I haven't done a sit-up in probably a year, but my stomach still hurts from laughing so hard yesterday. I was fortunate enough to join Orange at Casa de Flea for the First Ever Embarrassing Recipe Contest.
Oh, people. Just reading the entries was scary enough. But when I arrived (late) to Suburban Heck with Jake & Danny in tow, I was presented with the fresh-out-of-the-oven Jackpot Casserole. I looked from Flea to Orange and back to Flea again, worried for my life. I turned down the first bite of Jackpot for a Heineken instead.
The thing about a casserole is, it's hard to ruin. I would have made any one of 80 percent of the submitted recipes and tried them. Maybe. I think. Most of the ingredients seemed harmless. But when you mix a Pyrex dish full of goop and put it in the oven, you kind of have to pray that the contents don't get together and decide to take over the world. I'm sure somewhere there is a casserole recipe whose unusual combination of ingredients -- when heated for 45 minutes at 350 degrees -- becomes like the Rock Monster and tries to kill all who approach.
All of the recipes made were edible, mainly -- depending on just how hungry you were. Would I make any of them at home? I might be willing to attempt a Chicken Pot Pie. (I had someone's Tuna Noodle Casserole on my final list, but Orange bonged it because she doesn't do tuna.) I think the Cheesy Potatoes were pretty good, but I would have preferred the potatoes to be pre-cooked and browned before assembling the final product. The Jackpot Casserole... well, I tasted it, I didn't mind the ingredients, but it really wasn't my thing.
Without identifying any of the reasons for each, here is a list of comments I recall from yesterday's adventure:
"What kind of mother ARE you?" "Look at his face! We scared him!" "I need more beer." "The water gives you cancer." "I liked them both! I liked everything!" "He hurt me all over!" "He's got a huge cock and he's really smart. Don't tell me you're not a happily married woman." "Somebody's butt smells." "I can't get his eyes to stay on." "Whoever's the least drunk gets to cut the dogs." "Steve, you want to slice some weenies?" "You only brought two beers?" "If we run out, we'll just switch to the Scotch." "Oh G-d, I think I wet my pants."
For better and more specific details, see Flea and Orange's descriptions. Suffice to say, I don't know how helpful I was, but I'll judge any one of Flea's contests, any day.
P.S. I'm trying to convince Flea we should put all those recipes together into a cookbook she could sell, but she's not going for it.
posted by: almsthvn (reply)
post date: 03.12.06 (3:18 pm)
i'm sorry, but my brain locked on the huge cock and really smart line... what else where you talking about?
posted by: Orange (reply)
post date: 03.13.06 (12:00 pm)
Almsthvn, you should've seen the cock rings. They were the size of truck tires!
posted by: JT (reply)
post date: 03.13.06 (12:06 pm)