TIGER UPPERCUT

I've listened to some of the whole "Tiger Woods is banging hot chicks outside the confines of his legally binding marriage to a hot Swedish super model" uproar but, honestly, I'm more concerned whether with whether I hang to the left or the right today. So why am I weighing in? One simple fucking reason.

On my way to work this morning I was listening to the radio as the DJ's were lambasting one of the women (I guarantee there is more than one) that Tiger had an affair with. This is the woman who released the voice-mail message of him asking her to take her name off of her phone and then, subsequently had a press conference to tell everybody how sorry she was. The DJ's were ripping her to shreds for riding the chocolaty pitching wedge of a married man and then trying to make a buck or get some publicity out of it. Really? It's her fault Tiger was pitching out of her bunker?

Let's get a couple of things straight. Morally, I find it reprehensible that she's trying to make some money out of this situation. A family is hurt and her attempts at profiting from it will only serve as a reminder to Tigers wife of what occurred. Furthermore, there are children involved and the last thing that they need to know is that daddy didn't love mommy enough to hold the tournament at home and try for a threepeat. It's for this reason and this reason alone that I have any problem with this woman at all. She's out for money. Period. She was out for a dark meat sammich but that birdie eventually got back on the green.

Now we are starting to see the poor, stupid women starting to be dragged through the mud because Tiger wanted some strange. How could they possibly refuse? It's Tiger Woods! His young, handsome, famous and has enough money to wipe out America's deficit single-handedly. Motherfucker, please! Stop insulting these ladies as if they were fourteen-year-old high school girls who got caught giving the quarterback an awkward hand-job under the bleachers. These women knew exactly what they were doing. The trick is that they didn't do anything wrong. They fucked a married man and, while that may be objectionable, if the man was willing why wouldn't they. I've never been able to understand why people get so angry at the third party in an affair. They aren't cheating, they didn't force the adulterous spouse into bed and they're well within their rights to spelunk  anyone they choose. I'm sure in most instances they don't look at a person and say to themselves "He looks married, I think I'll make him plumb my dirty depths". Do you really think that most trysts say to their secret bunk buddies "But your married so I can't?" Hells no, nor should they. All and I mean all of the blame here resides with one person. Tiger.

Myself, I hold that marital trust sacred. I've never cheated on my wife nor any of the girlfriends I've ever had. Saying that, I have been on the other side wherein I was the third party in the mix. Never with a married woman (that I know of) but they have been in long term relationships. Did I feel bad? Nope. I didn't make a commitment to your significant other, you did. If you're with me then perhaps something was wrong with you or your relationship where you had to look outside for your pleasure/companionship. But, regardless of whether your husband/wife is a bitch or physically and emotionally distant, cheating is not an option in my books. End it first.

What really pisses me off is that thousands of spouses cheat on each other every fucking day. Sometimes this is mutually agreed upon by both partners and, in that case, get your freak on but in most cases one party is not privy to this information. But now someone famous has done it! Big fucking deal! Dude is probably the most famous person in the world. Of course he's going to have trim thrown at him from every direction. It's his responsibility to ignore it and remember what he's got at home. At the end of the day, Tigers going to get out of this with minimal tarnish. None of his sponsers will drop him, the PGA wouldn't dream of censuring him in any form and now he's a hero to a bunch of douches for pulling some ass on the side. Don't get me wrong, I don't think the PGA should do anything about this situation, it's none of their business. What's unfortunate is that this silly girl with all her chatter is drawing attention and criticism away from the real issue. The illegal harvesing of Tiger penis.

/end rant

CBII: Book 8: John Dies At The End - David Wong

Wait.....what? Where am I? Who the fuck are you? Is......is this a van with no windows? Why are my pants off? What is this powdery residue in my nostrils?  What the fuck just happened?

That's how I felt after reading David Wong's John Dies At The End. All I know is that I woke up in the back of a van, with a seriously druggy hangover, my pants are around my ankles and certain parts of me are in need of medical attention. I'm not sure what went on but I'm pretty sure gp and his army of gays were involved. They also may have brought a horse judging from how my throat hurts. I'll admit, I'm not even sure how I'm supposed to review this cluster fuck except to say that I enjoyed the hell out of it and I'm a little ashamed to say so.

David and John are best friend. They're a pretty unlikely duo as David is a pretty reasonable character. He's mellow, reasonable and thoughtful with the exception of few psychotic episodes but John is bat-shit, balls to the wall, I don't give a fuck, crazy. They share an affliction with each other that nobody else has, well, at least nobody that's still alive. They see and hear things. Really fucking strange, perverted, fucked up things. No, you don't get it, really wacked out shit. It all started on night at a party that John's band was playing at. While David is chasing after Molly, a stray dog, and as the band is finishing their opening number, Camel Holocaust, David runs into a Jamaican doing magic tricks for teenage girls. As David is always up for making a douche look like a douche, he begins picking apart the wanna be magicians tricks, but this magician seems to know way too much about David. After being made to look like a bitch, David mingles with the other party-goers and runs into Jennifer Lopez. Yes the Jennifer Lopez from high school, not the one with the big booty although this Jennifer's booty is just fine. She blows him off so David goes to find John as the band is finished playing. John and some people are going to a party with The Jamaican but David has to work in the morning so he passes on the festivities and returns to his car, where the stray dog is waiting for him.

After settling down and falling into a lovely and deep slumber, David is awoken by a strange phone call from John. He rushes over to Johns apartment where all hell has broken loose. John is convinced that there is something nefarious in his apartment and is determined to escape to Denny's where they'll be safe. Oh yeah, John appears to be fucking whacked out of his mind and at Denny's things get a little weirder. John tells David about the party with the Jamaican guy and the strange drug he gave him. David's phone rings in the middle of John's story so he answers it; it's John. But John is sitting right across from him. "What?" says David,  "Fuck! Someone's at the door."

I don't even know where the fuck to go from there. It's probably the most gloriously mind-fucked piece of literature I've ever read. There's floating, exploding dogs that come back from the dead. There's creatures from who the hell knows where. There's swearing, and I do mean swearing; dude makes me look like a nun. There's drugs and sex and violence and guns and explosive diarrhea and jellyfish and missing limbs and mutant grasshoppers and retardation and different dimensions and a sausage phone.......no, not a phone shaped like a sausage. A fucking bratwurst that is used as a phone. It's funny in a laugh out loud kind of way and disjointed and choppy and alot of it makes absolutely no fucking sense. It was hard to read simply because it took it's multiple headed penis and stuck it squarely in my ear-hole but it's probably the most original book I've read in years. If your looking for a good time, a healthy helping of contemporary references and good old fashion Limp Bizkit bashing, give it a try. Now, please excuse me, I have to go and get this spiked slug checked out.

CBII Book 7: Prelude To Foundation - Isaac Asimov

I've read the original Foundation Trilogy three times starting when I was a young teenager and I consider myself an Asimov fan. That is why it pains me to say this: I had no idea that these 'other' Foundation books existed and I blame this on my father. When I read a book and enjoy it, I will always check the first few pages for a list of what else the author has written. You see, the edition of the Foundation trilogy I have was passed on from my dad and so it was quite old.  Due to this fact, there were no other Foundation books listed even though they had obviously been written by that time. Could I have taken the initiative to investigate whether Mr. Asimov had written any further novels in the series? Of course I could, but I was a teenage boy and had other.......priorities. The last time I read the trilogy was over ten years ago. I know this because I am positive I haven't read it since I got married. Please afford me some leway when making comparisons to the originals as my memory is a little fuzzy.

Prelude To Foundation is the story of mathemetition Hari Seldon's quest to establish the Laws of Psychohistory that will eventually save the galaxy from certain demise. Hari has just arrived on Trantor, a world of some fourty billion people and the central world of The Imperium to present his paper on the theory of using mathematics to predict the future of occurances of mankind. While well recieved, Hari's presentation isn't considered revolutionary and raises little interest beyond the cursory "well dones" in the scientific community. With one notable exception: the Emperor. Hari is summond to discuss his theory with the Emperor but the meeting quickly goes south. The Emperor wants Hari to predict the future of the imperium but cannot grasp that the theory is just that; a theory, it doesn't have a practical application. The Emperor is unconcerned with this revalation as, even if the predictions are not accurate, he can use Hari to further his political agenda. The Emperor's second in command Demerzel, a cunning and deft political strategist, suggests that they let Hari go and observe what his course of action is. It's Demerzel's position that they can pick up Hari anytime if he makes a breakthrough or if it seems that a rival political faction is going to make a move on him.

After  his meeting with the Emperor, Hari is understandibly preturbed and decides to take a walk in the park. While reflecting on his unlikely fate Hari meets a reporter named Hummin who, unlikely as it may be, is aware of the presentation and it's contents and expresses deep concern that Hari may be in danger from Demerzel. While the two are discussing the Emperors plans for Hari and all of the pitfalls asociated with them, Hari is accosted by a couple of thugs who take issue with his off-world attire and back-world mannerisms. They suggest that Hari may want to leave the planet immediately. In fact, they are more than willing to help him onto the next plane to his homeworld of Helicon. Hummin sees fit to interfere and help Hari hide. In their flight, he convinces Hari that the thugs were sent by Demerzel and Hari needs to find a safe refuge. He also convinces Hari that the empire is falling apart and Psychohistory is the only solution to preventing the collapse of civilization. For being a simple journalist, Hummin knows entirely too much and has far to many questionable connections. What follows is a chase through Trantor and  exposure to some of the most extreme cultures on the planet, all in an attempt to help Hari to establish the Laws of Psychohistory and save twenty-five million worlds all while avoiding Demerzel who may not be what we are lead to believe.

I have to admit that I was quite surprised when I started reading this particular entry in the series. It seemed that the style and story was far less complex than the original trilogy. In the original Trilogy Seldon is the greatest of men and the stories of him and his prophecies are the stuff of ledgend as well as the greatest hope for humanity.In the beginning, it was difficult to reconcile that man with this country bumpkin who is lost in a world he doesn't understand and makes nieve choices that constantly land him in trouble. Of course, as I continued to read through the book it becomes very apparent that this was Asimov's intention. As we watch Hari grows as a person and lose some of his back-water preconceptions, the story and the writing style grow along with him. It is a subtle but deftly executed change that I only really noticed upon reflection and the book really does benefit from Asimov's decision to write it in this fashion.

I'm also always impressed with the way Asimov writes about fictional cultures and religions but makes it very easy to draw correlations to cultures that exist in our own worlds. He's not shy about laying the pros and cons of each successive culture or religion that he writes about and pointing out there pitfalls but it never comes across as pretentious or preachy. As a matter of fact, he usually uses these instances to point out our own shortcomings as it is fairly obvious, at times, when he's being critical of contemorary cutom, religion and culture. If there's one criticism that I've heard a few times about Asimov's writing, it about the roll that women play in his work. It's been said that, in many instances, women play subserviant characters in his books and I can't really argue that fact. What I will argue is that, in my opinion, the women in his books usually turn out to be people of the strongest character and end up being crucial to the success of whatever story they pertain to. Indeed, in many instances they are also the central protagonists and tend to be more captivating than the male characters. Also, as Asimov's books deal so intimately with society, religion and culture, it would be dishonest to the story and the reader if he did not present to us our own hypocracy.

Prelude To Foundation is and excellent addition to the series that helps us understand the motivations and issues that forced the establishment of The Foundation. It is well written, richley detailed and presents us an oppourtunity to learn about ourselves as we move into our own future. It also underscores many of our own issues that we may wish we weren't so comfortable with.  

Fuck This Week In It's Eye-hole!

It's only fucking Wednesday people and I'm ready to kill. I'm not spouting hyperbole here, I'm really, really having to restrain myself from cut-sliding the next person who looks at me. Shit has been wicked busy and I haven't even had time to do one of these posty joints  Let's begin with Sunday:

My football team who has sucked an infected testicle up until the last three years lost the championship game in the last two seconds because nobody on the fucking field or the sidelines can count to twelve. The opposing team missed the winning field goal and we would have one except we received a too many men on the field penalty. Re-kick from closer and they nail it. Fourty-fucking-two people on the team and nobody noticed there were thirteen people on the field. It was such a monumental fuck up that it even made the American ESPN. Fine. I'm over it.

Monday:

It's Monday, that's bad enough. Add to it that I have to have an on-site meeting with some dude from Nova Scotia about a water distribution system and I'm not in the happy pants kind of mood. The meeting is going fairly well, we have to do some upgrades on our portion of the water system and so do they. Then, the fucker starts telling us that they want us to pay for a portion of their upgrades because we have a truck fill attached to the reservoir. I should mention that this is after the phone conversation I had with him in which he said that they only wanted us to pay for the upgrades to our facilities. So dicksicle, now you want thirty grand so you fuckers can make more money? Go sodomize yourself with a tv table, asshat. We spend hundreds of thousands of dollars putting this system in and even got the fuckers a grant for it. Oh, and the don't have to pay GST (5% sales tax) which is an additional $6000.00 a year they save. Thanks for the extra work. Dick!

Next I have to go pick up a rape van from the rental place. (why the van? I'm getting to it.) I arrive, on time, as always and guess what? The van isn't there. Well isn't that just fucking spectacular! How about I just wait here while your employees play grab-ass and listen to you bitch about everything under the sun. The only thing that could make this day better is if I had a meeting tonight and had to drive back out to work. Oh wait....

So I drive back out to work in a fifteen-passenger van on icy highways because my parents took my other car. Thanks, I didn't want to live to see tomorrow anyways. The meeting should take about half an hour but of course doesn't as we have to take an assload of time discussing, of all things speed bumps. Specifically, A speed bump. At least I did get home safely and fell into a deep slumber in front of the Saints game.

Tuesday:

Do you ever wake up knowing what lies ahead and actually consider running your vehicle into an oncoming semi-truck? I did on Tuesday morning. Tuesday morning was The Road Tour! WAIT! Read that again, its not a road trip, it's a road tour. Have you ever seen a gravel road? Well, imaging driving around on them, in a van, with six farmers (one of which has no problem asphyxiating the rest) looking at road after road for nine hours. What an ass-blastingly good time. Now, this tour could be done in three hours as we're only going to look at roads we built or are planning to build but we have to take every fucking detour imaginable to satisfy curiosity. Do we really have to go look at a gravel pit? Is it relevant? Do we really have to go look at a run down house so you can tell a story about the owners alcoholism? Do I really have to see where somebody wants to build a garage when there's no issue with it? I should probably tell you that many of these detours are of the off road, variety. Man, after a belly-full of bad chinese food, you do not want to be bouncing all over the place in a fucking van. So here I am, making the odd note, staring at gravel roads and thinking about all the work piling up on my desk while I'm not there. You know what would be really great fellas? If we could run late and then spend an hour giving the foreman shit in my office when it's supposed to be closed. That would be fantastic because I really have nothing better to do.

Wednesday:

It must be Helmet Day. That's the special day when they let all the people that have had brain injuries or developmental issues out of the rotting wooden boxes they live in in the basement. I've had a mouth breather write a cheque for taxes.....to the wrong municipality, a government bureaucrat try and give me shit over something that one of their other departments prevented me from doing, a fire chief who continues to step beyond his authority tell ME that my municipality has to pay for something we don't, various people making me do things that they're required to do because in the end it'll be done right  as well as all of the rest of the bullshit that rides with any normal day at the office. I'm telling you people, I think I'm totally overreacting, but somebody is going to fucking get their shit wrecked today.

And now there's some fucking waste of lung-butter in my office trying to rock a mullet. Oh hell no motherfucker, that shit will not be accepted. Send bail.

What The Fuck, Somebody Actually Reads This Thing?

Alright, in the interest of giving props where props are due I'ma gonna recognize some of my favorite bitches and send a thank you for some recognition.

A delicious little dish named Eyvi Sprite (check it) bestowed this lovely .jpg upon me for which I'm eternally grateful. Then the bitch tells me that I have to tell you seven things you may not know. Fine.

1. - I'm adopted. Twice. By the same extended family. But that is for another day.

2.  - If I would have decided to date the easy lay, I wouldn't be married for ten years now and have the awesomeness that is the Jacq. I remember the exact second I decided which way to go. Quality over quantity, always.

3. - I was always either the or close to smallest kid in the class. Both in height and weight up until grade ten. I'm still short but I will fuck you up.

4. - I have lived in Saskatchewan all my life but always wanted to be a Marine Biologist (for those of you unfamiliar with Saskatchewan, the nearest ocean is on the Mars).

5. - At Thirty-two years of age, I have never broken a bone, never had surgery and only had about seven stitches on three different occasions. How I managed, I don't know as I certainly wasn't a cautious child.

6. - I have had three different professions. I was a cook, a hair stylist and now, I'm the gubment.

7. - I'm entirely too nice in person.

Ok, so maybe one of those is a lie. I hope you're satisfied Eyvi, that was entirely too much thought.


Then the lovely Miss Danica Dragonfly, who may or may not be a female version of me, gifted me this little tidbit.

Thanks a million Dani. I'm glad that my hateful rantings bring a little entertainment to your day. I have to say though, I'm not feeling the apron. That's it, I'm done. I'm not about to pass this around as all y'all know you motherfuckers are the shit. I wouldn't read it otherwise.

StabbyMart: Accepting Arbitrary Internet Awards Cause We're Whores.

Doran and Jacquie's World Famous Greek Ribs

This is the first time I've posted a recipe on this joint, mainly becuase MySharona has got that shit on lock. (seriously baby, the offer still stands) But in the interest of passing along a favourite of every single person I've ever served them to, getting you laid and keeping Skitz happy I'm going to share. This recipe originated with my wife's ex-boyfriend's father who was a good chef in his own right but honestly, greek ribs are pretty standard fare wherever you go (That is not to say that some aren't better than others.) so I tweeked the shit out of it. These take time but it's not too much of a commitment as you can walk away and let them cook in their own greeky deliciousness while you are doing other things. I need to warn you though, get an Arm and Hammer deodorizer before you make them. They fucking reek of awesomeness. (No seriously, they stink so good they'll impregnate the rest of your food with their spermatazoa of flavour.

The recipe is totally variable dependant on how many racks you make and your personal tastes I'm doing six small racks today do that's what I'm going to preach. My measurements are purely estimated as I can't remember the last time I actually measured something while I was cooking. Measuring is for baking, not making sweet meaty love to ones palate. You're going to have to use your nose because I hear Trychinosis is a bitch.

Your marinade ingredients:

• Pork back ribs (how many is totally up to you)
• Beer or another tasty beverage of your choosing. (of course this is purely to keep you hydrated)
  
• Olive oil
• Garlic powder
• Onion powder
  
• Worchesterschirederborkborkbork sauce
• Oregano
• Club House Greek Seasoning (you can just use oregano but this adds a nice depth)
• Fresh ground black pepper (if you don't have a pepper mill, shoot yourself and save me the trouble)
  
• Lemon Juice (bottled is fine for the marinade)

 Your finishing touches:

• Taipan oyster sauce (I've used others and this one works best you may substitute but you're missing out)
• Two lemons (variable dependant on your love of lemony acidity)

 PREPARATION:

Alright, let's talk ribs people. You're spending a good amount of time on these so don't buy shitty meat. If you're shopping at the supermarket, the vacuum packed ones are usually good as they are a premium cut. If you're buying the ones in the styrofoam tray with the celophane; take a good look. If the end has been folded under, you're going to get that flap of meat that is useless. This is fine but cut that shit off as it won't cook well. Also, check the thick end; if you've got a bunch of small bones over the big ones , take a pass. The connective tissues make those ones quite tough. Ideally, you can go to a butcher and get a few racks of porky heaven. Butchers are the greatest as you can see exactly what you're buying. Don't fucking scrimp! I will fucking hunt you down and taint punch you if you fuck up my recipe!

Now, clean the ribs. Most ribs will have a membrane on the back side of them and I believe it should be removed. Use a figernail on one of the ends of the bone to get it started (kind of like peeling the price sticker off of something) then work your finger under the membrane to the other side. Now you grab and rip that fucker off! Sometimes the ribs are already cleaned (you'll know if you can pick off the fat) or your butcher can do it for you. Now wash them under cold water and pat dry with paper towels. Put a couple racks in a long flat dish (I use a pyrex baking pan for a few or a aluminum roaster for a lot) and rub them with olive oil on both sides (the rest of the instructions also pertain to both sides. You can be agressive as all you're doing is beginning to break down the connective tissues. Next, douse them in lemon juice. Yes you're making a pool in the bottom of the pan, this is a good thing. Shake a liberal amount of Wort on both sides, then garlic powder (you know how much you like) then about a quarter teaspoon of onion powder per rack, then pepper (once again, you know) then equal measures of oregano and greek seasoning. When you're done, the seasonings should have a distinct presence but not totally coat the ribs. Stick your nose in there. You should smell a funky, garlicy, worty mess and taste the citric acid on the back of your tongue. Make sure you stack them with the meaty (front) part down in that soup and front to back. since they're curved, the juices will pool on the back side of the ribs allowing the front side to marinate.Wrap those fuckers up and stick them in the fridge for at least 24 hours. Now, every eight hours or so you'll have to move shit around and baste those racks that are not on the bottom.

Due to a lack of measurements, this is how they should look.

This is an idea of how much marinade we're dealing with.

COOKING:

These have to be cooked with indirect heat so depending on the type of grill you have, you may have to turn on one side or the front/back burner. Preheat your grill to between 250 and 300 F. As long as you're within this range you should be cool but it will effect the flavour and texture a bit. You may want to have a drip pan under the side you're going to put the ribs on as things are going to get messy.  Open the fridge, does it smell like a garlicy greek-bomb went off? Congratulations, you did it right. Now, if you have a rib/roast rack, you're fucking golden! If you don't have one don't worry, lay those puppies down on the cool side of the grill. Try not to overlap or stack them but if you're making a huge mess of them it may be unavoidable you'll just have to remember to rotate them. Now walk away. Hey! I said walk away! Come back and check the temperature every once in a while, you don't want it to get hot.

The left is hot, the right is not.

By now, you should have a tasty slurry at the bottom of your marinade pan. If you throw this away I'm pretty sure you hate babies, puppies and freedom. Put that in a bowl or some other more manageable vessel as this is your basting liquid. Every hour or two, go back and rotate those bad boys. No matter what type of grill you have, the ribs closest to the heat and the side of the grill are going to cook faster. Just move 'em around to spread the joy. Now baste them with your marinade. Seriously, just slop that tangy love on there, I told you it'd be messy.  You're probably wondering about cooking time and I wish I could give you an accurate answer but, as the time is dependant on the heat and the size and amount of the ribs, it will take anywhere from 3.5 to 5 hours.You'll know they're done when you try to pick them up and they break. People, listen to me, you're making sweet foody love here, they will be done when they're done. If you're really desperate you can turn the heat up after the first couple of hours but I want you to know that you have hurt my soul.

 Yeah, they're done.

FINISHING:

So you've basted and rotated three or four times and now it'sget close to the time for eating. If you've done it right, the rack of ribs should almost or actually break in half when you pick them up. The best ribs I ever made were hell to prepare because they kept falling apart. Take them out of the rack and lay them flat. This next step is purely optional but I do it to add a little char. Turn your heat up to a medium and move the ribs to the hot side of the grill. Char both sides of every rack for about two minutes per side. Then move them back to the cool side. Right now, you could eat those fuckers and they'd be damn tasty. But we're not going for tasty here, we're going for Nirvana (sans shotgun). Take the oyster sauce and brush it liberally on both sides of every rack then close the lid and wait for five minutes for the sauce to heat. Listen up! Under no circumstances do you put the oyster sauce on during cooking or when the ribs are on the hot side of the grill! The sauce has too much sugar in it  and will burn quicky and and turn into a charred crusty abomination.

 Now, take those slabs of heaven  and slap them on a big-ass cutting board and get yourself a big-ass bowl to put 'em in. Slice each and every rib to separate them all and toss 'em in the bowl. They may not cut very well as they should be falling apart, do your best.

See. You can peeel the meat off of the bone.

Slice one of the fresh lemons in half and squeeze over the ribs, mix with the tongs and squeeze another lemon in there. Throw a couple of wedges in the bowl for those that like more lemon and dig the fuck in. I should mention that your grill will be a disaster so you might want to burn it off. If you don't, you'll be tasting greek ribs in all your food for the next three weeks. Please, enjoy; you can thank me with sexual favours later.

I made five racks, all that's left is bones and memories.

*Please note: these ribs will get you laid. Probably not on the day you make them as meat comas are a side effect , but eventually you'll get some.

Fuck, that was long. Thanks for reading, but I have to go have a meat nap. No, not with you gp.

A Prologue

Tomorrow I'm going to be making a blog post that is extremely long, pretentious and probably a little self indulgent. It's not  earth shattering, it's not going to cure cancer and it's certainley not going to rid the world of Stephanie Meyer; but it may change your life.

See, I'm a pretty hardcore foodie. I love food. I adore food. If I had my druthers, I would spend most of my time in a kitchen making food. Hell, that's what I did for six years. The problem with that was that I didn't get to sit down and enjoy it with the people I love. I love it so much I hosted Christmas for both families last year on consecutive days and, even though it killed me, I revelled in every minute of it. There is nothing I enjoy more than spending the day in front of the TV (shush, I'm food safe) preparing dinner in a leisurely fashion in anticipation of a terrific meal. Also,  if there is a break for nookie, so much the better.

I enjoy when people post status updates saying what they're eating and I enjoy telling people what I'm concocting. I've really gotten a lot of ideas from the facebook and have put them to good use.* So, since I'm making my family's favorite dish tomorrow, I'm going to share. I'm also doing it so Skitz doesn't tear off my duadenum and make a lovely jerky out of it. I'm sorry if I come across as an ass tomorrow, but I take my food seriously because I usually put a lot of effort, time and love into my creations. This particular recipe took me eight years to perfect and I'll be damned if you're going to fuck it up.

* MySharona absolutely kills me. I have a ridiculous fondness for southern, cajun and creole food and it seems that that's all she makes. I've asked her to marry me but polygamy is illegal in the U.S. and she refuses to move to Canada. Also, I'd like to try Skitz' Macho Nachos but in a totally non-sexual way.