A Quote by Woody Allen

Taste my tuna casserole - tell me if I put in too much hot fudge. — © Woody Allen
Taste my tuna casserole - tell me if I put in too much hot fudge.
We got the hot fudge on the bottom.... that allows you to control the fudge distribution while you're eating your ice cream.
I love Hot Fudge Sundaes; I could die for Hot Fudge Sundaes.
It's never been true, not anywhere at any time, that the value of a soul, of a human spirit, is dependent on a number on a scale. We are unrepeatable beings of light and space and water who need these physical vehicles to get around. When we start defining ourselves by that which can be measured or weighed, something deep within us rebels. We don't want to EAT hot fudge sundaes as much as we want our lives to BE hot fudge sundaes. We want to come home to ourselves.
I refuse to believe that trading recipes is silly. Tuna Fish casserole is at least as real as corporate stock.
Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae.
Sometimes people can put way too much emphasis on looking 'hot' which can be stressful and put you in your head.
Casseroles don't have to be about canned ingredients and vegetables you normally wouldn't even think of eating alone, much less stuck in between layers of sauce and breadcrumbs. They can vary from everyone's favorite all-time casserole, macaroni and cheese, to the ultimate English casserole, Shepherd's Pie.
The expectations some Americans put on me is too much, is what I would say. But I don't take it that way. I know no one means harm to me like that or wanting to put too much pressure on me.
My favorite thing from Dairy Queen is a Peanut Buster Parfait, which is: fudge at the bottom, vanilla ice cream, some peanuts, fudge, peanuts, ice cream, fudge, and it's layered. But I also really like peanut butter cups, so I'll put peanut butter cups in there.
I brought a condom," I tell her when I slide her panties down. We're both hot and sweaty, and I can't resist hr anymore. "I did, too," she whispers against my neck. "But we might not be able to use it." "Why not?" I expect her to tell em this was all a mistake, that she really didn't mean to get me all hot and bothered just to tell me I'm not worthy enough to take her virginity, but it's the truth. She clears her throat. "It all d-d-depends on whether or not you're allergic to l-l-latex.
The world is too serious. To get mad at a work of art-because maybe somebody, somewhere is blowing his stack over what I've done-is like getting mad at a hot fudge sundae.
London is my home. I miss my family so much; it's hard being away. And I miss salt and vinegar crisps. And Marmite. And good fudge. Oh my God. Clotted cream fudge.
Of all human activities, writing is the one for which it is easiest to find excuses not to begin – the desk’s too big, the desk’s too small, there’s too much noise, there’s too much quiet, it’s too hot, too cold, too early, too late. I had learned over the years to ignore them all, and simply to start.
A chunk of seared albacore tuna, salted and peppered, then seared rare in a little oil in a hot skillet for just a minute or so per side, is the perfect addition to a savory plate of fried rice. Just slice the tuna across the grain and fan those mild, meaty slices over the top of the rice.
In high school, I got into a speech class run by a nun who used to put on plays. She put me in a oratorical competitive program. You would tell a story, and they were very corny, something like 'My Childhood Hero.' It was something out of 'Readers Digest.' I always thought it was too much and too dramatic.
When I was coaching with the Patriots, the players pulled a practical joke and I said, 'Do you think I'm Charlie the Tuna, like a sucker?' After that, they called me Tuna.
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