Monthly Archives: November 2012
To everyone else, please accept my new look and bulging crotch as an apology. Sorry Rich. Am I ruining your session?
None of this matters of course, because I am still basking in the glow of my own little session. The past two nights have been an ongoing threesome between me, my TV, and my PS3. All of my buttons were pushed (literally) and all parties reached their checkpoints, if you know what I mean. All I know is that I am glad it is finally the weekend, because these late nights aren’t doing anything for my complexion (as you can see above).
On another less weird note, Jillian Levi is at it again. She won a bunch of those awards and mentioned me as a nominee for this thing:
Like with the last award someone tossed down to me, I won’t participate in paying this forward, because… it takes too much time. I am just being honest here. Plus, I wouldn’t want people thinking I am actually a decent blogger who helps encourage others. I am a hitman now god dammit. Read the rest of this entry
I think I am a little… off these days. I have nothing else to offer you other than specific instructions on how not to cook dinner.
*All instructions are direct results of thorough investigation and experimentation by scholars of the 25tofly cooking institute on 11/26/2012 at 6:00pm.*
Nah, actually these instructions result from my lack of fluid motor skills and general cognition without wearing my LJs and consuming alcohol while cooking. If you learn anything from this, it is that you never deviate from standard protocol.
1. Buy all ingredients for a slightly unconventional Thanksgiving meal because you never got to eat any leftovers at your parents house. Include a rotisserie chicken in place of a turkey.
2. Get home and put that chicken (plastic container and all) in the oven just to keep in some of the warmth. Leave oven off.
3. Make candied yams that look like baby food mush because you bought the wrong canned yams. Ignore this and add brown sugar to feel like you are still making it the correct way.
4. Set sweet potato slop aside and cut veggies for stuffing while slicing fingernail in half. Be thankful it wasn’t your entire finger.
5. Begin mixing the stuffing even though you realize you don’t have enough sherry to complete the recipe.
6. Forget about
turkey chicken in oven and preheat to 400 degrees.
7. Add way more melted butter to the stuffing than you usually do, because the stuffing is acting like Rain-X to all moisture attempts.
8. Realize you left the chicken in the oven.
9. Panic and spill your apple cider.
10. Pull out mutated, and now surely radioactive plasticken.
11. Turn off oven and try to separate chicken from plastic container.
12. Try a piece, almost choke, and realize you will have to discard all of the chicken skin.
13. Place sides in the oven to bake for twenty minutes, but burn your hand while you are at it.
14. When the timer goes off, pull out your sides being careful not to burn your other hand.
15. You turned the oven off in step 11, dumbass.
16. Preheat oven again after you step in that drink you spilled but forgot to clean up. Your socks are now properly wet and gross and sad.
17. Bake sides for another twenty minutes while you stave off starvation by eating half of the rotisserie chicken.
18. When sides are finished baked (for real this time LOL), make yourself a plate.
19. Top it off with a roll that you smashed while trying to butter with cold butter.
20. Congratulations, you are no longer hungry. Now, put everything in tupperware, and do the dishes in scalding water to make sure you irritate your burn.
I’ll be ordering take-out tonight. You should too.
- Make-Ahead Tips for Novice Thanksgiving Cooks (readramble.typepad.com)
- Let Your Kids do the Cooking this Thanksgiving! (cdmfun.wordpress.com)
- Thanksgiving Recap: Sweet Potato Bake (youfoodisnotsogreat.wordpress.com)
Four tanks of gas in four days: $240.00
Beer, beer, and more beer: $50.00
Welcome home dinner from yourself to yourself: $20.00
Returning to your blog: Priceless
That’s right. Everyone chill the fuck out. I am back. I even brought you some monkey bum. He is responsible for my absence. Come on, you would be distracted too if this was the only space in which you could work. I mean, why is he so adamant on picking up that over sized marble? Can he even lift it? Why am I turned on?
Actually, the more important question here is where the hell my mom bought this “decor”. Obviously, I have been home visiting family for the Thanksgiving holiday for the past four days. Now it is back to
what makes the world go round blogging. Here is what’s up for this week: Read the rest of this entry
Ever since Daan van den Bergh pooped out a glittery faberge egg for me on Twitter, then promoted me to the position of his official sound editor for his blog, I have been skipping like a leprechaun everywhere I go. I am mostly just impressed with him and his wife’s clay molding skills. Oh, and somehow he also talked me into being a make-out whore. I’ll let him explain…
Obviously it is the month for Movember. To those of you, who don’t know what that is, I am assuming that you are a newcomer and/or are living under a rock. Read this post. Enlighten yourself.
Now, I want to tell you a story. I’m going to ask you to close your eyes while I tell the story. No, wait. I’m not actually talking. Just read it.
This is a story about an upper-lip enjoying a regular shave, a daily smooth-cut with sometimes a day or two in between. Eleven months pass by as suddenly November races up. The world gets darker each day as a carpet of thick, pointy hair consumes the upper-lip. Can you see it? It’s entangled in wire, caught unwillingly, all alone in the darkness. Can you? I want you to picture that upper-lip.
Now imagine that upper-lip is you.
So, I asked myself: what can I do to make these upper lips feel less lonely? What do you do when a guy feels bad? According to pop psychology, you either take him to a strip club or get him a hooker. I can’t help all of them and although prostitution is legal in my awesome country, it isn’t in the rest of the world. So I needed to come up with an alternative.
That’s why I got the Sound Editor of I Fkkn Rokk Studios (which happens to be the owner of this blog – happy coincidence!) to make-out with the 10 most ridiculous mustaches and share with us what it sounded like!
You’re welcome. Back to you, Becca. Read the rest of this entry
Here in good 'ole 'Merica we celebrate Thanksgiving this Thursday. Wait a minute, America? This isn't Le Clown! No, you're right, it's not. It's his long john wearing sidekick, Becca. Now that we have that cleared up, let's get back to Thanksgiving.
The holidays mean I get to binge on stuffing, sleep in, and run away from my dad and his camera for a few days.
There is a blogger I have recently been enjoying getting to know, even if she did read 50 Shades of Grey and is known for advocating team vagina. Storkhunting just received one of those blog awards. You know, the ones that many bloggers are on the fence about accepting or entertaining. I personally think they are wonderful encouragement. I received the Liebster award from a fellow blogger back in the infant days of 25tofly, and I remember how much it influenced me to keep at it.
Since rules are for people who didn’t work at Outback Steakhouse, I don’t have to follow them. I am not passing on the award, but I did want to thank Storkhunting for reminding me of how thoughtful you all really are. And, she had a few questions. I couldn’t leave her hanging. She asks:
1. What is the square root of 473?
I don’t do math. Last time I tried to square root something I ended up in a coma. I did, however, score a 31 on my ACTs in English. BAM.
2. Do you make sure that you wear correct day of the week underwear?
Is this a serious question? I’ll wear “Saturday” on a Monday as long as they are long johns. That’s all that matters. IN LIFE.
3. If today will be tomorrow’s yesterday and today’s tomorrow, when’s tomorrow?
Sixty-three. I told you I don’t do math.
4. What’s in your fridge right now?
Left over fried chicken, one diet coke, Zing Zang bloody mary mix, five half empty bottles of ranch dressing, and expired eggnog. Don’t worry about the eggnog, I don’t follow in my dad’s footsteps.
5. Shirts – hang up or fold?
How about no shirts at all? Hooray nudity! Just kidding. T-shirts, fold. All other shirts, hang. Unless it is a sports team t-shirt.
6. Does it piss you off when people spell your name wrong?
I would think it would be kind of hard to misspell Becca, but I dislike when people spell Rebecca like Rebekah. I dislike it even more when people call me certain nicknames without asking.
7. What music are you listening to right now? I’m asking this because I’m fed up of the tunes on my ipod. Need some good recommendations.
Honestly? Alanis Morissette Pandora Radio. The Dirty Dancing sound track is a good investment too. Did I say that out loud?
8. Pet names – love ‘em or hate ‘em? (I mean baby, sweetie, honey not Buster, Rover, Fluffles).
I’ve been called baby. bunny, boo, boobaloo, sweetheart, honey, hun, and babe, but don’t you ever call me sugar tits.
9. Blogging in bed. Do you?
Of course, but for some reason the guy always gets all whiny and says things like, “Is this not doing it for you? You seem distracted“.
Rip Sticks. Not.
11. How much do you hate me right now?
Not as much as I hate myself for just inhaling four large pieces of pizza in under five minutes and realizing that everything in my fridge will be to blame for my massive heart attack in ten years.
Thanks again for everything Storkhunting.
- Alanis Morissette Rocks Pomona, CA (pinkisthenewblog.com)
- Oooh Look Shiny (storkhunting.com)
- Eggnog Heaven… (velvetbirdie.com)