Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Fat Breanna's Girls Night Sex Fest Queso Dip

Dear Reader,

Another day, another email.  This one comes from someone who calls herself, "Fat Breanna," which is a big part of her problem in and of itself.

Heather-
About a year ago I was coming home after a night out with the girls.  I had drunk about six tequila shooters, cause it was a girls night, and then had lost my keys. So I climbed in what I thought was my window, but was really the window of my next door neighbor, and I climbed right into his bed and woke him up.  I always thought he was hot, and I wasn't shy on account of all the shooters (it was a Mexican restaurant where we were hanging out) so I had sex with the neighbor.  Now I have sex with him all the time when I'm drunk, or when he's loaded, which is almost as often as I am! LOL! I love to party! Anyways, he won't even ever look at me when he's straight.  Like he don't know me from a hole in the wall, and I really like him. Can you help?
-Fat Breanna



Breanna,

You say he "don't know you from a hole in the wall" which is exactly what you are to him.  A glory hole.  You know, one where he can stick his- you get the idea.  I'm not going to tell you that it is impossible to move your relationship from glory hole to girlfriend, because supposedly a man walked on the actual moon, so clearly a lot is possible in this world that may seem, at first glance, entirely impossible.  So.  How about talking to him?  Next time you see him, just say hello?  Start there.  Because you never know, he might be totally dull and not worth your time anyway.  Lord knows there are many many people that you might enjoy fooling around with, but with whom conversation would be no more desirable than a hot poker in the eye.  And find a place to hide a spare set of keys.  Meanwhile, enjoy some Queso Dip.


Fat Breanna's Girls Night Sex Fest Queso Dip

You will need:

Condoms
1 chipotle chile in adobo sauce
1/4 cup cream
1 scallion, chopped
1/2 tsp salt
1 Tbs. cilantro, chopped
1 cup shredded Monterrey Jack cheese
1/4 cup chorizo

First, have condom at the ready, don't count on him having one, because most people don't have one in their pajamas pocket.  Saute chorizo until reddish and glistening, like your nipples when you peel off the pasties.  Heat cream in a sauce pan, add in the shredded cheese, grabbing great handfuls of cheese like you do his hair while he's sleeping, stirring until melted.  When the cheese is melted, add in the scallion, cilantro, salt and chorizo.  Finely dice the chili, being careful to thoroughly was your hands after or else you will leave him with a burning that will never end.  Mix all together and enjoy with chips.  Serves 2.

Monday, March 12, 2012

SPAMMOGRAM SAMMY

Dear Reader,

I don't think it is accurate to say that most, if not all people experience some sort of mid-life crisis.  Rather we experience three or four in close succession.  I have made no secret that I turned 40 a few months ago, though you'd never know it to look at me.  Just kidding.  Along with turning 40 I ran a half-marathon, lost fifteen pounds and cleaned out my closet in the most major way imaginable.  It is not possible, or at least not reasonable to wear t-shirts with stupid sayings on them after a certain age.  That age should be sixteen, but for me it came a little later.  Nor is there a place in my life for a t-shirt with a rainbow cheetah head on it.  Not anymore.  It's time to take stock and think about what I'm doing with my life.  I would like to contribute something to the world other than snarky recipes, however delicious they might be.  I'm not sure how I might do that, but I do know that I've always wanted to open a sandwich shop.  I know exactly the sandwiches I would serve, and I would offer two salads and one soup each day, I know how the shop would look, and what the kids working behind the counter would wear.  I would call my shop, "Sammy's" or maybe "Sammies."  Perhaps someday I will own that sandwich shop, but today I've got to get a mammogram.


SPAMMOGRAM SAMMY

You will need:

Appointment
Gown
Bread
Spam
Honey mustard
Pineapple juice
Watercress
Mayo
Good magazines

First, shower.  For some reason you can't wear any perfume, deodorant or lotions to the mamogram, and it's gross to try and wipe it off with some depressing paper-wrapped moist towelette.  Open Spam and slice into thin strips.  If the thought of Spam fills you with as much disgust as it does me, opt instead for pork loin.  Fry in skillet until no longer dangerous to eat.  Mid-way through cooking, pour pineapple juice over Spam, letting it reduce to a nice syrup.  Slice bread and rub one side with honey mustard, and the other with mayonnaise.  Place Spam on bread and top with watercress.  Pack into a lunch bag, and grab your magazines.  I recommend Lucky and Allure because they feature stuff normal people can afford.  If I so much as flip through Vogue I am left with a deep feeling of inadequacy and failure, not at all what is needed for a mammogram.  Go to your appointment.  You will, inevitably be forced to wait for at least forty-five minutes.  Enjoy sandwich while trying not to think about your breasts being squeezed until they are as thin as loose leaf paper in a vise that was most likely devised by a sadistic seventh grade metal shop student.  Remove top and adorn paper gown.  Even though the nurse won't ask you if you have mayo on your body, know that it is entirely possible, so use moist towelette anyway.