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Archive for July 26th, 2011

Update:  Fixing Your Hernia, the Man’s Way.  This guy has guts.

It is absolutely impossible for someone to fix their own hernia.  – Sam Carvajal, a surgeon at Glendale Adventist Medical Center

Might have saved some pain and suffering if the guy had checked that little fact out ahead of time.

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Real men don’t use BBQ’s… they use the wheel from their car… the one that a woman ruined for him at just 1092 miles (ten days old) by pulling out in front of him without even looking.

Yes, the real man will use an aluminum rim from a 2003 Nissan Maxima.

They pack that sucker with a few bricks, throw in some play-sand from the kid’s sandbox, dump a buttload of natural wood charcoal (not briquettes), wedge in a peanut-oil-soaked paper towel to light the whole mess, and walk away.  They just don’t sit there and play with their wood when there’s meat to be beat.

Stealing one’s wife’s hairdryer works wonders once the meat has been seen to.  The blowing job gets the charcoal hot enough to shoe a horse.  Granted, we’re here to eat cow, but damn tootin’ you could do some serious work with that fire.  But the work we’re here to do is cook some cow, because we’re meatitarians, dammit.  That meat pic will get larger if you stroke click it.

That cow gets 2-1/2 minutes per side while immersed in the infero of Hades (center pic).   The meat is thrown DIRECTLY on the charcoal.  Be a man, flick it off if you don’t like it.  It’s not gonna bite ya, that little piece of carbon sitting there smoldering at 3000F.

Note:  Actually, it might bite you.  I flicked it with my index finger.  I hooked my finger and did a stabbing down motion to get the charcoal off of the meat.   It allowed me to scrape red hot coals under my fingernail where it resulted in a burn that lasted for hours.  This stuff is really hot folks, don’t just play with it.

If you like extra char, just run that hairdryer right in the middle of the pile of coals and believe me, things will happen.  Blow jobs always make things happen.

I will tell you this:  If you eat it my way as a guest and you tell me that you really would rather have salt and pepper on it, I will give it to you but I will never respect you.  That meat was sublime without a thing added to it.

And the next day, slapped between pieces of bread is a religious experience.  But hey what do I know?

I’ll make more comments on it more tomorrow when I’m awake.

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