BLD MEAL: Bones of a Lady DEAD aka Why I hate Rachael Ray aka YUMMO!

Let's talk about how much I hate this bitch, Rachael Ray.

Rachael Ray is incredibly popular. She has her own shows, her own books, magazines, cookware, theme song, etc. She's a fucking hero in cook-land. She is the epitome of middle-america-super-market-stay-at-home moms who can't do anything but sit around in their pajamas and think about taking the kids out in their 800 dollar stroller maybe to the library or to dad's work to see if he is actually AT work. But then their fat friend calls and the decide to get the kids together to see which one is smarter and then MAYBE they do some baby yoga, if they are feeling extra fat that day. But then their OTHER mom friend comes over and they decide to all sit down and watch Rachael Ray instead because she is doing makeovers and then cooking "Messy Giuseppe", which is just like a nasty ass sloppy joe with a dumb cutesy name.

Rachael Ray has the dumbest cutesy names for everything: "EVOO, BLD meal, Stoop, BRUTUS salad (instead of caesar)"...

...and don't GET ME STARTED on "SAMMY"!!!! It's not a fucking "Sammy" you stupid bitch!! It's a god damn sandwich. We aren't 3 years old and we aren't amused. Stop fucking throwing salt all over the place and stop smiling and acting like you are nice. It's okay to be a bitch sometimes, Rachael!! GROW UP.

Oh and here's another one: "Not-sagna"....god shut up already and go back to college! I wish I could sick Gordon Ramsey on her.

Seriously though, STOP throwing all that salt. For one thing, it's not cute. Some dude has to clean that up later. FUCK YOU RACHAEL RAY. if I ever see you I'm going to grind up your bones and use YOU in a bottom of the jar recipe!! You are going to need more than luck if you come into my house throwin salt all over MY floor!! I'll be throwing YOU over my shoulder and making YOU clean it up with your tongue!! And then sanitizing, because, ew.

This beezy was in Maxim one time too:



Ok. We ALL know that Maxim doesn't shy when it comes to photoshop. But REALLY, Maxim? REALLY, Rachael??? Who are you trying to fool?? Everyone knows you are way fatter than that.


And with all the photoshopping going on in this picture, you'd think they'd fix her tits up a bit. Gross dude. But really, does ANYONE really want pie after seeing that? BARF!

You are not cute. You waste salt. You make dumb recipes. You ruin stay-at-home moms' lives. Fuck you, Rachael Ray.

Dear Diarrhea: An exerpt from the desk of Sam Pool

10/21:

Dear Diarrhea,

Have you ever stopped to notice that my last name could be "Poo"if you removed the L? Isn't that funny?

Sincerely,

Sam Poo

*********

10/22:

Dear Diarrhea,

Here is a log of today's happenings:


12:45: That one stunk. Smelled like poop.

12:46: That one was loud. Sounded like an elephant.

12:47: Gross, That one smelled like eggs.

12:48: That one smelled like dog food.

12:50: Oh man, I need to poop.


Sincerely,

Sam Poo
**********

10/23:

Dear Diarrhea,

I ate a lot of pickled eggs today. Then I farted. Oh man that stunk. Smelled like poop.

Sincerely,

Sam Poo

Save the Planet, Nuke a Hippy.

The other day I took a lunch break. Fairly typical, I came home and checked my facebook, did some dishes and then warmed up some thai peanut noodle leftovers. I don't have a fucking microwave, because for some reason I thought it would be all classy and hipster to have "real food" that doesnt taste nuked. ME. The girl who doesn't cook. The girl who can't even make an egg or go a day without craving Oreos. My hippy friends always talk about how great it is that they don't own a microwave. These are the kind of people that eat grass. One time I was hanging out with some hippy chick in Eugene and all she did was talk about raw corn and how much she craves it. RAW CORN. I mean, I crave corn too but only of the high fructose variety. I'd also like to mention she was wearing a cape and didn't have shoes on. Raw Corn Girl is the type who shouldn't have a microwave. Not me. Yet for some reason I get these half-baked ideas and run with them.

Let bygones by bygones, I foolishly and prematurely nixed the nuker. Now I live with the consequences. Now it takes 30 minutes to heat up some damn chinese leftovers. By the time I warmed up the food on the stove on this particular lunch break, it was time for me to jump in the car and head back to work. This is because it takes SO FUCKING LONG to warm up food on my stove. I still needed to eat (of course) so I put the food back in it's takeout box and brought it with me in the car.

I sat at a stop light, shoveling my noodles into my pie hole. Then it happens. I hear someone SCREAMING to the left of my car. I look over and it's some frazzled white-haired hippy with a dream catcher hanging from her rearview mirror. She's the one screaming. I don't quite understand what she is saying, but I know she is talking to me. Noodles hanging out of my mouth and into the bowl, I give her a confused look. "WHAT?" I say, as noodles dangle and flecks of food fly from my teeth.

She repeats "YOU'RE MAKING ME HUNGRY!"

Now this is where I start to feel embarrassed. I didnt know anyone was watching me eat. I wasn't trying to eat with class, or with manners, or like someone who doesn't own a microwave. I was just trying to finish my food quickly before I headed back to work! Then this bitch with a "Keep Portland Weird" bumper sticker on the back of her car had to go and comment. NOW I feel awkward. I give her a half noodle smile, tun my head and look forward. OF COURSE this bitch is hungry, she is the reincarnate of raw-corn girl. She's basically raw-corn girl's mom. I bet she is STARVING. She probably doesn't own a microwave either, or does she have time to eat anything but a 10 calorie ear of corn. I hate her. I don't give her eye contact for the rest of the stoplight duration, but I can feel her eyes burning into me, watching me take every little bite. She wants my food. I am MAKING her hungry. She wants me to recognize that she wants my food. Instead I do not look. I wait, and look straight ahead.

The light turns green. We both proceed to take a left turn, except weird hungry lady is too busy looking at my thai takeout and turns into oncoming traffic. I watch her from my mirrors when I notice what she had done. She keeps driving, she doesn't slow down. She keeps driving. She then at the last second slams on her breaks just before SMASHING into a car. and I keep driving. This lady was SO preoccupied with my food that she couldn't even drive straight.

That's what you get for being a fucking hungry moron, HIPPY! Stop eating raw corn and putting corn in your gas tank! Buy a fucking microwave; You're a threat to fucking society.

Come to think of it, she was probably drunk.




pretty accurate.

My Mormon Fantasy

Anyone who has talked to me in the past 12 years on the subject knows I have an abnormal obsession with Mormons. I am not myself Mormon, nor is anyone in my family. I did, however, grow up in Utah where I was exposed to more Mormon culture than you can shake a golden plate at. As a child, plenty of my friends were Mormon. My neighbors were Mormon, my town was Mormon, my school was Mormon. Practically everything I did was related within a few degrees of separation from Mormons.

As a result, I was alone on family night mondays, (my family didn't believe in spending time together) I drank homemade root beer at friends houses, had access to about 50 giant trampolines, and had a neighbor with 13 children. I lived in a 9 bedroom house, had polygamists on my block and when I uttered my first swear word in front of my elementary school friends, I think I was excommunicated from a church I knew I could never belong to. (It was actually "FUCK"; I had died on Super Mario Bros. 3. That's a different story, really.) No, I am not making a word of this up. Living the life of a non-Mormon kid in Salt Lake City was not always easy. I was left out of so many things! I didn't get to leave school to go to seminary class across the street, I didn't get a fucking CTR ring, and I didn't get to watch cool shows like "Saturday's Warrior" (Ok, well I DID watch Saturday's Warrior, but I didn't understand it and I still don't fucking understand it.) Yes, life was one of rejection growing up, yet I remained strangely fascinated with the culture.



Seriously though, I love mormons. I even kinda want to seduce one. Especially a mormon missionary on a bicycle. Maybe even two. The other day I was dressing myself up for a night on the town...You know, fishnet thigh highs, short ripped mini skirt, messy sex hair, and 4 inch heels...the typical stuff a hooker wears. (I prefer to call what I wear "hooker-chic" but that's probably just my ego talking.) ANYWAY, I was rushing out the door, my head filled with future fuck-ups and fuck-hims and debauchery all around, when who do you think should approach my stoop but a couple of black-tied, white-shirted, helmet-wearing MORMON MISSIONARY BOYS!!! Not only did I stop in my tracks but my heart stood still as well. They smiled at me, white teeth and blue eyes. Same height, same outfit. Almost identical. Picture those hot twin girls that are on Budweiser commercials, only in Mormon form, and with wieners. And no boobs.

I guess. Nevermind, bad analogy.

ANYWAY, They approach me and ask me about my salvation. Fuck, how can I answer questions like "When was the last time you went to church?" and "Do you think you will go to heaven?" When ALL I can think about is inviting these boys in to make me a sandwich?! How can I take their little postcard with Jesus on it when I want to rip their Mormon underwear off with my teeth and make a dirty gay Madonna-esque video with them?! How can I do ANYTHING but stutter and sweat, since my ultimate sexual fantasy is standing right before me?! I was so close I gave off the smell of perversion and they could see the glimmer of Satan in my eyes!! Fuck, I wanted them so bad. They were talking but I was only looking at their lips. I was smiling but only with nervous, evil intentions. What can I do? How can I get them into my house, onto my bed?! I had to think fast! I opened my mouth, and tried to answer their questions.

That's when I realized the conversation was over, and I had muttered something incoherent and untrue about my faith. (I told them that I went to church, I wanted them to like me!) They must have believed me, despite the fishnets. They turned to walk to the next door, hand-in-holy-hand. Holy bicyclists in a world of heathen Portlanders.

Man, I really messed that one up. And I thought I was charming.

I turned right back inside and rubbed one out. I need to move back to Utah.

Nothing a Beer and Seashell can't Fix.

To celebrate my daughter's third birthday, I thought it would be a great idea to take her to the beach. At first I was going to plan some obligated elaborate pizza-play structure party for her, but then i realized the only people who would be at her party would be my friends (since my 3 year old has no friends) and then I realized none of MY friends would like to be at a party without beer and a million children at their knees. And as much as I love kids, I work with upwards of 80 children a day already. There is a tipping point. Not to mention, there is a strong correlation between those pizza places and clowns. And you fuckers all know how i feel about clowns. So, to the beach we went! I recruited my good "mama-friend", kat and her 5 year old daughter. We had a set plan: Hit up Newport, see the free aquarium, then the Ripley's-Wax-Undersea Garden trifecta, and then delicious seafood on the docks, fresh from the ocean. So this morning we got our coffees, and doughnuts, and headed west towards the sea.

The car ride there was not so bad, in fact it was full of optimism. So many words of hope were spoken amongst the mamas and children: "I can't wait to see the diver!" "I'm looking forward to the whale skeleton!" "The octopus is going to be so cool!", "the sky has poop in it!" (that was a quote from Seven, the poop-obsessed 5 year old.) Little did we know the bounds of disappointment that lay ahead! We sped down the overcast freeway, with calls of seagulls in our heads and dreams of bread bowl chowder in our hearts.

We arrived in Newport about 1:00pm. "Hurray!" we all shouted. "Let's go to the museum!" We threw our hands in the air and clapped as we crossed the "strong and industrious" steel and concrete bridge. Seven began to mention something about driving off the bridge and falling to our deaths but we did not let that detour us. I also mentioned that the bridge was comparable to Seven's daddy. I think she agreed. I think Kat might have agreed too. We pulled around the bend and into the aquarium parking lot only to find our first disappointment of the day. A big sign with a pink octopus, mocking us, laughing if you will. "MUSEUM CLOSED TUESDAYS AND WEDNESDAYS."

"FUCK YOU! DAMMIT!" the obscenties run rampant through my head, although they come out as "ah, darn it!"

"What is today?" Seven asks.

"TUESDAY, MUTHERFUCKER! AAARG. BAD FUCKIN DAUGHTER'S BIRTHDAY ASS SHIT FUN RUINED! ARRRG!" or "yeah, it's tuesday."

"No, I mean, is it friday? I want a happy meal."

Kat proceeds to tell yiddle she does not get any Mcdonald's today, instead we are having delicious popcorn shrimp. The thought of popcorn shrimp calms my inner rageathon, and we turn around calmly, and head to out next destination. Oh well, the aquarium is closed, but more fun awaits! The Historic Bayfront equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle! Ripley's! Wax Works! The Undersea Gardens!

We parked and observed our second foreshadowing of the day. The Historic bayfront was torn the fuck up! construction everywhere and the ice cream shop where I once got my period on my white pants was closed down and gone! (I was 13 and it was the 90s, i guess white pants were in.) For fuck's sake! No more ice cream?! I had so many memories at that place. No more popcorn either, just effing great. Oh well.

We avoided some old sea hags and monsters getting in and out of their cars, stepped over some pebbles and finally purchased our tickets. We are told to head to wax works and hurry up because they are replacing the carpet at 3:00. Jesus, way to move us on through. Apparently the whole street is renovating or something. To the Wax Works we headed. Upon entrance we are greeted by an elephant robot or "animatronic." Seven is delighted, Scarlett is hesitant. I knew this was going to be a bad idea. The moment we enter the dark room and see the Michael Jackson replica, I am also scared. Then Seven starts: "MAMA, I WANT DADDY, I HATE THIS, LET'S LEAVE WAAAH" Then Scarlett starts, only in a smaller voice: "mama, let's get out of here, pick me up!"

Really, I do not blame her. There is some scary shit in that place. I know they are only wax but really I kept fantasizing one would come to life and grab me and make me scream. Although it wasn't really a fantasy because I didn't actually WANT that to happen. I didnt want anything to come to life. Especially when I looked into the wax vampire's eyes. I think he creeped me out the most. That or bigfoot. That dude always freaks me out. No, didn't want anything moving. those statues needed to stay put! Unless it was the Johnny Depp wax statue. KIDDING, KIDDING. That guy is a tool. He even came complete with a sign that said "DO NOT TOUCH FACE." Yeah, you would, Johnny Depp. Go make another movie where you play the same character OVER AND OVER why don't ya?!

Anyway, we raced through the wax museum with children wrapped around our necks, and really did not see a whole lot of anything. I was even trying to put on the a brave face. Oh well, Ca-ching.

Of course, after that fiasco, I knew that Ripley's would be similar, only with weirder, scarier things. At one point a rickety mummy opened it's doors and popped out at me. I screamed, Scarlett clinged. Oops. Believe it or Not, I was right! Scare-fest 2010. Ca-ching!

Third stop, was of course the Undersea Gardens. In all my years of vacationing in Newport, I have yet to venture into it's murky depths. Kat warned me at least 3 times before we headed in: "It stinks down there." Truer words have never been spoken. Besides the pungent unclean-fish-poop water smell, the entire basement just felt dirty. Even the diver was dirty. As the show started, he swam around flaunting his fingers in the fluid motion a diver could only do. He fingered the sea anemones like some sort of chronic masturbator. Of course, being the immature pervert I am, I laughed uncontrollably, only to receive stares from the grown-ups around me. My only response to them was "I gotta get me a date with that diver!" He then proceeded to flip the crap around and play with some sort of ancient eel creature, all of it amounting to some sort of case PETA would like to know about. At any rate, it made for a good side-show-circus-ring display.

THEN CAME TIME FOR THE FINALE. THE OCTOPUS. Oh man, I had been waiting for this goodness. Apparently, the WORLD'S OLDEST OCTOPUS lives in the Newport Undersea Gardens. At least that is what their brochure says. Fucking liars. I held my hands in anticipation, waiting to catch a glimpse of those suckers. The underwater soundtrack played, the diver swam around, got his tether caught, and then it was over. "OH well, no octopus today!" the narrator said in her distorted obsolete microphone. And that was it. No fucking octopus.

WHAT THE FUCK. I jusy paid 25 dollars for this piece of shit show and I do not even get to see the star of the show?! I might as well paid to see Metallica and ended up with Winger. Or no band at all. FUCK YOU.

I left the place, starving and infuriated. Oh well, at least next door there was a beautiful restaurant window advertising "FRESH CRAB" and a bay view window, complete with sea lions. We sit down, I order a beer.

"I'll have the crab" Kat says.

"We are out of crab." the waitress says.

"I'll have the bread bowl full of chowder." I say.

"We don't have bread bowls." the waitress says.

WHAT.

I cannot begin to describe the disappointment running through my heart at this point. Just give me my beer already. We reluctantly order the fish and chips and shrimp quesadilla.

The fish and chips arrived after a short period of time, as did the "shrimp quesodilla" The first thing Kat did was pick up a slice of the cheese-and-shrimp combo. The amount of the those pink little baby-toed fucks called shrimp hung down like a 90 year old man's nutsack. That shrimp was packed into the tortilla. Like full of shrimp how a leprechaun's satchel of gold might hang. You get the picture. She took a bite and looked at me in dismal horror. DISMAL HORROR. I took a bite of my 15 fucking dollar fish and chips and it tasted like deep fried water. DEEP FRIED WATER. NASTY MUTHER FUCKER RIPPING ME OFF FOR PEICE OF SHUT NASTY UN-FRESH SEAFOOD BALL LICKER CUNT SACK!

I calmly get up, tell the waitress that it's not her fault, but this is the WORST food of my life. She apologizes, refund our money and we get out of there with the quickness. Ca-ching!!

On our way out of newport we stop to buy the kids stuffed animals, seashells and some ice cream.

Worst Beach Trip Ever! The End.

Hobo Express

ahhh work was so dead last night. I only made like 60 bucks in tips. For an hour and a half I did the jumble, crossword, word search and soduku in the newspaper. At 4am, I was the only one in the restaurant (besides the cook in the back) and I just happen to look out the window for the 50th time that minute and what should I see but a cop car pulling up. I think "YAY the cops are coming in to eat!" and get i prepared to give my own table a fabulous 4am dining experience. Not to mention, I really love men in uniform so I try to fix myself up a little.

a short amount of time passes, and no cops come in. So I go back to my jumble. I get all involved in it for a minute, and next time I look up, my heart literally JUMPS out of my chest because some creepy old bum is standing at the counter!! He is hella dirty and has no teeth and is jingling some change around. he looks just like the prophet from big love, if you have seen that show...except imagine the prophet without teeth, a shave or a shower, and in a dirty flannel shirt. "The cops just dropped me off here" he says. "I'll have some coffee and oatmeal" he says.

okay, so i figure if the cops were nice enough to let him go, he is probably a nuisance, but harmless...right? Anyway, he sits in the back of the store for 30 minutes before anyone else comes in. I am avoiding this dude like crazy, I didnt care! He gave me a really bad vibe. PROBABLY because yesterday I had a lecture from my mom about how working graveyard alone in a restaurant is dangerous and I should find another job. My mom always has to plant the seed of fear!

Anyway, some super hot buff black guy comes in and i feel safe for awhile, cuz I know this dude is a gentleman and would kick anyones ass, from how pumped he is. Another regular comes in and I chat him up for awhile and I just continue to ignore the bum in the back. The bum gets up to go to the bathroom, and is gone for like 15 minutes....probably either pooping or shooting up. then he goes and sits at ANOTHER table and starts STARING AT ME and the regular I am having a conversation with. I am really freaked out by him at this point.

Finally around 5:20am, he gets up and comes to the counter to pay. I tell him his total is $8.50 or something close to that number. He proceeds to put $3.60 down on the counter and slides it in my direction. So I say "okay, it looks like you have about 3 dollars and 60 cents here. Your total is over $8. do you have any more money?" he shakes his head. SOOO I have no idea what to do at this point. I could just let him go, but then his bill would come out of MY pocket, and I totally dont want to do that. I refuse to do that actually, haha. So I tell him to go have a
seat and wait until my replacement arrives.

i wait and wait and wait. i talk to the cook for a minute about how I want to go and get away from this bum. the bum is just sleepin in the booth at this
point.

So, lisa F finally arrives about 20 minutes late. I explain to her the situation. She rolls her eyes and the dude and immediatley storms over there and proceeds to rip this guy a new asshole. "EXCUSE ME SIR, SIT UP, THIS IS A RESTAURANT, NOT A HOTEL. YOU CAN'T SLEEP HERE. YOU DONT HAVE ANY MONEY TO PAY? HOW DID YOU THINK YOU CAN ORDER FOOD WHEN YOU DONT HAVE MONEY! I COULD CALL THE COPS RIGHT NOW! YOU KKNOW YOUR SERVER HAS TO PAY FOR THE FOOD YOU CANT PAY FOR? SHE WORKS HARD FOR HER MONEY. DO YOU WORK FOR MONEY? YOU NEED TO APOLOGIZE TO HER RIGHT NOW AND THANK HER FOR PAYING FOR YOUR FOOD. YOU NEED TO LEAVE AND NEVER COME BACK. etc etc etc. it was so awesome. she was my hero because she wasnt afraid of the dude at all. haha. But the again she is like twice my size, has shoulders like a linebacker, and looks like she could take anyone down. Anyway she 86'ed his ass from the store and then had the cook escort me to my car to make sure he wasnt waiting for me out in the bushes or something.

and that was the eventful part of my night. I have some more stories from other
nights too. you meet the the weirdest fuckers working graveyard.