Tag Archives: cleaning

I don’t know (BBQ) beans

Baked Beanie Beans

They should look something like this - if they don't eat the wall first!

I am now recovering from The Cooking Incident. This post has bumped, temporarily, the previously scheduled post about The Camping Incident. (Which is still to come at some later date.)

This was an incident of titanic proportions.

I had decided it would be fun to make some BBQ beans for the Fourth of July. I took out my gigantor America’s Test Kitchen Cookbook and found the recipe. I noticed right way that it contained bacon. (That’s out because my wife is vegetarian.) No worries. I’d just leave that out and find another ingredient that was almost as much fun.

I searched the net and found a recipe that contained green pepper. I love green pepper. The wife said no.

One recipe contained chipotle chilies in an adobo sauce. We happened to have some frozen in the fridge. The wife said yes.

An interesting idea was tossing in some fresh mango. The wife said no. “I don’t like fruit in my beans,” she said.

Lastly, I had the idea of dumping in some bourbon which is always a great idea IMHO. The wife said yes.

With the ingredient lineup approved, I went to work. The recipe called for a dutch oven. The wife recommended our cast iron dutch oven. This moment would turn out to be akin to Captain Smith ignoring the iceberg warnings, although I did not know it yet. Continue reading →

Reek ‘em and weep

Most every day I do something unusual. Well, most every day. Usually on the days I decide to leave the house. You know – go out in public and shiznit.

This unusual thing I do is clean myself with soap and water. I generally try to make myself presentable and put actual effort into things like how I smell. Do I want to smell especially delicious? No, I couldn’t care less about that. On the other hand, I don’t want to reek like a hungry bung hole, either.

That means I try to wash off most of my body odor, brush my teeth, have fresh breath and put on clean clothes. I’m no Mr. GQ, in fact, I’m pretty much live my life as if wrinkles are the new cool, but having a dumpy appearance is my problem. Smelling disgusting is everyone’s problem.

I know life sucks and all, but can you at least put some effort into not making me puke if I’m unlucky enough to encounter you on this giant blue marble we call home? I swear to God that some people wake up and say to themselves, “I think I’ll put in extra effort to be disgusting today. I’m going to live like I’m trying to win an ugly contest.”

When I say that trying to not smell disgusting is something unusual, that is based on my empirical observations. It is based on the number of people I meet on a daily basis that smell so disgusting that literally provoke my gag reflex. Come on, people! Can’t you make any effort at all?

I want to ask them if they can do me a favor. You see, I’ve never in my entire life smelled a dead body (or what the cops call a DB.) So the next time I’m watching “CSI” perhaps they can do me a solid and stop by my crib during a particularly grisly scene to give the experience that extra boost of realism so I can really get into my favorite show. Just think of it as surround sound home theater for the nose!

Ah, America. The land of the freedom. Some of our most cherished freedoms include the right to be an asshole and the right to smell like a steaming pile of shit. Your freedom should fucking end where my nose begins.

Let’s be honest here. 99% of the time when I’m talking about someone who reeks I’m talking about a smoker. I’ve known many smokers in my life who, for some strange reason, never reeked like a tobacco factory. They cared about their appearance and took care of themselves and smoked outside and for some reason the smell wouldn’t glom onto them like Tiger Woods on classy women.

I don’t know why, but some smokers are more smell “sticky” that others. And my sweet Lord it can be bad. It really makes a statement when you walk through a room and the vomit-inducing odor hangs around for half an hour. Seriously. Clean yourself up.

And more importantly, if you smell that bad, how can you not fucking know it? I can imagine only two possibilities. Either you know about your odor and you just don’t give a shit or somehow you remain completely clueless, perhaps because you destroyed any smelling capability in your nose years ago. I find it completely inconceivable that someone could smell like that and not be aware, but I guess anything is possible.

Perhaps I’ll make my own YouTube video someday. It will feature me (with off-screen bodyguards) asking reeky motherfuckers, “Why do you smell so goddamn disgusting?” I guess that would make me a street scientist of sorts, eh? Those would be some interesting results I’m sure.

All hail freedom and the never-ending onslaught on my nose.