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12:55 p.m. - 2001-12-12


I'm a good cook, unlike some husbands that I only know through reading their wives' diaries.

But usually when I cook, it's by the book. I don't care how many hundreds of times I've made chili, I still have to have the recipe right in front of me and follow it to a T.

Every now and then I get a little adventurous and maybe add something to th emix that sounds like the dish could benefit from it. Garlic, red pepper and peanut butter come to mind as extra ingredients.

Yes, one time I was making chili and decided to add a few dollops of peanut butter to it. Naturally, this is back when I smoked more weed than Jamaica could produce. Surprisingly, it didn't taste half bad. Then again, as I've already stated, I was higher than Heaven when I ate it.

So it was very unlike me to cook what I cooked last night. By the end of the cooking, I felt I needed a name for it, so I dubbed it "Southern Chinese Chicken".

I basically browned some chicken while sauteeing onions, peppers, mushrooms, squash and pineapple. Once both were done, I mixed them together, poured sweet and sour sauce, teriyaki sauce, jerk chicken sauce and soy sauce all over it. I let that simmer for five minutes and then poured it over rice.

It was damned good.

I just had some leftovers for lunch.

Even better.

I feel really good about the dish because it was a successful experiment that found me shaping it as I went along.

I felt like a real chef.

It dawned on me while cooking it that cooking is the only really creative outlet I have other than writing. And let's face it ... this crap is hardly creative.

It's so cool when you create something successful.

Aw hell.

I could keep talking about this shit but it's boring even me. I just read Weetabix's entry and it made me think of cooking last night.


That's it.

You know what I wish??

I'll tell ya what I wish.

I wish the government would decide to air this bin Laden tape where he's chuckling about the WTC tragedy and laughing about the dumbass hijackers on the plane who didn't know they were actually going to be crashing the plane and waxing rhapsodic about the joys of fabric softeners.

I wish they'd release it tonight.

At 7 p.m./8 p.m. eastern time.


And I wish they'd preempt "Ed" to do it.

Because I do NOT feel like scrawling out yet another Mighty Big TV recap of the show tonight.

And if they push "Ed" back one week, then I will have close to a week to work on the recap and turn it in and still get paid for it like it only took me a day because my lovely boss Tara is taking some time off and has extended everyone's deadlines by several days.

I think that would rawk.

I would vote for it if it came down to a vote. If Bush came on TV right now and said "Everyone who wants to see the bin Laden video tonight at 7 central time on NBC raise their hand", you bet your sweet and sour ass I'd be frantically tickling the ceiling.

I'm hope hope hoping that's the case tonight.

We'll see if my prayers are answered. If not, I will denounce God and everything holy. I will grow my hair long and join a thrash metal band called "The Uncle Bob Experience". And I will sing songs like "I Don't Wanna Watch Ed Tonight" and "Gimme A Break NBC I've Got Hand Cramps".

You watch, damn you.

I'll do it.

I'm crazy that way.

Edweird and I went mall walking at lunch.

Cripes. Apparently it was "Punk Ass Kid" day at the mall...all punk assed kids got in free.

Our walk always starts at the Food Court. ALWAYS.

Well today, there were about 17,000 punk assed kids in the Food Court. And every one of them wanted Taco F'n Bell.

I tried to be cool about it which means I fought the urge to backhand them silly and step on them as I tried to keep my heart rate going. I was maneuvering through groups of kids like a professional maneuverer while Edweird struggled to keep up.

At one point, my efforts were foiled. There were so many punk assed kids blocking my path that I had to stop.

I actually felt my blood beginning to boil. I sidestepped a fat kid with a tray full of burritos and managed to work my way around him.

"Watch where you're going," the kid snapped at me.

"Gee Chopper, that's kinda hard to do when your fat ass is blocking my view," I snapped back.

We resumed our walk and were making good time, weaving in and out of every group after group of moseying gang members who were walking about one mile per hour because the waistbands of their pants were tightly hugging their ankles and they were struggling to walk without tripping over themselves because they had to look "cool, baby".

Uhh yeah. You look cool alright. You look about as cool as I do when I put my wife's bra and panties on and parade around the house with a plunger jammed up my ass.

Twenty-five minutes into the walk, we see a former co-worker ... it's actually the one who left and bequeathed me her office which I now reside in.

I couldn't stop. I didn't know the girl that well and wanted to keep walking. I thought a wave would be sufficient to tide her over.

Not Edweird. He needed to stop and talk to her. He gave me permission to keep walking which I did. I made my loop, came back and announced that I was the human version of the movie "Speed" ... if I fall below a certain speed, I'll die. She seemed to understand ... either that or I really freaked her out bad...and she said her goodbyes. I hauled ass with Edweird by my side.

That's my day so far.

Pretty damned exciting, huh?

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