Comcast can suck my dick.

I can’t get a fucking signal and I’m about to put my head through the wall. It was all I could do to get this page to load to post these three fucking words about why I can’t get the Smackdown up tonight, let alone upload pictures and write more than two sentences. I was too wiped from work to smack down tonight, and then I got myself to do it ANYWAY, and now I can’t even write the fucking ENTRY.  FUCKITY FUCK.

Also I am cranky.

I hate Comcast.

In the meantime, why not read about some things that probably happened before you got here?  Like this.  Or this. Or that one there.

*Yes, I know I don’t actually have a dick.

Cheap Ass Monday: My Little Buttercup Has the Sweetest Smile

When you think about it, there’s nothing really inventive or groundbreaking about basing a cheap meal around pasta.  I mean, that’s kinda the point of it, right?  Somehow, though, making the pasta yourself tarts it up enough so that you don’t feel like a total toolbox saying, “Hey, internet, did it ever occur to you that PASTA is an easy and economical meal? I know! Go figure!”

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Man, I wish I lived in Seattle.

Can you deny that tagline?  We should all be ashamed that we didn’t think of this* first ourselves.  Okay, maybe Bittman thought of it, but is he mass-marketing it?  And is he launching it with a wrestling match between an enormous slice of bacon and a similarly-sized jar of mayo?  I THINK NOT.

Please, someone in or near Seattle, go to this.  Go, and take photographs.  Many photographs, in glorious, bacon-y color.  We must live vicariously through you.

*Most wonderful irony EVER: It’s kosher.

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Choose your own adventure! Well, choose my adventure.

Thanks to those of you who’ve clicked through the Amazon.com links and ordered things (yes, I know that one of you bought an orange silicone Speedo swim cap), I’m the happy recipient of an Amazon gift card. Which, obviously, will be used to buy a cookbook. And since you’re the reason for this season, I thought it only fair that you have a say. Learn more about each of these fine tomes then make your selection; if your favorite is missing, leave a comment. I guarantee with 89% certainty that I will purchase the book chosen by this poll.

Muffin, muffin, who's got the muffin? Oh wait, there it is. Never mind.

I have been wanting to bake muffins for WEEKS. Ever since we went apple picking and tried to pry ourselves out from under the Great Apple Deluge of Aught-Eight, I have been dreaming of apple muffins. With nuts, without nuts. With cinnamon, with nutmeg, with ginger, with cardamom, with five spice. With maple glaze. With craisins. With cheese. With caramel. So many apples, so many kinds of muffins, so little time and stomach space.

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All the party people in the house say HO…ly Jesus, I need a nap

So on top of everything else, I’ve come down with the cold that ate New York. Or rather, the cold that deafened New Yorkers’ already selective hearing with its hacking cough and trumpetlike snoring, and drowned the city in unctuous, sticky mounds of mucous from the never-ending supplies in our sinus cavities.  Yesterday I slept more than the dog, and the dog sleeps 23.5 hours a day.

Hyperbolic?  Never!  THIS IS THE WORST COLD I HAVE OR WILL EVER HAVE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.  See, even caps weren’t enough; I had to use BOLD. BOLD.  Think about that.  And then, if you are still healthy, go out and buy a little something special for your sinuses.

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