Archive for the 'Food' Category

06
Jul

How dare you touch my meat?!

As you may or may not know, this past Thursday was my 40th birthday. There was much rejoicing and celebrating (photos to follow later this week), but the point of this entry is to tell you about one of the greatest gags ever.

I am a big green egg owner. I have two larges. I love my BGE’s. I love cooking on them. We had some amazing rack of lamb Thursday night, and more stuff thru the weekend.

The reason I’m telling you this is that I’m sort of famous / notable in the little enclave of ours as a BGE expert, as is my brother in law that lives across the street.

One of our buddies in the neighborhood has had his BGE for about two years now and got it thru me. He is a nervous cooking guy and as such, he’s usually asking me or my BIL for advice on cooks, especially on ones that you do very often.

So here we sat Thursday night, full with draft beer and my brother in law mentions that our buddy is doing his very first overnight cook of Boston Butts. Even better, our buddy was cooking them for his son’s baseball team party the next day.

So my BIL and I (and about five other drunks) start talking, and we decide to commit butt larceny. So I set my BGE up for a butt cook and let the temp get settled for about an hour and a half, and we hit the road.

We had a (difficult to find) sober friend agree to drive us over there. Armed with our own aluminum pans and some food service gloves (food safety is never a joke kids), we set out to make our move.

Our driving friend parked behind an ice plant about three houses away, and we drunk folk proceeded to ninja / special ops traverse the yards and enter the subject’s back yard area.

We found just what we expected: a perfectly set 230 degree large Big Green Egg containing two nice looking sevenish pound boston butts. My BIL and I grinned at each other and moved the butts to our aluminum pans and, before leaving, dumped a pile of that night’s chicken wing remnants in their place.

We laughed our butts (pun intended) off on the way back to my house, and after getting the pork on to my grill, we all hit the rack and called it a day.

The next morning, I check the temp.

Perfect.

I open the BGE and look, and the butts are spectacular. Possibly a top ten ever effort on my part. I removed them, wrapped them in foil and towels and set them in an Igloo cooler to finish the work. So I head over to the BIL’s house to see when he wanted to return the meat.

As I was walking in the house, I hear his cell phone ringing, and right after that, the house phone is well. I was about to close the door when I heard my wife from across the street saying my Blackberry was ringing. I was pretty sure of the source of all three phone calls.

After a moment of chatting, we agreed that my 12 year old nephew should go to the door and say "Excuse me, but I am raising money for a state baseball tournament. Would you like to buy some pulled pork?"

We drove over, went to the front door and rang the bell, and Mrs. Victim answered the door.

She did NOT look pleased. Or amused. She looked pissed.

Our buddy came to the door and, after some cajoling, he more or less agreed that it was funnier than all get out that someone stole his overnight cook.

The best part for me was that I had drilled into him the following advice:

Never ever look. At least not before the 12 hour mark. You KNOW it’s not done, so don’t mess up the joo joo by peeking.

Trust the Egg. It won’t let you down.

So when he lifted the lid at 8:30am and saw nothing but a very crisp pile of wing carcasses, two things happened:

He yelled to his wife (who was just returning from Starbucks): "Honey!! Someone stole my meat!"

He then thought to himself "Jesus, I burned those butts down to nothing."

Nevermind that it is very unlikely to burn something so badly that it’s DNA and / or species changes. I mean really.

I must have laughed for half an hour straight, but all the while I was telling our buddy how to proceed as far as foiling, resting in the cooler and pulling the pork. I also said that I’d come over and help pull it if need be. I even said that having that meat stolen by me was kind of like having your children kidnapped by The Super Nanny or the Dali Lama. His butts really couldn’t have been in better hands.

Fast forward to my little birthday soirre Saturday night, and I was sort of shocked that he and his wife didn’t show up for my party after saying they’d attend earlier in the day. But I kind of understand why now.

The stolen butt story was the talk of the party (besides grown men funneling beer). Everyone there, literally, was talking about our prank. I am prouder of that prank by the moment and I look forward to doing it to someone else in the future.

Anyway, I just wanted you all to know the story and to watch your butts. You never know when a group of drunken neighbors may try to steal yours.

18
Jun

My new cause in life

Unless you live under a rock or under Avitable, you know who Jessica Simpson is. She is the big-tittied daughter of a minister turned overbearing pimp of his children who was married to Nick Lachey and on that MTV show "Newlyweds" that showed us all how dumb naive she was about money and cars and life and sex and laundry and cooking and everything else.

She has also dated/not dated/dated/not dated Dallas Cowboy QB Tony Romo since the tragic end of her marriage to Mr. Lachey.

She’s a talented singer. You only have to watch this clip to know how talented she truly is.

Now, sarcasm aside, I actually like her and think a lot of her dizziness is an act. But she has taken five years of shit and smiled through it all. She’s spent her life lorded over by her pedophile of a dad who can apparently only talk about two things in interviews:

Jessica’s boobs are real and made her uncomfortable.

Jessica’s commitment to her virginity until marriage (this was obviously before the newlyweds show).

We agree on both counts, just so you know. Her boobs make me very uncomfortable, specifically when I hurt my penis while masturbating to them using cheap conditioner, shaving cream or just a handful of Newman’s Own dressing.

I was also committed to her virginity despite the fact that I knew Mr. Lachey planned to do permanent harm to her mysterious lady parts.

Enough about me. Today I’m stumbling thru my usual news reads: Wall Street Journal, Barron’s, The New York Times, AVN weekly, and WWTDD, and I found this horrid story on Fox News.

Here’s a photo because no Jessica Simpson story is complete without one:

meaty goodness

Now PETA has their collective gay pot smoking hippie hemp panties in a knot and made Jessica public enemy number one, along with adding a list of the top five reasons why only stupid girls would brag about eating meat. Here’s PETA’s list (followed by my witty rebuttals):

1. Meat increases the risk of breast cancer. A 2007 study of 35,000 women published in the British Journal of Cancer found that women who ate meat were far more likely to develop breast cancer than women who consumed none. Will Jessica’s next t-shirt will say, "Real Girls Smoke 3 Packs a Day"?

I hope she does because T-shirts are funny, don’t hurt anyone, and who in their right mind is sitting around waiting to make dietary decisions based on what this girl has scrawled across her fun bags?

2. Real girls don’t support animal abuse. Compassion is super sexy , if the huge number of hot celebs ditching meat is any indication. Young women turn vegetarian in droves when they learn that the meat industry cuts the sensitive beaks off newborn chicks and cuts off the tails of baby piglets.

Hey you dumbass PETAs (who I am about to start calling PITA). You’re rotting from the inside out because you eat no protein. Unless you’re a vegan. But if you’re vegetarian, then you don’t mind fucking over fish and plants. You don’t think tomatoes have feelings? Or Chilean Sea Bass? And for every devout PETA person who lives like this, there are five carrying signs while wearing a leather belt or some $600 shoes made out of kitten scrotums.

3. The meat industry is destroying the Earth. The only thing that’s hot about the meat industry is that it’s toasting the planet . According to the United Nations, raising animals for food causes more greenhouse-gas emissions than all the cars, trucks, SUVs, planes, and ships in the world combined.

Absolutely and completely bullshit. There is no way on God’s not as green as it used to be earth that that’s true. If it is, I would contend that human farting is a thousand times bigger problem than animal farting. Why, my father alone is probably making Al Gore cry himself to sleep daily. Oh, and the next thing the UN says that’s true will be the first thing. Stupid dictators.

4. Meat will make you fat. All the saturated fat and cholesterol in chicken wings, pork chops, and steak eventually leads to flabby thighs and love handles . I hope the upcoming "Jessica Simpson’s Intimates" line comes in plus sizes! Going vegetarian is the best way to get slim and stay that way.

Fuck you again. If you ate 5,000 calories a day of asparagus and didn’t exercise, you’d get fat. That’s the trouble with trendy bandwagon clubs like PETA. They don’t like to let facts or, God forbid, MATH, get in the way of a good quote.

5. Eating meat steals food from starving kids. Jessica’s trip to help kids in Africa got a lot of media buzz, but by gnawing on meat, she’s essentially stealing food from the mouths of starving children since it takes up to 16 pounds of grain to produce just 1 pound of meat. If more people went vegetarian, we’d free up enough grain to feed every person in the world.

I’m pretty sure that the sabre-rattling dictators that run their countries steal way more food from starving kids than Jessica Simpson. Look at her for God’s sake. Do you think she walks into the Golden Corral and says to the guy behind the counter, "Hey Cutie. I’ll take the Old 96er please. And make sure I get plenty of grissle?" Of course not. Like any hot skinny chick with big tits, she probably does some blow before dinner, loses her appetite and then just takes a bite of the lobster before she purges and ends the night by giving the star quarterback a hand shandy under the table.

So my message to you, PETA, is to get off your high horse, stop lying, and do us all a favor and fuck yourselves mute.

13
Mar

Here’s a story for ya:

Enjoy.

I have many questions.

1) How does someone sit on a toilet for two years?  If I stay in there for 30 minutes my ass, legs and feet go to sleep.

2) How many bathrooms did this place have?  I mean, was this guy hammering beers and when he went to pee remembered his girlfriend was stuck to the toilet so he’d just pee in the tub or the sink?

3) Who was doing all of the cooking and cleaning during these two years?

4) If they wanted to have “relations,” did he just walk up, drop trau and let it happen? (I just finished Tucker Max’s book “I hope they serve beer in hell,” and he told a story of getting a smoothie whilst dropping the deuce).

5) What did she eat?  I can’t comprehend eating or drinking anything while I’m on the can.  I have friends that take coffee and / or cigarettes in with them, but I’ve never been able to do that.

6) Did she change clothes?  I mean, not full outfits, but for Easter would should have someone bring her a nice dress, which she’d carefully place in a pile around her ankles?  Or maybe at Christmas her boyfriend would bring her a Santa hat or something.

7) How exactly does one sit so still for so long that their skin grows around the toilet seat?   I have to fidget more than a cat trying to get comfortable for a nap when I’m doing work.  This chick couldn’t have been kept on the can against her will, right?

8) For holidays, did they bring the kids table into the bathroom and put three chairs on the other sides of the table and then serve everybody Thanksgiving dinner or something?  Or did they just bring her a tv tray.

9) Did she watch any tv while she was in there?  I find that time moves relatively slowly when I’m on the can.  Wouldn’t you go crazy if you sat on the toilet with no mental or visual stimulus for a week or two, let alone two years?

10)It said in the story that her boyfriend would ask her to come out of  the bathroom and she’d say “Maybe tomorrow?”  What the hell?  When 2doh is wiggling her fingers under the door whilst I poop, I implore her to give me “a few more minutes.”  And this guy just took “Maybe tomorrow” as an answer and went about his day of masturbating and killing mexican hookers in the kitchen?

11)Who paid the bills?  Was the government involved in supporting this lazy bitch?  And if so, did her boyfriend forge her name on the disability checks or did she endorse them and assume he would deposit them correctly?

12)does anyone else want to see pictures of this place (without her of course)?  I was shocked that this story didn’t include the phrases “Feral Cats,” “rooms full of rotting garbage” or “Last girlfriend’s dead body found in freezer.”  These people should be studied, not prosecuted.

13)what does it say about people or your town when the local law enforcement’s response to this story is “”It really doesn’t surprise me,” What surprises me is somebody wasn’t called in a bit earlier.”?

Why wasn’t someone called a bit earlier!?!?!?!?  If I’m a half hour late coming home from work or to my parents house or something, someone calls me.  who outside of the house didn’t bother to wonder a single bit where this woman was for TWO YEARS?

Then again, maybe it was accidental.  You know, like those really fat people that have to be saved by Geraldo Rivera or Richard Simmons, a crew of firemen, a flatbed tow truck and the jaws of life.  Maybe after a weekend binge of beer, hot wings and all you can eat thai food, this chick went in the WC to really get herself right, and after a while she was just a little stuck, but then before she knew it, her fast growing skin had sealed itself to / around the toilet and then she was stuck, but she was so embarassed that she tried to play it off  as nothing and her boyfriend, being mostly retarded or something just figured “Hey, as long as I bring her food and water, everything should be fine.”

Anybody else have any questions about this story?

02
Mar

Man do I love eatin’ poutine

Got one today from a place called Tony-Mary Pizza (along with a gyro) and HOLY CRAP was it good.

I’m considering moving my family here just so I can be closer to the blessed dish.

Trouble is, Avitable would probably move here too along with his FryDaddy and I’d only live about 48 hours after that.




 

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