This is the last time I’ll talk about Komen, pinky-swear. It’s just so nice to not lose for once, plus I’m still bummed I never got to use the post title “Ayes Up Here.”
The KFC* Backle-Down Planned-wich
Ingredients
2 breaded chicken breasts
1 egg
1 tbsp. mayonnaise, salted
3 strips bacon, twisted into “awareness ribbon” shapes
1/3 cup shredded mozzarella
1/4 cup crushed tortilla chips
Deep-fry chicken breasts. Cook bacon in skillet. Mix egg with salted mayonnaise, then scramble the living hell out of it.
Top egg/mayo mixture with shredded mozzarella and crushed tortilla chips, because Catholicism! Add bacon and place between chicken breasts. Offer to guests, then retract offer, then, when they raise a stink, give it back. Shoo pets out of room; guests might go a little crazy with the victory laps.
Side note: When the real word’s “cumin,” a “Komen” joke in a fake recipe is defused somewhat, I’ve found.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “that’s the most disgusting sandwich I’ve ever heard of, and it sounds incredibly unhealthy to boot.” Well, first off, It should be noted that mine’s more nutritious than the actual thing. Second, there’s no need to fear the damage it might do to your heart and other organs; simply read this Kathleen Parker column after eating, and voilà! That’s onomatopoeia, not French.
Two of the top news stories this week have revolved around reproductive rights, though both raise far more troubling issues than a woman’s right to contraception or abortion.
See? That opening line alone’s enough to make me voilà my guts out.
You can always count on My First Newspaper for a good human-interest story, and by “human” I mean you can learn a lot about what makes people tick by viewing them through the prism of animal companionship, and by “interest” I mean like in a Chinese curse.
So now there’s going to be a TV series about pet taxidermy, because of course there is, and I’ll tell ya, I’m not all that comfortable with a reality show exploiting a teenager who thinks she’s a better singer than she actually is, much less someone like this:
Brittany had been with Kaufman, 64, when she lost her son, Billy Giger, who died in 1998 and her husband, Howard Sims, in 2004. Letting go when the dog’s time came was going to be hard.
Sounds like her current state of mind’s a few RDAs short of healthy, right? But hey, on the other hand, furniture won’t scratch the furniture, and a stool won’t… okay, I can’t even joke about this.
His basic price is $725 for any pet up to 10 pounds plus $49 for every pound over that.
Imagine how many living animals you could care for with that kind of money! That’s… uh… well, all that’d buy you is a couple cat spays and some flea preventative. Never mind, that’s not the salient point anyway; these people are obviously sick—not sick sick, but clearly grief-stricken to an extent that’s landed them squarely in mental-illnessville. They need help, not a quadrupedal doorstop. Imagine how much therapy you could buy with that kind of… a psychiatrist visit costs what?!
Hmm. Hold on one sec while I do a quick back-of-the-envelope calculation here… (jot jot jot) carry the one… divided by pain... well I’ll be damned, looks like it is I who’s been barking up the wrong tree here.
Parker! C’mere buddy, we gotta talk about how I’m going to cope with your inevitable passing. I’ve been reading about this freeze-drying process, and I think it might be just the answer to…
Hey, you’re not Parker, you’re an iguana or something. How’d you get in here, little lizard dude?
Lemme just get my shoes on and I’ll set you free outside. Then I can get back to discussing end-of-life issues with my d… WAIT A MINUTE.
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 01/30/12 at 05:28 PM
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[I think there’s a clause in my Balloon Juice contract about pet photos. This one depicts my dog Patsy, who harbors ambitions to become a biped. She loves to belly up to our backyard tiki bar.
You can see the whites of her eyes because she’s scanning the surface of the bar for pretzels without turning her head far enough to lose her balance. Sadly, there were no pretzels. We now return to our regularly scheduled post, already in progress.]
I have a 13-year-old daughter, which is why I don’t scare easily. She can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she’s a good person in all the important ways. I’m proud of her and also relieved that I’ve thus far avoided the massive karmic blowback my own mother is gleefully awaiting in compensation for the gigantic pain in the ass I gave her. (Knock wood—and yes, I know, I know: Give her time!)
Anyhoo, as many teens do, Young Miss Cracker seeks to assert her originality by emulating the fashion sense and hairstyles of celebrities. This month, it appears to be Rooney Mara in the title role of the film Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Of course, Young Miss has never actually seen that film, and I draw the line at allowing her to get real tattoos or piercings or to wear clothing emblazoned with the word “fuck.”
As far as I know, not like this, anyway. Huh, “totally natural,” the guy says.Yeah, I’ll see your “totally natural.” Next up, dogs and cats living together, and the entire Animal Kingdom slides into debauchery, licentiousness, and crude, Euro-style living. I told you those radical social policies wouldn’t work.
“The Ark is long but it bends where all the elephants and hippos are.”
“The hottest place in Hell is reserved for those who remain neutral in times of great moral conflict, but it sure is a time-saver having my corkscrew, nail-file, and tweezers all in one place.”
“Injustice anywhere is a threat to Eustice Evermoore. And Eustice will fuck you up.”
By way of response, Stein asked the agency to tell Kyocera that he was not certain that global warming was a man-made phenomenon as “he believed that God, and not man, controlled the weather”
Yeeaahh, that’s a stretch.
But wait, nobody involved at any step of the process thought this might be a concern when you hire outspoken lunatic Ben Stein, star of Expelled, the pro-Intelligent Design movie that blames Darwin for the Holocaust? Also a stretch!
Feel the burn, credulity!
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 01/13/12 at 06:00 AM
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Start your day off with a brisk bout of GAH, courtesy of My First Newspaper:
Faith also reminded Patriots such as Henry that the American people needed virtue to channel their freedom into moral purposes.
Fun fact: USA Today doesn’t have an editorial board, their op-eds are written with the use of Super Cloying Mad Libs Volume 2. “Freedom also reminded virtuosos such as Henry that the American people needed patriotism to channel their morals into faithful purposes,” “Patriotism also reminded moralists such as Henry that the American people needed faith to channel their freedom into virtual purposes,” etc.
Anyway, get the hell up and enjoy the Indian summer before God takes it back like some kind of giving-a-gift-and-then-taking-it-back type person.
George Michael and to a lesser degree Fred Durst speak for me
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 01/07/12 at 09:47 AM
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the following is best experienced with this music playing, but then, what isn’t
How you livin’, girl?
Greetings, your fine-ness, and welcome to gil mann’s pad o’ seduction. Make yourself comfortable, have a li’l somethin’ to drink, and don’t mind Jim Wallis’s Huffington Post column; if there’s one thing gil mann can make sexy, it’s anything.
Goodbye to the year that gave us Newt ReNewed, Occupations Removed, and Bachmann Corndog Lovin’. The year to come promises to be target-rich, and though the Roast has taken a hit, we will be up and snarking with every bit of childish, unrepentant glee we can muster. Thank you to our Roasty readers for your support through the years of our existence, and health to all, especially our Strange.
Just about every media outlet is running its own roundup of the events of 2011. I’d like to try something different (and, obviously, be somewhat lazy), and throw it open to you, our lovely Rumproast community, to spare a little time from your preparations for seeing in the New Year (“when it comes,” as they always say here in still-superstitious and never presumptious Scotland) to sift out the notable events, happy and sad, hilarious and tragic, conclusive and ongoing, that you consider most significant.
To kick us off, on the media front, I’d have to rank the continuing revelations and recriminations of the phone hacking and associated scandals involving Rupert Murdoch’s News International as a development that was long in coming and gleefully enjoyed, coupled with Fox News’s sharp decline in ratings and the Tea Party-humping residual shitstorm that is currently engulfing the GOP.
In terms of international politics, the fall and demise of Gaddafi is obviously among the most notable events, along with that of Osama bin Laden, against the background of international economic and social turmoil.
Breitbartocalypse and the predicted tidal wave of wingnutry that would sweep all before it have apparently been postponed, though there are still a few hours left yet, so I’ll hang off on declaring that a bust.
On a personal note, I couldn’t round up 2011 without wishing that StrangeAppar8us was able to share his own views with us at this moment, and the sad events that saw him facing a long, but not hopeless, road to recovery have obviously overshadowed the closing of the year. I wish him—as I wish you, our visitors and commenters, and not least my co-bloggers—a Happy New Year when it comes. An interesting 2012 is more or less assured. Let’s hope it’s a happier one for us all.
I had better luck: No dead pets, and I pulled off a lovely Christmas dinner for 10 people without a hitch. My kid was ecstatic (well, as ecstatic as jaded middle-schoolers get) about her presents. Little does she suspect that “her” new Xbox was primarily purchased so her dad and I can use the streaming feature to watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 and Twilight Zone reruns.
We had an unseasonably warm Christmas. It was 80 degrees, which is normally just fine with me except I was roasting a 14 pound prime rib, so it was more like 95 degrees in my kitchen. I was sorely tempted to turn the air conditioner on but resisted the impulse and instead fled to my porch at odd moments to fan myself with a potholder.
Hope y’all had a Merry Christma-Kwanz-Hanukkah. Consider this an open thread in which you can describe your favorite presents, amusing holiday anecdotes or whatever.
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