Yerty
For those of you looking at the page in one of the two views that show comments, you've probably already seen that Yerty thinks I'm a weirdo. I also noticed that he wants to know my secret, except that I'm fairly sure that he already knows it. That is all I will say about it now.
-Jon
P.S. Yes. I'm being cryptic and weird. It's before 10 and I've been waking up since 8. I have work to do, and I don't wanna do it. This is how I amuse myself.
Roasting
Holy good sweet Lord in heaven, or Buddha, or Muhammad, or Great Pumpkin... well, good sweet whatever. Go out, buy yourself a roaster chicken (3-4lbs), take that sucker and brine it in a salt/sugar solution (enough water to submerge the chick, and 1 cup kosher salt and some sugar up to about 1 cup, make sure the solution is well mixed, like, super well mixed) and let it chill out in the brine for an hour. While that's doing it's thing (it's called osmosis), make a compound butter with 2 tablespoons of unsalted butter, some herbs (I used basil and thyme), garlic (I used 2 cloves) and some dijon mustard (a compound butter is when you take butter and mix a bunch of crap into it. It's yummy). Also cut 3-4 large baker potatoes (the ones labeled Idaho) and cut them somewheres between 1/4 and 1/8 inch thick. Mix them with a little olive oil, salt and pepper. Line your broiler pan with tinfoil, and put the potatoes in there, then... oh. I forgot a step with the chicken, you gots to butterfly it. That means you're going to cut it's backbone out. No, I mean it. Take a sharp knife (more dangerous) or kitchen sheers (less dangerous, but more dangerous in the germ/contamination way -- make sure you can take your scissors apart to clean them afterwards if you use kitchen sheers) and cut the backbone out (not the side of the bird with the breast -- if the legs are up like you're cooking it normally, it's the down side. Also, depending on the bird, you might have to break the breastbone to make it lie flat. Do that too.). Now that the birds been in the fridge (you did put it in the fridge, right?) for at least an hour (probably no more than like, 2 or 3 -- I did about 1 and a half), take it off and rinse it off. You're rinsing off the sugar, you don't want it to burn in the oven. Oh, speaking of the oven, you did turn it to 500 degrees, right? Yes, 500 degrees. Just do it. Anyways, rinse off the bird, and put it on the top part of the broiler pan, now separate the skin from the meat, and smoosh the compound butter under the skin. All over the bird... the breast legs and thighs. Take some canola oil and rub the outside of the skin with it, and put the whole thing in your scorching hot oven for 20 minutes. Turn the thing around and close the door for another 20 minutes.
Take the bird off the pan, put it somewhere to rest for 15-20, and get the potatoes out of the bottom. Now, eat the best damn chicken you've ever had. Damn was that good. No, really. Make it, it's easy and frickin' wonderful.
Now I have to go get some stuff done.
-Jon
P.S. I should mention that I got this recipe from America's Test Kitchen. Not a good show, but every once in a while they have a good recipe.
The Doc Told Me to Fart
I was trying to go to bed earlier, but I couldn't sleep at all, so here I am writing a bit more about the colonoscopy. It wasn't all that bad. Really. Sure, I had to take industrial strength laxatives, and I crapped enough for the next three weeks... but I'm used to being on the can and frankly, I don't even remember them putting the five and a half foot colonoscope up my pooper. ... ... ... yes. I said 5.5 feet. And yes, I asked if they were going to get all of that up there, and he said, and I'm quoting, "That's the plan." Afterwards, he asked me if I liked the drugs they gave me, and I told him, "uh, yeah." Then he went on about a black van in the parking ramp where I could get some more.. ... that was right before he laughed nervously and said not to tell the nurses...
Anyways, all joking aside, I was told not to drink alcohol tonight, or drive at all for the rest of the day, and to fart. As often and as much as I felt I needed to. "We pumped you pretty full of gas so we could see up there, so you're going to be farting a lot. Go for it." Heh. Like I needed encouragement.
Anyways, I'm going to try to sleep again, I'll catch ya'll later. G'night.
-Jon
The Next One
Usually, my room is chill. Like, as in temperature. Jo is usually ok with it. She deals with it, frankly, because I rule. On my way home from work before I started my detox, I was talking to her and she said that my room was cold. Really, I was excited. I love my room cold. Now, I was excited because I thought it was normal Jon room cold. I was wrong. Straight wrong. This place is a frickin freezer. I'm cold as hell, and all I can do is take it. Oh well, when I get off the can I'll try to do something 'bout it. Everything is, by the way, going well. Or, as well as can be expected I assume. Aight, I'm going to watch Encino Man. In my bathroom.
-Jon
Evacuation
I couldn't think of a more appropriate category to place this post in. This now starts my blogging about my colonoscopy. That's right folks, I'm having a camera shoved up my pooper. No, don't worry, it's nothing serious... but, alas, it must be done. So, I took some laxative (Citrate of Magnesia to be exact. The full 10oz bottle. The maximum allowed dose in a 24 hour period) about an hour and a half ago. And now, it's just flowin. That's right, I'm gonna be poopin' all day. I can't wait. I'm not going to get into details, and I'm not going to tell you about sights, sounds or smells... but if anything really interesting happens, you'd best believe it'll make it's way on the site. Anyways, I'm going to go now, I'll catch ya'll later.
-Jon
Are you Ready For Some Football or Was This Post Worth the Wait?
Yes, and no. Respectively. This post is not the grand restarting of this blog that has for many moons gone without the true love of the author. This is not the start of something new, or beautiful... and it will not fulfill you dreams of a blog that waxes poetic as to the true nature of the origins of the Jeep Liberty (I'm not giving you the link -- search the archives your selves you lazy bums).
Interestingly enough, this is also not just a random drunk posting that, after reading it sober, might have ended up coming off as either a) really f*ing self righteous, or 2) offensive. Also know that I haven't read the post for a while, so it's memory is clouded by time and alcohol.
I'm getting really, really close to spilling my secret. And it has nothing to do with my never learning how to read. That's fairly common knowledge.
Yeah. Most of what I have to say right now, for real, is either part of my secret (or would reveal it), or something I really don't want to talk about because it makes me feel stupid and I'm almost truly ashamed. Except, you know, I'm not.
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p class="signoff".-Jon
P.S. I'll tell you both those stories eventually. I just need to find the energy. Also -- the ringing in my ear is getting annoying.