Everything is wrong with me
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
 
your emails, part one of possibly one, maybe more
It's everyone's favorite time: email time. Well, I don't know whether or not it's everyone's favorite time, but at least by answering your emails I don't have to think of something to write about. So I like it.

Anyway, enough with the small talk. We have a lot of ground to cover, so let's get right to it.

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We'll start with Joy who is "still stuck in fucking Orlando".

I just have one question: if you could bend over far enough to get your bird in your mouth would you still blog?

Also, for some reason I have this picture of you in my head that would resemble closely a large hairy ape/gorilla/baboon double fisting 8 ounce beers and grunting what sounds like sexual innuendos at any female ape/gorilla/baboons that are unlucky enough to wander by.

Also, do you know anyone great with photoshop who could make me a picture that looks similar to this? My desktop is getting boring.

Thanks
Joy

P.S. Your dad sounds hot. I’m thinking about getting a tattoo on the other side of my skull that says “Jason Mulgrew’s dad is hot”. But my head is kind of small, so it would help if I knew his first name, social security number, or any credit card numbers he might use.
First, to answer your question Joy, if I were able to bend over far enough to get my bird in my mouth not only would I not blog, I wouldn't work. I wouldn't bathe. I wouldn't leave my apartment. My life would be split into two parts: when I am blowing myself and when I am not blowing myself. Day and night would cease to matter as time would lose all meaning. Human contact would become entirely unnecessary, as the only point of 94% of my contact with other people is aimed toward catching a beejer (the other 6% is accidental contact or when I'm ordering food).

So I guess what I'm trying to say is no, if I could get my bird into my mouth I wouldn't blog. C'mon. That was a dumb question.

As for the ape comparison, yeah, that's about right. If the ape was wearing a really ugly shirt with beer stains on it, it'd be even better. Also if one time the ape had a little too much to drink and came home and kissed his roommate Ben while he slept, it would be perfect.

And I'll be sure to tell my dad that you think he's hot and I'll give him your email address. He doesn't really know how to use a computer - one time I saw him trying to light his cigarette by rubbing it his computer's monitor - but you never know. As for credit card numbers, etc, my dad doesn't use any of those things, as he has been on the run from the law for as long as I can remember, and he's not about to jeopardize his freedom by using a credit card. I mean, duh.

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Nate from Seattle chimes in with a food-related email:

I was watching Conan O'Brien tonight, and he had some chef on his show. Anyway, Conan was fucking around with some of the ingredients and created, what I think, may be one of the greatest sounding dishes of all time - he took a piece of sausage that the chef had prepared, wrapped it in bacon, then deep fried it (but not before adding just a dash of Guinness).

Let me reiterate - sausage, wrapped in bacon, deep fried with Guinness. How fucking awesome is that? I had a hunch that your affinity for sausages might spark some interest in this wonderful creation.

Anyway, I was thinking that this might inspire you to come up with some of your own equally delicious recipe ideas one day if you have nothing to write about. I think the general idea should be to create dishes that will cause heart failure within approximately 3-5 servings.

Just an idea.
Excellent email Nate. Thought provoking and self-destructive at the same time.

Conan's dish sounds great, but it's missing one important ingredient: cheese. Cheese is fascinating to me, because it's sole purpose is too add taste. Meaning it has no nutritional value - sure, it's got some calcium, but otherwise it's all calories and unsaturated fat. Take Conan's sausages (another good band name: Conan's Sausages), put them on a baking pan sprinkled with cheese and bake them lightly so the cheese melts, and NOW we're talking.

I have a dish that I think might fit Nate's criteria. I make it occasionally when I'm feeling depressed (ok, so that's like eight times a week). The dish: Bacon Chicken Parmigiana. And yes, it's as good as it sounds.

It's really simple to make: you have your breaded chicken breast, which I won't get into how to make because it's boring (chicken, eggs, bread crumbs, baking, etc). Now that you have the cooked, breaded chicken breast, you need to add a small layer of spaghetti sauce. Once the sauce is smoothed on the breast (ha!), you can add the bacon. This is where it gets tricky.

Usually, this is how I do it. Ultimately, you're going for layers here, and it's going to be sauce, bacon, cheese, bacon, and more cheese. So for that first layer of bacon, I'll take some medium-crispy strips and lay them across the chicken. Then, add a generous helping of shredded mozzarella cheese to cover the bacon. Bake that for a little bit so the cheese melts over the bacon, letting some additional strips of bacon fry for the little longer for extra crispiness.

Once the cheese has melted, remove the chicken from the oven and crumple up the crispier bacon over top of it, kinda like real bacon bits. And please, don't be shy. Really get into it with these bacon bits, because, after all, it's good for you. Once you're done with this part, add a little more shredded cheese, but don't cover the chicken entirely - you want it to look nice, so that the top layer is bacon bits interspersed with cheese. Throw a little more sauce on for good measure. Put it back in the oven to melt some more. Once it melts and looks all pretty, viola - Bacon Chicken Parm.

[God, I'm fucking STARVING right now.]

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Finally, we have Jake from Minneapolis, who poses a great question.

A co-worker and I were talking about a comedian yesterday, Nick Swardson, and one of his bits. Nick said that before he dies, he thinks it would be funny to send a random-ass celebrity a chunk of money and ask them to just make an appearance at his funeral...just to mess with people so they would say stuff like, "Is that John Stamos?! Nick knew John Stamos? How the hell did he know John Stamos?!"

So it invoked the question, if you could send $5000 to any celebrity and have them make a tearful appearance at your funeral, who would it be?

Initially I thought it would be cool to have a supermodel at mine, but I ultimately decided that I wanted Manute Bol to stop by and pay his respects. I'm just curious as to who you might pop in to your funeral.
First, Nick Swardson is an excellent, excellent comedian. I can't watch stand-up because I'm jealous and I think I'm better than everyone else, but there are two comedians who I think are totally fucking awesome: Nick Swardson and Dave Attell. See these comedians, buy their stuff, whatever. They are hilarious.

Second, great question. And while Stamos and Manute Bol are great answers, I think I'd have to take this in a different direction. Instead of getting someone as "big" as Stamos, who would probably cost a good deal of money, I'd rather go after a C-list celebrity, or if possibly, two D-list celebrities.

With this line of thinking, I thought about this long and hard on the subway this morning, and fortunately I had a pen and a piece of paper in my pocket so I was able to write down some ideas (as opposed to my normal routine: thinking up a great idea somewhere during the 50-minute commute, obsessing over it, and then completely forgetting it when I get into work and try to write it down).

So my celebrity would be Thomas Dolby, the guy who sang "She Blinded Me With Science." Something about that song is so hypnotizing, and Dolby is so, so erotically-charged that I'd have to have him at my funeral. I can see it now:

My roommate Ben: "Who the hell is that guy?"
My friend Jeremy: "I think that's Thomas Dolby."
Ben: "Who?"
Jeremy: "You know, the guy who sang that song 'She Blinded Me With Science.'"
Ben: "Really? That's him? What the hell is he doing here?"
Jeremy: "I don't know - maybe him and Mulgrew went to college together or something."
Ben: "I don't think that's possible."
Jeremy: "Do you know if there's an open bar after this?"
Ben: "God I hope so."
Jeremy: "Jesus, I can't believe he's finally dead. I can't say I didn't see this coming, but what was he doing sticking his dick in an electrical outlet anyway?"
Ben: "Dude, don't knock it 'til you've tried it, because it feels pretty fucking good."

I think Dolby would come pretty cheap, so with the leftover money, I'd love to get any one of the following to make an appearance:

- the one-armed drummer from Def Leppard
- Buddy from "Charles In Charge"
- R2D2
- Andrew Ridgely (the other guy from Wham!)
- one of the crappy Baldwins (preferably Daniel)
- Vicki, the robot from "Small Wonder"
- DJ Jazzy Jeff
- 1988 Nobel Prize Winner Maurice Allais (Economics)
- the lead singer of the Fine Young Cannibals
- crappy quarterback Vinny Testaverde
- any major star's brother ("Is that Eric Clapton's brother?")
- Chris de Burgh, the guy who sang "Lady In Red"
- all three members of Bell Biv Devoe
- one of the Jackson 5 (Steve?)
- one of the New Kids on the Block (Danny?)
- one of the Pointer Sisters (the green one?)
- Cousin Larry Appleton

I should stop here, because otherwise I could keep on going forever. Man, I love stealing other people's ideas.

Hopefully I'll be able to get to some more later on, but I can't say for sure. I'm not really good with that whole "making promises and keeping them" thing. It's just how I was raised.



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