-mail that Full Tilt is now offering an e-checks option like 'Stars.

I gobble all but a quarter of the burger and a strip of bacon. I ask Ann if it's okay if I buy another Diet Coke and then amble back to tackle the rest of it.

We get some foil for Gnome to take the rest of his burger back. It's too sick of even considering roshamboing the meal for, so I just pick up the tab.

I forced myself to bike to work just to hopefully burn off some of that carnage. Grease bleeds from my fingers as I type this. I think I'm going to treat the Ghetto Burger like I treat Omaha Eight Triple Flop in my home game: banned from consideration.