Saturday, February 23, 2013

Recipe Originality Is Hard

I made this about a month ago.

It's whole grain rotini mixed with Italian dressing, Parmesan, canned tuna, garlic powder and Old Bay. I was so proud after making it, and I still am. Mainly because I don't get to cook much, so I'm more like 'Yay I did stuff and it came out edible!' I thought I had came up with a new recipe when I first made it though. I called Poor People Seafood Pasta Salad.

I mean, to me it's new. I came up with it spur of the moment because we had tuna, but no bread and rotini, but no sauce; so I thought, fuck it, something should work. And it did. Seriously, that shit is yummy. For some reason I thought I had come up with this completely new thing.

I took a picture of it and was about to show it off to Facebook. 'Yes', I chuckled looking at the picture, 'I'm so clever. Surely my completely original recipe will revolutionize how tuna is eaten. Bow before my greatness.'

Fortunately, I stopped myself before my internal bragging got the best of me and decided to do a google search. Apparently this has been around for a long time. There are tons of recipes out there for Tuna Pasta Salad, it's not even a new or weird thing. It was at that point I felt a little sad and a lot dumb. This is exactly like if I killed a pig and cured the meat and said, 'Hey guys! I created cured pig meat! I'm calling it Haahm.' Then everyone was like, 'No, you didn't. It's been around forever and it's pronounced ham with a short 'a' sound. How did you not know this?'

Whatever...I didn't google anything until after I made it so it somewhat counts.

Funnily enough my friend Jess Jess did almost the exact same thing as well a couple of days after. We took our scouts camping and promised them they didn't have to work on badges and could do whatever they wanted. Well, within reason of course. One of the things they wanted to do was make their own jelly and jam. We were teaching them the difference between the two (mainly that jelly is made out of the juice and jam is made out of the actual fruit.) and to demonstrate that you can use any juice for jelly, Jess Jess decided a fun thing to do would be to make Hawaiian Punch Jelly.

Here's both on a piece of very photogenic bread that my scouts also made themselves. The Hawaiian Jelly is the smear on the right.

3 c. Hawaiian Punch 
5 1/4 c. sugar 
1 box Sure Jell pectin 
1/2 tsp. butter 

 Mix juice, Sure Jell and butter in a large saucepan. Bring to a full rolling boil, stirring constantly. Quickly add sugar. Bring to a full rolling boil, stirring constantly. Continue boiling for 1 minute, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Skim off foam. Fill hot sterilized jars to 1/8" from top, wipe rims and threads. Cover quickly with hot boiled lids. Screw on bands tightly. Invert jars for 5 minutes. Turn upright. Check seals in 1 hour. (Actual directions taken from

There's not a lot of recipes online for it, but it's still totally a thing. An oddly delicious thing at that. Despite all the extra sugar, it doesn't taste overly sweet.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Anthropomorphized Resturaunts And Cocktails From A Deranged Mind

I was in the drive thru line for Wendy's before work when for some reason I started thinking about those stupid fast food mascots. I don't really think they actually represent the restaurant. So I made up some personification parallels that I think are better based on the food of the place in question.

 Right off the bat, Taco Bell is obviously the stoners. It's just fact. Everything is so laid back that all their food is the same, just labeled different things. And I would embed the video of Jim Gaffigan's Comedy Central Special where he makes the joke I just ripped off of him, but unfortunately I can't find it for you guys. Sad actually, it's really funny, it comes right after the joke about bottled water.

 Checkers I see as a woman who can pass for mid twenties but is actually late thirties. She would be dressed as a 50's waitress and slightly overweight. She smells like grease and old perfume and wears shoes painted to look like skates...everyone knows she can't skate. She may or may not be a ex con.

 Wendy's is the perky, young, gym goer. Kind of dumb and new at healthy eating, really interested in whether or not you're going to finish your fries, but really sweet.

 Burger King is kind of a bro. He's friends with Wendy's and his laugh is deep and dumb, but he's not. To tell you the truth, when I was thinking this up, I kind of saw Burger King as Joe Rogan and I'm not sure why. You think I would equate him with Taco Bell maybe, but I more readily equate Taco Bell with Carrot Top than him. Once again...I have no clue why. Welcome to my thought processes.

 McDonald's is the crack head in the dirty gutter asking you for change and eating out of the dumpster.

 KFC is the dealer.

I'm not usually too good with promises about upcoming posts when it comes to this blog, but I'm going to try really hard to come up with pictures for this shit.

 I was dicking around on StumbleUpon and came across Bar Meister. I love learning about new cocktails to try so this was a gold mine. I especially love the dirty sounding cocktails. Bartenders would probably hate me more if I didn't tip well, but I'm OK with that.

 I found some really weird named, but good sounding, cocktails and learned how to actually make my favorite, the Red Headed Slut. I was trying to see if they had a cocktail named Vampires Kiss Goths (It was a special once at a Goth club here in Baltimore, but I was underage at the time combined with being too shy and pussy to play 'Hey Mister'). That is when I stumbled on the weird and slightly creepy cocktails of a user (or patron as the site calls him) named Hephestos. Almost all of the cocktails under his name are very long in name and equally odd sounding. I also want to try almost all of them.

For instance the 151 Canadian Vampires Hypnotized By The Hamburglar In A Cherry Red Corvette.

It's 1 1/2 oz. of Bacardi 151
1 1/2 oz. of Hypnotiq
1 1/2 oz McNaughton's Canadian Whiskey
2 oz Players Extreme Cherry Infused Vodka

I'm not quite sure how this would taste as I've never had Hypnotiq or the Canadian whiskey, but I know I need this inside me. There's a couple of recipes involving these Canadian vampires getting up to odd mischief and I want to try every single one of them.

Some of the titles are just perplexing though. There is the 44 Schwoogies Running From The KKK. Which sounds vaguely racist, mostly because of the KKK at the end that these schwoogies are running from. I feel like the name should somewhat offend me, but I have no clue what that word means and am slightly afraid to look it up.

It has 2 oz 44 Vodka
1 3/4 oz Black Sambuca
1 1/2 oz Half and Half

I've never had Sambuca before, but it has vodka in it so I already want to put it inside my mouth.

There's also the French Whore In An Orange Gucci Gown Eating A Baconator By The Mexican Mafia Headquarters, which sounds like it should be some sort of scene in a Quentin Tarantino film.

Sex on the Beach with QBert and Darth Vader As A Naked Fat Japanese Guy Masturbates In The Surf. I ... I just..I...wait, what? Obviously the role of Q Bert will be played by Ron Jeremy.

 Unconscious in a Turkey Pen with a Potato Shoved Up Your Ass For 7 Hours. .....Aaaaand I'm done.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

My Punky Coloured Hell

Amazon won't let me post my review of Jerome Russell's Punky Colour hair dye in Fire red. Something about vulgarity and to many words. So I thought, fuck it I have a blog. Here is my unpublished Amazon review in its entirety.

I'm only rating this three stars because I know that this product works for other people. I have seen their gorgeous, alternative movie star hair glistening in the sun and mocking me with their ability to hold fast onto even the shittiest of semi permanent hair dyes. I have a friend who used Punky Colour's Alpine Green over dark brown hair with blue dye in it without bleaching first. It came out exactly like the website's hair model and never washed out. It was beautiful and amazing looking. I'm still not sure how she did it but I'm certain Satan has one more soul to add to his growing collection.

This, however, was not to be my hair fate and the story I am about to relay is a case of Caveat Emptor.

I woke up somewhat early for me, being as I work the night shift at my job. Miraculously there were no siblings or parents stumbling about the house. The only creatures that were inhabiting my house were my two dogs and I. I had a quiet and peaceful lunch, danced around like a silly goof to some Die Antwoord, and sipped some tea while watching Tales From The Crypt. To slightly paraphrase Ron White, 'It was a good day, Tater.'

As the episode ended and Wil Wheaton's frat buddies got eaten by some ghoulish sorority sisters dressed like Kelly Bundy I thought, 'Hey! Why not dye my hair today?' I went upstairs and brushed out my curls. I rubbed a thin layer of Vaseline around my hairline and all over my ears. I snapped on my latex gloves and unscrewed the tops of the hair dye. It smelled like perfume and looked like blood. I was in heaven and my head smelled like fruit salad. So far, so good. The bottle said it would most likely only have a highlight effect on dark hair. With my friend's prior experience and the fact that my half ginger hair was blond at the overgrown roots, I was certain my experience would be nothing short of spectacular.

After cleaning up what little splotches there were in the bathroom (which came up really easily) and throwing away my gloves, I sat on my bed and passed the thirty minutes by watching some TV. Halfway through my parents and siblings came back. I couldn't wait to show my sister as she helped me pick out the color. With my waiting time up I made my way to the bathroom, stopping momentarily to let my sister smell my head. We both agreed that this dye would make an awesome body spray.

I hopped into the shower and began rinsing out the dye. After a minute or two I opened my eyes to see how much more was in my hair......and oh, no, no, no, no,, why was everything pink? Did I buy the right color? Oh I know I bought the right color. That shit said fire on it and was as red as coagulated blood. So why was everything pink? And not just any pink, but bright Hawaiian Punch Lemon Berry Squeeze pink. I looked around in wide eyed disbelief. It looked like I had seduced the Koolaide man into joining me in the shower and then bludgeoned him to death. My hands were now stained from simply washing my hair. I quickly washed whatever else was left in my hair and hopped out into my towel.

It was in my towel that I spent the next 30 minutes scrubbing the tub bottom and walls with a rag trying desperately to hide my pink colored shame. In the back of my head I could hear Lady MacBeth's famous lament, 'Out, damned spot! Out I say!' I don't know what that bitch was so worried about. All she had was murderous blood on her hands (spoiler alert?), I was covered head to toe in blotches and streaks of Jerome Russell Punky Colour in "Fire". I stood up and looked at the still pink tub. I had gotten a good 75-80 percent of it from just elbow grease and scrubbing alone. I looked down at the green bath mat, oh great, pink foot prints. I may be in my 20's but I was damn certain my mom was going to beat me with a broomstick.

I turned to face the mirror and finally see my hair for the first time since this ordeal began. I reached out with my hand to wipe the fog away, my inner mantra chanting, 'Just let it be worth all this, just let it be worth it.' I cleared the mirror and.....oh you have got to be shitting me! Not one goddamn hair on my fucking head was dyed. My now pinky blond roots shed tears of mirth as they laughed at me. The rest of my head was the same color red as before just a bit brighter. My ears, neck and shoulders were a different story. Half of my face was dyed in the style of the Phantom Of The Opera if he were based out of San Francisco. My stomach is pink and for some reason my back has a pink splotch that looks like a fucking cape. I can only imagine it's from where my hair laid on my back as I washed it.

Curiosity fulfilled and annoyance rising, I gathered up my discarded clothing and now pink rags and threw them into the hamper before scurrying to my room. My mom was actually OK with the pink tub. Most likely because she hasn't noticed the bath mat yet, the rest of the dye actually came off the tub quite easily with some spray on cleaning stuff she has in the hall closet, and I had to resort to using a kitchen scouring sponge in the shower to get some of the dye off me. Now I'm still pink, though not as much as before and clothing hides the rest, and she won't quit reminding me that I look like an Oompa Loompa despite the fact that they were orange.

This dyed everything but me and stains tubs very easily. Some cleaner and elbow grease will help. However I know this has worked better for other people so I'm giving it three stars. Just because I had a shitty time doesn't mean you will too. I would do the smart thing and do a strand test first to see how it interacts with your hair and not just go all gung ho on your head.