Tabasco Chipotle Sauce

Tabasco Chipotle Hot Sauce

Once upon a time there was a guy named Jalapeno. He was British. His friends used to make fun of his name. They said his name made him sound like the diminutive version of a word used to describe an old car (His friends were smart, but they lacked the ability to make a good jab; that and they all drove jalopies anyway). This hurt Jalapeno, but he was a stoic British lad, and kept it all inside. He also thought to himself, "What good are my friends if they all drive beaters?" So, the next day, Jalapeno decided to tell them what for.

And so, Jalapeno had no friends.

But Jalapeno didn't care. He drove a nice car. It was a jaguar. That, and he got an invitation to a jolly good (as the host put it) social function in Lousiana. Jalapeno lived in Devonshire. However, he did always fancy America, and wanted to see what all the fuss was with cajuns and gumbo, and swamps. He also wanted to get a tan*. England would just not cut it.

So he went to Lousiana and met a man named McIlhenny. In fact, it was McIlhenny that had invited him to Louisiana in the first place. It seems they both had funny names. And, while they were chuckling and guffawing gaily about this obviously humorous connection (while at this social function), McIlhenny slipped something** in Jalapeno's drink.

When Jalapeno awoke everything was dark. It smelled like peppers. His skin burnt. His eyes burnt. He was burnt. He deduced that he had been put inside an oaken barrel of aged peppers. But, being the stoic Brit he was, he grinned and bore it, and realized it was all for the greater good. And now we have Chipotle Tabasco Sauce. Thanks dead British guy with the funny name! You made my eggs taste delicious this morning!**

* Like Snooki, his favorite trashy reality TV star

** It was a ruffie. Just so there is no ambiguity.

***This is a true story. My eggs were delicious, and Jalapeno is a pretty funny name (I mean, especially for a British guy)

Man wants to be legally declared a chicken

Perhaps you've heard the story that was all over the news stands several months ago about the "man who gave birth." With a title like that and pictures that showed what seemed to be a pregnant man, it sold a lot of copies regardless of who printed it. It's popularity came about because of its absurdity. And, in fact, our suspicions were confirmed when it turns out the "man" was actually born a woman and even participated in beauty contests. 

However, she/he felt that she/he was not meant to be a woman, passed a series of psychoanalysis tests, and legally became a man. She then began taking hormones and supplements and had her breasts removed. But, she/he didn't have a complete sex change, and that allowed she/he to have a child, and now even become pregnant a second time.

Because of she/he's increased popularity and press coverage, other people are following suit. All across the US people are making moves to declare themselves legally something they are not (at least physically).

The most interesting case comes from Washington State, where a man named Leroy Jones wants to be legally declared a chicken. Having grown up on an egg farm, Jones said he learned to love the chicken lifestyle, from pecking and clucking to even the occasional cock fight.

"I love the taste of chicken feed. It's just so crunchy. I also feel accepted among those in the chicken community. One day I hope that I might even be able to contribute, and lay my first egg," says Jones.

Jones has been undergoing chicken gene and hormone therapy, that he self-administers each day in the form of shots. He has begun growing feathers on his arms, and says that in a week he will move out into the chicken coupe. 

His wife Carol thinks it's just a phase. "Last time he wanted to be an astronaut and he painted our hay silo like the space shuttle. Now he wants to be a chicken. Everyone has a mid-life crisis, and at least his is a whole lot cheaper. I don't have to cook for him anymore, or worry about him buying a new sports car and marrying a bunch of random dancing girls from Vegas. He's chasing chickens," said Carol.

Before leaving the premises I left some feed for Mr. Jones. He clucked exuberantly and was followed to the feed by his new found family. 

God bless the chicken man.

Breakfast in Bed

Breakfast in bed.

It frightens me. Is that what you really want in your bed? I would generally prefer not to have bacon, sausage, pancakes or eggs anywhere near my bed. I overheat with just me in my bed, so thinking about hot food under the sheets with me just seems like a bad idea.

Not only that, but it's a messy idea. Here someone is, thinking they're being considerate, or even helpful, and you wake up with a burning gooey sensation on your calf, and your hair is full of oatmeal.

Furthermore, it encourages laziness. If I can't get up enough energy to pour a bowl of cereal and peal a banana, I'm on the verge of being declared completely incompetent.

So there you have it. If I want you breakfast, I'll get you. Don't even think about coming to me.