• How hot dogs are made. Just look at that delicious vat of leftover blended meat pastes dipped in smoke flavor!
• 8-Bit Jesus is a Christmas album that features classic tracks done in the style of different Nintendo game's soundtrack. My personal favorite is "The Legend Of Noel."
• Face. Just. Melted.

Labels: chicks, food, geekery, music, pop culture, tomfoolery, xmas

• Fetal Bites: America's number one fetus cookie cutter. Upon purchase I foresee Scottish Shortbread fetus cookies in my future.
  
• A giant pregnant anaconda is slain. Seeing all those dead anaconda babies strewn about gave me a Temple of Doom vibe as opposed to a JLo/Ice Cube vibe.
• A preview of Steven Colbert's "Another Christmas Song." Colbert has a decent voice and I am guessing the album will kitschy and mildly entertaining ranking somewhere between Mr. Hankey's Christmas Classics and The Star Wars Christmas Album (the latter of which I owned on vinyl in my youth).
  

Labels: america, babies, dead babies, food, geekery, link goodness, movies, music, nostalgia, pop culture, wife, xmas

• Confessions of a naked sushi model. Surprisingly, combining nudity and sushi do not make my balls rise in the least.
• RoboCop on a Unicorn. Dig the Flickr gallery. One of the best things I have linked to since Johanna's Art Inspired by Stevie Nicks.
• A list of Manic Pixie Dream Girl characters from popular culture. I may have married Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Read this description and judge for yourself: The Manic Pixie Dream Girl is stunningly attractive, high on life, full of wacky quirks and idiosyncrasies, and inexplicably obsessed with our stuffed-shirt hero, on whom she will focus her antics until he learns to live and love.

Labels: chicks, food, link goodness, pop culture, wife

DJ: Jesus in French fry format.
Me: The Son of God looks delicious!
DJ: Willy Porter does a song called "Jesus on the Grill" but he is talking about the grill of a truck...
Me: ...not a grill with a rack of ribs?
DJ: Right.
Me: Brings a whole new meaning to transubstantiation. I took a lot of communion as a young indoctrinated Catholic and if Jesus tasted like a brisket and French fries? I might not have strayed so far from the church.
DJ: "I am hungry! When is church?"
Me: Totally.
DJ: You could tell how good the barbecue was at a church by the size of the congregation.
Me: We could start the Church of the Holy Barbecue.
DJ: Or at the very least a restaurant called A Religious Experience.
Me: Where all the wait staff is dressed like Jesus during the crucifixion and instead of blood they are slathered in...
DJ: ...barbecue sauce?
Me: Yes! They slap down a pork sandwich in front of you and say, "The swine of Christ."
DJ: Ha!
Me: Oh man. I just had a really fucked up thought. Have a guy dressed up as Abraham, give him a sacrificial knife and have him bring a newborn baby out to a table. Just when he gets ready to slaughter the baby have the Mexican kitchen manager yell from the back of the restaurant (like the voice of God), "No Mas!" Then Abraham picks up the baby all nurturing and loving and says to the patrons, "Only kidding! Have some more brisket!"
DJ: Wow. You are right. That was fucked up.

Labels: dj, food, im convos, religion

Friday. The wife and I attend a homemade rib bonanza at Team Muff's house where we drain shitty Mexican beer and play a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit 90s Edition. Proof that we have all turned into our parents: we began questioning the "correctness" of card answers and commenting on how staying up until 11:30 seemed "late."

Saturday. The wife and I attend a barbecue at DJs which we learn upon walking into his house is actually his birthday party. The wife gets angry at me for not knowing it was his birthday (even though it was on the Evite) and I explain to her that knowing when your guy friends birthday is is totally gay, and if I bought a gift for him we would have to move in together and begin re-decorating his house in the finest tapestries and velvets. I down a homemade chili beer that I regret four hours later, eat some swine and watch some UFC fighting. The wife and I decided to duck out early to get some sleep. When we arrive back at home, Team Hofkamp stops over with a twelve pack of shitty Mexican beer and cigarettes. We hang out in our backyard for an hour until my neighbor invites us over the fence to share in his raging backyard chimenea fire and more shitty Mexican beers and cigarettes. Four hours and eight beers later, we go to bed.

Sunday. The wife and I walk over to the movie multiplex to catch the new Indiana Jones joint. On the way, we stop to view the recently dedicated (but unfinished) Armed Forces Tribute Garden. We grab a burger and some Lumpy Dogs at the Rock Bottom Brewery before watching yet another abortion written by George Lucas. Why do you hate me George Lucas? Aliens and UFOs? Shia LaBeouf as some sort of 1950s hood with a Pompadour and switchblade swinging on vines with monkeys? Next thing you know, you will be telling me that the force is some kind of blood disorder. Oh. Right.

Monday. The wife, myself and 52,000 other people run the Bolder Boulder under the cover of cool mist and fog. My back (almost fully healed from the bulged disc) feels great and I finish in just over an hour. We retire to the homestead for a much needed shower and nap. Later we attend two more Memorial Day barbecues that feel like autumn barbecues due to the inclement weather. I play ping pong. I play foosball. I play 3-square with a beer in my hand. I go to sleep wishing I celebrated three day weekends more often.

Labels: chili dog, dj, drinking, family, food, gluttony, health, kaye, l-i-v-i-n, movies, pop culture, the greens, weekend that was, wife

• The unholy recipe experiments of Bacon Cereal and a Bacon Cheese Baconburger. Hijinks and artery clogging ensue.
• Canned bacon. For those that are too lazy to fry swine in a skillet.
• Comedian Jim Gaffigan on Bacon.
• Wikipedia for Francis Bacon.

Labels: bacon, food, link goodness

One downfall of the new office location is the lack of decent eateries. Despite the area being redeveloped into the fancy new architecture/design district, we are still surrounded by industrial warehouses and old cement factories that closed during the Carter Administration. Our immediate food options include two McDonalds gas station annexes, a Quiznos and a strip mall Mexican joint that does not deserve to be named. These past few days we have been venturing into nearby Five Points as it provides places to eat that specialize in food rather than Coors. For those unfamiliar, Five Points is one of the oldest neighborhoods in Denver that is renowned for its jazz history, its rich black heritage and its high crime rates (or perception thereof). Today, upon Jake's recommendation, we rolled up on Tom's Home Cookin' for some soul food. I ordered the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, collard greens and corn bread and am still wallowing in its delicious glory. My boss was rendered speechless by the peach cobbler and proclaimed upon regaining his facilities that our future intern would soon be making afternoon cobbler runs. The best part of the dining experience came after the meal when we walked back to the car and caught the chef sharpening his butcher knife on a curb in the parking lot.

Labels: denver, five points, food, taxi dev

My third week of unemployment will include two web design job interviews; one in the heart of downtown Denver which is a block off the 16th Street Mall and the city's main bus depot (I'm all about the public transportation) and one a few blocks away from Govnr's Park which has amazing happy hour beers and a Slider Basket that would make Wimpy cry (the Won Ton Juans are equally as glorious). Keep your fingers crossed that one of these interviews will pan out before my severance runs dry and we will be subsisting only on a meager public school teacher's income. The wife has yet to wear tattered clothing and babble incomprehensible phrases while standing over a barrel fire, but I can assure you that that time is nigh, my friends. Onto an unemployed artist's browser history:

• An anti-NCAA Hazing website where images of basketball chicks wearing blindfolds and sombreros while drinking from a beer bong and snorting things off the floor live.
• Nate Dogg makes a Wolverine costume for Halloween. Hijinks and homoerotic posing ensue.
• The unluckiest man alive.
• Wedding cake in the form of the Great A'Tuin.
• A guy who loves his Starbucks a little too much.
• Jimmy Dean chocolate chip pancakes and sausage; on a stick. I just threw up in my mouth a little.
• Colorado Avalanche season preview.

Labels: career, comics, drinking, food, geekery, hockey, link goodness, sports, unemployment, wife

• Hell Pizza is a chain of pizza joints in New Zealand. The specialty pizzas are named after the seven deadly sins and a coffin tears away from the box for your "remains."
• The Cookie Monster searches deep within himself and asks: Is me really monster?
• Ninjutsu Grand Master Masaaki Hatsumi: "Always be able to kill your students."

Labels: food, killing, link goodness, ninjas, pop culture, tomfoolery

The future wife and I spent the past few days in the bustling metropolis of Boise, Idaho. We visited with grandparents, caught some early bird specials (unfortunately Perkins was one of said early bird specials), attended an Idaho Steelheads game and walked around Hyde Park, Boise State and the downtown area. You can view all of the hot Flickr action here. All you need to know about big happenings in Boise is that they usually revolve around the P.F. Changs.

Labels: food, hockey, idaho, sports, travels, wife

A bulleted list on what bothers me about this link:

• A clown can be sexually arousing.
• An advertising professional going by the nickname Kazoo.
• Den Fujita, the first McDonald's Japan president, waxing on diet and skin color: "The reason Japanese people are so short and have yellow skins is because they have eaten nothing but fish and rice for 2000 years. If we eat McDonald's hamburgers and potatoes for a thousand years we will become taller, our skin become white and our hair blond."

I have just three words for McDonald's Japan: Giant McSquid Sandwich.

Labels: food, perversion, pop culture, science

I do not understand the Krispy Kreme phenomenon. Whenever a company-wide email goes out regarding the mere presence of Krispy Kremes, herds of gluttonous fucks stampede into the company break room and lay waste to the donuts as if they were Georgia during General Sherman's March To The Sea. In my opinion, Krispy Kreme donuts taste like the sugared sweat of a donkey's balls.

Labels: data slaughterhouse, food, gluttony

Why do cannibals always seem to go for the penis? If I ate humans, I would forgo dining on genitals for two reasons:

1. They are full of tissue, veins, urine and semen.
2. No matter how it is sliced or prepared, it is still a cock. I would probably cut a slab off the hindquarters where I imagine the beef would be thick and tender.

Labels: crazy, food, tomfoolery

For lunch, I got my sandwich on at Subway. Everyone always seems pissed at that place. The customers are agitated because they are in a hurry. Subway employees are either stoned college students with bad attitudes or middle-aged functioning alcoholics that hate their lives. It always seems that my sandwich is being rushed through the construction process, too. I am always getting yelled at from the toppings station: "What do you want on the spicy?" I am sorry, but I do not feel good about my sandwich unless I see the toppings being applied. One of those fucking junkies could be out of their mind and slip some onions or olives into my sub. Then, when I pull out my credit card to pay and ask for stamps, the people in line behind me have conniption fits. Hey mister and misses irritated corporate executive, a credit card is a widely used monetary unit and I collect sub stamps in order to one day obtain a free sandwich. I am poor, I do not carry cash and I like free shit, so quit getting your panties in a twist. I should have just gone to Quiznos with Jake.

Labels: data slaughterhouse, food, jake

If this new PETA ad campaign is indicative of its views, then they have successfully alienated every normal vegetarian not wanting to be associated with an organization that compares the plight of cows and chickens to the atrocities committed in World War II concentration camps. For the last time PETA; fire your marketing and creative directors and get some common sense. Cows are not people, they are baseball mitts.

Labels: food, history, politics, stupidity

There are not many things I could love more than naked Eastern European broads doing gymnastics. I would probably love a 24-hour soft core porn television network, a reclining toilet seat and a lifetime supply of steak more, but nude female gymnastics is definitely on the top of list. Then again, nude female figure skating would be more awesome. Those ladies are less butch. Michelle Kwan and Katerina Witt doing a bare-assed Triple Lutz? Yes, please.

Labels: chicks, food, perversion, porn, sports

Last night I came home from work and made an exquisite meal; a grilled steak that I had let marinate all day, a baked potato, steamed broccoli and a cucumber and tomato salad drenched in Wishbone Italian dressing. It was as heavenly as it was succulent. I than put my dishes in the dishwasher and sped off to my hockey game. On the highway, my lower intestines began rumbling telling me to relieve my bowels immediately. I arrived at the rink late, with barely enough time to get my gear on and drop a deuce. So I tempted fate and decided to play with full insides. I tallied a hat trick and an assist in the contest and attribute it to the upset nature of my large intestines as I played the game with a sense of urgency that only a man who needed to take a shit could. From here on out, if I feel the tickle before any game, I will not close the deal until all is said and done.

On A Related Shit-Versus-Performance Note: If you are ever betting on hounds at your local dog track, keep your eye on the dogs before they reach the blocks. The first dog that stops to take a dump on the track before the race is the one you want to bet on.

Labels: food, hockey, poop

Last night I purchased my new oven-range combo. My mom and dad floated me the cash for an "early" Xmas present and I blew it all at Sears. I would have rather spent the Xmas cash on lap dances and whiskey but I am grateful nonetheless. I am taking off work next Monday because Sears will deliver said appliances between 10am and 4pm (thanks for nailing down a time, jerks). When everything is installed and ready for use, I am going nuts right out of the shoot. I intend to simultaneously fry bacon, cook a pot of chili and make some scrambled eggs on the burners, throw a twenty five pound turkey and a Totino's Party Pizza in the five cubic foot oven and make an industrial size batch of Top Ramen in the microwave.

Labels: family, food, gluttony, l-i-v-i-n, technology, the fairways, xmas

My oven and microwave died over the holiday weekend. It was the original appliance that came with my town home (circa 1983; an era renowned for flip-clock displays and record players). On Friday night, She Who Will Not Be Named and I rented a movie, made a few rum and Cokes and threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. After attempting to cook the bag of popcorn for half an hour, I concluded that the microwave no longer worked. Last night, after my hockey game, I came home to grill a steak and attempted to make a baked potato in the oven. The oven door got stuck and would not open. Tonight I am heading over to Sears to purchase a new oven-range combo. It will be refreshing to have appliances with digital displays and timers that I do not have to wind.

Labels: drinking, food, hockey, l-i-v-i-n, she who, technology, the fairways

Humans share the planet with many living beings, plants and animals and our relationship with them is symbiotic; we use them to sustain existence. If I had to, I would go out and kill for my food. Thankfully, I live in a capitalist society and the advent of labor specialization keeps me up to my tits in lean ground beef provided by animals that were kept in pens and treated as commodities. All economic systems exploit people, animals and environments. No amount of holier-than-thou liberal rhetoric is going to stop people from eating meat. It is unfortunate that animals do not have opposable thumbs and the ability to reason, but that is why humans are on top of the food chain and animals are not. So once again PETA, shut your filthy grass-eating sewers and let me enjoy some delicious meatloaf in peace.

Labels: food, politics, rage, science

Bacon is an amazing greasy and crispy treat that makes life worth living. I love eating bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, bacon strips and steaks wrapped in bacon. Apparently, Jesus and PETA do not want me to eat bacon. I urge PETA to quit influencing the Lord in order to make one feel guilty about their bacon consumption. PETA should eat their bean sprouts and tofu, help the asexual panda copulate, finger-bang a vegan and save the world in silence and peace. I did not get to the top of the food chain to gnaw on grass, leaves and berries. Our species has survived eons on this planet by jabbing a giant, meaty animal with a spear and eating the fuck out of it. I understand PETA's stance; they want animals to be treated with dignity and respect. Until humans start treating each other that way, however, cows are baseball mitts and pigs are lunch.

Labels: america, bacon, food, politics, religion