Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
For the ages
By MK
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Friday, June 6, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Bob Marley
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Quick thoughts
parties, good books, newportbeach bitches who know how to live
hemmingway southerngothic seltzer boots sand bunnyfur running leather
workout tapes gold bumping bass nikes febreeze creamcicles featherbed
air horses clubbing congolese dance peace
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Tuna melt
• 8 oz Italian tuna packed in olive oil, drained, with 1 tbsp oil reserved
• Charred-rosemary mayonnaise (see below)
• 1/8 cup celery hearts, finely chopped
• 1/2 tsp celery seed
• Coarse salt and ground black pepper
• 4 slices multigrain bread
• 4 slices (about 4 oz) Gruyère cheese
• Unsalted butter
Method
Gently flake tuna and place in stainless-steel bowl. Fold in desired amount of mayo, chopped celery, and celery seed, adding salt and pepper to taste. Lay bread on work surface. Spread tuna on two slices and layer with Gruyère. Top with remaining bread slices and press lightly with the palm of your hand to bring tuna just to the edges of each sandwich. Melt a small amount of butter in a skillet over low heat and toast sandwiches until cheese melts and bread is golden brown, about 2 minutes on each side. Transfer to cutting board and cut in half on diagonal. Serve immediately.
Charred-Rosemary Mayonnaise
• 2 stalks fresh rosemary
• 4 cups water
• 1 tsp white vinegar
• 1 large egg, cracked
• 2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
• 1 tsp Dijon mustard
• 3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• Reserved tuna oil
Lightly char rosemary (hold stems with tongs and rotate through burner flame for about 10 seconds), strip leaves, and finely chop (yields about 1 tbsp). Bring 4 cups water to boil, reduce to simmer, and add vinegar. Ease egg into water, cooking until whites set but yolk is still runny, about 2 minutes. Transfer egg (as dry as possible) to blender (or bowl of food processor) with lemon juice and Dijon mustard. Slowly add oils, processing until thick and creamy. Add rosemary. Makes about 1 cup.
A few terms you wish you never knew.
Rusty Trombone- The act of performing anal cunnilingus while reaching up above the testicles to manually administer quick up and down motions to the penile shaft; resulting in a violent yet pleasant explosion. It is then customary for the female to then give a quick blow into the anus for good luck, the lips blowing into the anus sounds very similar to a trombones sweet melody. This was introduced to the Americas in the late 50's.
Birmingham Booty Call- Put your woman's cell phone on vibrate, stick it up her ass, and as you are having sex, call her phone, have her shit it out, answer it, and talk dirty to you as you cum on her face.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
First thing that comes to peoples' minds after they shit their pants...
The fisherman: "Oh shit!"
The professor: "Oh shit!"
The gritball: "Oh shit, I better do something about that soon."
Me: "Shit, shit, shit... Wait whose pants are these?"
The old gentleman at the nursing home: "Great... I'll finally get some human interaction."
The pants: "Yo asshole. Go sit on a toilet. That's the third time you've shit on me this week."
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Prof Klickberg-Tres Tard
I am going to regret these days when I'm an old man. These days of no consequence, of no progress, or of no production. Day in and day out, I accomplish nothing, I see no one but the black-haired, doe-eyed barista at Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf round 4pm. I drive, I read, I watch a movie during my makeshift lunch. I wake up late, I take my time. This grows weary. I grow enervated with the Nothing of these tired, stilted days. Stale, stultified, and sickly. O, what am I doing with myself? This waiting for what? If only I had a friend, a confidant with whom to spend my endless hours... If only...
[I want this to go FASTER. This is not going fast enough. I want everyone to know who I am already; I want there to be NO QUESTION.]












































