WOOO Texas

Work has officially kicked my ass this week. Score: Work 1, Grant 0.

Gmail sponsored link:

Texas Tummy Tuck? - www-tummytuck.net - Get a Texas tummy tuck OR get tummy tuck results without surgery.

Wait, why is your sponsored link a question? Also, when "Texas" is used as a modifier, doesn't it usually mean "bigger" or maybe "spicier"? Those are two things that are generally not in the top-5 things I look for in a tummy tuck.

NEW FEATURE: simulated insanity

This is what I optimistically figure being insane for 32 seconds is like. If anyone knows of a drug that makes normal life seem like this, please let me know.

BTW, must watch with sound:

POLL RESULTS- We have a NEW POLL!

Despite Kyle's predictable attempt to perpetuate the meta-polling, the vast, 5-person majority has clearly spoken in favor of the mortal contest betwixt a life-size Teddy Ruxpin and Michael Douglas but with electric eels for arms, a compelling issue in today's modern world.


You may be thinking, "this doesn't seem like an issue that could be resolved via a poll on the sidebar of a blog; this seems like an issue that should be investigated in a rigorous scientific setting." I would ordinarily agree with you, but you have to look at it this way - we could set up a rigorous scientific battledome with lab-coated scientists scuttling about with clipboards behind 3-inch-thick, blast-proof glass, and we could record the actual results from the legendary encounter, and we could go out for beer afterwards to discuss the impact of the experiment on our day-to-day lives, but we would have had only a single statistical instance by which to ultimately contextualize this issue. What if one of the eels was asleep? What if "Grubby" (?) wasn't attached (?) properly? Was the carnage really worth it if there are lingering doubts about the validity of the test? [hint: Maybe]

Also, there is the issue of the sheer cost of performing such an experiment. A normal-sized Teddy Ruxpin is around $7.00+shipping on Ebay, and Michael Douglas would probably cost at least twice that, not including the electric eels or the surgery.

So it seems to me that the best way to truly answer this question is to have my massive readership [that's what she said! Ha ha ha! Ha ha... ha... ... anybody? ... *sigh*] conduct whatever calculations and simulations they feel are necessary to come to a conclusion and vote on the poll. By collecting and collating this work, this blog will be serving as a depository of scientific knowledge and rigor.

Bac-Log: A Depository of Scientific Knowledge and Rigor.

What kind of sample size will we achieve using this "mechanical turk"-like system? Well, the first poll garnered an unprecedented 7 votes in 45 days (0.16 votes/day), the meta-poll garnered 6 votes in only 7 days (0.86 votes/day), so if this poll's participation grows at the same 551% rate, in 10 days we should end up with between 47 and 48 total votes! Now that is sample size! I am so confident in my math on this one that if I do not receive at least 47 votes, this creepy bookmark that my coworker gave me will feel the cruel bite of cold steel from my comically large scissors.


I look forward to our results, team. I GAVE YOU YOUR POLL, FAIR READERS, NOW GIVE ME YOUR WISDOM!

NEW FEATURE: Gift idea

birthday retrospective

Here's what I consumed on Saturday, as far as I can remember:

Donut
Cupcake
1 tallboy of PBR
handful of pretzels
4 bottles of random beer during X-Treme fantasy baseball draft
pulled pork sandwich
Pint of Bitburger Pilsner
1 tallboy of Rainier
Delicious cake that Courtney made
2 "chocolate cake" shots, which despite people's overwhelming skepticism, really does taste EXACTLY LIKE CHOCOLATE CAKE! And no, I have no idea what's in it, or why it comes with a lemon.
1 shot of tequila (heralding the "downhill" portion of the evening)
2 Irish car bombs (a.k.a Grant's new mortal enemy)
Half of an Irish whiskey which Faye mercifully finished off.

BEST BIRTHDAY EVER. Thanks to everyone who contributed food and drink to my cause. It was a good day (cue Ice Cube's 'It was a good day'). Of course, Sunday was not-so-good of a day (cue me repeatedly moaning 'I wish I was dead'), but I made it through alive thanks to Tricia's Magical Hangover Pancakes.

Also, while I'm pretty sure I remember everything, some events are just now starting to come into focus, like the cab ride home from a dude who couldn't take credit cards (wtf?) so we just gave him the $6 we had and stiffed him the rest (sorry credit-card-machine-less dude! Just so we're clear, that's your bad). But we did accidentally leave him a chunk of wood we were carrying around for some reason (the roving bands of Scandinavians and yuppies in Ballard can be pretty rough, you know) so I figure that counts as tip.

Ahhh, [partial] Memories!

FOOD FIGHT!

Check it out! I am collecting more blogging experience posts by posting a video! My friend Kyle found this on Slog. It's freaking insane:

I am really in love with the cheeseburger that shoots bacon, the pita suicide bomber, and the chicken nugget night-bombing. Also, green pepper shish-kebab vs. red pepper shish-kebab could probably teach me a valuable lesson about the ridiculousness of war if I wasn't too busy laughing about the falafels that fly off on the chicken patties into the twin burger towers.

NEW FEATURE: Movie review

On Monday I saw the documentary Girls Rock!, which is about this awesome rock&roll camp for 8 to 18 year-old girls that takes place every year in Portland and culminates in a giant live show in front of a 750-person audience. The movie is pretty great, and it's amazing to see kids who have in some cases never touched an instrument in their lives put together some pretty kick-ass (if a little rough) songs in 5 days. Also, this movie just reinforces my views that kids are way smarter and more articulate than most people give them credit for.

The movie primarily follows the stories of four girls through their various experiences throughout the week. Drama is had, lessons are learned, personal growth is ACHIEVED. (Also, disturbing statistics about how young most girls first try dieting - SO messed up).

It's a well put-together, provocative documentary, but the real reason everyone should go see it is the 9-year-old, Sonic-youth-inspired, waaaay over-talkative noise rocker Amelie. I just can't emphasize enough how much ass she kicks. There should be a spin-off show just about her. Here is a very brief list of hilarious Amelie moments:

• She plays epic, wall-of-sound, incredibly loud noise rock on a tiny guitar shaped like a flower.
• She ended a tirade about this girl at her school with, "it's just so easy. Except for the switching-bodies part."
• She invented a chord she calls "negative ten degrees".
• All of the songs she writes are about a monster-sized version of her dog.
• "this is already, like, my third gig".
• 70% of her band's live performance is her playing guitar with her teeth while rolling around on stage.

The biggest Amelie gem of the movie for me, however, was a relatively brief moment during one of her band practices. Her band, P.L.A.I.D (which the drummer, "Sunshine", explains stands for "People Lying Around In Dirt") was busy writing their song when she screamed out the following lyrics into a storm of crazy distorted noise:

How do you tune a taco
How do you tune a taco
I don't knooooooow

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, I am still laughing at this. I think the saddest part about being a grown-up is that I couldn't come up with anything even close to this hilarious this if I tried.

Go see it. Hilarious.

New Poll!!

Flush with polling enthusiasm after the rousing seven-response success of my first poll, I am offering a NEW POLL! Help shape the future of debate in this country by voting for what the next poll should be about. Which issues are more important to you personally? I want to know. The only way I can know is through your participation. Vote now.

Poll results!!

Wow, so my virgin poll [ed note: That is dirty. Let's start over]

Wow, so my first poll received an unprecedented seven responses, which is roughly infinity times what I had anticipated. And the results show that we have a mandate on ground-score nachos being nutritious as opposed to delicious. I thought this was interesting, so I consulted my 1972 edition of The Joy Of Cooking to shed some light on these unexpected results. Here is what The Joy Of Cooking has to say about nutrition:

To live we must eat. To live in health we must eat intelligently. By whose intelligence? How directed? The intuitions and impulses of the present generation seem, alas, not to be the kind that led our forebears to search for greens each spring. The sensational press releases which follow the discovery of fascinating fresh bits and pieces about human nutrition confuse the layman. And the oversimplified and frequently ill-founded dicta of food faddists can lure us into downright harm.

Ah! I think The Joy of Cooking is trying to tell me, the confused layman, to be wary of my sensational poll-voter's dangerous dicta. Instead I need to send 4 bears to find some greens. This is probably so one can go in each of the cardinal directions, although I hope the Westerly Bear can swim.

Godspeed.

NEW FEATURE: Idea theft

I totally had this idea first:

Except my idea was better because whereas this application is obviously purely aesthetic, mine was a practical safety application because you could have a hole through both roofs that you could fall through in the event of a roll-over and continue driving as if nothing had happened. This one has legs or something on the top which would clearly not sustain a dramatic multiple-rollover scenario. Also, I don't believe those headlights are functional on the top car, meaning you could not endure the rollover scenario at night, or you might get pulled over.

Pffft, way to steal and then crappify my idea, internet.

NEW FEATURE: Best Baco filling suggestion EVER

In response to the Baco, Blake produces probably the best suggestion ever for a fresh and exciting Baco filling:

If you need a distributer in Sweden, count me in. They could put pickled herring, or meatballs or some shit in it.

Ha ha ha ha ha! I need to hurry up and trademark "Båko" so we can sell this idea to IKEA.

NEW FEATURE: Daylight Savings Time can suck it

For some reason this morning I poured myself a giant glass of water for my 10-minute drive to work. I didn't even notice that I had it until I had to balance it on my leftover pastrami benedict (from another successful episode of Sunday Man-brunch) while I fumbled for my keys in my pocket. Now I have a giant glass of water in my car.

Also, on my way to work I forgot how to use my windshield wipers and thus ended up inappropriately signaling for a bunch of left turns that never happened.

Seriously, what's up with Spring Forward? Why can't we just perpetually Fall Back? My time is incredibly valuable (disclaimer: this is a lie). I can't just go losing hours here and there! Evidently this just totally messes me up.

NEW FEATURE: ultimate contribution to humanity

Immortality has long been sought to avoid the dark uncertainness of death; a way of imprinting a permanence of essence in the tactile plane of reality. To these ends medical science has made persistent, incremental advancements upon death's steely embrace (like vainly hitting the spacebar a couple of times inside life's parenthesis), and religion has stepped up to provide the consolation prize of a vague uncertain immortality of your soul (presumably this type of immortality does not include getting to annoy your still-alive friends and neighbors, which is why it is a second-rate type of immortality). Philosophy has pragmatically offered the suggestion that who cares about permanence, you'll be dead! The only proven method by which one may doubtlessly extend their influence beyond the grave is to produce works of enduring quality and relevance that will be permanent grooves in life's phonograph. Through the records of your deeds and the memories of others, you will live forever.

Behold: Immortality (AKA the bacon-shelled taco):



YES! To build a Baco, first have the shop guys at work fabricate a Baco mold out of industrial stainless steel:



Then you somehow convince your friends to let you come over and get bacon all over their stuff. Then you weave a bacon mat:



Then you borrow your friend's scissors and cut the mat into a circle:



Then you drape your beloved future heart attack over an aluminum foil-clad Baco mold, realize you made it too big, make a half-size bacon mat, realize the half-size one is too small, decide that life is too short for perfection and make them anyway:



Oh, and I forgot to mention that it is recommended that you be on at least your 4th beer by this point (I recommend Session Lager or Red Stripe because I am going through a stubby-beer-bottle phase right now). Next you sick your creation in a preheated 300deg oven, drink some more and watch the Muppet Show on DVD for a while, get impatient and turn up the oven to 400, have some more beer, and remove a taco-shaped, crisp section of heaven from the oven:



After basking in a column of light from heaven accompanied by choirs of angels celebrating your eternal bacony glory, it's time to fill up your Baco shells! Bacos SN#0000001 and SN#0000002 were both filled with iceberg lettuce, crumbled blue cheese, and more bacon:



Yeah, yeah you've already seen that picture, but I forgot to take a picture of the filled-up big one, so the little one has to do the work of two (there is probably a life lesson or inspirational fable here, which I might investigate later). Here is Baco the First inches from maiden voyage:



Pay special attention to how structurally sound the baco is! It actually might be more durable than actual hard-taco shells. Prepare for docking:



BACO IS DOCK-O! Its texture is the bastard children of forbidden love betwixt crunchy and chewy, and its taste is salty glory.

Next step is to make your attractive friends eat Bacos while you take unflattering photos of them with your crappy digital camera:







Ha ha ha ha, sorry guys! Don't worry, I'm sure the internet is paying more attention to the Baco anyway.

Next step is to forget what Kyle H (somehow not pictured with Baco) put in Baco SN#0000003.

Next step is to wake up with a wicked Baco hangover.

Next step is to use the internet to thank Courtney and Lisa for letting me get bacon all over their kitchen and arteries.

Hello Immorbaconality.

Best. Homeowners Association. Ever.

Okay, so I live in a kind of dumpy, late-70's condo building with 10 units. Under ordinary circumstances I might find such an earnest assessment of my living conditions sort of depressing, but right now I am completely aglow with intense love of my condo association.

Technically, all 10 unit owners are part of the association, but here I am referring to the "active" association, i.e. the five of us who show up to (and get drunk at) the annual meetings. The best part about having only 5 people willing to spend two hours a year to meet to make sure our homes don't spontaneously collapse is that everyone gets a fancy title; I am the "secretary", the lady across the hall is the Vice President, the lady next door is the Treasurer, and the lady across from her is the President (floor 2 totally represents). The fifth member of our Active Association Gang is an elderly woman that lives on the ground level and complains about everything. Since we were tossing titles around willy-nilly, I suggested that she be "supreme chancellor". Everyone laughed, ha ha ha, but really I get the last laugh because I put it as official business in the meeting notes (being secretary rules for exactly this reason only).

Our annual meetings are held at a bar up the street. It would be natural to assume that this would be the nearest bar to our building, but by assuming this you are making an Ass out of U and Ming. Oh no, we can't meet at the bar ten feet away from our building; we have to trudge another 2 blocks to a different bar, and the reason will be made clear in this chart of discussion topics during the "first drink" period of our meeting:



Most of the complaining about the bar next door came from Supreme Chancellor, who just would not let it go that people like to smoke on the patio and how loud it is when they recycle the glass bottles and how she has chronic pain in her ankles and also how once this woman had a birthday party at the bar and kept yelling stuff and how it takes like an hour for the cops to show up and sometimes they don't show up at all and that she once counted over a hundred cigarette butts in our driveway. Most of the complaining about the apartment building next door came from VP who just can't figure out how a six-unit building can produce so many broken TVs and mattresses that end up on the sidewalk (personally, I am fascinated by this). Also, this dude lives in a bus that is sometimes parked across the street, and evidently this is just not acceptable and we are encouraged to actively enforce the 72-hour street parking rule as it applies to this bus and the creepy station wagon only.

Drinky-drink, round 2:



Apparently the yard waste people sometimes forget to pick up the bins. Also, Prez is pretty sure she saw someone shooting up at the bar next door once. The reason that the woman from the 3rd floor is having a tough time selling her unit is that she has poor color coordination skills. Oh, and cats are adorable and sweet and are like little furry alarm clocks.

Round 3 was delivered by our waitress who wears too much makeup, according to Supreme Chancellor:


Supreme Chancellor hobbled off to the bathroom, FINALLY allowing Prez and VP the opportunity to complain about she complains so much. Also, Obama's voice is very pleasing to listen to. But the real gold from this round? Check out this gossip:

The lady who lives next to Supreme Chancellor is pregnant! [GASP]
One of the dudes on the 3rd floor just got fired! [GASP]
VP is pretty sure the guy who is always working on his car is gay! [GASP]

HOLY CRAP! Is this for serious?! Is this a condo association or a soap opera? Am I seriously the normal one around here?

Best part of the evening: Drinks and dinner paid for by the Association, meaning half of our bill was funded by the very people we so ferverishly gossiped about. Life is SO fair.

[drumroll] Bacon Links [wild applause]

Today's Bacon Links:
Maple Bacon Cupcakes (thanks Laurel!)
Seduced By Bacon (thanks Bethany!)
Serious Eat's Bacon Links
Bacon Not Done Yet (the biggest of props to Kyle)
Bacon Cup
If only I lived in Des Moines and also had a time machine to 3 days ago
Don't Bruise That Pig
Meat Paintings
Bacon Curls, which represent a major technological step toward my dream of bacon straws
Hats of Meat EWWWWWWW
Why do you get up in the morning? (thanks Courtney!)

Okay, so some of those are not explicitly bacon-related, but I feel that they properly represent the spirit of bacon.

Photo from flickr user zoomar

I am failing at this blogging game

Okay, so on Blogger, which I use because it's free and easy (like me!), the new post composer lets me apply labels to a new blog post, I guess so people can pick and choose what parts of my super-important life work to read first. Next to the entry field for the label, Blogger is kind enough to offer an example of some labels just in case I am confused by this concept. Here is what it provides:

Labels for this post:
e.g. scooters, vacation, fall

ARGH! This example post is so much more awesome than any post I am going to come up with. At first I rationalized this by telling myself that it's not fall, but it kind of is fall on the southern hemisphere. Plus, that was just a weak attempt to gloss over the real issue, which is that I am not on vacation with my scooter gang, cruising through drifts of spectacular rust-hued leaves in a gentle autumn breeze.

I am going to label this post under "complaining about blogger", because I already made that label, and also I'm mad at Blogger for reminding me that my life is so lame.

RAWK

Gmail sponsored link:

Metal Wedding Invitations - www.keepsakeweddinginvitations.com

Okay, so it turns out this company makes normal wedding invitations, but instead of boring old paper (SO 2oth century) they use metal, presumably because this is classy in some sort of way pulp product can never hope to be.

But man, imagine for a moment that this company makes, like, you know, METAL invitations, with lightning-bolt script and skulls and shit everywhere. And they could be made out of metal too, but with really sharp edges, so you could also use them as ninja stars. As a matter of fact, that is how you would RSVP, by chucking the ninja stars at the return mailbox. That way the caterer or florist or whatever could get an accurate guest count from the safety of their car without having to directly interact with the sort of people who would distribute dangerous weapons to potential wedding guests. Their love is so badass. Best. Wedding. EVAR.