Category Archives: cooking

Oh felicitous day!

Have you ever opened a tin of leftovers only to find the tables’ worth of cutlery inside because the previous week during a “cleaning spree” you had thrown away all of your previously owned knives and forks (let’s be fair I only owned one of both, but still it was trying to eat pasta without them)?

Tofu burrito, fries, and cutlery. Huzzah!

Tofu burrito, fries, and cutlery. Huzzah!

Thank you, Mad Mex, I don’t have to eat pasta with my hands this week.

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Anything that’s not nailed to the ground

From my very limited understanding of history, the last days of Rome were a rough place to be: hedonism, theft, moral malaise. And while I gathered these opinions about the civilization’s decline following a less than five minute Google search, I can confidently say that my declining juncture at my job is probably similar.

Or maybe not. But I am stealing everything that isn’t nailed to the ground. The most eccentric theft to date pertains to my aggressive love of hot sauce.

Some nice person left out a communal hot sauce for the lunch room, and while I appreciate the spirit of generosity I more greatly appreciate free condiments. However, I couldn’t just take the bottle of hot sauce in broad (albeit florescent) daylight. So, I did what every crazy person would do.

I dumped half the bottle of hot sauce into the remains of a Herr's pretzel  bag

I dumped half the bottle of hot sauce into the remains of a Herr’s pretzel bag

And my lunch then consisted of:

it consisted of pretzels, a bag of stolen hot sauce, and - what the hell - I stole a packet of cream cheese for the fun of it

it consisted of pretzels, a bag of stolen hot sauce in an old pretzel bag, and – what the hell – I stole a packet of cream cheese for the fun of it

Next up: trying to thieve the vending machine.

 

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The amount of fucks I give

Zero - no fucks. Not a single one

Zero – no fucks. Not a single one

The Cheez-its are an arrow pointing to the stars in reverence for this song:

Cause when you are facing cardiac arrest by pizza, truly the “only way is up,”  from there.

Did I mention that this was a microwavable pizza for one? Cause, yes.

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One pan to rule them all. And in my apartment fry them.

I only own one kitchen appliance. It’s a skillet. It’s made of iron. It’s so large that it could cook me.

leg of lady is on the menu when I'm cookin', Jack.

leg of lady is on the menu when I’m cookin’, Jack.

The only reason I haven’t thrown it away is because I am sure it could double as a weapon.

But on a rare occasion when my supper isn’t cold pizza with several Yuenglings and a couple ounces of hot sauce, I’ve been known to try and cook rice in that sucker.

But I was steaming the rice with an old VHS organizer

But I was steaming the rice with an old VHS organizer

The end of the rice story is that the faux-wood ended up peeling off into the rice and the chemicals mixed with the grains to create a cloud in my kitchen that might have been a noxious and poisonous gas.

But at the end of the day I can still use that skillet to ward off intruders.

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Filed under Booze, cooking, food, horrifying, science! technology!

A shocking discovery in the finer details of fire safety

Rut roh. Do you remember when I set my nachos on fire and threw them out of a window? (I do!). Well, a shocking revelation has unfolded.

My friends are the sort of people that would mourn nachos

My friends are the sort of people that would mourn nachos

But then

...balls

…balls

The truth is revealed. There is a chance that maybe, several years ago, I put Triscuts and cheese (“nachos”) in the broiler and left them in there for about fifteen minutes. Opened the broiler only to discover the entire mass in flames. And promptly closed the broiler. I then deferred to an adult about the fire I just started.

fire safety 2 2 2
BA hijinx never forgets…

he also reinterprets artistic You Life works

he also reinterprets artistic You Life works

I am going to star in a Lifetime original movie called, “The Littlest Arsonist.”

And, for the safety of all, I should probably retire from my job as a nacho/Triscut/cheese cook.

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The finer details of fire safety

The other night I decided to make nachos as a celebratory meal for finishing a Tuesday well done.  And also because I feel less pathetic cooking dinner for one (plus cats) when it’s a featured item on the Chili’s menu.

Some people think “nachos” and this is what is brought to their imagination:

whoever made this is a miracle worker of culinary proportions

whoever made this is a miracle worker of culinary proportions

I make a less traditional nacho, comprised of only two ingredients:

This is more my speed

This is more my speed

After throwing those into the broiler there are some that might diligently wait by the oven and wait for the cheese to melt and then proceed with feasting. But I am not some, and instead walked to my local 7-11  to get additional grocery-like supplies.

I returned to a miniature conflagration in my kitchen.

Since I paid attention in grade school I knew that I needed to get a fire extinguisher right quick. I ran to my hallway to grab it and that is where I found:

Happy 2013!

Happy 2013!

As it turns out, a fire extinguisher two years expired doesn’t work on a molten mass of flaming triscuits. So I did what any person would do. I grabbed six towels, opened the window, and threw the firey food into the softly falling snow.

And then I left a PSA where the expired fire extinguisher used to be for my landlord to see

smokey is furious

 

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Hurricane Sandy and lotsa fuckin’ candy


Oh hey! There was hurricane throughout the East Coast from Sunday to Tuesday of last week. Did you hear about this? Gotta tell you, I ignored every single news report of it because my evil Canadian overlord (see: my job) almost assuredly wouldn’t close. I prepared for the hurricane as the best little You Life I could be. I went to the dollar store and got the essentials:

cat food – look at how fucking terrified that cat is, also 30% protein? Amazing. Cat litter – for cartoon animals

And diet coke.

Sunday night I was lounging when I got a call that indicated that the East Coast was going to fall into the ocean: my office was closed. Perhaps I should have purchased a candle? Nope – let the rains come.

The beginning of the hurricane stay-vaction

On Monday I woke up to a gray sky, but nothing that indicated to me that the gods’ were wrathful. After waking up, going back to sleep, waking up again, and then trying to make a cup of coffee from an espresso machine that I forgot I stole from a cunty ex-roommate I was up. Starving. Bored.

So I assessed the following two things: the secret reserves in the apartment

This is for the end times. The secret storage of candy, syrup, and strawberry fluff

And how it looked outside:

Let’s be frank. There is only so much reading, movie watching, hobby-doing, and masturbating that a person can do in one day. At around two I had enough. I left the apartment to walk to get food. Nothing was open. So then, I did what any adult would do.

I went to see how terrifying the playground was during the hurricane

Shortly after going on the swings a police officer drove by and gave me a very stern tongue lashing pertaining to the idiocy of wandering around during a storm.

Returned home.

Sent this text message to my best friend after the lights started flickering:

“I better not have to wank off by candle light” (it would be like jerking off during Little House of the Prairie times. I want to crank it with all of the modern amenities).

Hunger took over. So I did what I needed to do…

I defrosted the chocolate bunnies from Easter, seven months earlier, and covered them in Cupcake magic shell for dinner

Sadness. Utter sadness.

Finally a friend without power came over with the barest of cooking supplies (defrosted chicken thighs, a mini pan, rice, and rum). Seeing as how I don’t own any of the following: cooking oil, a pot, utensils, or a pan it was going to be a trial to cook both the chicken and rice. But, since I am a bit of a fucking wizard I made an entire meal using the smallest frying pan known to man and an iron skillet that was so large that it could have cooked me. I steamed the rice in the skillet with a pizza box. INDUSTRIOUSNESS.

While cooking this a Queen song played in the background. What is covering the bitty frying pan? A metal pizza “stone” …rust side up.

Tuesday:

Tried to sleep in. With great success

Played SNES for hours

In the battle for Kirby dominance I told Happy Brother Senior to eat an entire bag of dicks and finished the victor.

And then it all de-evolved after the second entire day without leaving the apartment. It de-evolved into me creating this “mojito” mix that I think was a code for rat poison. It called to fill a plastic bucket with warm water, this neon green powder, and rum. Later on that day I could be found amongst the piles of VHS tapes in my apartment, eating the slushy poison out of a bucket, dancing to the last song from the credits in Legend.

No seriously, Tangerine Dream is fucking out of this world amazing.

And that is how I survived.

Because I was fine. And my love was strong enough.

Hearts, and flowers, and posi vibes to those not as ridiculously fortunate as me.

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