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Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Some Changes
No new experiment to post right now, but a few housekeeping things.
Prior to some tinkering around with Blogger's settings, only those registered could comment. Now anonymous comments are allowed, which means that those without OpenID can express delight and/or revulsion. In addition, you can now subscribe and know the minute that we've done something stupid.
Also, there probably won't be another experiment this week. Since Jamie and I both work full-time, it's hard to find time for bad ideas during the week, and this weekend we'll be heading out of town to visit my parents. Although, we may wind up with something from there, since my mother is cut from the same cloth as Jamie and will likely only encourage this kind of thing.
Alright, off to see what other toys Blogger has for me to play with. Have a good week, guys.
Prior to some tinkering around with Blogger's settings, only those registered could comment. Now anonymous comments are allowed, which means that those without OpenID can express delight and/or revulsion. In addition, you can now subscribe and know the minute that we've done something stupid.
Also, there probably won't be another experiment this week. Since Jamie and I both work full-time, it's hard to find time for bad ideas during the week, and this weekend we'll be heading out of town to visit my parents. Although, we may wind up with something from there, since my mother is cut from the same cloth as Jamie and will likely only encourage this kind of thing.
Alright, off to see what other toys Blogger has for me to play with. Have a good week, guys.
Kraft Dinner
Since this blog was a mere gleam in our eye, not yet conceived, I have had a nagging concern. As I have explained, this is not something that Jamie has taken up solely for the entertainment of what I like to call "the internets". No, this has been a long-running quirk of his. Well, I'm not sure if you could call it a quirk. I maintain it's a disorder, just one that does not happen to be in the DSM-IV. But my concern is this:
How far is too far?
I don't think we've reached that limit quite yet. But yesterday, I saw the limit on the horizon. Waiting. Knowing that someday, we would meet, and we would try to cross.
Gaze for long into an abyss, and the abyss gazes also into you.
A confession that will surprise no one: I cannot abide Kraft Dinner. The smell alone has been known to cause slight retching. Though in my defense, my horror of this Canadian favourite dates back to my childhood, wherein I would often see my dad mix up a batch, add ketchup and chopped-up hot dogs, sit down with a spoon and a can of lime soda, and dig right in. (I'm sure Freud would chime in with some comment about an Elektra Complex here, but I think it's as simple as this: boys are gross.)
I don't think I need to tell you what's coming here, so I'll just let the video speak for itself.
Kraft Dinner from Project Cheese on Vimeo.
And that is the last of that. Or so you would think.
Aftermath from Project Cheese on Vimeo.
My poor baby. But what a trouper. Let's ask him what the ratings are.
Deliciousness: 2/5. "Initial flavour was spicy, creamy... but did have a funky aftertaste."
Ill-Advised: "VERY. Only do this if you are in an epic battle with your lower intestine and are looking for the finish move to prove once and for all who is in charge. Read: this will be painful."
Verdict: "While initial impression is that this could only be a brilliant idea, and the first tastes do support that... it goes downhill faster than you thought possible."
So there you have it. Don't do that.
I can't say what the next installment will be, mainly because these things are often spur of the moment. But suggestions are always welcome. In the meantime, I'm going to douse the kitchen in holy water. That smell clings.
How far is too far?
I don't think we've reached that limit quite yet. But yesterday, I saw the limit on the horizon. Waiting. Knowing that someday, we would meet, and we would try to cross.
Gaze for long into an abyss, and the abyss gazes also into you.
A confession that will surprise no one: I cannot abide Kraft Dinner. The smell alone has been known to cause slight retching. Though in my defense, my horror of this Canadian favourite dates back to my childhood, wherein I would often see my dad mix up a batch, add ketchup and chopped-up hot dogs, sit down with a spoon and a can of lime soda, and dig right in. (I'm sure Freud would chime in with some comment about an Elektra Complex here, but I think it's as simple as this: boys are gross.)
I don't think I need to tell you what's coming here, so I'll just let the video speak for itself.
Kraft Dinner from Project Cheese on Vimeo.
And that is the last of that. Or so you would think.
Aftermath from Project Cheese on Vimeo.
My poor baby. But what a trouper. Let's ask him what the ratings are.
Deliciousness: 2/5. "Initial flavour was spicy, creamy... but did have a funky aftertaste."
Ill-Advised: "VERY. Only do this if you are in an epic battle with your lower intestine and are looking for the finish move to prove once and for all who is in charge. Read: this will be painful."
Verdict: "While initial impression is that this could only be a brilliant idea, and the first tastes do support that... it goes downhill faster than you thought possible."
So there you have it. Don't do that.
I can't say what the next installment will be, mainly because these things are often spur of the moment. But suggestions are always welcome. In the meantime, I'm going to douse the kitchen in holy water. That smell clings.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Hot Wings
Jamie and I have never claimed to be health nuts. We both like to eat a lot of crap. Unfortunately, the house is a prime location for connoisseurs such as ourselves. There's a convenience store literally just across the street, a mere 20 feet away from the front door. There's a McDonald's with a 24-hour drive-through that is a hop, skip, and a jump away. There is a grocery store very close by that is one of the most tricked out ones in the city.
This store sells one of our greatest downfalls.
In the frozen meats aisle, there is a box... a Pandora's box, if you will. It contains spicy hot wings. Taken home and put in the oven for twenty minutes, they will invite you on a journey to a world of deliciousness that pleases the palate, before burning your palate right the hell off.
Most likely, you can guess where this is going, considering our ill-advised cheese project and the fact that Jamie is a good sport with no real sense of self-preservation.
And so it happened that my dear one decided to eat hot wings coated in cheese dip. The following resulted.
The wind-up. Clearly visible: Jamie, hot wing, open jar of cheese. Not shown: Jamie's Bad Idea Jeans.
Yeah. That's graphic.
Hot Wings from Project Cheese on Vimeo.
The result. And the ratings?
Deliciousness: 3/5
Ill-Advised: "Not that bad, seriously."
Verdict: "It makes the wings nice and creamy, but it's kinda sickening after awhile."
This store sells one of our greatest downfalls.
In the frozen meats aisle, there is a box... a Pandora's box, if you will. It contains spicy hot wings. Taken home and put in the oven for twenty minutes, they will invite you on a journey to a world of deliciousness that pleases the palate, before burning your palate right the hell off.
Most likely, you can guess where this is going, considering our ill-advised cheese project and the fact that Jamie is a good sport with no real sense of self-preservation.
And so it happened that my dear one decided to eat hot wings coated in cheese dip. The following resulted.
The wind-up. Clearly visible: Jamie, hot wing, open jar of cheese. Not shown: Jamie's Bad Idea Jeans.
Yeah. That's graphic.
Hot Wings from Project Cheese on Vimeo.
The result. And the ratings?
Deliciousness: 3/5
Ill-Advised: "Not that bad, seriously."
Verdict: "It makes the wings nice and creamy, but it's kinda sickening after awhile."
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Project: Cheese
I am not a lover of cheese. In certain circles, this is cause for immediate shunning. I'm not anti-cheese per se; I like Chee-tos, and a pizza without cheese would not be worth eating. But to simply sit and eat cheese, as is, is unthinkable to me. Worse still is cheese dip, which unites this dislike with my hatred of condiments in an unholy marriage.
As luck would have it, and as the universe often plans these things, I fell in love with a man who loves Tostitos cheesy dip almost as much as he loves me and his iPod Touch. He maintains that it is of the gods.
I find this incomprehensible, but I accept it as one of those odd quirks that one must learn to love about their partner. After all, he's grown to tolerate, if not understand, my deep love of The Maury Povich Show. (But look, Marisol has a new babydaddy to test and if I don't watch, I might miss it after 15 tries! He remains unmoved.) Still, I've never been able to get rid of the sick fascination I have with his idea that this cheesy dip can improve any food.
"But Jamie," I say, in the tone reserved for speaking to children and those wielding knives, "Honey, surely you can't mean that. It's not... baby, please don't dip that in it." The "that" in question has referred to, on separate occasions, the following:
- popcorn
- hot wings
- bacon
- cookies
- steak
- the cats (which are not strictly food and I'm pretty sure he was in jest, but the matter stands)
Yes, that's right. I mean to subject the love of my life to possible obesity, heart disease and stroke merely for my own amusement, and the amusement of potential readers. It must be true love.
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