Points in Case |
- Firing Up the Grill with Jane Austen
- List: Things The Guy Yelled Before “Mortal Kombat!”
- 4 Times My Plans for a Delicious Roast Were Ruined Because Mario’s Oiled and Nude Body Slipped From My Grasp
| Firing Up the Grill with Jane Austen Posted: 20 Apr 2021 10:00 AM PDT The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good charcoal grill, must be intolerably stupid. The very first moment I beheld charcoal, my heart was irrevocably gone. I could easily forgive the pride of a gas or electric griller, if it had not mortified mine own. Though it pierces my soul to so limit myself, I am half agony, half hope… I have loved none but charcoal and the smoky taste infused within my glorious meats. Till that moment, I never knew myself. In order to begin, try not the woes of lighter fluid. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a cook in possession of lighter fluid must be in want of a mind. Gather instead the beautiful charcoal and crumple the newspaper—pray no books—lighting it as such until the charcoal's catch. Now then, what to cook. A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from brats to burgers, from chicken to braised vegetables in a moment. But there is no cause to believe you cannot have them all. We must learn to be content with being happier than we deserve. Sense and sensibility will serve us as we prepare our menu for the evening. We start with the burgers. Ground beef and ground chuck are very different things, though the meats are often used synonymously. A person may have burgers without chuck. And beef relates more to the lean. Choose wisely, for we will not be returning to this moment for as long as we live. Round them into circular disks, or patties, as they are colloquially known. Pack them tight. There is nothing more intolerable than losing bits of beef through the grates. Tortured, we'd be, to smell the dying breaths of good meat, never eaten. And while we are on the subject, any meat lost to the ground shall not be recovered, but forfeited. We may lose a niblet, but not our self-control. In regards to the brats, or hot dogs for the less couth, if I loved them less, I might be able to talk about it more. When my senses consume the fullness of a brat, bunned and krauted, it will be forever. As I like to say, give a girl a bratwurst and introduce her properly into the world, and ten to one she has the means of settling well, without further expense to anybody. Her pride be damned, her prejudice be expelled. But for the lack of other nutrition, the meats would leave our bodies as lethargic boulders. Turn then to vegetables, cooked upon the grill as meats themselves. Ah! There is nothing like braised corn, for real comfort. It's been many years since I had such an exemplary vegetable. And the pepper and onion, skewered upon wooden spikes. I always deserve the best shish kebabs because I never put up with any other. One must take care to flip the meats, less they burn on one side and deliver yet dismayed stomachs with the other. Turn them over. Not with hands but with a spatula. Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion that there is immense stupidity in this world. If you have a meat thermometer, deploy it if you wish, though learn to train the eye to not so embarrass you in the circle of your society. If cheese is merited, melt before removing from the grill. There is no other way. When serving, lightly grill the buns for added enjoyment. You have options of adornment upon the meats prepared. Barbecue sauce is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love. But yet, without ketchup, life would be a blank to me. Then again, only the vain and proud ignore the qualities of mustard. There is no right answer here, only that they are all one. Though one shall not combine all three, lest they suffer the iniquities of their own sallow heart. As you consume, reflect. One meat may be as good as another's, but we all like our own best. Our handiwork is our love, never to be put to judge by any but ourselves, for it isn't what we say or think that defines us, but what we grill.  |
| List: Things The Guy Yelled Before “Mortal Kombat!” Posted: 20 Apr 2021 07:31 AM PDT "BORED OLD DUMB RAT!" "RECORDABLE FORMAT!" "YOUR WOOL PROM HAT!" "DEPLORABLE MOM CHAT!" "NOAH BAUMBACH!" "MORSEL OF GUM SNACK!" "NORMAL TOMCAT!" "IMMORTAL CUM RAT!" "WHY DO I YELL? HEY GOOD QUESTION. IF I REALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT, I GREW UP IN A BIG FAMILY—I HAD 7 OTHER SIBLINGS. I'D GET NOTICED ONLY IF I YELLED REAL LOUDLY; THAT BEHAVIOR WAS REWARDED. IT DEFINED ME. NOW MY JOB IS: I YELL FOR MONEY, LET'S CONNECT ON LINKEDIN SOMETIME!" "ADORABLE WOMBAT!"  |
| Posted: 20 Apr 2021 05:00 AM PDT For 35 years, Mario has been an international sensation, and for good reason. However, many people refuse to admit that Mario looks delicious and would make an exquisite main course. Personally, I would love nothing more than to coat him in a honey glaze and roast him over a fire until his internal temperature is 145 degrees. Recently, my family has fallen on hard times (I drank a Bang energy at work and it got me so hyper that I called my boss a yo-yo, and now I'm too embarrassed to show up again). I've been trying to catch the little goblin so we don't go hungry, but given how prone he is to stripping down and secreting a thick oil when threatened, it hasn't been easy. Here are four times when my plans for a delicious roast were ruined because Mario's oiled and nude body slipped from my grasp. My 10th Wedding AnniversaryFellas, you may think you've been in the doghouse before, but I guarantee that you haven't felt the full extent of your wife's scorn until you promised her a plump and juicy roasted Mario, but failed to deliver. She kept screaming, "I don't care about Mario, I just want you to get a job!" but I knew it was her way of masking her disappointment in my not catching him. I have no idea how good Mario is at plumbing, but if he's half as good at it as he is at avoiding being eaten by me and my family, his business must be booming. My Daughter's 8th BirthdayMy little girl wanted a cake, some dinosaur toys, and a party. Obviously without a job, none of that was possible, but I figured she'd appreciate a beautiful cut of Mario flank steak instead. Tracking Mario is actually very easy because he continuously shouts, "It's a-me, Mario!" which I consider a dead giveaway. However, catching him, tying him to a stick, and spinning him around an open flame is a whole other story. Luckily, my wife's personal trainer, Jeremy, stepped in and took care of the entire party. He's such a good guy. He actually stayed so late that my wife asked if he wanted to spend the night, and he agreed! I slept on the couch and let him have my side of the bed to be a good host. The Night My Former Boss Came to My House for DinnerMy wife, God love her, invited my ex-boss to dinner, thinking that a home-cooked meal, some laughs, and a heartfelt apology from yours truly would have resulted in me getting my job back. Unfortunately, when I greeted him, covered in the foul-smelling oily residue that Mario had stained my clothes with, I knew my chances of resuming my career were slim. The nail in the coffin was when I accidentally called him a yo-yo a second time. Before the hunt, I fueled up with a Bang Energy (think you can catch Mario without one? Good luck) and, once again, I got too hyper. Jeremy, who'd been spending a lot of time around the house, actually offered to help me get a job at his gym, but I turned him down. A job would only distract me from catching Mario once and for all. My Wife and Jeremy's Wedding (Sorry, Ex-Wife, I Keep Forgetting)Of all the times the red menace (I dare not speak his name any longer) foiled my plans with his slippery evasiveness, this one hurt the most. I could tell Jeremy felt badly about marrying my wife, no matter how many times I told him it didn't matter to me, so long as he and I could stay friends. I thought that the perfect way to show those two crazy kids that I approved of their union was to present them with the wicked plumber so they could dine on him in matrimonial bliss. I spent the whole day trying (and failing) to catch him, and missed the wedding, which was a real bummer because I wrote a whole speech about how happy I was that if someone had to marry my wife and pursue legal action to get full custody of my daughter, I was glad it was Jeremy. Seems that plumber is harder to find than my wedding invitation, which I guess was lost in the mail! Anyway, I hope they'll be as happy as I'm going to be when I finally catch that mustachioed fuck, which will be any day now.  |
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