So, why haven’t I been writing lately? Turns out, when you move to Hawaii, you have to sell everything you own first. And, it turns out, selling everything you own is a fucking pain in the ass that takes up every free minute of your life.
I mention this so that I can fully illustrate my disgust with today’s topic. It takes something insanely stupid to get me motivated enough to hop back on the computer, and today I found it at a Red Robin restaurant.
Has it really come to this? Are Americans actually so lazy that they can’t be bothered to raise their heads to watch TV? Do we need TVs in the floor? You wouldn’t want to miss a single second of Maury Povich while waiting to cram a Fiesta Southwestern Ranch Bacon Spicy Beef Jerky Slim Jim Burger with extra bacon crumble and a side of bacon juice down your fucking throat. Who’s the real father of the baby? I don’t know but there’s a good chance he’s in back “cooking” my “food.”
We deserve to have our economy collapse. We deserve Donald Trump as our President. We deserve Jersey Shore and the Kardashians. We are pathetic. It’s over.
You know what I like even better than overly-complicated ice cream with tons of shit in it? Overly-complicated ice cream prepared on a dirty table. And if you could make the whole excruciating experience take about 20 minutes, that would be fantastic.
You know what, don’t even use the scoops. Seriously, just get your filthy hands right in there. I want to see my ice cream squeeze between your disgusting fingers like pus flowing from a boil. Fuck it, just throw the whole mess on the floor and stir it up with your penis.
OK, before Rick Bayless tries to sue me, let me CLEARLY state, I DO NOT think there is anything sexual or technically inappropriate between Rick and his daughter Lanie… however let me also CLEARLY go on record and say ewww.
I mean come on Rick, you are obviously unable to see what everyone else sees. These two giggle and flirt back and forth worse than Jerry Seinfeld and Sheila on the “Shmoopy” episode. You hang up first. No, you hang up first. No, YOU hang up first. It’s creepy.
What’s that, you don’t agree? Well try this one on for size… there is an episode of Chef Bayless’ program “Mexico – One Plate at Time” where he decides to dig a fire pit in his yard while Lanie yucks it up inside, pretending to know what the fuck she’s talking about. Rick strips down to his wife beater (a woman’s wife beater, not the cool ‘Raging Bull’ kind) and gets all sweaty shoveling in the dirt. It’s borderline gay porn. Meanwhile, Lanie is blabbing on about some bullshit in the kitchen and actually says “Speaking of hot, let’s see how my dad is doing.”
[the link has been found – 9:25 into this clip – It’s 100 times creepier than I remembered!]
Take a moment to re-swallow your vomit.
Let’s take the whole father/daughter sexual tension horribleness out of the equation and talk about the other thing wrong with this picture. Why the fuck am I listening to a 13-year-old tell me how to make salsa? You know what Lanie, thanks but I think I can take it from here. Aren’t you missing a therapist appointment or something?
Remember those kids in high school who would randomly wear their clothes backwards one day as some sort of sad protest against prom or something? They were the kind of nerds who didn’t try to disappear into the background but would instead call jocks “homo erectus” right to their face about two seconds prior to being tied up with their own 25 foot Dr. Who scarf and stuffed into a book bag. These are the same people who are now charging you $500 to eat menus and inhale walnut air. The nerds have won.
Sorry, I know this makes me an “old man” who “hates fun” but I find molecular gastronomy to be insufferable and fucking annoying. I honestly think I would rather *GULP* go to dinner at Guy Fieri’s house than have some asshole sell me a frozen raisin that was aged for two weeks in a room with a stereo playing nothing but Belle and Sebastian.
Fuck you and your stupid edible menu. Oh my GOD, I relate to nothing!
It’s about time someone had the courage to speak out against these pieces of shit.
Now, before you waste your time (although I’m guessing most of you are unemployed and have plenty of time on your hands)… anyway, before you waste your time telling me your tips for “the most awesome” scrambled eggs, please allow me to stop you, I don’t want to fucking hear it.
It took me decades to finally realize I have never actually enjoyed a single plate of scrambled eggs. I used to be brainwashed just like you and found myself charmed by the warm and fuzzy reputation of scrambled eggs. I mean, just look at those cute little yellow pillows of protein begging to be cuddled by your tongue. Well, much like a cute little bear cub, these fuckers snap in an instant and destroy you.
How is it possible that eggs over-easy can taste so perfectly delicious but as soon as you scramble that sucker up it tastes like a wad of toilet paper soaked in egg water? Also, the toilet paper has poop on it.
And while I’m at it, fuck you omelets! The only reason you are slightly better tasting than scrambled eggs is because you have so much shit in you, you are barely even eggs anymore. Such an ego on you, omelets. And how the fuck do you even spell omelet? I want it to be omelette but spell check is making fun of me for that choice. That’s how I spelled it here but suddenly it’s not good enough for my spell check. Even my computer hates whipped eggs!
Because I’m awesome, I’ve been working 14 hour days… everyone wants a piece of my talent. Of course this means you, my flock, suffer. For this, I am sort of sorry.
Blah blah blah, Paula Deen, bacon, butter, mayonnaise, fat, loud, giant head, scary eyes, more butter… You get the point.
If you have ever doubted this woman’s talent, just check out this advanced recipe for English Peas only a pro could come up with.
I was on such a roll and yet here we are, with no post to get you through your miserable day. I really screwed the pooch.
Let’s see, what’s my excuse for not writing last night? Oh yeah, I was too tired from “bringing it” P90X style.
You want a quickie? Here you go. I hate people who always say “no, I’m just kidding” after every jokey comment they say. Really? I used to work with a girl who said this after EVERY joke, no matter how small. Were you kidding when you said you were “hungry enough to eat a horse?” Thanks for clearing that up because I was horrified that you would ever consider eating such a majestic animal. Not to mention, I was seriously doubting your ability to actually consume a 950 pound creature. Plus, where the hell are you even getting this lunch horse? Thank god it was all a joke Kelly.
All I can do is stare at the screen and wonder what the hell I could possibly say about this.
I honestly think we may have peaked as a civilization. Maybe it’s because I watched an episode of “Wife Swap” for the first time tonight or maybe it’s simply because Taco Bell is jamming Flamin Hot Fritos into burritos, but I’m starting to feel like the human race has reached the top of the roller coaster and it’s time to all put our hands in the air and enjoy the rapid decent into hell.
Can we be trusted with the enormous task of keeping society running smoothly when Fritos are being shoved up the ass of an already heinous “burrito?” I’m not even against the practice of putting chips on things, in fact I like a good PB&J filled with pretzels, but this activity should be reserved for the end user. There is just something so grim about buying a food product already stuffed with Fritos. It’s unfortunate.
Oh, but there is some good news though. The Beefy Crunch Burrito comes with “reduced fat sour cream.” Why bother?
