Re: contest

Late-weekends can be lonely, snowy times with no one coming to visit us. And we tried to make it Sunday, but we got so damn depressed; so we set our sights on Monday, and thought about Amber’s breasts (etc). Although truly, we’re sort of embarrassed to be visiting Miss Pawlik again because it’s so what we’re supposed to do (so ’03). And she’s grown so much!

In any case, contest deliberations are ongoing — if it isn’t a (heh heh) trick question….

Brad’s up til next-weekistan (meaning p’raps Monday eve, although this wine buzz might definitely wear off, in which case it’s anyone’s guess what depravity, etc).

And one certainly wouldn’t get into Amber’s recipe for the ‘Mother of All Desserts.’ (That’s definitely not available on her recipe page, so don’t even look there.)


Comments: 9


I’m not going to look at the recipe; I’m just going to use extra-sensory perception to divine what’s the dessert course in Amber’s table d’h?te.

…hum. Wait, it’s coming…I see a slurry of corn syrup with chunks in it, a sluice of…jam? Is that jam? Or maybe Welch’s Grape Jelly? Anyway some dissected Mallomars are looming darkly in the picture I’m getting…I think the bases are being used as a….crust of some sort?…hold on…hold on…I’m getting something…AAAH; She tying up little raspberries with dental floss and applying a heated needle to them; she’s torturing them! She calls the recipe “Distressed Berries.”

Oh, the humanity! Anyway, she recommends an Ice Wine to go along.


Jeezul, it’s like Lieleks “Regrettable Food” cosplay.

I make this nice stuff with peanut butter and rice that I found out of an old brand-name cookbook. It advertised itself as “East Indian Fried Rice”, and the only thing “Indian” about it is the curry powder. Typical “exotic” food for whitebread pod people. I make it, I enjoy it, it doesn’t matter squat to me whether or not it’s “ethnic”. And at least I don’t spew it all over the internets as my special secret creation. (And yes, I can actually cook, if I’m so inclined.)


Sweet Jeebus- that Mother of all Desserts is diabetes on a plate…
If poor Seb has that sort of muck inflicted upon him, he’ll be calling that place Wilford Brimley pimps on the TV.


Yeah, this is SO fucking cute. Based on this reckless preponderance of supposed comestibles, I’m pumping as much blood into Tupperware (as per Kramer’s proactive stance) saving it for the days my own fluids congeal following, nay, even reading, Amber’s recipes. All one can ask is: “sir, have you no shame?” We know the answer, don’t we…


Three things I have today learnt from Amber Pawlik:

1) You can be in the military and not learn how to shoot a pistol.
2) The two extremes of crime are rape and murder. All crime runs the gamut between these two.
3) Tea fights cancer. Coffee does not.


1) You can be in the military and not learn how to shoot a pistol.

Exactly, yeah — isn’t that bizarre? Do junior-high majorette teams count as ‘the military,’ or is something not-right with this?


You can be in the military and not learn how to shoot a pistol.What?! Hell, I was in the USAF as a translator (“I’ll thump you with my weighty vocabulary book, villain!”) and even I had to qualify with a .38. WTF branch is she talking about again?


Here’s the passage. It’s so weird it seems to warrant a post of its own….

So last Saturday I went to a Basic Pistol course, teaching the basic operation, cleaning, shooting and safety of hand guns. It was awesome. The class was the class, learned a lot. But we got to shoot too. I’ve shot a rifle before – I was in the military. I really liked it and I shot sharpshooter. I finally got to learn how to shoot a pistol. I learned how to stand properly and what kind of pistol would be good for me. It was awesome; I was so happy to finally learn. I am, of course, in the market for a pistol right now.


Jesus, those recipes are the most horrifying thing I’ve ever heard. They’re like Laura Bush’s at


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