My friends and I had been hearing only the best things about this Korean restaurant in Northeast Philadelphia. It seemed like we couldn’t walk ten paces without someone enthusiastically telling us to go to this place and get the fried chicken wings. GET THE CHICKEN WINGS.
So we went and amidst great confusion got the wings. It might not seem a great trial to order fried chicken wings (for a normal person’s life). But this might clarify why we ordered with shaky voices, “the chicken wings?” (waitstaff love nothing more than when you phrase your food order as a question):
That’s the menu. Is the hot lady a meal option? She’s both “sweet AND hot.”
The wings were mother fucking delicious. Because the wings might be people. And, dammit, people wings are fucking delightful.
You life is not so great 