Jay Pinkerton dot comStirringly ProvokingSoul-sucking Melodies of ProsePieces of Indescribable MajestyProvokingly StirringInferior Works of No Consequence

 

 
articles
 
 


Cooking With Failure



~ OLDTIME STEAK RECIPE ~

Ingredients:
4 sirloin steak
3 cups salt
1 bottle ketchup
1 bowl
1 knife
1 fork

Take the sirloin steaks out of the packaging. Now, while you're preparing the steaks for cooking, what I like to do, and what I recommend you do, is take the wrapping the steak came in and suck on it. You'll find it tastes a lot like steak, especially if the steak was wrapped in paper, which is very absorbant. Place the steaks on a cutting board, and take one of the cups of salt and pour the cup of salt over the steaks. You should still have two cups of salt left — don't worry, you'll need them!

Next, put the steaks into a plastic mixing bowl, and put this bowl in the microwave. Heat the steaks at maximum setting for fifty (50) minutes. Don't get impatient and take the steaks out before. Fifty minutes is perfect to really lock in that old fashioned "microwaved steak" taste.

Now, when the fifty minutes are up, you should be looking at a bowl full of partially-cooked steaks with salt residue all over them. Take the remaining two cups of salt and pour them over the steaks. Don't be timid. Pour that salt. Do it. Do it! Come on, pussy! What's the matter, never poured salt before? Never—

Okay, you've poured the salt. Now douse the steaks with the bottle of ketchup. Use the entire bottle — why not? After all, YOU didn't pay for it! You stole it! (See Chapter 2: "Shoplifting the Necessary Ingredients.")

Voila! You're done, and in under an hour. Now you're ready to grab the bowl, a knife and a fork, and eat a bowl full of partially-cooked salt-encrusted steaks. Or, if you're entertaining for a special someone, the recipe works just as well with 8 partially cooked steaks in 2 bowls. In a pinch, you can
subtitute mustard for the ketchup, sugar for the salt, and luke-warm pork for the steaks.


~ SOUP A LA STOVE ~

Ingredients:
1 can Campbell's Tomato Soup
1 phone call
1 whore girlfriend
1 rollerblading instructor named Chad
27 vicious insults
1 dialtone


Open a can of Campbell's Tomato Soup and let simmer on the stove. Don't bother wasting a pot -- an opened can with the paper label taken off is Nature's pot. Stir the soup gently. When soup starts to look "hot," stop stirring for a bit.

At this point you're going to want to pick up the phone and receive a call from one (1) whore girlfriend informing you that you're being dumped for one (1) rollerblading instructor named Chad.

Your soup should be coming to a smoky boil right now, so take your time liberally sprinkling the conversation with 27 vicious insults. These should have been prepared beforehand and baked in a preheated psyche for approximately three months. Pay particular attention to her tendency to slur her "t"s when she gets upset, her horrible taste in throw rugs, and her gigantic ass.

If you've followed the recipe to the letter, then you should be receiving the dialtone. Hang up the phone, dump the charred gelatinous mass of tomato paste onto a plate, and eat with a fork while cursing silently. Soup's on!

 
HomeStirringly ProvokingSoul-sucking Melodies of ProsePieces of Indescribable MajestyProvokingly StirringInferior Works of No Consequence

 

"0" alt="Inferior Works of No Consequence">