Welcome back to the weekly roundup here at Eating Our Words, where we're still nursing bottle rocket burns and kebab skewer wounds from the 4th of July celebration on Monday. Did anyone else get really, really drunk and wind up donating half of your paycheck to the National Rifle Association and the other half to Planned Parenthood? And think this was just insanely funny for some reason? And then wake up 12 hours later on the roof of an Oshman's? No? Just me? Okay, then. Better luck next year, losers.

We started the week off right with a profiling of some delicious secret sauce, so secret only Banksy knows what's in it. Next up, we quizzed you on your ability to tell real meat from fake meat. If you fared poorly, we would advise you get in some practice before you go picking up any hookers in the Montrose area. We're not judging one way or the other, we're just saying... learn.

After stocking up on protein at Samba Grille, we boozed it up with a little bit of the ol' Southside. Hey, don't blame that Moby song on the Southside. That song is nobody's fault but Moby's. And Gwen Stefani's, come to think of it.

Are you one of these five types of dining companions? Congratulations, all your friends despise you! You can help make up for that by maybe springing for some duck at Revival Market. The respect and adoration of your friends is worth dropping a little cash on, right? Wait, you're saying not everyone has to pay people to hang out with them? Ha! Ha ha! You're funny! And yet I'm oddly sad now.

It's still hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock here in the Bayou City, so we've gone ahead and outlined the five best summertime drinks for you. We can personally vouch for the greatness of the French 75. We like any cocktail that uses champagne instead of soda. "Wait. This needs fizz, yes... but instead of fizzy water, how about MORE BOOZE?" Genius.

Feel like dropping $100 on a single roll of sushi? Then you'll want to head on over to Dragon Bowl with all your fellow subprime lenders, you rotten son of a bitch. Sorry, we just assume anyone with that much money to blow on one sushi roll made it by permanently screwing up the economy. A pretty reasonable assumption, we'd say.

Here's some amusing food requests from the tour riders of a few successful performers. Basically, Iggy Pop is hilarious and knows his wine, and Weezer are finicky little cusses. 

It's still possible to get good seafood in Galveston, so that's a relief. They'd better keep an eye on their area code, however, or some beer company is gonna co-opt it. I bet the 713 beer is going to taste like King Cobra and Drank.