Summer Reruns

So I've been doing very poorly with this blog. I'm willing to admit it. But I think it's all due to a weird sort of thinkers block. I haven't been self-analyzing like usual. So, instead of new posts, I've decided to run never before seen episodes of previous lives of mine. This first one is a classic from about a year and a half ago. I was low on funds and decided to write a novel . . .


22 Feb 04


Possible titles to the book that will make me rich:

Better Living Through Culinary Experimentation

Josh Woodburn’s Adventures in Chefland
Maybe just Adventures in Chef Land. Kind of like a fairytale. Plus Josh Woodburn’s anything would be kind of megalomaniacal.

What My Away Message Doesn’t Tell you
I like this one, but AOL doesn’t deserve the kind of recognition that my extraordinary tale will give it. Plus Ted Turner is probably an asshole. But I don’t even know.

More coming, I guess. But those are pretty good. All it needs now is a really nice graphic on the front, and good font, because people don’t read books for content anymore, they just do it for style and prestige. Especially the Border’s gang, who know but don’t know, ya know?

I also thought about calling it

Rules for Experimental Cooking

but that sounded way to cookbookish. This chicken is making me sick. I think. I’m also extremely hungover. But cookbookish may be want I want. That way I can throw recipes into the mix, adding an exciting twist. Not really funny though. I guess I’m not looking for funny, just looking to express myself. But it’d be nice if I could sell this stuff to Bandai or something as science fiction and. No.

So let’s recount the events of last night? Nah. Nothing too exciting. But this morning is funny. So I wake up at 9 am to the sound of Novot plugged in again. I realize he’s not trying to be rude, but he yells into his microphone. Wakes me up every damn time. So I took my glasses off and went back to sleep. (I ended the night last night with a plate of food and goodness, using Tank Girl to put me to sleep. This works really well, but I always end up with my glasses broken. Not this time. Nice.) So I roll over, go back to sleep until high noon. Which in Wisconsin, in February, is a deep grayish brown, with flecks of cold as hell and dirty fuckin snow.


Drunken Stale Hotdogs While Watching Tank Girl at 4am


2 bun length hotdogs, preferably old
1¾ buns, stale
1 pickle
¼ cup Ketchup
Mustard

This is a very exciting dish. Start by finding the right hotdog buns behind the new ones. Novot claims the food Diane gave wasn’t picked out for him, but there are definitely a dozen buns in the front of the ones left over from the superbowl. Not to mention the six pounds of sliced meat and three pounds of cheese. When retrieving the hotdogs from the slime at the bottom of the meat bin, make sure to grab a slice of cheese and a couple of pieces of salami. The bags are already open for easy access.

Using a medium saucepan, bring some water to a boil over a high heat. Put the hotdogs in the water, careful to splash the boiling water onto your feet. This creates an unpleasant sensation. Steam the buns by setting a large, thin pizza pan with holes over the saucepan. This serves a double purpose. First, it steams the buns in the hotdog steam, giving them a full-bodied flavor. It also sets up a nasty burnt thumb for later on.

The next step is slicing the pickle. It obviously needs to be sliced long ways, so get the biggest knife you own. Carefully cleave the pickle down the center, creating a hotdog-esque presentation. Do not cut your fingers. Pull the hotdogs from the water using a small spoon, and drop them, one at a time, onto the floor. When you pick them up, knock the buns and hot pizza pan onto yourself and yell. Finally, burn your thumb badly on the pizza pan, and throw the hotdogs into the sink.

Plate the mixture of buns, hotdog, and pickle onto the plate so that the ketchup will not stay inside. Drop the ketchup bottle. Make sure to put a little extra ketchup on the side of the plate and the counter. Use the mustard bottle a chance to get yellow crusty goo on your burnt thumb, and then drop the bottle into your hot dog. Lick it clean and put everything away. Serves 1.

Copious amounts of water compliment this meal nicely.



So I wake up at twelve and immediately step in my plate of ketchup. I wipe my foot off and watch an hour of the history channel special on Angels with Novot. I fondly remember that Mikey has rented Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for PS2, and play that for about an hour. Now I’m starting to get hungry. Which reminds me that I have laundry in the dryers from yesterday.

Away Message for laundry retrieval:

Laundry, Day 2.

So you might remember the message yesterday about me being a weird urban laundry cowboy junkie duck hunter. Still true.

But also true is the fact that I fell yesterday in the snow and cracked my ass. So then I got drunk again. Which means when I picked my laundry up today from the dryers where they stayed overnight, I was yet again a weird hungovernope still drunk junkie cowboy hobo tramp, who needs to brush his teeth.