The tale of the smuggled bacon

This right here is the culprit of today’s mystery. Much of which, was not eaten by yours truly- as I gave most of it away to friends that didn’t have anything for breakfast.

A friend of mine, to remain nameless as to retain her identity, helped me to smuggle this delectable treat. But smuggling bacon and other breakfast tasties is a very delicate feat. You must be very careful. You must keep your guard up.

You must.. be sure you carry some Pepto Bismal.

I only ate 2 pieces of the bacon and half of the bisquit shown here. However that was enough to result in not one but two trips to tinkletown but not for the tinkle.

My tummy hurt. There is only one bathroom up here on my floor for the girls. Working with boys and it not being out in the public atmosphere, I couldn’t just walk into the Men’s bathroom and dump off the jobs.

Instead I had to perfect a very specific dance style. I call it the gopher. Go-fer- the nearest restroom you can. It’s kind of like Frogger actually. You have to dodge all the people walking by in the hallways and entry ways. In hopes that you will get to that which is coveted at the end of the level…

the glory that is the toilet. The glory that will be released from your bowels as you finally get there.. to the nearest available john that you have to hover over.. because women are just as bad about dumping their jobs as men.

I’m completely serious.

I’ve had to go in many a mens restroom in a dive bar to find not only that the line was shorter.. but the men had cleaner restrooms. Thank you Jesus for the metro age.

That was my day yesterday. However despite it all, I will never give up on this second profession of mine. Bacon smuggler has a nice ring to it I think… even if there are a few consequences to be had. Sacrifices must be made.. in the name of zod. Bacon!

Sidenote: I was the only one who got sick from said breakfast food. The other two people were not effected at all. God I love my life!

Advertisements

help, someone spiked my drink.. with bacon

So me & the grip were putzing around online the other night before going to see Choke (which is awesome btw, I’m behind in writing the review) and I’m not sure how exactly this got brought up, but I felt a need to share this with the class… He said that a trip to Vegas may be in order so he could take me to a bar that has this, & claims it to be deliciousness.

oye.

bacon infused martinis?!

omg.. and this is *not* a joke?

w.t.f.

btw, inc you really want to try this, here’s the recipe:

Bacon Vodka

makes up one pint

Fry up three strips of bacon.
Add cooked bacon to a clean pint sized mason jar. Trim the ends of the bacon if they are too tall to fit in the jar. Or you could go hog wild and just pile in a bunch of fried up bacon scraps. Optional: add crushed black peppercorns.
Fill the jar up with vodka. Cap and place in a dark cupboard for at least three weeks. That’s right- I didn’t refrigerate it.
At the end of the three week resting period, place the bacon vodka in the freezer to solidify the fats. Strain out the fats through a coffee filter to yield a clear filtered pale yellow bacon vodka.

Decant into decorative bottles and enjoy.

So today I got hit by a car again…

Sad to say that I’m serious.
I was riding my bike on the way to do the one errand I had to do today, and some guy in an alley did not see me. It was pretty scary. I was riding and saw no one there so I didn’t slow down. Then I see this car coming at me.

I’m fine. He just tapped me. Guy felt really bad about it. I have one little scratch but nothing major.
I tried tweeting about it when I hopped the bus but Twitter was down.
Little things like that seem to happen to me. This isn’t the first time I’ve been hit by a car outside of a “normal” car accident… it’s actually the first time I got hit by a car that wasn’t mine.

Yes, you read that right.. I was hit by my own car once. It was a long time ago, and that accident was a bit worse. I actually ended up getting the emergency treatment and nearly broke my legs.

Backing up, here’s what happened before that:

My friend Robin is the angel of death to the series of cars I had when I lived back home. Why? Because the only and every time I had car problems there, she was in the car when it happened. Sure they were not the best of cars to begin with. Sure, my uncle thinks he really knows about cars but might not be the best at it. Sure it could purely just be coincidental. But 3 transmissions and every single one? Yeah right!

I went to 3 different high schools back home. I knew most everyone. If we went somewhere, I knew someone. It drove her nuts. We were trying to figure out plans for the night and couldn’t come up with anything. I reccomended winging it, thinking we’d go out and run into someone anyway who might know of something to do. Tonight, at last minute, she made it clear that she wanted to go somewhere specific.

It wasn’t far from home. And I love to drive. (I miss driving so much) So we got in the car and headed over there. At this point, she’s rushing me. I’m speeding anyway, and then I hear a thud. My transmission dropped.

Robin gives me this eye and I just shrug. I have to get this taken care of. I have to get it out of the middle of the road. I don’t have insurance and couldn’t afford to get it towed. I told her to get out and help me push the car into a parking lot. She huffs and moves.

Now, unbeknownst to me as to why she did it, she locks the doors. So little 4 ft nothing me and tall string bean blonde her are pushing my Lebaron out of the road. It’s night and the streetlights are on.

We hadn’t really thought about it, but the parking lot that we were pushing the car into was at an incline. So when we started pushing, of course it started to roll down the hill. Robin was at the top, and had stopped pushing. She saw the light shine on my car and screams “It’s going to hit another car!”

I tried to open my door to step on the brakes. However, she had locked the damn door. I was thinking oh fuck, I’m going to have a mess if my car hits another car… what do I do?
Logically, the only thing for me to do was jump in between them.
So I run in front of my car, and stand in front of this parked one. The car bounced off my legs and stopped. It did not hit the other car.

Robin looked at me shocked that I’d just done that. There were people in a place eating looking dumbfounded at me.

“Are you alright?!” she screamed at me.
“Yeah, what are you talking about? I’m fine.” I said. And then my legs gave out.

They called an ambulance and had me checked out. Miraculously, I did not break my legs. I’d just sprained them or something. The doctor gave me some Tylenol 3 with Codeine. I was wheeled out to the waiting room to my parents, Robin, and her parents.

Now as a sidenote, but a relevant one, Robin and I were regulars for Cosmic bowling every Saturday night from 12-2. We’d go there and then hang out at a 24 hour coffee shop and smoke ciggarrettes and have pie and conversation with a group of other friends. Most everyone that lived local and was in the circle went. We knew all the business owners by first name, and they noticed if we were even late, let alone didn’t go. Hell, they hit on us. We were 19 though, so it was a given.

When I came into the waiting room, Robin’s immediate reaction was “Oh man you’re not going to be able to go to Cosmic are you?”
Not- “Are you alright?”
“Glad that you’re alright.”
“Did you break anything?”
etc.
No. It was her whineing that I couldn’t go bowling that weekend.

I was still living with family at the time. Dad was house sitting for a friend who had a big property. There was a jacuzzi inside the house (a big deal for in IL). Robin called on Saturday to ask me how I was, and if I was even going to go. “You could always just getting a walking band and not bowl you know? Just tell your dad that. How are you feeling anyway?”

How was I feeling?
I was quite enjoying the medication and the hottub… my response was “I have no legs! I have no legs!” I was buzzed off my mind.

I called her back later and told her I’d figure out a way to go though. My dad was still overprotective then… hasn’t died down yet… probably never will. I told him I was just going to sit and watch and hang out with my friends. I’m sure my dad knew better, but he let me go anyway, so long as Robin was the one who drove this time and I didn’t bowl.

I dressed the way I normally do for the meat market, minus the wraps on my legs and the crutches.

Oh and for those people who think it’s “hickish” to be going bowling and call that a meat market, out in the burbs where I grew up, there weren’t those types. I lived about 30-45 mins away from Chicago.. not the boonies thank you very much. There were a few cute boys there.. I was a frequent dater there too. But those are different stories.

I went to get my band for the night and they asked “Playing or walking.” Then they looked up and saw my crutches. “Geezus what the hell happened Jen? Guess you’re getting a walking band then eh?”

I handed him my crutches, and said “No, fuck that. I’m playing. I’m not a sissy girl.” And I did.

People knew a little bit about what had happened. They came up to our table afterwards and asked me if it was true.
“Did you really get hit by your own car?”
“Yes, and I didn’t break my legs. That’s what’s makes me hardcore.”

Man was I such a dumb kid.
That stuff only happens in my family.

However today was scary. Thankfully it wasn’t that bad though and I’m fine.
/rant off