All of my friends are running, and fitbit’ing, and learning how to cook with organic vegetables.
This is what I’m doing:
If you’re interested in the recipe it’s called “I Dare You, Heart Failure” :
You’ll need:
* Kraft Easy Mac – Nacho Flavor
* any brand cheese puff
* an indefatigable sense of hubris
* healthy arteries
Directions:
* cook Easy Mac
* fold in cheese puffs
* laugh in the face of good taste and healthy living.
It shouldn’t be surprising, but it seems that with unemployment I have become considerably lazier than recent memory recalls. With getting laid off I’ve noticed that it has opened up a world of possibilities, such as more time to shower but also less impetus to get out of bed.
Also, re-making Dre’s 2001: The Chronic to make it cat friendly for my kits:
hey-eh-eh-ay catnip everyday
But I’ve been neglecting more than just my personal hygiene and commitment to sanity. I’ve neglected skillet
It seems as though when I was making skillet work double duty as a pasta-maker, I didn’t consider that the noxious combination of pasta water and the bottom of the balsa wood VHS organizer would create something considerably unholy.
this is the tool I use to steam pasta in a cast iron skillet
This is what the bottom looked like after I steamed the pasta:
that ring was not an original feature of the organizer
And this what happened after letting the fumes, and poison, and remnants of pasta that I couldn’t fish out percolate for about a week (read: a month):
Sweet mother of God
It gets worse:
It’s my very own version of the Origin of Species. But, ya know, in my kitchen
When the mold started I did what any person would do.
I put the VHS organizer back on top of the skillet so as not to deal with it.
Until today. Now the little community of, what can only be evil and villainous, mold can live free in the skillet for all of eternity.
In my trash.
But I played Taps while heaving it into the dumpster.
Filed under apartment, cats, cooking, food, horrifying, music, pets, science! technology!
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.
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
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.
Filed under Booze, cooking, food, horrifying, science! technology!
love me
Because I stole a co-worker’s hot sauce and made it into a baby.
Look closely at this
ya lookin’?
What does this look like to you? Does it look like candy? An adorable pumpkin shaped candy? Let’s say you dig your hand into the basket of Halloween candy in the back of your office pull this out, think it’s some sort of candy corn, and proceed to eat it.
When you realize that it’s actually an eraser, and that you are eating an eraser at work, what would you do:
I did one of the above. I will let you decide which.
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.
I find cooking for the workplace to be one of the most difficult tasks of the week: more difficult than getting out of bed or dressing myself. It is even more difficult than showering without a shower curtain.
So how can one create a meal for the work day? Easy! Along with my ability to negotiate loan re-payment plans, I am something of a culinary genius when it comes to crafting the perfect meal for a busy work week.
Here are my tips:
Step 1: Press the snooze button on the alarm five to ten times. Given that the snooze lasts for five minutes, that means you could potentially over-sleep anywhere between 25 minutes to an hour late. You have sacrificed getting up early and making a meal in order to be well rested. Good for you.
Step 2: Get into work.
Step 3: Be overcome with hunger around noon. Stagger to the machines in the lunch room. These machines, which I suspect have become sentient, spin and display a veritable feast of simulated food. If one was hoping to eat a simulation of a beef burrito, then this machine would be the place to go
Step 4: Give machine a ridiculous amount of money.
Step 5: Take meal, in this case Hormel’s instant chili mac’ n’ cheese, and microwave it until it becomes a bubbling volcano of a lunch item.
Step 6: While mystery lunch meat with macaroni (no cheese to be found) is microwaving, go to other vending machine.
Step 7: Get Fritos®
Step 8: Take “food” back to desk. Open bag of Fritos® dump them on top of the chili.
Step 9: Eat with a spoon, like a shovel piling empty calories and sadness into your mouth.
Step 10: Give up on yourself.
I thought it might be interesting to get sneak peeks into the actual world of ‘You Life.’
The first installment is “what is in my refrigerator?” Here’s a look:
the breakfast of champions
It is stocked with all of the essentials: an empty metal thermos, the cheapest tall boy I could find, the dredges of a diet coke, and a box of cotton candy fudge.
And, in case I run out of room in my bite-sized apartment, I can always use my fridge for storage.
Like most bloggers I have a Zen for cooking and the finer things. Becoming a foodie was one of my aspirations when I turned twenty-three. As it turns out, there are certain things that a foodie needs: mainly food and kitchen appliances. So, when I search through my kitchen cupboard now at the age of twenty-seven, I discover that it has become a graveyard for old cartons of food: the wrappers of Twinkies and ancient boxes of Tastykake’s Kandy Kakes.
The moral of this story is that I don’t have much in the way of food or kitchen appliances. But never fear! You can make delicious tasty treats without the aid of fancy kitchen appliances. A person doesn’t need a dehydrator, iron skillet, blender, or even forks to make a wonderful meal.
That brings us to the picture on my header.
Those up there are the most delicious mashed potatoes that the East Coast has to offer. And what’s the best part? I didn’t use a masher. Why? I don’t have one because I believe it is a frivolous waste of money in these trying economic times. Instead, I spent masher money on a delicious craft beer in the style of George Washington’s porter. Then, I used the bottle to mash the potatoes. GW would have been so proud to see my industrious spirit in the face of adversity, just like during the Revolution. (You will see in the background that my friend was making his own mashed potatoes using a potato masher. He chose those because he is a British loyalist that only appreciates colonialism and hatred).
You life is not so great 