The Phase Changes of Microwavable Items

A microwave is an interesting thing, and, of course, a handy way to quick heat a tasty morsel for a nearly instantaneous meal.  The following is a quick guide to your standard microwave on "hi temp" setting and its minute by minute effect on your reheated food:

-one minute: food is still a frozen block of ice, reminiscent of something chipped out of Siberian tundra.
-two minutes: food still frozen, but now in a slushy state...akin to a snow cone served up during a Fresno afternoon in July, or, and perhaps more accurately, similar to the interior chamber of Mitch McConnell's reptilian heart.
-three minutes: congrats...it's now (almost) defrosted.
-four minutes: you could eat this, but it's 30 degrees lower than the ambient room temperature, and somewhat gag inducing.
-five minutes: coolish. Food is now warmed to a tepid 64.27 degrees Fahrenheit.  You COULD eat this...but only if you're truly desperate.
-five minutes and one second: holy christ, is that a plate of magma in there?  Did my burrito just achieve nuclear fusion and turn itself into a self sustaining plasma reaction?  This thing is hotter than Satan's butthole and putting it into my mouth (the burrito, not Satan's butthole.  BTW, Satan's butthole is a theoretical temperature often used in physics circles to describe high heat values along the Planck scale) would not only induce a third degree burn from the surface of my tongue all the way down to my lower colon, but would, in all probability, cause me to self combust in a puff of pure oxidized carbon.  The remnants of the burrito would then fall to the ground, it's radiating heat still not exhausted, and burrow its way to the earth's core in a China Syndrome type scenario.

Unfortunately, there is no five minutes and one half second time setting on microwaves, and the preceding examples are all that a modern microwave is capable of achieving in food preparation.  So, my advice to you, is just choke down that gag inducing 64.27 degree burrito, and save yourself from the ruinous experience of the last thing your mind comprehends as you explode in a cloud of carbonized particles is a hole opening up in the earth's crust, and the contents of the earth's molten core exploding across the continent in a sea of molten nickel, iron, rare earth elements, and left over beans, cheese, rice and carne asada.

Las Vegas and potential milk allergies

So, I haven't been much of a blogger lately.  Part of it has been an ongoing health issue which has run me down for the last year, seriously fucked with my personal and professional life, jacked up my once solid fitness regimen, and looks like I may have to go out of town for a specialist if I want to get it addressed (Samter's Triad...look it up.  It's a fun little auto immune allergy thing...and Scripps in San Diego has a special protocol to deal with it.  After having asthma, loss of smell, occasional intestinal angioedema ((more painful than I can begin to describe)) and hives off and on for over a year, I think I'm ready to give it a shot).  Another reason is I'm not all that angry or pissed.  It's amazing what fuel rage is for ranting on a site like this, but I've been too run down to really feel the burn...and truth be told, there's not a whole lot of drama right now anyways.  Well, until now...

First of all, I love dairy.  Milk, ice cream, cheese, BUTTER....seriously.  The shit to me is the heroin of the food groups.  To me, it's more addictive than BACON...and that's saying something.   You can take one of my eyes, but don't fuck with my dairy.  Well, check this out.  All of the sudden, for no good goddamn reason, for the last three weeks, every evening, and after most meals, I would get debilitating stomach pain and abdominal distension.  I mean wind up at doctors and get prescription pain killers type pain.  As a result of my last years allergic nonsense, apparently there's a good chance you'll develop other autoimmune allergies.  Naturally, because I love dairy so much, it appears I have developed a milk protein allergy.  While this hasn't been officially diagnosed yet, today I avoided all dairy after doing a research of symptoms last night (first tried a gluten elimination...didn't work), and today I had the first day in weeks where I wasn't rolling around on the carpet in agony at 3:30 in the morning with my gut blown up three times its normal size.  Great.  Take away one of the few things I truly live for.  On top of all that, apparently I'm going to have to turn into one of those alternative foods Nazi's that are a real pain in the ass.  I'm already researching almond/coconut milk dairy substitutes, non-dairy vegan protein powders (since I can no longer enjoy my chocolate milk or chocolate whey protein post workout beverage.  And that's another thing.  Last year my fitness regimen was seriously derailed by this allergy bullshit, and every few months when I start to feel better and get back on a regular exercise/running schedule....BOOM!  Sinus infection!  Boom! Rampant hives outbreak!  And now...BOOM! A possible milk protein allergy!  I haven't exercised in three weeks and I feel like I'm atrophying head to toe...it's like God/Mother Earth/Buddah/Shiva/HAL/fucking whoever, doesn't want me fit anymore, because it feels like I'm constantly being conspired against every time I get back into a routine), breads that aren't made with milk products, etc.  Guess what?  EVERYTHING HAS FUCKING MILK PRODUCTS IN IT!  Seriously.  If it's processed, it's in there in one form or another.  So now, I have to start shopping for particular products at those high end yuppie health food grocery chains where you spend $9 on a loaf of dairy-soy-gluten-GMO free organic bread made by a woman named Chastity and her husband Freedom.  Yea.  Apparently, I'm going to have to turn into THAT PERSON.  God help us all, and please forgive me for what I'm about to become.

OK.  Rant over.  Side note, I took my daughters to Las Vegas (their idea...call me parent of the year) during the week of the 4th of July.  Saw a few shows, ate at some nice restaurants, overheard a large man who looked like Cedric the Entertainer trying to buy cocaine over the phone ("Yo man, we need some motherfuckin' CO-CAINE up in this motherfucker...") and I managed to get through it despite my previously mentioned uncontrolled allergy/GI issues (had a few stressful nights though...was thinking I was going to end up at the Las Vegas ER one night, which would have sucked ballz...although I'm sure it would have made for a helluva story later).  Like I said, made for some long nights, but it was nice taking the girls out of town.  We had a good time, and I got to take them on their first (short) flight (kind of their warm up as my sister is taking them to England in two weeks.  Yes...they're spoiled).  Here's a few pics:

Ahhh...the subtle ambience of The Strip.

Awesome show, and some would say I appear to be a paler long lost cousin of the Blue Men.

Another impressive show, and the theater was jaw dropping amazing.

You know, The Strip just isn't blingy enough...perhaps fireworks is what it needs.  Done.

Seriously, go see this show...it's a blast.

Another Trip To LA

So, I went out of town again this weekend. I had been lamenting the lack of spontaneous fun things going on in my life, so rather that sit around and be all butt hurt about the lack of spontaneous shenanigans going on, I picked up the phone and imposed myself on my friends down south. My agenda was to hang out in West LA Friday night, and get my art on Saturday night in NoHo (North Hollywood). But before I could do all that, I had to a actually get out of town.

I had that crappy FM transmitter I wanted to return prior to leaving town, so I figured I'd do this on my way south. As I waited at a red traffic signal to get into the shopping center where my neighborhood Best Buy is located, I noticed to my right on the sidewalk a portly woman having a VERY LOUD conversation on her cell phone in Spanish. She was quite animated with wild hand gestures and lots of eye rolling. It was street theater at its best. Well, the light turned green and I needed to make a right turn, so I waited for the woman to cross the street on the "walk" signal. She didn't. She was oblivious to her visual prompt and completely engrossed in her conversation. So I waited for her to look up, see the "walk" signal, and go. She didn't. I waited 20 seconds (as timed by my Omega Seamaster Professional Chronograph...so I'm relatively sure it was an accurate count), and, "nada" (to use her language). Needing to get on my way, I pulled forward and made my right turn into the middle lane (which is illegal) just to give her space because I knew as soon as I went she would magically pull her head out of her ass and step into the street. Yep. POP! Head extracted and into the street she stepped as I was turning. Now, keep in mind the standard traffic lane is 12 feet wide. So I'm at least 10 feet away from her. Well, apparently she thought I was some sort of vehicular manslaughter madman who was looking to orphan her 13 children back at home, and launched into a Spanish, profanity filled tirade at my transgression (I made out the word "ESTUPIDO!!!). Really? I'm the stupid one? The one who JUST KNEW you would step out into traffic like a dumbass without looking and I planned accordingly as to not orphan your brood back home, and I'M THE STUPID ONE???? I'm the guy who was actually PAYING ATTENTION and avoided your dumb, non assimilating ass. Whatever. I gave her the international sign for "you're number 1!" (aka The Bird) and continued on my way.

It being a Friday, and early, I figured the line at the return register at Best Buy couldn't be that bad. Everybody should be at work, and I'll just pop in and pop out, right? WRONG. Huge fucking line. Who ARE THESE PEOPLE???? Why aren't they at work? And if you're unemployed, how in the fuck can you afford all this electronic bullshit??? So, I wait in line. And wait. And wait. Why does this shit take so long? Here were the various problems ahead of me. 1) Old couple with competitors coupon and looking for a price match 2) Some dude returning a TV with an apparent 35 foot screen that took like 19 employees to move around and finally, my favorite, the idiot without the receipt looking to complete a return. "Man, I just want my money back!" "Sir, you don't have a receipt." "Shiiiit...I bought it here!" "Yes, sir, seven months ago." "Then give me store credit." "We cannot sir. Sorry." "Why not????" "Because sir, it looks like somebody carved their initials on it and what looks like a Raider Nation symbol." Etc. You get the idea. Know how long my exchange took? 45 seconds (thank you Omega timing). I presented my receipt and BAM...out the door. Why is this soooo fucking hard for some people???

OK, exchange completed, and I'm leaving the parking lot...except I cant, because there is always a pedestrian clusterfuck in the front of Target. Can you explain to me what it is about Target that causes people to step into the street and stop, right in the middle of the street, and either dig through their purse, have a cell phone conversation, or run into their long lost birth mother? And they are completely oblivious to the sixteen cars idling trying to get by. And it happens EVERY TIME. Anyways, make it out of the parking lot and head down to LA. The drive was pleasant and traffic wasn't too bad.

I get to Brentwood and we go to a restaurant on the Santa Monica Promenade. Here's pic:



Like I mentioned in a previous post, LA has a thing about lights in the trees. It's like everyday is Christmas down there. Anyways, dinner at this Italian place was tasty, then we headed over to a pub to have a drink or five. It was a very cool place that had the Smiths, Oasis, and U2 blaring on the juke box, actual Brits tending bar, and banners from all the Premier League Football (Soccer) Teams everywhere. I felt very at happy indeed. Here's a pic of the Kings Head pub where I got "royally trashed" (hahaha....get it????????):



Premier League Scarves (Man U, Man City, Aston Villa, Blackburn Rovers):



The next morning, I needed a hearty breakfast to kill my hangover, so we headed to Swingers in Santa Monica. Had the Huevos Rancheros and a pancake drenched in real butter....and lots of water...and lots of coffee. It did the trick. Here's breakfast:



And just because, you know, I am a swinger (ok, not really...):



And this is just a pic I like because it looks like I can manipulate lightning like I'm Zeus or something:



Headed to NoHo to visit my artsy fartsy friend who was directing an alternative performance at Zombie Joe's Under Ground Theater. Here's the theater exterior and the entrance to the NoHo Arts District:




The performance was very cool. Blood, sex, naked flesh, intestines, axes, zombies, lingerie...basically everything you need on a Saturday night.

So, because I was in LA, I had to make a pilgrimage to...FATBURGER. Oh...my...god...can you say "mouthgasm'? And the skinny fries...mmmmmm.....sorry, went to my happy place. However, look at this picture, and I'll share my frustration with you:



The parking lot at Fatburger has very few spaces. I had to circle the block five times before a space opened up. Oh wait. There WAS AN OPEN SPACE...but some fucktard in a HUMMER took up two spaces...BECAUSE THEY'RE JUST THAT BIG AN ASSHOLE. I was hoping, HOPING, that the driver of this vehicle wouldn't live down to my worst expectation, and that it would be some LA scumbag attorney or something I could hate guilt free. But no. It was a ghetto fabulous large woman in all her gold tooth glory...and her entourage all talking at a volume like they were shouting over a landing 747. I...HATE...PEOPLE.

Also, went for a hike at Runyon Canyon. Here's me with my friends dog (an Aussie/Lab mix...awesome dog!):



Anyways, that was it. Drive home over the Tehachapi's was nice. Very clear, and still a little snow in the distance:



And the lovely San Joaquin Valley and home awaits:



Here's the interesting thing I took away from my trip. The people in LA were all very fit, well dressed, tan, and uber hip. And very fake, and very plastic...in every way possible. But they didn't look happy. Everybody had the look about them like an unhappy model who is bored with the shoot. And that's LA. A bunch of people who I think, deep down, are tired of posing.....and I was actually happy to be back in Fresno.

Quick Follow-Up

So I took my daughters to Claim Jumper. For those of you not familiar with Claim Jumper, Claim Jumper is a restaurant chain that serves food in 13lb., 14,000 calorie portions...and I always walk, ok, crawl, out of there in a near food coma swearing I may never eat again. You get the idea. So, anywhoo, tonight I told myself I was going to pare it back and eat a lighter, smaller portion in order to avoid the food hangover that always comes with a Claim Jumper meal. So I had 1) a cup of tortilla soup, and 2) their California citrus salad. Oh, and one, ONE, mozarella cheese stick. Thats it. And you know what? Yep. Total food coma...from a salad. You know, all I can figure is that somehow Claim Jumper infuses their lettuce with heavy cream and bacon bits or something. Or maybe they managed through the miracle of science to deep fry their soup. I dunno. But I've never before had a salad that made me want to lay down until about, oh, the middle of July.

Hugh Hefner Is Ruining Fast Food Drinking Straws

OK, not really, but I'm going to feature him, well, his dick anyways, prominently in my rather off color analogy.

As part of my never ending quest to prove there isn’t ANYTHING I can’t have an issue with, I am now going to bitch about fast food drinking straws. More specifically, I am going to bitch about how they’re packaged. But first, a little history…

Remember how back in the day a plastic straw was a robust thing, not easily mutilated, and if a person had some sort of oral fixation, they could chew on it for hours. Additionally, they were packaged in their wrapper kind of loosely, and you could bang one end on the counter thus popping the other end out of the paper wrapper…and then blow into the open end and launch a paper missile into the face at the person sitting across from you (yes, there’s more penis allusions on the way..stay with me…). It was, simply put, good times. Now, let’s fast forward to today, shall we?

The straw of today is a sad little thing. If you were to chew on it, it falls apart. You accidentally bend it, it splits and breaks thus making suction (he heh...I said "suction") impossible. And if you bang it too hard, it folds in half. That’s right, the modern drinking straw is just like Hugh Hefner’s dick. Once proud and mighty…but now weak, bendy and ineffectual. But I digress…my real complaint is the wrapper.

The paper wrapper seems to be made from leftover material from the ass gasket manufacturers of America. It’s that super thin shit that if it gets a drop of moisture on it, it instantaneously begins to disintegrate. Dreaming of ripping off the paper with your teeth? Well, go for it my friend…but only if you like the feeling of a giant spit wad stuck to your front teeth. Splash a little soda on it, and it adheres to the straw like it was painted on, as if the little spit wads that will form if you don’t get it all off before you put it in your soda will somehow add to the drinking experience. Um…it doesn’t by the way. But the most infuriating thing? It’s how goddamn tight that wrapper is ON THE STRAW.

The wrapper on the straw now is like a fucking condom, except why are we trying to protect our soda from the straw (or vice versa). I’m reasonably sure neither has the clap or herpes (however, that Coke looked kind of slutty! Ha! Get it? It was a “Coke whore”! hahaha…No? Fine. Anyways…). Even if you’re willing to deal with the bits of ass gasket in your teeth (forget just ripping it off the end with your fingers…they took out all the slack…ain’t gonna happen) and you magically get that one end open, there is no chance of a vigorous missile launch (Again, another Hef’s dick analogy. Thank you). You can blow it like you’re trying to land an acting job, but you’re just wasting your time, it ain’t coming off. It’s just too tight. My question is this: Why?

Why did they change the wrapper? Did the fun police come by and see much too much mirth and merriment was being had by 11 yr. olds with their straws in burger restaurants? Did the woman sue McDonald’s for an eye injury shortly after her cooch healed from her hot coffee drive through spillage incident (or was that why she spilled her coffee? Paper missile right in the old orbital)? Or is there a giant conspiracy from the ass gasket manufacturers of America to pawn off their product on an unsuspecting populace?

To tell you the truth, I truly do not know…other than this is yet another sign of the coming Apocalypse, and I plan to have ring side seats to watch it as the world continues to fall apart…albeit with bits of ass gasket in my teeth (hey man, gotta have a soda when watching the Apocalypse ringside, right?).