Showing posts with label Lisa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lisa. Show all posts

Friday, December 2, 2011

Can a dessert give you an erection?

As it turns out...yes.

Allow me to back up a bit.  A few years ago, in looking for the perfect gift for a father who tends to fix his clothes with a glue-like product called "Shoo-Goo", I stumbled upon the Turducken.  The Turducken had gained a bit of fame over the years because John Madden--football announcer and spit collector--gave away turkey legs to players for a job well done during the annual Thanksgiving day football game (Bears/Packers/Vikings/Cowboys/Bucs/Saints/Raiders/Patriots/Steelers/Redskins/Chargers/Seahawks 45 - Lions 3).  The CBS production staff annually put together an avian-monstrosity called the "Turducken" that was a Frankenstein-type bird:  a turkey combined with a chicken combined with a duck.

A bird is not supposed to have this many legs

Turns out, the tradition goes back much, much further than John Madden:  “In his 1807 Almanach des Gourmands, gastronomist Grimod de La Reyniere presents his rôti sans pareil (‘roast without equal’)—a bustard stuffed with a turkey, a goose, a pheasant, a chicken, a duck, a guinea fowl, a teal, a woodcock, a partridge, a plover, a lapwing, a quail, a thrush, a lark, an ortolan bunting and a garden warbler—although he states that, since similar roasts were produced by ancient Romans, the rôti sans pareil was not entirely novel.  The final bird is very small but large enough to hold just an olive.”

Thanks Wikipedia!

Today, a few companies produce the Turducken around Thanksgiving, although it's not nearly as fancy-schmancy as the one Grimod conjured.  These days, the thing is pretty much just a de-boned chicken stuffed into a de-boned duck stuffed into a de-boned turkey, stuffed with a sausage and cornbread stuffing.  I say it like that in itself is not awesome. 


Needless to say, this gift was the highlight of my Dad's Christmas.  Other than spending time with his family, of course (just kidding!  The bird was totally the highlight).

Anyhoo, when writing my boring post about Thanksgiving 2011, I was going to include a picture and a history of the Turducken we devoured--the Turducken having now become a family tradition--but I was just too lazy to do so.  Can you blame me?  I still had a crap-load of Turducken in me.  But in researching the Turducken, I came across a dessert so awesome, so ungodly...I...I just don't have the words.  

Seriously, check this out.  I present to you, my brave readership of nine, with the "Turducken of Desserts"...the "Cherpumple":


 
So...horny... 

Dear god.  That thing is amazing.  It's a cherry pie baked into a frosted, white cake, placed on top of an apple pie baked into a yellow cake, atop a pumpkin pie baked into a spice cake.  Click on the picture for a larger, more fantastical image.  

Creator Charles Phoenix says, "It both intrigues and horrifies people." 

Lisa, my work neighbor and resident badass chef (I want her to write a cookbook called "EAT THIS!" that features a picture of her on the cover scowling in a chefs hat, holding a mixing bowl and giving the reader the finger), thinks she can make one of these.  She is, however, thinking that it should only be two layers.  Heresy!

I dunno.  I want one.  Although, to be fair, I'm pretty sure we all now have diabetes merely from looking at the picture. 

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Sigh. Days like this are just not worth it.

(Warning!  This post contains colorful language and one--or perhaps two--horrible, horrible people)

Today was a good day.  It really was.  They moved our office from one end of the building to another and now I have, like, 3 times the space I used to.  Check this shit out:

It's like I'm a real worker!  And yes, it's sad that this makes me excited. 

I spent a fun morning putting crap from the Onion up on my cubicle walls and eating Honey Nut Cheerios and pretty much just stretched out in all the space I've been given.  And then the phone calls came in.  Here are the highlights of the call that kicked it all off:

Ass-Bag Caller:  I can't register.
Me:  What seems to be the problem?  Are you having trouble actually registering or have you registered and are having trouble logging in?
ABC:  (angrily)  Look, I'm just trying to jerk off and I can't get into your sites!
M:  Sir...that's disgusting.  But let's see if we can't get you logged in...

And then later in the same call:

ABC:  It keeps saying my credit card is rejected.
M:  Hmmm.  Are you using a Visa, Mastercard or Discover?
ABC:  None.  I'm using a Swedish card.
M:  A Swedish card?  Like, from Sweden?
ABC:  Yeah.
M:  I'm sorry.  We don't take any cards other than Visa, Mastercard or Discover.
ABC:  MAN!  Why you gotta be racist?!?!?!
M:  (pause)  ...Is there anything else I can do for you today?
ABC:  Yeah, FUCK YOU BITCH!

After I hung up on him, I was lucky enough to get his next call:

M:  Good afternoon!  How may I assist you today?
ACB:  Why'd you hang up on me nigger?

He then continued to call in for the next 80 minutes.  Another guy, claiming to be the initial caller's brother, demanded to be transferred to our supervisor, saying I called his brother "disgusting" and threatening a lawsuit.  He eventually did speak to my supervisor...and continued to insist he was going to sue us because I called him disgusting.  After complaining to our supervisor, he changed his tactic and called back in wanting to talk about the magazine and give a complaint about the content.  I got him again.  This time, I was determined to outlast him and would not give him the satisfaction of getting to me:

M:  As I said before, you're going to have to contact the magazine if you have any complaints about the content.
ABC:  You don't understand.  I'm looking for stuff not in the magazine.  Like child porn. 
M:  Child porn?  That is quite illegal and I can assure you that content will not be appearing in the magazine.  Ever. 
ABC:  Yes.  Child porn. 
M:  Sir, if you have a comment on the content of the magazine, you will have to contact the magazine.
ABC:   And if I do, they will put child porn in the magazine?
M:  No. 

It was at this point that the call got...weirder. 

M:  Child porn will always be illegal.  If you'd prefer, you can contact your local police station and tell them that you think it should be made legal.  I'm sure they will have plenty to say to you about that.
ABC:  The police?  No, they're stupid.  (pause)  I fucked a cops daughter once.  She was a child.
M:  Sir, are you calling from (telephone number)?
ABC:  Yes.
M:  I need you to know that it is my legal obligation to contact the authorities with this information.  What you are claiming you did is quite illegal. 
ABC:  Oh. 

Wait, it gets weirder.  He kept calling back.  My friend Lisa looked up the number through the magic of the interwebs and found a page dedicated to people who have been pranked by this number.  Apparently, these two dudes just sit around all day calling people like some amazingly dumb and horrible version of the Jerky Boys.

These dudes are sick.  Who thinks child porn is funny?  Besides R. Kelly? 

Yes, yes, yes...this job is hilarious on most days.  Days like today, however, really take it out of you.