Horsing around

At a very important moment on a very important date, I found out I was allergic to horses. Horribly, horribly allergic to horses.

It wasn’t at a pony farm or the zoo, or at a rodeo. It was on the couch, where all (hopefully) good dates should end up.

Margaritas had been made. An awesome dinner had been eaten. And now it was time for…well you know, the rest.

But something went horribly wrong.

In the midst of, some things, I felt something horribly itchy and painful overcome my bottom lip. My neck was screaming in fire and something just felt…wrong.

I was able to feign having to get a tissue and scurry to the bathroom, where, to my absolute horror, my lips had swelled up pretty ridiculously and embarassingly huge and a giant rash had covered my neck. As if second impressions weren’t more important then the first ones, this was an absolute nightmare.  I looked absolutely ridiculous. And ugly. on top of my own sub-standard looks.

Doing the next best logical thing, I called my best friend, who was, for matters we’ll discuss later was in my basement, and she came upstairs with a cold can of pop. My date, naturally was curious and kind of ” wtf”, and came and saw the hilarity/horror of my swollen mouth on a cold pop can and desperately needing an epi pen.

Trying to pinpoint what happened, we determined that my date, an avid horse person, had come straight from the stables with their beloved equine and right to my house.

Thank god, the swelling eventually went down.

Working girl

A good friend at work recently introduced me to GrinderGirl, as seen on David Letterman. For those of you unfamiliar, as am I, she is one of the girls surrounding the water tank on Letterman’s segment “Will it Float?”

She’s been described as “pinup girl meets superhero meets metal shop.”

For me, it’s like Betty Grable starring in Flash Dance.Oh, and she has a python.

Those sparks you see? They are coming from a CIRCULAR SAW mounted on her chest.

Talk about a sharp employee. Hey oh!

Hi. It’s me, Stan

Sports in Pittsburgh. It’s been said before, but there is nothing quite like it.

I’m not going to give you some philosophical bullwag about the spiritual meaning of the Terrible Towel or Marion Lemieux’s back. Or rattle off some impressive stats about a 1982 Pens team or the Pirates, when they used to win things, like games, and not reality-tv winners from India as teammates.

But, it’s still a good question. Why Pittsburgh sports? Is it because of the long dynasty of teams like the Steelers, winning an unprecedented six Super Bowls?

Or the Pittsburgh Penguins with their own great ones, Mario Lemieux, and now, Sidney Crosby, the youngest player to bring home a Stanley Cup? Or that the University of Pittsburgh consistently produces men’s and women’s teams who are national contenders across the sports? Or the sheer lack of success by the Pittsburgh Pirates that they are one of the most losingest teams in Major League Baseball to that point that many who attend their games do so only for the great Pierogi races?

NAY. NAY TO ALL THAT

It is simply, my friends, because of this:

That someone would place a dinosaur in a Pens jersey.

Because a Pittsburgher giving birth during the Stanley Cup Finals would name her daughter Sydney.

Because there is a Web site dedicated to such similar things, called Steeler Baby.

Because we bury those we love in the colors they love, black and gold.

Because Oliver Onion, Cheesey Chester, Sauerkraut Sal and Jalapeno Hanah are household names.

Because The PensBlog is one of the best blogs written on the Internet and people across the world mourned the closing of The BurghBlog written by PittGirl, who told the city and the Pittsburgh sports world how it really is. And because of that, everyone knows which Pittsburgh sportsmen go by the Duke of Fug and Skeevey.

Or because a girl stood on the roof of a Ford Explorer Saturday at a No Doubt concert oustide Pittsburgh, took off her shirt and held a giant foil Stanley Cup over her head. And because some of No Doubt came out in Pens Jerseys during their encore.

Or because some sinister Detroit fans broke into my friend’s house and spray-painted their dog with a Red Wings Symbol? Knowing it would be the ULTIMATE defiling?

There is a reason they call it Steelers Nation, but there is a reason they call Pittsburgh a sports town.

Yes, it’s the talent and the coaches and the championships and the beer, oh the beer.

But most of all, for all of you people who say there is nothing like cheering for the Boston Celtics or the New York Yankees or the Fighting Irish, it is because of Pittsburgh’s fans and how completely inappropriate and far we will go to show it.

Flames a-plenty

In Rachael Ray’s magazine “Everyday” (ugh) she has a section called Messes and Successes where readers send in their kitchen triumphs and bloopers.

I’ve thought about sending this one in, but it’s not entirely food-related, and only a handful of people know the real truth behind the great microwave fire of 2009. Generally what I told people is I was making microwavable rice and forget the water. The truth is, it was uncooked couscous, wrapped in a t-shirt.

But wait. there’s more.

Believe me if this idea would have worked, we could have all been very rich.

A friend of mine was staying over and had a pretty wretched headache. Back in the day of the Spring Hollow, we once kept a premature mouse alive by putting some rice in a clean sock, microwaving it, and placing said mouse on it to emulate the warmth of its mother. Lazarus, as he was named, stayed alive for a whole day. Genius right? The healing powers of the microwave.

So. back to the headache. It seemed that well, why wouldn’t the concept work again. Except this time there was no rice only couscous, and no clean sock, only a t-shirt. Would have been a good moment to just say maybe this is a bad idea and go and buy some Tylenol. Yet, we soldiered through.

So the couscous goes in the t-shirt, and the t-shirt goes into a microwavable bowl, which goes into the microwave for five minutes (another critical error) A few minutes in though, my apartment filled with black smoke, and the microwave was shooting flames. Chaos ensued.

We ran outside with the flaming plastic bowl and threw it in the snow and unplugged the microwave which had filled my apartment building with smoke. Try explaining the origin of that fire to a landlord. Obviously the microwave was ruined, as was the little cart it stood on, and the bowl with the melted t-shirt. It took days to clear the smoke out of the place.

So if I learned anything from the aforementioned situation, it is the following:

1. unplug your appliance after any electrical. do NOT use water

2. never wrap something uncooked in a t-shirt and microwave it

3. never think you can get rich by making anything in the microwave.

you’re welcome.

The saddest story ever told

This will be one of the saddest stories I ever share with you. And you will probably find it very funny. Well, I’ve never liked you.

Back to the story:

Driving home from Kmart on a dark summer’s night, my best friend Shannon and I were zipping through the back country roads of the area we called home.

On a familiar stretch of road, I thought the Vangreene (the van) may have driven over something, namely a cat.

So naturally, we turned around at a driveway ahead, backtracked and stopped near where we thought might have been the injured animal.

Pulling up alongside it, I opened the driver side door and saw this:

The most adorable, little baby owl sitting in the middle of the other lane, content as can be and not a feather flustered.

And I swear on my life, he turned his little owlish head towards us and cooed.

So being the good citizens we are (lets ignore a long history of littering here), we pulled off to the side of the road because naturally in the van there was a towel, among several other items that could have been help. Being in the country, however, pulloffs had to be strategically picked. So we had to drive a small distance (15 feet) to get off the road safely.

Approaching the baby owl, towel in hand, confident that we were about to save a life, we heard it: the zipping of a car, a very, very fast car, coming a few feet behind us.

We tried to scream for them to stop. But it was nighttime and we were invisible to the speeding motorist. So was Mr. Owl.

All we could do was not look.

And then Mr. Owl was no more.

Shannon went back to the van crying. And I slunked back to the scene of the crime, scooped up what was left of him with the towel and buried him beside the road. We drove back to Shannon’s house, shells of human beings and devastated.

Luckily, her mom was there. The rest of this should be a no brainer right? A sweet woman comforts two devastated teenagers who just witnessed an atrocity.

Not the case.

She instead cocked her head back and had a fabulous laugh at our expense, as she has consistently done over the years, and everyone to whom we told this story to.

Every time we see an owl, we saw, awww Mr. Owl. And every time someone hears that, they laugh at us.

So, for Mr. Owl, to everyone who laughs, here’s a big F you 🙂

Growing a pair

My first foray into gardening came in high school — that’s if you’re excluding the obligatory elementary school planting of a shrub in a styrofoam cup on the first day of spring.

Lo and behold one in either a sophomore or junior year, it seemed like a good and entertaining idea to plant corn. Rows and rows of it. To my parents’ horror, they returned from an evening out to find what used to be their flower bed torn up and rows of their very weird child’s new crop. Seeing they could not possibly change this, they said good luck, and went abouts their business.

Summer came and went, as did at the same time a lawn mowing business and the start of a carpentry dynasty, and the damn corn was just not growing. Then I remembered, we lived in the middle of the FREAKING WOODS and deer had probably eaten it. BUT THERE WAS ONE LITTLE SPROUT, a little adorable corn, that against all odds, seemed to grow.

By the end of the summer, it semed this little man was ready to pick and be feasted upon, a small bounty from a big pain in the ass. The day I planned to harvest the one crop that made it, I came home only to find that it had been bulldozed by a crew repairing a busted water line in the yard.

Shit.

And so that was the end of that phase.

Or so I thought.

A bunch of years later, the thought was had that maybe I could plant some herbs. In a little dish. Like everyone else. So I purchase two — Basil and Rosemary, which will be referred to as Baz and Rosario from here on out — along with an 8-lb bag of potting soul and two terra cotta pots. Seems simple enough.

Baz and Rosario ended up in the terra cotta pots on my window sill. God only knows where the potting soil went. The bag has gone AWOL. At first it was easy to remember to water them. But then it became easy to forgot. In less than a week, they shriveled.

So I moved Baz and Rosario into my landlords’ flower bed, hoping they would get some good sun outside and passing them by would be a reminder to water them.

No such luck. And we’re only on week two. It’s not looking good.

Cheesin’ it

I am cultivating a relationship with fresh mozzarella cheese while simultaneously creating my own form of kitchenscapades called EXTREME COOKING.

I’m working on that for you in the next day or two, all the while dealing with a newfound love of hot dogs.

So for now, miei amici, this is all I can leave you with:

The NATI

This a brilliant rap written by “G-Money” Tait and “Doc” Wurthman. It obviously needs shared with the world:

When You’re Eating With The Pigs, And I Don’t Mean The Cops
A very gangster title for a not so gangster rap

By The 49th Unparalleled (Graham “G-Money” Tait / Brad “Doc” Wurthman)
Title courtesy of Shannon Davis
Gunshot sounds / beats courtesy of Lauren Daley

Rolled up to Cincinnati at a quarter after ten
Hear a loud “pop, pop, pop” and I say “oh no not again”
I’m against gun violence and I’m too young to die
Luckily it was just the ballpark fireworks lighting up the sky

Greg Harrell runs the scene on Friday’s at Tostado’s
Grabbin’ other people’s beers and chasin’ fair-skinned does
With moves so questionable he coulda got thrown in the slammer
A bar fight tonight would mean my early return to the Hammer

The cops can’t help you and in Shadow Hare you can’t rely
You’re caught in the eye of the storm called the N-A-T-I

At Wake Nation that cable rips around the lake so fast
You better get up on your board or be knocked on your ass
Lean back, lean back, or against the rail you will smack
In a spill so violent that’ll leave you blue and black
When that cable tightens its more intense than fire from a grill
Like when Jimmy Kantor demonstrated his awesome cooking skill

A bocce ball phenom, Jimmy caused destruction and domination
He beat us worse than when I hit my head at Wake Nation
I know what you’re thinking, “yo, that’s a double segue”
This is a world’s first, so make note of the time and day

The cops can’t help you and in Shadow Hare you can’t rely
You’re caught in the eye of the storm called the N-A-T-I

Cornhole is our game and we be hustlin’ for our bounty
If you try and play with us you’ll end up poorer than Clay County
Our tosses are so accurate they could be laser-guided
Your aim better be true or you’ll get blindsided
Shock and awe ensues when we set those cornhole bags a flyin’
Watchin’ us pepper that board, you’re soul must be dyin’

The cops can’t help you and in Shadow Hare you can’t rely
You’re caught in the eye of the storm called the N-A-T-I

Fine cuisine you ask? In the Nati they don’t f**k around
They shut down six city blocks to let the local food abound
With pork, beef, lamb, chicken and I even saw some possum
“The Taste Of Cincinnati” is a cornucopia of awesome

We’d be remiss if we didn’t do shout outs to our crew
To Shannon and Lauren it’s been a pleasure hangin’ with you
In the debate of Canada vs. U.S. many a compelling argument was made
We’ll give you Nickelback for Detroit; that seems an appropriate trade
Since we’re getting rid of things we don’t like, we’ll throw Celine Dion in too
Turns out noone wants her, so one for one will do

The cops can’t help you and in Shadow Hare you can’t rely
You’re caught in the eye of the storm called the N-A-T-I

Here’s a history lesson kids, this city used to belong to the Reds
But not since Doc Halladay and the AL East been prescribin’ the meds
Went to the Reds game on Memorial Day and ran into a scalper named Jazz
Brad’s Orange Bowl shirt made him reminisce of Miami memories he has
Jazz rhymed off stories of his run ins with Cubans and their business acumen
“Don’t go more than a block away from the beach”, he says he won’t tell us again

The cops can’t help you and in Shadow Hare you can’t rely
You’re caught in the eye of the storm called the N-A-T-I

Don’t kid yourself brats, the Nati belongs to the UC Bearcats
You want another lesson, what about Ohio State Buckeyes you say?
Coach Kelly ain’t messin’, the Bearcats will beat ‘em any day
Travel with us quick, we’ll go back to the future, and you’ll see what we see
The Bearcats will be playing again on New Years Day in South Beach Miami

The cops can’t help you and in Shadow Hare you can’t rely
You’re caught in the eye of the storm called the N-A-T-I

Shadow Hare: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Da1ADqPplQ4
Wake Nation: http://www.wakenation.com/

Big appetite

Ok. Yesterday we brought you a giant cupcake.

What should be next on the list of huge, awesome shit to make.

1. The Bacon Explosion?

2.  The Giant Hostess Cupcake?

3.  Fried Butter Balls (Only because they are ridiculous)

4.  The Monster Mac?

or Submit you’re own suggestion! Vote on the comment board!

It snacks of deliciousness

In the quest for tips on producing one giant cupcake (which was NOT the tastiest thing one has ever eaten) I stumbled across this Web site, this glorious Web site, dubbed Pimp That Snack.

The Web site creators say this about their genius: “We take Snacks to their limit, and show what they’re capable of with a little ingenuity, a little cash, and a lot of imagination.”

Translation: They take really awesome snacks, say a candybar, and make them better, by say, MAKING THEM GIANGANTIC, among other things. They’re are how-tos, step-by-step video and pictures and recipes.

Some of their users’ handywork, posted on their site:

Oh my god.

Now they have other snack items too — sandwiches, other candies, etc (all in a convenient searchable SNACKBASE.) + a section on diet foods, which I obviously paid no mind to. Someone also had the brilliance to make a GIANT HOSTESS CUPCAKE, with a complete creme filling.  Why aren’t these people running government?

Unfortunately, though, whenever you google search “giant baked goods” no such awesomeness comes up within the first ten results. However, when you search under google images, you do get a picture of some kind of cookie with a baby’s face on it. Because nothing says “giant delicious baked good” like an ugly child’s face on a sugar cookie.