Oh, how I wish I had a digital copy of my beloved V8 Lady from the last time I was at Fuddruckers. Camp ladies of the 2004 Chickasaw nation, you may remember our dear friend rocking her red and white and green and orange sweater patterned with all its carrot juice glory.
Perfection. She is and ever will be my hero.
But alas, I do not have it on hand, so I will attempt to “replace” your V8 Lady Fuddrucker image with one that is maybe, hopefully, a little easier on your eyes:
He liked his spuds (spuds = potato wedges = french fries), but was there really any doubt that he would dislike food? I think not.
As a side note, this was also his daddy’s first time at Fuddruckers. He, as you can see from the lack of a photo, was not as enthused to wear the token hat. Party pooper. Though he did like the spuds…even requested to go back a few days later.
Fuddruckers is goooood. Deep Creek tubing anyone? How about ice skating in Greenville?
Or maybe just some spuds.