Monday, July 22, 2013

Dave's Thoughts of the Day: July 23rd

It's really true what they say!  Peaches are great for digestion.  You eat peaches and you almost never encounter issues with digestive efficiency.

I tried to grill a steak on a gas grill last night.  My buddy told me that I'm supposed to put the cover on when I grill.  Is that true?  Most of the grill process last night had the steak uncovered.  Then, at the end I put the cover down.  I wonder what the impact is on meat.  Anyway, the steak turned out very nicely.  Medium rare, just as I wanted.

There didn't seem to be enough of a crust on the steak, but that was my fault.  I think some more pepper would solve that problem.  Minor quibble; the beef was delicious.

Isn't there a special taste to New York Strip?  I can't define it but it's a tinge of flavor that reminds me of champagne... a high quality taste to that strip that I can't identify on any other steak.  Perhaps it's a particular freshness.

Got this link to an article in the OC Register which had a *paywall.*  I am NOT paying extra dollars to go read something from the OC Register, try again.

Still gotta finish off the last of the Bludso's this morning.   Barbecue keeps, but only for a few days.

I've always thought of sushi as "deli meat for fish."

This seems like a good day for a cookie.

I saw in the last few weeks National Hot Dog Day, National Fried Chicken Day, and National Ice Cream Day.  Do we have a national peach day coming up?  It's gotta be out there.

That was basically all I had today, so I leave you all with an episode of "The Lost Society."   It's my fake sitcom I wrote a decade ago.  Three episodes posted up to now, and now we have our fourth, but bear in mind we were posting them out of order.  Anyway, enjoy!  Here it comes, with more after the jump....

Revenge of the Bums (#003)

            On another warm day in the summertime, at the humble abode of Mr. Hewitt and his funky inventions, with all the light noise going on outside the window, Jenkins, Martinez, and Thomson slouched on the couch as they were watching television.  They melted onto the couch like cheese melted onto a hamburger patty.
            Needless to say, Hewitt came into his home, only to find his slumping nobodies feeding off his corn chips and sucking onto his cans of Mountain Dew that he was saving for later tonight.
            Obviously upset, Hewitt threw his arms up into the air and wildly flailed them as he shooed his junkies out of his apartment.
            “What are you doing sitting around my couch all day!!” Hewitt exclaimed, “Get out of here!  Go find something else to do!!”
            So they scattered away from him out the apartment door, scared to see Hewitt in such a furor.  Hewitt went to his nearby window to see them scurrying out onto the street, yelping and screaming in fear.

[continued after the jump]

            Jenkins met with Martinez and Thomson at a street corner some two blocks away from the apartment.
            “What a dork!” Jenkins said to the others. “We weren’t doing anything wrong, how could he rush us out like that?”
            “Yeah, that’s a real trip.” Thomson observed. “I can’t believe he did that.”
            “Yeah!!” Martinez cried, “He’s a meany!!”
            “He’s a real mean-o butt-hole-o.” Jenkins said.
            “So what do we do?” Thomson asked.
            “Well, let’s go to our homes,” Jenkins said.  “Meet in my house a bit later and we’ll think of something.”

            Time passed, and without hesitation Thomson and Martinez came knocking on Jenkin’s door.
            “Oh, hi guys,” Jenkins said.  “Come on in, have as much Pepsi and Corn Chips as you want.”
            “Unlike that ungrateful little spike-head.” Martinez commented, referring to Hewitt’s spiked hair.
            Jenkins house was on the mountain range, so its windows had a fairly good view of the ocean.  It wasn’t much: the house was modestly decorated, it was small, and it had old furniture.  Jenkins had a lot of white and black leather couches in the living room.  The big, black loveseat by the large window belonged to Jenkins.  The other two white couches facing each other were long and very fluffy.  Thomson sat on the couch on the right, while Martinez sat on the opposite couch.
            “We’re gonna get even with that Hewitt.” Jenkins said. “To kick us out like that… we want some revenge.”
            “We gotta get back at that dude, man.” Thomson said.  “Okay, wise-guy, what ideas do you have going?”
            “Listen,” Jenkins said, leaning closer to the other two, “Hewitt won’t spoil our day, because we can have fun too.”
            “Check this out,” he continued, “I have this channel that I subscribed to a week ago and it’s really wild.  It’s called the Boob Channel.”
            “The BOOB channel?” Thomson cried.  “They have a freaking BOOB channel?”
            “Well, maybe they’re talking about like ‘boob tube’ boob channel or something else that has the same name but isn’t a boob.” Martinez rationalized.
            “No, no, I’m talking about BOOBS,” Jenkins interjected, “Big, fat, hairy mommas!”
            “Eeewww,” Thomson and Martinez said in disgust as their faced grimaced in agreement towards Jenkins.
            “Okay, okay!” Jenkins corrected himself, “So they’re not hairy.”
            “Well, freaking A!” Martinez cried after shaking his head for a moment, “Does Britney Spears have her own show there?”
            “Hold on...” Jenkins contemplated.  “Actually …I think she does!!  C’mon let’s go see what’s on.”
            The boys darted over to the other room.  They went so frantically to sit down that their momentum knocked over the couches.  As Thomson laid out on the floor and Martinez tried to get up, Jenkins got on his knees, collected the remote, and turned on the T.V.
            “We’re gonna watch a channel with BOOBS.” Martinez cried unexpectedly.
            The guys propped the couch back up (one of them, anyway) and leaped onto the cushions to sit down.
            The television was tuned to everyone’s favorite bust network, and as the trio gazed with awe, the television made some announcements.
            “You’re watching America’s fastest growing frontal nudity sensation, the BOOB CHANNEL,” the announcer declared in a fast paced voice.
            “T-h-u-h-h-h B-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-b C-h-a-n-n-u-u-u-u-h-h-l.” blared the television, as the network’s three dimensional logo spun onto the screen.
            “Coming up next on the Boob Channel,” the announcer continued, “It’s ‘Flats or Bust’!  Followed by, ‘What’s Up with Those Nipples?’”
            “Later tonight, don’t forget to get a feel for Saturday Night Boobs!” the announcer concluded.
            “The man who came up with this idea is a genius!” Thomson declared.
            “Why thank you.  Don’t mention it.” Jenkins said matter-of-factly.
            “Not you dummy!” Thomson retorted.  “I meant the guy who made the Boob Channel.”


             Meanwhile, back at Hewitt’s humble, and now quieter, apartment, Hewitt resumed his role slumping on his large easy chair.  It was a green chair made with a nice soft plush cushion with that had a felt-like covering.
            He was slumped in his chair, holding another can of Mountain Dew while he was watching the ball game on television.  Now it was around two or three in the afternoon, and as he relaxed, a man carefully opened the door and peeked in.
            This time it wasn’t Jenkins or Thomson or Martinez, familiar faces to Hewitt.  Still, it was a man he knew, just that he didn’t talk to him as much.
            “Can I come in?” the man asked meekly as his blonde haired, chunky face gazed into the apartment carefully.
            “Yeah, sure, come inside,” Hewitt answered, roughly.
            The man was a short, fat, blonde-haired guy about in his mid-thirties.  He had a slightly pointy nose, a double chin, and some wrinkles along his forehead and his cheeks.  His light blue eyes were almost upstaged by the two thick eyebrows over his forehead.  Most people knew him as a guy named Anderson, although Hewitt usually teases him labeling him as “the guy who sucks.”  He’s only being jocular, and Anderson usually doesn’t take his mocking personally.
            “Wow, I thought you were one of those knuckleheads from earlier this morning,” Hewitt said.
            “Me, a knucklehead?” Anderson said.  “No, I just live here.”
            “Yeah, well you should have seen them today,” Hewitt continued. “They’re my friends but they’ve been freeloading around my living room and kitchen too long today.  It’s like I’m running some damn rescue shelter around here.”
            “Anyway, it’s good to see you again, Anderson,” Hewitt concluded.
            “You too,” Anderson agreed. “How’ve you been?”
            “I’m all right,” Hewitt said. “Other than this morning, my day has been worry free.”
            “That’s all good, then,” Anderson said as he began to point to the T.V.  “Can I watch?”
            “Sure, have a seat,” Hewitt said.  So Anderson and Hewitt sat alongside each other on the couch to continue watching the ball game.

            Back at Jenkins’ house, the three pervs were having a ball in the living room.
            “Don’t you get carried away, Martinez,” Jenkins warned.
            “Yea,” Thomson said, looking at Martinez.  “Put that hand lotion away.”
            “Ooops,” Martinez said, admittedly clutching a bottle of Jergens hand lotion in his hands.  “I’ll put it away.”
            They were still eyeballing the Boob Channel, and the shows kept on getting weirder and weirder.
            “This portion of the Boob Channel is brought to you by BOOBIES!  Don’t leave home without ‘em,” bellowed the television announcer.
            “So what’s this show?” Thomson asked Jenkins, sitting right beside him.
            “Oh, this show is called ‘Believe it or Not!’”  Jenkins replied.
            “But they already have a show called ‘Believe it or Not!’ on some other network,” Martinez said.
            “Oh, but this is different,” Jenkins quipped, “Much different.”
            Then they saw a set of large boobs on the TV.
            “Believe it or not, these boobs are bigger than water jugs, and weigh 13 pounds,” the narrator announced.
            “Whooooooooaaah!!” cried the three guys in unison, stunned by what they saw.
“How could she carry those things with all that weight?” Jenkins asked.
            “How can she carry the weight?” the television answered. “She has to put the units on a cart and roll them around town!”
            “That’s just ridiculous,” Thomson said, “These had to be implants.”
            “Who the hell cares?!” retorted Jenkins. “Wouldn’t you want to see someone with boobs so big they got to carry them around on a cart?”
            “It’s so beautiful,” shrieked Martinez, so awed he was hardly able to speak.
            “And now… here comes MAN BOOBS!” the announcer declared.
            “Noooooooooooooooooooo!” cried Thomson, darting back into the couch and covering his eyes.
            “Is this some kind of evil joke?” asked Jenkins with a whining pitch.  “What did we do to deserve this?”
            “Turn it off!!  Turn it off!!” Martinez cried.
            “I’m trying!!” Jenkins responded, fiddling with the remote until he finally got a good grasp of it.
            The television was now off, and it was time to think of something else to do.
            “Well, that was tight, dude,” Thomson said. “Now what do we do?”
            “Let’s go downtown and look around for stuff,” Martinez said.
            “I guess we could do that,” Jenkins agreed.
            With that, the boys left the house, fixing things and putting up items they knocked down along the way.

            Minutes later, the three guys were walking down the street, passing by some restaurants.  First they ran by some joints with exotic cuisines.  Later, they passed through some more casual restaurants.  Finally, they were passing by the fast food restaurants.
            “Man, that was fun,” Martinez said to the others.  “Arcades still kick ass.”
            “They do.  You don’t know what you’ve been missing,” Jenkins replied.
            “It was cool,” Thomson said, “but we got to go find a Golf n’ Stuff around here someplace.”
            “You’d have to do some serious driving, I think,” Martinez said. “Maybe some other time.”
            “Yeah,” Thomson said.
            “Yeah,” Jenkins replied.
            “I’m hungry,” Martinez said.
            “What else is new?” Jenkins said.
            Then they spotted a big sign at the McDonalds right beside them.
            “What’s this??” Thomson asked.  “A Ham and Cheese sandwich?!  What kind of lame brains would come up with this one?”
            “You’ve got to be kidding,” Martinez said.  “A Ham and Cheese sandwich at McDonald’s?  That’s nuts!”
            “Look at the sign, dude,” Thomson instructed, pointing to a sign on the window.
            Martinez caught a glimpse of the sign and then started laughing hysterically.
            “What a joke!” Martinez said, leaning back unable to control himself from laughing.  “What kind of no-life losers go to Mickey D’s to buy a Ham and Cheese sandwich?”
            “Hey guys!” Jenkins announced…

            Jenkins suckered Martinez and Thomson into sitting down at a table at the McDonald’s.  They were seated there with some fries, a drink for each, and some Ham and Cheese sandwiches in front of them.
            Martinez and Thomson were eyeing the sandwiches in disbelief.  Then Jenkins, showing his utter excitement, ate a ham and cheese sandwich with one hand and waved his other hand over the table, gesturing for his friends to eat their new Ham and Cheese sandwich.
            “You expect us to sit here in front of the other customers and those guys looking at us through that big window, serve up a big swig of Coke, and then pick up and eat this ‘spectacular’ overblown Ham and Cheese sandwich?!”  Martinez asked.
            “Oh c’mon,” Jenkins said, food still in his mouth.  Jenkins had that ham and cheese sandwich smothered in his face, practically pushed up against his glasses.
            “It’s really quite good,” he said. “Give food a chance.  You should know a thing or two about eating, Martinez.”
            “You’ve got to be kidding.  You really want us to eat this?” Thomson asked.
            “Put it in your mouth, it’ll shut you guys up for a change,” Jenkins instructed.
            “You think I’m gonna fall for that lowest common denominator shtick?  I mean, you dragged us in here because of that sign, and it doesn’t even have any beef in it,” cried Martinez.
            “Who cares?  That doesn’t mean it’s not any good,” Jenkins replied.
            “It’s stupid, it’s not worth paying money for!”  Martinez cried.
            “Look, this is an incredibly well-prepared gourmet style delicacy for it’s price,” Jenkins yelled.
            “It’s a freaking ham and cheese sandwich!!” Martinez bellowed.
“Just eat it, all right?” Jenkins retorted.
“Oh all right,” muttered Martinez.
            Thomson and Martinez slowly and reluctantly took a small bite of their ham and cheese sandwich.  Thomson chewed slowly while Martinez simply let it sit in his mouth so he could absorb it.
            Thomson ate a little more of the sandwich and then he began to smile.
            “Hey,” he said.  “I… uh, I think this sandwich is pretty good.”
            Then Martinez started eating more of the sandwich.
            “Yeah,” he acknowledged.  “Not bad!  This is actually a pretty good sandwich, I mean, for a regular ham and cheese sandwich.”
            “Pretty good?” Thomson replied. “I think it’s very good.”
            “No, no,” Martinez countered. “I think it’s REALLY good.”
            Jenkins, on the other side of the table, had a very smug look on his face, his arms crossed.
            “So, is the sandwich okay?” Jenkins asked in a smug sort of way.
            “Why, it’s a great sandwich!”  Thomson said.
            “A superb sandwich!!” Martinez shouted.
            “How dare anyone else make a ham and cheese sandwich like McDonald’s!” Thomson shouted, still sitting down.  “You know this sandwich makes anything else taste like stinkin’ potbellies.”
            “We gotta go!” Jenkins cried, looking at his watch.
            In a flash, Jenkins, Martinez, and Thomson bolted out the door of the McDonalds and rushed onto the sidewalk, hurrying down the street.
            “How could a sandwich kick so much ass?” Thomson asked, huffing and puffing.
            “I don’t know, how, but it does,” Jenkins replied happily.
            Away they went…
            “Want a cold one, Anderson?” Hewitt asked from his easy chair.
            “Sure, that sounds great!” Anderson answered from the couch next to him.
            Hewitt and Anderson were still in the apartment, but the game was over.  Now the television was turned off, and they were simply relaxing.
            Hewitt tossed Anderson a can of Mountain Dew, saying, “Here you go!”
            “What?  No dice?” Anderson quipped, realizing that he didn’t have a beer in his hands.
            “You gotta stay sober, buddy,” Hewitt replied, smiling.
            “No fair,” Anderson moaned.
            Then Anderson got up off his chair.  He put the can of soda down and he was leaving.  Before he left, he went over to shake Hewitt’s hand.
            “I’m leaving,” Anderson said.  “Thanks for letting me in.”
            “Don’t mention it,” Hewitt answered as he shook his hand.  “Have a good night, now.”
            “No problem,” Anderson said, going out the door.  “I’m bowling tonight.”
            Then he made a clicking sound with his mouth and pointed at Hewitt, as if it were some kind of salute.  Then he left.
            Hewitt was happy to have him over, but he was happy to see him go also.  Overall, it was a pretty good evening.
            Hewitt could faintly hear the voices of Jenkins, Thomson, and Martinez through the window.
            “We gotta tell Hewitt about that ham and cheese saaaaandwiiiiiiiiich,” Martinez cried.
            “Yeah!”  Jenkins shouted.
            Hewitt looked perplexed, to say the least, and he had to go see what those guys were up to.
            Looking out the window, he wondered what all the fuss was about.
            “What’s the big deal about a ham and cheese sandwich?” Hewitt asked to himself.
            Now Hewitt heard frenzied footsteps climbing up the stairs by the door.
            Jenkins exploded through the door in a blaze of fury, never mind that the door was closed.  He went so fast that his momentum carried him all the way to the window on the other side of the apartment.  Fortunately, only his torso went flinging out the window.
            Martinez exploded after him into the apartment and tried to put on the brakes, but the floor was so slippery he wound up just sliding into Jenkins.  Jenkins was pressed so hard by Martinez’ collision that he screamed and grimaced in pain.
            “Hey, wait for me, punks!”  Thomson cried as he went up the stairs.
            “How about knocking on the door, you jackasses!!!”  Hewitt demanded.
            Jenkins stammered his way from the window to about the same place where Hewitt was, near the round kitchen table.
            “Okay (huff), uh, we found (puff), the greatest… sandwich (poof) in a long time…  It was (cough) a Ham and (gasp) Cheese sandwich that we ate… at (whew) McDonald’s.”  Jenkins conveyed under his gasping breath.
            “C’mon, J.  All this for a Ham and Cheese sandwich?” Hewitt asked.
            “No, this is different!”  Martinez jumped in.  “This sandwich tasted like… like nobody’s business.”
            “It tasted like crap?” Hewitt asked.
             “No no!”  Martinez interjected.  “It was the best tasting sandwich I’ve had in a long time.”
            “Marty,” Hewitt retorted, “to you, everything is the best sandwich you’ve had in a long time.”
            “Yo’, he’s not exaggerating, Hewitt,” Thomson said, “I know it’s crazy, but this sandwich is cool, dude!”
            “You’ve got to try it,” Jenkins said.
            “Wait a minute!” Hewitt interjected, “…what induced you to go into a joint by buy a ham and cheese sandwich?”
            “There was this sign out there in the window,” Jenkins replied.
            “You mean you went to eat it because the McDonald’s people put up a sign that told you to?”  Hewitt retorted.
            “No no!” Martinez cried, “The sign was only speculation.”
            “Inspiration,” Jenkins corrected.
            “So you guys made the decision all by yourselves, eh?” Hewitt asked, challenging the others.
            “Hey, why are you so hard on us?”  Thomson inquired, “All we did was go out and eat a sandwich.”
            “Guys, you gotta think about this!”  Hewitt stressed, “You’re being controlled by a cold, corporate entity through excessive advertising.”
            “We admit it!”  Jenkins declared after a pause, pointing at Hewitt’s face, “And you know what?  It was worth it!”
            “Yeah!!”  Martinez shouted.
            “Sure was!”  Thomson added.
            “Okay, all right,” Hewitt replied, backing down.  “Hey, it’s a free country, you can do what you want.  I’d rather keep my integrity.”
            “Integrity?” Jenkins asked, his eyes half-closed.
            “Yeah, I order pizzas,” Hewitt said.
            “Well, won’t you come with us anyway?”  Jenkins requested.
            “Oh, all right,” Hewitt agreed.  “I’ll go see about this incredible ham and cheese sandwich.”
            And so the four guys conversed as they passed by the door.


            Now we found the guys down on the street with the McDonald’s in striking distance.
            “We’re going to have a ham and cheese sandwiiii-” Jenkins sang before stopping.
            Hewitt, Jenkins, and the rest witnessed a line going out the door of McDonald’s.  In fact, the line was so long that it extended down the street and around the corner.
            So, the boys sauntered over to the McDonald’s across the street.
            With the long line across the street visible through the window, Jenkins presented a fresh ham and cheese sandwich to Hewitt, the other guys watching him.
            “This is crazy,” Hewitt said, “There’s no meat in it.”
            “Yeah there is,” Jenkins countered.
            “Hamburger meat, that is,” Hewitt said.
            “There’s no need to discriminate sandwiches,” Thomson added.
            “This can’t be for real,” Hewitt observed, “This is nuts, J.  Don’t you think it’s nuts, Thomson?”
            “That’s enough!” Jenkins fumed, “Let’s get on with it.  Eat it!”
            “But this is nuts.  It’s a ham and cheese sandwich…”
            And as Hewitt bickered, Jenkins opened up the wrapper and slowly chunked the sandwich between Hewitt’s teeth.
            “Ahh,” said Jenkins.
            Hewitt had to chew the sandwich just so he could speak again.  Thomson popped the question.
            “How do you like the sandwich, bro?” Thomson asked.
            Hewitt gave it some thought.
            “You know what?” he said, “This is the best damn ham and cheese sandwich I’ve ever had!”
            “Awesome,” Jenkins responded.
            “Here, have a drink,” Martinez said as he passed along a cup of soda.
            It was an unusual, but effective, way to spend a Saturday night.

* The End *

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