Cork on the Fork

I kid you not, If you don’t believe you can be dependent on one food group
alone – you are wrong.

For 13 days I have been dependent on smoothies for, nearly, the entirety of
my dietary intake. Not fruit smoothies either, various versions of “Strawbery
Shortcake”, “Orange Dream”, and “Amaretto Mudslide” manufactured under the TGI
Friday’s Mixers Brand Name.

Breakfast – Mudslide

Lunch – Orange Dream with Dunkin Donuts Vanilla Chai as additional Flavoring
Agent

Dinner – Mixture of Assorted Chocolate Bits, Strawberry and Mountain Dew (to
add that Special Evening Sparkle!)

—–

I now find myself oddly interested in kitchen appliances that I once shirked,
foolishly believing them to be the domain of Butlers, “Kitchen Cannibals”, and
the Prawn Queen (I’m pretty sure she uses a food processor to mix equal parts
Crustacean and Goya Manufactured Legumes).

—

In news only those with a future in the business world care to read, and
possibly care about, the SAS program has made 2 hours everyday a living hell.

For those who don’t know, its used to analyze statistical information in
large data sets: Regressions, Proc Means, Data Grouping Subsets- all that boring
shit we learn to impress ……well, I don’t know why we learn it, mostly to
teach us how aggravating our lives would be if we were statistical engineers or
something.

I only write about this because I enjoy the sessions I have with this
software (Available In JMU Labs only, for my convenience!) because each and
every use is a new experience. Much like ramming your fist into a short
circuiting garbage disposal and running hydrochloric acid down the drain
simultaneously, you get that “Oompah” every time you are assigned a new project.

You may take for granted the fact that, generally, when you open a piece of
software in a windows system it: Opens, Stays Open, and “Doesn’t Crash Your
Individual PC, and every PC adjacent in a 4 Deep Configuration.” I do not.

—–

Anyway.

This beer reminds me of a joke. A guy walks up and takes a seat at the bar
and says to the bar tender I got a bet for you. You see that glass way over
there? The guy ya know, points all the way to the other end of the bar. Well i
bet you i can piss from here all the way over there into that glass without
spilling a single drop. Bartender just says that’s bullshit!! Guy goes on sayin
I guarantee, in fact i bet you $300 that i can do it! Bartender is just like all
right, go and try it! So the guy pulls out his dick and is lookin’ at the glass
lookin’ at his dick. Thinks on his dick, thinks on the glass. dick glass. dick
glass. dick glass. glass dick. and then he fu$%in lets it rip! He’s pissin on
the phone, pissin on the stools, pissing on the bar, and even pissing on the
bartender himself. he’s pissin everywhere EXCEPT in the fu$%in glass. and the
bartender is just standing there laughing his ass off, piss all dripping off his
face. Then when he finishes, the bartender says, all right pay up. The guy says
excuse me for a minute. So he walks over to the pool tables and talks to a few
guys and comes back. He slaps 300 bucks on the table and says thank you sir
happy as can be. So the bartender looks at him and says what are you so happy
for? You just lost $300! Well you see those few guys over there? Well I just bet
them $500 EACH that i can piss on your bar, piss on your phone, and even piss on
you. And not only could i do this, but you’d be happy!

Trips to your local “Gargantua Mart” shouldn’t be this expensive. However,
those dollars were well spent on useful, and essential items. I’m serious.

Its not like I bought 4 pounds of Licorice Jelly Beans or anything.

—-

I blame the following people:

Jerry

Emeril Lagasse

The guy who created Vodka

Willy Wonka

———–

By the way, that picture is my new desktop. I recommend it.

After several unsuccessful attempts of getting Jerry “P” T. woozy enough to
perform karaoke, our prayers were finally answered. In my opinion, the straw
that broke the camel’s back was Kona’s subtle, persuasive technique in the final
minutes of threatening to “stab you in the hand with this knife” if Jerry didn’t
do it.

As I finished my heart wrenching rendition of Johnny Cash’s “Folsom prison
Blues,” I eagerly handed the mic off to my “apprentice” of sorts – Well, I
really suck at singing, so I guess there isn’t really a master-apprentice
relationship to speak of, but anyway – and he stepped onto the stage dripping
the sweat of a thousand, nervous kittens in a Slim Jim Factory. (Drastic
Hyperbole)

For some ungodly insane reason, the chosen vehicle for his debut was Aretha
Franklin’s “Respect.” However, Jerry played his cards well, and even managed to
attract one FEMALE groupie onto the stage. Notice “FEMALE”, as I would not have
been surprised had it been a Large, Jolly, Ethnic Man

I congratulated him on his excellent decision to grace us with his strangely
hypnotic dancing motions.

As Kona performed what I believe to be a version of “Shoop”, I stumbled into
the kitchen and pilfered an entire bottle of Heinz 57 Sauce. And a Large Knife.

—–

Movie – $9.00

Dinner and Drinks – $15.00

Pilfered Bottle of Sauce, Johnny Cash, and Aretha in the same night –
Priceless

——

The Five-Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique.

Hilarious Fact of Hilarious Fiction?

Sometimes, just sometimes, I can construe about 1/5 of what I’m thinking into
a sentence clearly enough, thoughtfully enough, intelligently enough, and moving
enough, to actually sway someone’s opinion in a matter.

That, my good friends, Is the essence of my personality. 99.7% of the time
I’m Jibberish. I don’t mean to be, I just am. But that .3%, well, that’s candy
and nuts as they say. That’s "quotable",  that’s pertinent, that’s explicit
and implicit.

Tonight, I hit that moment. It’s a pity I know that I can’t draw that out
over a lifetime.

I had been sitting, legs-crossed, laying down on my bed.

I grew weary of sitting.

I had the urge to make Chex Muddy Buddies.

I jump to my feet.

I get dropped like a sack of bricks under my own weight.

I realize my right leg was asleep.

I break into insane laughter.

I make Chex Muddy Buddies.

Man Oh Man, I think I need to get more protein into my diet.

Of course, I say that after trying to lift roughly 180 Pounds (My dresser,
with 5 Gallon Aquarium, and a TV Set on it). Rearranging my room always makes me
fell good, like I just changed something for the better. It’s all that feng shui
stuff.

I moved everything exactly opposite to where it was previously, and when I
woke up this morning I stubbed my toe about 3 times, and tripped twice before I
made it out the door. Luckily, I Fell through the doorway onto a pile of old
soda boxes. Yeah, Soda Boxes.

……

Quote of the Update:

PJ Williamson

“When your drinking it with a hotdog, its a bag of wine. If you were
drinking it with Salmon, it would be a bottle of wine.”

One thing they never listed on the roommate selection form was, “Likes to
take shots of wild turkey before bed.” Man Oh man, I would have checked Yes.

——

Did you know Wendy’s Owns Tim Hortons?

Mmm…Timbits.

………………….

Oh, and I forgot to mention the Puerto Rican

This Weeks Crazy Ass Situation:

I stay up till 4 am wondering why her TV is so incredibly loud. Eventually I
ask her to “turn it down, you crazy bitch.” No just kidding, I’m a nice guy. I
asked politely, even though I was tired as all f$%^.

To my surprise she had some kind of dr seuss-like, noise-making hat on. I kid
you not, she was turning up the volume to drown out the sounds of her hat. She
informed that it was a hair dryer.

As I fell back into my room, I muttered that it probably had something to do
with incubating the eggs that that facesucker put in there.

One of the things I like (and also dislike) about myself is the fact that as
I get ever more aggravated with any one person, assignment, situation, I tend to
become ever so unconcerned with how I phrase my sentences, direct my ire, etc.

For Example:

After 2 Hours of an Excel Spreadsheet:

Random Person: “How’s it coming?”

Me: “Oh, you know, like the Third Reich and the Jews. No matter how much I
get done, more just keeps popping up.”

Explanation: In my head, the metaphor seems somewhat applicable.

Interpretation: I am a raving neo-nazi psycho.

……………….

I had fun with this little quirk today:

After 3 days of sheer bliss, The Puerto Rican has returned. Set Loose from
whatever temporary prison had held her, she has returned to delight me with her
tales of “Things I can’t shut up about” and “Why men should be the slaves of all
women,” with short interludes containing phrases like “Diva power” and “Can I
‘borrow’ another carton of newports?”

Truly, the tear that fell from my eye as she walked through the door was one
of pure bliss.

Regardless, the initial conversation follows…

PR = Puerto Rican

(Door Opens, she walks in and directs her verbiage towards me)

PR: “I made so much progress this weekend.”

Me: (Silence)

PR: (As she walks directly towards where I’m sitting) “I made SO much progress
this weekend.”

(I should mention, I am completely free to talk and am, In fact, doing
absolutely nothing beyond breathing and regulating my heartbeat)

Me: (Silence)

PR: (She emerges from her room and confronts me directly) “Don’t you want to
know what I did?”

Me: “I honestly have no inclination whatsoever to care about what you did, or
did not do.”

PR: (Makes a grumpy face, much like an angry Irish farmer)

Me: “But, In a good way.”

…

Then she made herself a mess of fried shrimp and passed out in her bed,
covered with the grease from a thousand tiny prawn.

————————————-

Please insert a stray cat.

All I wanted was a sweet tasting confection, perhaps even a sumptuous desert
for my rumbling stomach…

It started out as any other baked good. I decided upon a cake, as I had all
the necessary ingredients and the time seemed right for a wonderful oval shaped
treat. Respective parts sugar, flour, eggs, cocoa powder, and assorted other
ingredients required were mixed, the batter was poured into an oblong baking
dish, and a 375 Degree oven was its final destination. Soon, and thusly, the
apartment filled with the sweet aroma of Hershey’s Brand Chocolate and Delicious
Cooked Sugar and Butter.

As I peered into the oven, my delicious creation came to life before my eyes.

The Cake was Ready.

This was when the trouble began.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Cake is delicious on its own. Some deserts need no
companionship, like a Jacques Torres Fantasy Chocolate Sculpture, or a Julia
Child Fruit Tart, but Cake is not one of those. It requires a sidekick, his
name? Frosting.

The delectable combination of soft, airy cake and creamy, sugary frosting has
delighted millions, no, Billions of human beings and other creatures of this
small planet we live on….perhaps even other planets. But as the famous quote
goes, “Let he who will baketh the cake, also concoct the Frosting.. And let his
everlasting soul not be consumed by hellfire during the procession.” (Cakeology
4:12)

—

I should have known better. There’s a damn good reason that Pillsbury sells
frosting in Buckets at every Food Store in the World. They ALONE possess the
knowledge, and the tools, to properly wield the power of Frosting. Well, that
and the fact that they have recipes that they know work.

– Add egg whites

– Add sugar

– Beat egg whites and sugar

– Panic due to total lack of thickening

– Add Flour in futile attempt to thicken

– More beating

– More panicing

– Add Baking Powder to see “What the hell could happen?”

– Add Butter for “Tasting Purposes”

– More Flour

– More Egg Whites

…

Give up and turn frosting into another cake.

—–

What did I learn? Frosting is worth $1.99 in a can.

Also, I make delicious cakes, but I lack in the frosting department.

And, I can feed failed projects to the Puerto Rican by mixing the remnants
into her day old fried shrimp batter/vomit/porridge/taquito mix

——–

Tony: (He reads the order that comes up in the kitchen, a
relatively simple request for no butter with their meal, and extra Bernaise)
“Alright, they want no butter, no butter, and extra Bernaise sauce. What the
f&*k? No butter? Extra Bernaise? Bernaise Sauce is just egg yolks and butter.
What the fuck is wrong with these people?”

Chef Tony is my Favorite Angry, Bitter, Smoking, Chef.

Also, he smokes in the Kitchen at his Restaurant. Believe it
or not, that’s a Federal Crime.

Yesterday, I had 5 Cups of Coffee in 3 Hours. That’s a record for Caffeine
intake on my part.

It’s a good thing too….otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to stay up and
listen to the nonstop giggling coming from the maw of shrimp beast.

…..

Anyway, I’m reading Michael Crichton’s Rising Sun, and it’s pretty
decent. How I wish that the real business world was more involved with
international power games, and less involved with TPS reports.

John Connor: Americans like to fix the blame. The
Japanese fix the problem.

I’m writing this update because I am pissed about my Puerto Rican Roommate.
Not because she’s Puerto Rican (She is likely from another bastard nation, but I
do not wish to speak to her about it) but because she is an ass. She mooches
cigarettes, fries shrimp in shallow pans then lets them fester for no good
reason, leaves tampon wrappers all over my bathroom, hocks loogies in the sink,
and will not stop talking (to me, or herself – it doesn’t matter!) about the
most god damn inane things you have ever heard. Not the funny inane things
either, the bizarre/boring/trite ones: Purses, Getting Ahead in the
Telemarketing World, Which Pants don’t make her butt look big. (Trick Question,
They ALL do- because she has a large buttocks. Probably from all the fried
shrimp.)

Anyway, I’m only pissed enough to write this because I was up till 4 am
listening to her phone babble on the other side of my wall, and being this tired
and cranky makes me fidgety.

She just asked about a daytrip to some place in Virginia (or Puerto Rico, I
can’t remember) and all I could think about was what state would be the best to
avoid being extradited back to Virginia (god dammed death penalty) if I were to
brutally murder her human form – and respectively, cleanse away her demonic
presence from the poor locality where she meets her end at the hand of a
man who had no farther to fall.

—–

Anyway, I just spent a good deal of time printing out a huge poster of Bruce
Campbell. It’s awesome.

That The Poster. By the Way, it gives me a good idea.