Well, I won my Super Bowl bet with Dylan.
Never have I been more certain of a proposition than this one, but I found a sucker and took him all the way to the bank.
It is a sad statement that CBS chose to remind us constantly that this was the first SB with a Black head coach, not to mention that both coaches were Black - Dungy and Lovie.
(What the fuck kind of name is 'Lovie' for a football coach anyway? Wasn't that the rich chick on 'Gilligan's Island?' Jesus Christ, in my day we had coaches with names like Vince and Knute and Bear. They would've eaten 'Lovie' for a mid-morning snack.)
So, Dylan and I wagered, Price is Right style, closest without going over, on the total time CBS would dedicate to this somewhat minor facet of the game.
Never have I been more certain of a proposition than this one, but I found a sucker and took him all the way to the bank.
It is a sad statement that CBS chose to remind us constantly that this was the first SB with a Black head coach, not to mention that both coaches were Black - Dungy and Lovie.
(What the fuck kind of name is 'Lovie' for a football coach anyway? Wasn't that the rich chick on 'Gilligan's Island?' Jesus Christ, in my day we had coaches with names like Vince and Knute and Bear. They would've eaten 'Lovie' for a mid-morning snack.)
So, Dylan and I wagered, Price is Right style, closest without going over, on the total time CBS would dedicate to this somewhat minor facet of the game.
In a manly fashion, I allowed Dylan first choice.
He went with 1 minute, forty-five seconds.
Son-of-a-bitch almost took my time, but not quite. I went with 1 minute, forty-six seconds, a number I had settled on some time ago, to be honest. Unfortunately for him, either we both had to be over or he had to get the exact time. Anything else and he loses.
The broadcast began and, sure enough, off we go with the 'Black thing.' We stopped the clock somewhere in the 3 minute range.
Dylan was quite understandably upset. He threw up on my $4800 flokati throw - for which he will be docked in pay until the damn thing is paid off - and cried to be let out of the bet, that it was "all in good fun."
Fuck that.
Nothing with Dick Cheney is "all in good fun."
I told him that a bet is a bet and he had no choice but to pay up.
What was the bet, you ask?
He went with 1 minute, forty-five seconds.
Son-of-a-bitch almost took my time, but not quite. I went with 1 minute, forty-six seconds, a number I had settled on some time ago, to be honest. Unfortunately for him, either we both had to be over or he had to get the exact time. Anything else and he loses.
The broadcast began and, sure enough, off we go with the 'Black thing.' We stopped the clock somewhere in the 3 minute range.
Dylan was quite understandably upset. He threw up on my $4800 flokati throw - for which he will be docked in pay until the damn thing is paid off - and cried to be let out of the bet, that it was "all in good fun."
Fuck that.
Nothing with Dick Cheney is "all in good fun."
I told him that a bet is a bet and he had no choice but to pay up.
What was the bet, you ask?
The loser of our bet has to screw my old lady. She's got her womanly needs, you know.
I believe he's in the residence right now trying to roust the little red rooster.
It's not a task for the weak of heart with that old naked war horse staring you down. I don't envy the poor boy.
Better him than me, though.
Well, today's fine recipe comes to us from a sit down dinner with America's leading theologian, the Reverend Pat Robertson. Pat is something of a train wreck as a human being - believes he converses regularly with God, hates everything that isn't spelled out in the Bible and has a strange aversion to anything touching his hands. Nothing is allowed to directly touch his hands. He wears dainty little white gloves and preens around as if there is nothing odd about it. I'll tell you, if he didn't have a television network, somebody would throw this crazy son-of-a-bitch into a fucking loony bin. This motherfucker needs some serious time on the couch, but we'll overlook it as long as he keeps writing the checks.
So, I'm trying to make conversation with this cocksucker and he really doesn't know anything outside of his television studio or a few dozen scriptures that he's memorized. In other words, it's fucking impossible. I've never had a less enthralling dinner companion, but his cook, an large-boobed woman of Mediterranean descent aptly named 'Liberty,' served this delicious casserole, an 'Eye-tal-yun' dish, as he called it.
I managed to corral her later and get the recipe. From her ample bosom to you:
I believe he's in the residence right now trying to roust the little red rooster.
It's not a task for the weak of heart with that old naked war horse staring you down. I don't envy the poor boy.
Better him than me, though.
Well, today's fine recipe comes to us from a sit down dinner with America's leading theologian, the Reverend Pat Robertson. Pat is something of a train wreck as a human being - believes he converses regularly with God, hates everything that isn't spelled out in the Bible and has a strange aversion to anything touching his hands. Nothing is allowed to directly touch his hands. He wears dainty little white gloves and preens around as if there is nothing odd about it. I'll tell you, if he didn't have a television network, somebody would throw this crazy son-of-a-bitch into a fucking loony bin. This motherfucker needs some serious time on the couch, but we'll overlook it as long as he keeps writing the checks.
So, I'm trying to make conversation with this cocksucker and he really doesn't know anything outside of his television studio or a few dozen scriptures that he's memorized. In other words, it's fucking impossible. I've never had a less enthralling dinner companion, but his cook, an large-boobed woman of Mediterranean descent aptly named 'Liberty,' served this delicious casserole, an 'Eye-tal-yun' dish, as he called it.
I managed to corral her later and get the recipe. From her ample bosom to you:
Liberty's Reversed Manicotti
Ingredients:
• 1 medium onion
• 1 medium onion
• 1 tsp minced garlic
• 2 Tablespoons olive oil
• 2 lbs ground beef (sirloin or chuck)
• Oregano to taste
• 1 can diced tomatoes
• 1 can pasta sauce (any flavor...pick your favorite!)
• 1 box manicotti noodles
• Feta cheese to sprinkle on top
• Parmesan Cheese and Mozzarella to sprinkle on top
Method:
Cut and cook onions in a little olive oil. Chop up garlic and add it to the onions as they cook. Cook the sirloin (or chuck) and drain off all the grease. Add the meat to the onion/garlic. Sprinkle in some Oregano. Add diced tomatoes and pasta sauce. Let simmer on low. After about 5 minutes, spoon off any watery liquid from the filling. Meanwhile, boil Pasta till al dente. Set aside about 1/4 of the filling. Fill Pasta carefully with the rest of the meat mixture. Stuff them full, being careful not to break pasta. Place side by side in a long baking dish or pan. Cover with rest of the meat mixture. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese, mozzarella and feta cheese and bake at 350 degrees until cheese is melted.
Notes:
Great to make-ahead and freeze, then pop in the oven later to warm. Also great alternative for those who do not like a ricotta cheese filling in manicotti. Also, make sure the Reverend's 'medications' are finely groud and added with his serving.
Number of servings: 6-8
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