Thursday, July 23, 2009

Pool's Closed...

Gah. Look. Look at the humanity. Pressed up all at me.

Fetch me hand sanitizer and a fifth of Jack Daniels. Stat.

This is the last swell of the convention floor, right before the siren call of evening panels and the bar.

Oh God, they're going to follow us to the bar...

Yep. Despite our best efforts, we've landed in bar that seems to have denizens that are a cross between those that Patrick Bateman would kill...and furries.

You can't see the furries in this picture.

You can thank me later.

Ultimately, we arrived in our own hotel bar.

Is there anything more comforting, after a certain point? It's 10:50pm Pacific time right now. My brain thinks it's almost 2 in the morning local time. It wants to be in a place where it can booze itself into oblivion and then lay down with a minimum of difficulty after that kind of experience. Especially when contact with the unwashed masses is involved.

God, why did I leave the house?!!?

Oh, yeah. Vacation.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

In Which We Have Arrived In San Diego

Good morning, internets.

We have arrived in San Diego. When I woke up this morning, it was to the clanging of the umpteenth train to roll through the vicinity since we got into our room last night at 8:30pm. I think when Steven Tyler and company came up with the idea for "Train Kept A Rollin'" it wasn't about all night sex with a beautiful woman. I think they were trying to get some sleep in downtown San Diego and the woman is actually a metaphor for the rail system of greater San Diego County.

Mr. Scoop was already up when I awoke. I know this because, in response to the train he was standing on the adjoining balcony shouting, "Good morning, San Diego! Check out my wang!" I gently reminded him that, although several bail bondsmen's offices are in walking distance from our hotel, I was of the opinion that it is rather too early in our trip to need to avail ourselves of them. He reluctantly came inside.

We are shortly going to go forth in search of Vicodin whiskey food. It has also come to our attention that nearby there is a deli with a liquor store inside. San Diego is a magical place where you can buy booze at CVS. I come from a Puritan land where they have only in the past few years allowed our fair citizens to buy booze on a Sunday in a liquor store.

Pray for us.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

I Think We Have A Winner

Mr. Scoop and I have been searching for a worthy successor to the trainwreck of reality tv that was WB Superstar. Behold:

Dance Your Ass Off

From their site:

Twelve finalists, nearly 3,000 lbs, one goal -- to go from an eating machine to a dancing machine...Each contestant is paired with a professional dance partner who will train him or her for weekly stage performances -- ranging from Hip Hop, to Ballroom and even Pole Dancing! Then they shake and rattle their rolls in front of a live studio audience and a panel of expert judges.

Oh. I cannot hit "Favorite" on the Tivo fast enough.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to procure a gallon of whiskey, a beer hat and a box of Depends. Reality TV awesomeness awaits!

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

I Can Has Cheezburger!

No. It's not a LOLcat. It's better. It's an actual cheeseburger.

This burger is about the cheese. I wanted to take advantage of a particularly yummy Gorgonzola Dolce in my fridge before it turned into a science experiment. Well, more of one anyway.

The nice thing about using turkey is that it frees you up from the constraints of burger purism. Beef based burgers have a lot of baggage. Use only beef. Don't put any binders or flavorings in it other than salt, otherwise you're making meatloaf, douchebag. It must be a grind of at least 80% beef and 20% fat. You are grinding your own beef, right? If you don't grind your own meat, you're an asshole. You may as well eat at McDonald's. God, you suck. Use a griddle. Poseurs grill. And make sure you cook it medium rare. Oh, wait no, you can't do that. Buy a thermometer and make sure it's at least 160 degrees FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T YOU KNOW YOU'LL DIE OF THE BACTERIAL ICK?!?!?!? Why are you even bothering? Clearly, you don't know what you're doing. Is that a brioche bun? Where are the Martin's Potato Rolls, for fuck's sake! You don't love the burger like I do! NO BURGER FOR YOU!!!

Sometimes, I think I should spend less time reading the Intertrons and more time outside. Then, I open another beer.

Using turkey breast accomplishes two things. One, it takes the "how done should this be?" out of the equation. It's poultry. Cook it until it's done. Two, it's an extremely mild flavored, lean meat. Moisture is added by mixing in shallots and shredded cheese. The focus of the flavor of this burger should be on the cheese. You can use whatever cheeses make you happy with this particular recipe. I've done variations swapping smoked Monterey Jack for some or all of the Mozzarella. Mr. Scoop enjoyed his burger with a slice of Pepper Jack instead of the Gorgonzola. It's your damn burger; enjoy it anyway you like.

Blue Cheese Turkey Burger

1.3 lbs ground turkey breast
1 c. shredded Mozzarella
1 shallot, finely minced
2 t. soy sauce
1 t. Worcestershire sauce
1/8 t. ground white pepper
cooking spray
4 oz. Gorgonzola Dolce (or other blue cheese)
4 hamburger buns, split

1. Preheat your oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

2. Mix the first 6 ingredients until well combined. Shape the meat mixture into 4 patties.

3. Spray a large, heavy skillet with cooking spray. Heat to medium high. Place the patties into the skillet and cook on one side for 6 minutes. Flip the patties and place into the oven to cook for 6 minutes.

4. Remove the skillet from the oven. Divide the Gorgonzola evenly over the patties. Place the skillet back into the oven to cook for about 1 more minute. The Gorgonzola should be soft spreadable at this stage, but not melted so much that it is running off the burger.

5. When the cheese has softened, remove the patties from the skillet and place them in the hamburger buns. Serve immediately with whatever condiments you like.

Serves 4.

Oh, and here's a LOLcat:

Dis mah brudder fum anudder mudder

Saturday, July 04, 2009

Drinking Independently

Annual Open Container Violation Night Independence Day has come and gone. We stood on the corner of our street and Other More Major Thoroughway with uniformed guys that might have been cops, but probably were firemen from the station across the street. We watched the finale of the town's fireworks display. It was pretty cool. The uniforms ignored my Dunkin' Donuts travel mug of Sauvignon Blanc the way they ignored the Mexicans a block up firing cherry bombs and bottle rockets into the airspace across the street from the local chop shop. God bless America.

Right now we're watching the Tivo'd Boston Pops Fourth of July festivities. I used to actually make my way to the Esplanade to see the Boston show in person. The problem with that is you need to make the commitment to spend the whole day by the banks of the Charles River. I love that dirty water as much as the next Bostonian, but I also hate my fellow Bostonians. Plus, sneaking booze into the Boston Pops show requires getting a space by the river proper. That means you get to the park by 8am or you don't bother at all. The reason for the river space is so that you can hide your booze in the water. I would generally make 64 oz. of sangria in Rubbermaid punch containers and float them in the river, avoiding scrutiny from the ever-present Man. Buddies would show up with coolers containing 2 liter Coke bottles. Half the Coke had been emptied and replaced with Bacardi. But you have to show up early and get your shit settled. The later in the day you get there, the greater the likelihood someone would toss your stuff to make sure it didn't contain any possibility of you actually having fun. As I just can't be bothered with the early rise and the logistics these days, now I just Tivo it and drink at home.

I can drink without fear that some douche will come down on me for trying to make my surroundings more interesting. I can enjoy flashbang explosions in a properly medicated state.

Oh, and on HDTV, Keith Lockhart looks like a painted whore.

Happy Fourth of July!