I just want to give a shout out to everyone that read and commented on my last post, Bacon Physics: Apparently it’s a thing. There were some awesome comments and a lot of readers and I had a lot of fun being there to witness the confusion of Boy and Girl and the resulting hilarity. Given the visitor stats for the rest of the week, it was clear I peaked too early this week.
So, I’m gonna kick it up a notch and invite some reader input that will culminate in another post next week.
By the way, if you want to participate today and you have not read the previous post, I highly recommend you go back and do so for this to make any sense. Go ahead and click the link. I made it open in a new tab so this one doesn’t go away.
Go ahead. We’ll wait.
Here’s some entertaining music while we wait . . . .
Ok, everybody back?
Good. Here we go . . .
As we sat around tonight summarizing the shittier parts of our day, Liz told me that next Thursday was going to be a particularly difficult day. It’s not necessary to go into the details of what is going to be difficult, but we’ll suffice it to say that she went ahead and made the announcement to everyone that she would be, once again, on strike next Thursday night and that everyone was going to be on their own.
Being the gentleman I am, I decided to go ahead and completely fuck that up for her, because she made the fatal mistake of giving them a full weeks warning and I couldn’t let them get by that easily. It gives them far too much time to scrape up pizza money.
I suggested that next Thursday I would come home and leave a selection of raw food on the counter for Boy, with which he would make us all dinner.
The look on Boy’s face suggested that he did not quite understand what I meant by this. I cleared it up for him. . .
“Think Master Chef meets Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader”.
Liz was laughing to hard to object, so it’s ON!
Also, Liz was on strike again tonight and had to leave again to go back to the dog-sitting she’s still doing. So I took off to celebrate my first actual paycheck in four months and went to buy myself something pretty.
Like a mushroom swiss burger at Steak n’ Shake.
My cholesterol aside, this offered me a little quiet time to sit and think, which is a dangerous combination combined with the fact that I’m tired and also feeling a little devious. I was also reading the latest post from The Next Delusion which just so happened to be about restaurant reactions, and Momus said the word “fuck” and made a hilarious divorce statement in the same virtual breath and I nearly shot mushroom swiss burger from my nose, so I was in an interesting mood.
It was here that I decided that I should make this interesting for EVERYBODY, not just me, Liz and the Scroungelings.
Here is where I ask for your participation. . . I would like YOU, my fabulous readers to come up with the list of ingredients that we should leave for Boy.
I only have a couple of stipulations:
- All ingredients must make an actual meal, not a combination of shit nobody in their right mind would ever put together. We have to eat this shit. (Maybe)
- The final product should not be readily identifiable. In other words, “pasta, ground beef and spaghetti sauce” is WAY too easy. (Again, maybe)
- Most importantly, I should not have to intercept and rob an Armenian money train to purchase the items. No fucking caviar.
- Oh yeah, no bacon. He is grounded from bacon.
Liz and I will pick what we think is the best suggestion and THAT is what we will present to the Boy next Thursday.
And here is the best part: Steak n’ Shake is only a half mile away!
I’m kidding. (No I’m not.)
The best part is that the entire event will be recorded for posterity with pictures, videos and my sparkling and witty narration in a blog post to be written that weekend.
There you have it, folks. Audience participation at its finest.
And honestly, I’m looking forward to seeing what ya’ll cook up.
That’s right. I said “ya’ll”.
Leave your list in the comments and let’s get this started! If you want to keep it a secret, because Boy did read the last post and I think he may have his eye on me now, feel free to use the Contact Me form at the top of the page or simply email me at opticynicism (AT) gmail (DOT) com or for the more adventurous of you, go ahead and text me (I also have WhatsApp if you are not in the USA) at 719-502-6265. I will never, ever, ever share your phone number or drunk text you at 3:00 in the morning. I won’t even sober text you at 3:00 in the morning.
Ordinarily I would never be so bold as to post my phone number, but it is a second phone that I have that still has my Colorado phone number and I’m going to be changing it to a Tampa number next month anyway, so that number is only good for the next month, so share it with all your friends and help me get a big ass selection of food lists to choose from!!
Go ahead, Facebook it, Tweet it, write it in the dirt on your back window . . . share the fun!
Bring the mayhem and ruin my next Thursday, please!!
Facebook Post of the Day is from the lovely Denise . . . I been saving this one, because aged awesome is better than regular awesome: