Manhandling that chicken

I'm pretty sure handling raw chicken intimately is the worse experience to be had by man. 

You could be mauled by a jaguar, kicked in the stones with cleats, or punched in the back of the head by Mike Tyson.  And the pains and stresses of the three of these experiences combined pale in comparison to that of the raw chicken fiasco.

Slippery beyond belief and taking on a mind of its own, any attempt at headway is met with a swift kick to the throat.  Leaving your hands bloodied and coated in a gelatinous film of bullshit, the raw chicken takes no prisoners.

Should you have plans and idea for use with dissected chicken, it will promptly assure your failure in this effort.

Cook it first.  Then mess with it.  Life lesson learned.

Comp issues & Mayhem Fest

Had an unexpected hiatus for a bit.  Power supply in my tower conked out randomly and left me out of sorts a bit.  Took a while to get a replacement set up and rearin' to go, but it's in and workin' well so far.

In the meantime, hit up the Rockstar Mayhem Festival in Camden with family and such.  Saw the likes of Megadeth, Godsmack, and Disturbed.  Some other people like Suicide Silence and Machinehead on second stages.  In Flames was slated to be there but cancelled at the last minute.

Megadeth and Godsmack took the cake.

Free Rockstars all around, too.  A good time was had by all.

What's taters, precious?

I like potatoes.  I think everyone likes potatoes.  I'm Irish.  I can't even help liking potatoes, they're in my blood.  Couldn't stop myself if I tried.

Fried taters, French Fried taters, baked taters, mashed taters, whipped taters, tater salad, tater tots.  Yeah, you can't go wrong.

Until you meet the potato tendrils.

Maybe you're aware, maybe you're oblivious.  Either way, potato tendrils are creepy.

When you have potatoes for a while, sometimes they start to...bud; grow eyes.  They start out as little...white...specks, dots, maybe nipples.  And they keep growing...and growing.  From nipple into eye, from eye into nose, from nose into arm, from arm into tendril.  Yes, this is the evolution of the potato.

If you procrastinate too long after it reaches the tendril phase, you may find yourself at a loss for life.

But you can combat them before this happens.

Remove the tendrils.  Rip them off.  Cut them off.  Dig them out.  Get rid of the potato eyes and nipples, too.  Let them know you're onto their scheme and you're not backing down.

Then cook them.  And eat them.

Establish tater dominance.

Pizza is powerful

Everyone loves pizza.  It's America's favorite food.

• Kids dig it
• Adults dig it
• Old people dig it
• Pets dig it
• Has all your basic food groups
• It's portable
• It's amazing

In summation, pizza is amazing.

This is relevant, I assure you.

Being that pizza is amazing and able to be enjoyed by...everyone.  It's great for a family.  It's a meal and so much more.  It's fun, it's love, it's life.  So deep.

But yeah, it can totally bring people together.  Everyone sitting around just munching pizza.  Animals and humans alike.  It's a great focal point for a gathering, large or small.

The great equalizer.

Pizza.

Cleaning glasses...

I'm a nerd. And I'm near-sighted. These usually go hand-in-hand in some fairy tale scenario. But it works irl, too.

Being such, I have to clean my glasses occasionally...you might not think so initially, but it takes a lot of experimentation. A lot of time. A lot of effort. A lot of trial and error.

Shirts, pants, towels, blankets, rugs, carpets, hair, you name it, I tried it. Much to my dismay, trying it didn't equate to me liking it and it being efficient.

So I've made my way to paper towels...they used to bother me at some point. Not just because they're something you spend money on to promptly throw away, but because I have some vague recollection of them leaving smears on my glasses. Maybe it's a new brand, or a new quality, but it seems they work perfectly for this scenario.

Yeah, I clean my glasses with paper towels. Alright.

Damn dog

Dog uses basement for business. This is fine, normal, etc. When she goes to the closed door, we open it for her.

Sometimes...she walks in, walks out. Walks in, walks out. Sniffs the room and door, leaves. We close door, and she goes back up to door, wanted to be let down.

Last night, cats were sleeping on the steps leading downstairs. I imagine the dog wanted to go down. Rather than skirting by the sides of the cats, she'd hover at the top of the steps and cry and become agitated. Then walk around, walk back, and repeat the process.

I would call her down the steps, and instead she'd run away and pee on herself. Not the most desirable outcome...

She managed parts of this cycle pretty solidly for about four hours, until about 5 a.m. I dunno if she ever managed to get down the steps, but I did fall asleep around 5.

Damn cat

Whatwith letting the cats out a bit to test their behavior, it was going well until this evening.

Cat 2 made a mess. I'd call it an accident, but I'm pretty sure it was intentional. She spent some time just...walking around and looking at stuff. "How odd", I thought. So I kept an eye on her occasionally, while going about my business. Lo and behold, some microseconds later, I hear her characteristic "I'm done" scratching of whatever surface she marked as hers.

Next to the radiator and in the corner? Better than the table...or the counter...or the middle of the floor...or on a case of soda. But still not great, sorry. Back in lockdown.

Dutifully clean up with some paper towels and Clorox, continue going about business.

It's annoying, and weird at the same time. She's used the litter box great for years...