food

The Burbank Chronicles, Vol. 1

I flew out to Burbank last night for an early morning appointment today. I’ve never been to Burbank, so the experience has been unique. I have been to California many times, but never this far south I guess. Anyway, a couple of things that have happened have been journalworthy, so I’ll write about them here.

I got to the counter at the Burbank Hilton and they gave me my room key – a 200-dollars-a-night king on the seventh floor. Yeah, that’s right. Two hundred dollars. Yawn. I’m not terribly impressed. The bed was nice, but the room was warm and smelled like fresh possum ass. It didn’t look all posh like I’d expected. I mean come on. It’s a Hilton. Anyway, when I got out of the elevator to go to my room, I didn’t pass Paris Hilton in the hallway.

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  • Reading time:3 mins read

Ye Ole Hot Dog Roll-Up

Yeah that was a good holiday. Though I spent entirely too much time in the sun. And uh, forgot to put on sunscreen. I’m redder than an angry Indian in a bloodbath. That’s all right, fun was had by all.

Shockingly, we didn’t get any pictures of the event because my camera battery charger is screwed up and doesn’t roast them long enough. I just ordered another on eBay though, so we’ll be set soon. Meanwhile, I guess I can tell you what happened. And theoretically, I could say anything I wanted and you’d have to believe me because I didn’t get pictures – so – wait. I have that backwards don’t I?

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  • Reading time:4 mins read

Road Trip Exchange

I guess it was around June or July of 1995, and I was driving back from Dallas to Abilene where I was stationed on the Air Force Base. I had a friend, Jeremy with me, and we were flying down the highway at no less than sixty (60) miles per hour. That may seem a little fast to the common person, but keep in mind – I was driving my old 1990 Chevy Cavalier, which had over a hundred thousand miles on it. So sixty was no sweat. No sweat at all.

Jeremy was reclined in the passenger seat, catching some Zs. A black pickup passed me on the left side, but not too quickly, and I looked over at the passengers. Seeing they were a couple of guys about my age, I waved at them. The guy in the passenger seat waved back, friendly enough. Well, they got a few hundred yards ahead and I decided to do something crazy. We had a twelve-pack of Pepsi (God only knows why it was Pepsi and not Coke, or Dr. Pepper, or Diet RC) cans on the console between us, and having only drunk about two or three between the both of us, I figured we could share a couple.

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  • Reading time:3 mins read

How Not to Grill Steaks

Sometimes I wonder how I made it this far. I mean – I like to think of myself as at least a reasonably intelligent guy. Well, I know I’m not stupid. But last night I did something that made me believe otherwise.

Check this out. We had a party. There were like twenty-five people over, and the plan was to cook steaks for everyone. My grill isn’t really all that big. You can fit like six to eight steaks on it at a time. When I found out that many people were coming, I had to run to the store and get another six pack of steaks. I cooked almost twenty steaks last night. For real. I had every single one of my big ass platters (all three) out and was preparing these steaks on them. Marinade. Steak salt. Worcestershire sauce. Liquid Smoke. The works. These steaks kicked serious amounts of ass.

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  • Reading time:3 mins read

Nicotine Lollipops

Good day, Crater Faces. Another month is upon us, and another item of controversy has sprung up on the shelves. Every year we digress as a society, to the point of which we will finally become a sludge pit just like Palestine. Children are learning to kill at younger and younger ages, and all we do is feed it to them, on a shiny silver spoon we call television. In Europe they show nudity in commercials and on regular television. Here we show murder. Crime. Killing and rape, guns, drugs, and a whole slew of other bullshit that has somehow become acceptable. I’d much rather my children see a naked body than a dying one on television.

And don’t hand me that hogwash line “Well that’s the real world, Brandon”. Yeah, only because we make it that way. Anyway, to the point. This item I speak of is the latest development in smoking cessation. The nicotine lollipop.

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  • Reading time:2 mins read

We’re Not PC Enough

On my way to work this morning I heard on the radio that about 1500 people are lined up to sue New York City for damages incurred on 9/11. Let me say this again. 1500 people are going to sue New York City for dust damage and smoke inhalation and stuff like that. Are we a suit-happy nation? In the heat of those terrorist attacks against our country, we have people living here claiming to be Americans who want to sue their own city because it was attacked?!? What the hell are you people thinking? Why don’t you sue the al Qaeda network? Sue Afghanistan! what the hell kind of patriots are you that want to sue your own country for being attacked?

That to me is like suing your home builder because your wife got murdered and got blood on the carpet. Why don’t you sue Ford because someone rear-ended your pickup? I am so sick and tired of hearing about people wanting to sue other people. Everyone wants a quick buck and they shamelessly pursue it, without regard for taste, coherency, or humanity. That is completely and totally ludicrous. And it fills me with rage beyond that which words can describe. I say anyone that wants to sue their own city because it was attacked by terrorists should be deported immediately. Don’t want to leave? Fine. Bullet to the head. Extradition or execution. Your choice. You should be donating to help relieve New York. Not suing them to get rich, you arrogant insensitive pricks.

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  • Reading time:4 mins read

Not In Your Area

Check this out: I called Pizza Hut last night and asked for some pizza. The stuffed crust, which they got the monopoly on. The lady asks what the nearest cross street is to my house, and I tell her. She says, “Oh, well you have to call this number.” Click. So she shunned her responsibility.

A little perturbed, because I had waited on hold a few minutes – and every minute counts when you’re hungry – I called the other number. They took my order, then said, “but wait… Where do you live?” I said “off such and such.” He says, “east or west of it?” I said, “East, but right off it. Like five feet east.” Well, that didn’t matter. He told me I had to call this other place.

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  • Reading time:4 mins read