Food Porn

For those of you who, like me, enjoy looking at gross food (for proof of this, you need only remember my fixation with Sweet Fancy Moses—Sue’s Whole Chicken In a Can—Now Even MORE Disgusting!), and enjoy feelings of smug superiority as you tell yourself, “Well, at least I didn’t eat THAT!,” here is the website for all your food-related fantasies/nightmares, and all your conflicted self-esteem/self-loathing issues.  Go here and try not to gag.  Or salivate.  It really depends on how hungry you are.

I must confess though: anything with Spam gets me drooling.  I love Spam.  But only the good kind—the kind that’s full of sodium and clogs up your arteries; not the kind that’s full of male enhancement offers and clogs up your in-box.

I GIVE YOU:  Spam sushi (wait, does this mean Spam isn’t meat?)

Any other Spam fans out there?  It’s time to come out of the closet and share all your Spam-centric fantasies.  I have already heard from       this guy.  And by fantasies, I mean recipes.  This is a family blog, folks.

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Michael Jackson

 LET’S DO THIS:

This was Michael Jackson at his best.

(NOTE:  This is not the original video I posted.  The first one was removed from YouTube at the request of Dick Clark Enterprises.  I guess they wanted to make more money off the back of MJ even after his death.  This one is from the Ed Sullivan Show.  We’ll see if someone tries to make money off this video too.  Which speaks to the point of the commentary below.)

I can’t say it any better, so I’ll let Andrew Sullivan take it (from yesterday’s Daily Dish @ Atlantic magazine):

June 25, 2009

There are two things to say about him. He was a musical genius; and he was an abused child. By abuse, I do not mean sexual abuse; I mean he was used brutally and callously for money, and clearly imprisoned by a tyrannical father. He had no real childhood and spent much of his later life struggling to get one. He was spiritually and psychologically raped at a very early age – and never recovered. Watching him change his race, his age, and almost his gender, you saw a tortured soul seeking what the rest of us take for granted: a normal life.

But he had no compass to find one; no real friends to support and advise him; and money and fame imprisoned him in the delusions of narcissism and self-indulgence. Of course, he bears responsibility for his bizarre life. But the damage done to him by his own family and then by all those motivated more by money and power than by faith and love was irreparable in the end. He died a while ago. He remained for so long a walking human shell.

I loved his music. His young voice was almost a miracle, his poise in retrospect eery, his joy, tempered by pain, often unbearably uplifting. He made the greatest music video of all time; and he made some of the greatest records of all time. He was everything our culture worships; and yet he was obviously desperately unhappy, tortured, afraid and alone.

I grieve for him; but I also grieve for the culture that created and destroyed him. That culture is ours’ and it is a lethal and brutal one: with fame and celebrity as its core values, with money as its sole motive, it chewed this child up and spat him out.

I hope he has the peace now he never had in his life. And I pray that such genius will not be so abused again.

Couldn’t have said it any better myself.   

Things My Sister’s Boyfriend Taught Me

—When on vacation, for max fun at the poolside bar, order your pina colada with Myers dark rum AND a “floater” of 151-proof Myer’s rum on top.  More bang for your buck.  Or should I say twelve bucks.  WHY DID I NOT LEARN OF THIS UNTIL NOW?!

—How to make bicuits with sausage gravy.  The image is clinging to my brain just as stubbornly as the lard used in this recipe is still clinging to my artery walls.  Will probably need to unlearn this.

—What a Teplitzky is and why I would like this.

—How to stage a Lobsterfest/Surf and Turf dinner in a vacation villa, where you lack the proper cooking tools for a meal of this ambitious scale.  The pina coladas you drank earlier (with the Myer’s dark rum and the 151-proof floaters) make anything seem possible.  Improvisation is everything.  Although those lobster cracking thingys wouldn’t hurt.

—Beer…it’s what’s for breakfast.

Thanks H.!

Note:  I will come back and update this list as necessary as he teaches me new things.  I have no doubt he will.

The Internet Is Awesome

The 2.6 of you reading this blog have either politely asked or telepathically messaged to me that I put up a new post.  You are tired of clicking on this site and having your eyes assaulted with the Montauk Monster or Sweet (mother of God!) Sue’s appalling Whole Chicken In a Can (now with bones and, apparently, covered in snot.)  I agree.  You did not come here to see disgusting random photos from the Internets.  (Or did you?)  That’s not what this blog is about–what this blog is about is still to be determined.  It’s just that, now that I have learned how to post disgusting random photos from the Internets, it’s so much damn fun I can’t stop.  It’s true: once dangerous knowledge like how to make an atomic bomb, or how to post disgusting pictures from the Internets falls into the wrong hands—whether it’s the tiny, jewel-encrusted hands of a fanatical, ambiguously-gendered, Foster Grant-wearing, Napoleonic complex-afflicted, little puke from North Korea, or a novice blogger—this power is unleashed forever and will continue to be a threat to innocent neighboring countries or unsuspecting readers.  In the future, I will try not to abuse this power, but I cannot make any promises. 

Anyway, if I really wanted to show you a shocking photo I could have posted a picture of me after the dentist got through with me last week.  Evidently, a bad thing can sometimes happen when you get a shot of novocaine at the dentist’s office.  It happens only one-in-a-hundred times, I was assured by my dentist, when I called to report that this bad thing had indeed happened to me.  Apparently, if the needle delivering the novocaine is injected directly into a blood vessel (and if it contains, by my estimation, at least a quart of this stuff), it causes immense pain and swelling, both inside and out of the mouth that lasts the rest of the day, numbness of the ear and temporary loss of hearing on that side and—best of all—the whole side of your face turns black and blue and you look like Rihanna after a date with Chris Brown.  For those readers who don’t understand this hip, pop-culture reference, substitute “I looked like Michael Corleone after police captain McCluskey punched him,” or, in keeping with the Godfather theme, “I looked like Marlon Brando—as the Godfather—but only on one side, and with a fair amount of bruising.”  

But if you’re a person like me, who is able to take lemons and turn them into really sour water, you can get some great mileage out of an event like this.  When it became apparent that this injury was not going to disappear after a few days, and after I had exhausted all the sympathy I could get by lying around with an icepack on my face (but good Lord, did it hurt!), I went for the sick joke:  If someone had the audacity to ask me what happened to my face instead of just eyeing me suspiciously, I would state that my husband had slapped me around a bit and it got a little out of hand.  But that it was entirely my fault.  Because I  forgot our “safe word,” which that week happened to be “foliage.”  I had forgotten that it wasn’t “more” any more.  “More” is not a particularly effective safe word as we found out.  The same goes for “again.”   (I explained that we like to change things up a bit to keep them interesting.)  So THAT was fun for a while. 

Well, at least now you won’t have to look at the Montauk Monster or Sweet Sue’s Terrifying Chicken In a Can.  (For those of you who share my inexplicable fascination with this horrifying food product, I can direct you to a few more websites that are addressed exclusively to this topic.  With even more graphic pictures!  I mean seriously, a whole chicken in a can—with bones!  Really?!)  Just meet me in the comments section if you would like more information on this topic.  I promise I will not judge you.

Montauk Monster Mystery Solved!

Remember this from last year? 

There was much speculation about what this creature that washed up on a Montauk beach last year could have been—honest-to-goodness Sea Monster or hoaxy Photoshop Phantasy?  The latest theory is that it was a dead racoon, whom a group of interlopers afforded a full ritual Viking burial at sea.

But then I saw this:

I think this settles it.  It was a chicken fry.  At the beach. 

 Sweet merciful crap.  Words fail.

We Need a Pep Talk!

Here’s the thing, gang, I’m new at this blogging gig so bear with me.  There are many components that go into the making of a successful blog, and I’m pretty sure providing interesting writing is one of them.  I’m also guessing having a few readers would be good too.  So I’m blindly fumbling around here, trying to figure out what I need to do to become a successful, fair-to-middling blogger on these Internets.  Because we all know THAT IS WHERE THE MONEY IS.

To that end, I have come up with a list that we both need to get working on–partly because of the symbiotic relationship that we share as writer and reader–but mainly because of your burning desire for me to be successful at this.  For lack of a catchier title, I’ll call this list:  SECRETS TO A SUCCESSFUL BLOG:

1.  Interesting/informative (or at least slightly humorous) topics–I will try to provide these, as long as we recognize right up front that they’re not all going to be gems.  For instance, if I get on politics, realize I’m just going for the cheap laugh, not deep analysis.  (I do not pretend to be a real pundit when the fake ones are just as convincing.)  Also, I will try not to get all English-majory or editor-like on you and drone on about Shakespeare or Faulkner or Joyce (the novelist, not my friend with the short attention span; she probably didn’t even make it this far into the post)–or go on about which book fonts will add intellectual heft to any subject you discuss (that would be: serif-style).  I will try not to talk about wine too much. 

2.  Good writing–Still working on this.  Which is probably the reason I only have a blog and not a sweet book deal like Sarah Palin does.

3.  Incentives/Giveaways/Contests–I know, I know!  I promised you free Dunkin’ Donuts coupons for reading my blog.  That was false advertising on my part, which I deeply regret now that I actually have a blog.  But I’m in good company;  I don’t see anyone suing Oprah for promising everyone in the country free grilled chicken from KFC.  We all know how that turned out.  And I’m not stupid enough to offer a free car to everyone in my audience–even Oprah couldn’t save GM after she did that.  Here is my best offer:   READ MY BLOG NINE TIMES AND THE TENTH TIME IS FREE!  In addition, I am planning a contest in the near future.  Details TBA when I decide what the details are.  (I cannot say what the prize will be either, but I will tell you this: it will most likely not be KFC or GM-themed.)

4.  Readers–The most important element of a successful blog.  Or so I have been told.  C’mon people!  Let’s do this thing!  How’m I supposed to know if  I am holding up my end of this darned, and frankly, exhausting, writer/reader relationship if I don’t know if you’re out there?  I can hear you breathing.  Don’t be shy.  My policy on comments is that they are welcome as long as they are positive.  Just click on the clicky thing that says “Comments.”  (It’s in very tiny print below the post, so put on your reading glasses.  I’ll wait.)  So step up, people.  I would love to give you some feedback on your feedback.

There.  I think we both needed that pep talk.  I know I did.  Stay tuned.