Everything Found In 'Drinking Eating & Drinking' Category

Screw you, apples!

I’m starting a campaign to ban apples. They may look delicious as they line up neatly in the grocery store, like a troupe of polished red soldiers on display. But they are EVIL! Apples have enjoyed world domination for too long, denying the rightful king of fruits – the banana – its crown.

Easily the best fruit ever, the banana is sunny yellow, full of goodness and loved by cute monkeys and Oriental sex performers everywhere. Watch out Granny Smith, I’m on to you!

Yes, dear...Apples have been causing trouble since the beginning of time. Recall the trouble Eve got into when she nibbled on one of those little green bastards. One bite of a Golden Delicious and feminism is set back 10,000 years.

If only Eve had been tempted by a big luscious banana, that useless specimen Adam would have been told to Fig Off in no time.

Not content with messing it up for the ladies, the apple tried to halt the onset of human enlightenment by attempting to kill great scientist Sir Isaac Newton. According to what I read in a history book (I think), Sir Issac was innocently sitting under a tree inventing time travel, a cure for piles and a way to stop colours running in the washing machine (which he also had just invented).

A mercenary Cox’s Pippin sent to snuff out the boffin failed in its assassination attempt, causing only concussion. Newton was nursed back to health by Florence Nightingale, but the only thing he could recall was the Law of Gravity. This was of no use to anyone because gravity had already been invented.

Three chavs and a bottle of white cider. Innit!The apple has found other ways to control us. Did you know the apple is the biggest threat to our youth? It has cleverly let poor little cannabis take the fall for that, the dastardly fruit it is.

Think about it. As a rite of passage, every 12-year-old must get drunk at the local park by chugging back a litre of cheap booze. To the young palette, beer tastes like battery acid. Pocket money won’t stretch to whiskey. What is cheap, sweet and will get you pissed and vomiting by the swings in no time? CIDER. Once hooked on this fruity poison, it’s downhill all the way to a life of alcoholic misery and self loathing.

Apple – It’s the Gateway Fruit. I think George Bush and Gordon Brown need to be told their war on drugs needs diverting to the orchards. Burn them! And the orchards.

An evil force depends on the apple for its survival – the wasp. This hideous killing machine sustains its powers by gorging on apples then proceeds to make our lives a misery by attacking our homes, barbeques and poolside sex parties. With the onset of global warming, the wasp is getting bigger – did you know scientists predict (maybe) that by 2030, wasps will be the size of herons? Can you imagine that flying into your open car window?

A lovely bunch.The only way to avoid the insect invasion is by destroying all apple trees and replacing them with banana plantations, which will attract cute wildlife like monkeys and Oriental sex performers.

It’s time to take action and oust the apple. I’m off to the supermarket now to chain myself to the fruit counter and demand this dangerous product be removed from the shelves – for the sake of the children.

Vive La Banana!!

 

Support my anti-apple campaign over at Humor-Blogs.com

 


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Oh good! A Hooters restaurant. Just what we need.

A bright orange roof and gaudy neon sign signaled the arrival of our latest neighbourhood eatery – Hooters. I imagine a lot of women sighed in despair as the restaurant opened its doors to the crowds of excitable young men. The prospect of being served sizzling wings by a girl in tangerine hotpants isn’t my idea of fun. Yet I can’t help glancing longingly through the windows every time I drive by…

Hooters girls - their bums never look big in this.OK, I admit, I want to be a Hooters girl! I don’t really want to be a waitress – I tried it once, but my lack of balancing, pouring and social skills meant that career lasted one night only. No, it’s because all the girls who work at Hooters are pretty.

They have skinny legs, shiny hair and white-toothed smiles. Their orange hotpants don’t make their butt look like two bouncing pumpkins.

If I was a Hooters girl I could use my female assets to hide my lack of waitressing skills. It wouldn’t matter if I dropped the salsa or poured hot gravy into the slightly bulging lap of my diner – he would be too busy trying to get a glimpse down my t-shirt to notice. And then he’d leave me a big tip! Now that’s job satisfaction.

The reality.However, I think I’ve left it too late to pursue my dream. Most waitresses at the restaurant are students, so I’m probably 10 years to late to be a Hooters girl. Although I was probably 10 years too late 10 years ago.

Come to think of it, there’s never been a period in my life when I haven’t looked dorky, awkward or lumpy in the wrong places. I’m just not Hooters girl material.

I wonder if other Hooters wannabes have landed their dream job, only to be greeted by screams of horror as crowds rush to the door to escape the sight of their wobbly orange-peel thighs.

On the other hand I probably look as good as it’s going to get, so why not try? If I land the job I’ll let you all know. You could all come in and ask to be served by that cute waitress with the matching colour hair and hotpants, no, she’s not a freaky old hag, she’s just, erm, womanly.

Would you mind doing that for me? Just don’t order anything with hot gravy and you’ll be fine.

Mind you, there is another place where I can wear hotpants, serve men beer and get lots of tips. And the place is so dark I could easily hide my dorkyness. Although I don’t think I could manage that pole…

Hotpants are tight and wings are hot over at Humor-Blogs.com


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Not On My Pizza

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Fresh from Mr. Greasy Pizza's Pie Shack. Yum!

I love pizza but despair at the concoctions available at my local pizza joint. Italians had it all figured out years ago. Tomato sauce, mozzarella and a scattering of basil, that’s it. It’s worked for centuries so why mess with it?

May Jupiter whack you with thunderbolts if you put any of this stuff on my pie.

Wrong.Pineapple – Brutal wars have erupted over the contentious issue of fruit on pizza. Possibly. Some crazy people think tomato is a fruit but they are wrong – ever seen a tomato flavour Gummy Worm?

Chunks of tropical fruit should be dangling from pink cocktails, not nestling in melted mozzarella.

Fig, Goat’s Cheese & Prosciutto – Why can’t they just call what it is – ‘Fig and Pig’? Goat’s cheese refuses to melt so burning chunks of it fall into your lap. Even worse than pineapple, fig is full of seeds that stick between your teeth for weeks. The fancy word ‘Prosciutto’ is used to fool vegetarians who think it is some kind of onion.

Non-Italian Cheeses – Was the quaint English town of Cheddar previously a suburb of Rome? Does Monterey Jack originate from the ripe udders of buffalo grazing on the plains of Vesuvius? Do ruddy-cheeked Neopolitan maidens lovingly shred dried-up curds into handy resealable plastic pouches? No.

Donair – If you’re not familiar with this delightful delicacy, Donair meat is slivers of elderly sheep that has been grilled by a lukewarm radiator for several weeks. A pizza shop owner (probably on drugs) tossed this gruesome gristle on a pizza and defiled the dish forever. The Italian Mafia should send him a horse’s head for his sins.

Mind you, he’d probably stick it on the spit and grill that too.

Donair pizza. Wrong. Yet so very right.

Hamburger – I assume this was inspired by a horrific crash involving a pizza delivery guy and a Burger King truck. I can’t quite comprehend how this pizza works. Are greasy burgers strewn atop the pizza along with lettuce and a bun? Or hidden underneath a mountain of molten cheddar like some monstrous Cheeseburger of Satan? Are there pickles?

Why stop there? Why not add fries, fish sticks, cheesecake and slap another pizza on top? Oh, the horror! The Roman Gods must be glaring down from their Pantheon in rage at these culinary catastrophes.

Actually, this post has made me feel quite hungry. Maybe for the purpose of research I may nibble the edge of that Donair pizza, just to make absolutely sure it tastes as bad as it looks.

*nyom, nyom, nyom*

Hmm, maybe just a bit more…


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Eat Is Murder

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Nice Fishy

Are fish vegetables? Or am I a big hypocrite?

I used to be a vegetarian. I was fourteen and needed to piss off my parents. So I took the advice of my hero Morrissey, jumped on the ‘Meat Is Murder’ bandwagon and abandoned burgers. My mother estimated my latest teenage fad would last about a week.

Six years on my veggie convictions were still going strong. I’d tuck into my tofu stew and complain loudly about the dead flesh my dinner companions were shoveling into their faces. I didn’t get invited to many dinner parties.

Fish Sticks
One evening as I was sitting at a beachside grill, a waiter brought out a massive plate of barbequed fish. The sweet, delicate smell wafted to my table. Suddenly my plate of soggy lentils and green stuff lost its appeal. I began pining for the taste of juicy barbequed prawns, fluffy salmon steak and salty mussels. Hell, even fish sticks would do.

I was determined not to give in to my secret craving. But my resolve crumbled at a wedding buffet. I found myself loitering by a plate of shimmering pink smoked salmon. No-one would notice if I just tasted a tiny flake. The fish was dead and too sliced up to save. So I ate some. Nothing bad happened. I wasn’t struck by lightening. Morrissey didn’t appear and slap my salmon-filled face. The Earth didn’t explode because Tiggy nibbled one little fishy.

Slug Assassin
Now the world was literally my oyster. Sushi for breakfast, tuna for lunch and prawn curry for supper. The world’s fish stocks were beginning to dwindle.

How could I justify my fish fanaticism? Using my own special logic, I figured that even being vegetarian had its environmental downside. How many slugs had been ruthlessly murdered in order to produce those vegetables? Carrots were living things too, but I was happy to rip them out the ground and devour them.

Anyway, fish are stupid. They’d only get eaten by other fish. If there was such a thing as reincarnation, I was simply helping them up the chain by eating them. Next time they might come back as a chicken and they’d thank me for it. A succulent, tender chicken. Mmmm.


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