What kind of café is this? How long has it been since I meal blogged? Too long. I don’t have much to share, as I’ve been experimenting more, and experimentation usually means that I haven’t figured out how to serve the dish aesthetically, because I’m concentrating on flavors, fabrication, recipes and pleasing guests and/or Tina’s tastebuds. I’ve been trying to do more vegetarian dishes, and sometimes the colors are harder to photograph.
If you’re new to the café, I’m aspiring to be a better cook. I cook or prepare meals almost twice a day, and we only eat out about twice a month. Because I work from home as a photographer, I use the commute time to plan and prepare menus. I’ve found that cooking is an artistic outlet, and aspire to be more appreciative of the art of gastronomy, the major religion of the French. Plus, I’m trying to get my blood pressure down, and it helps when I prepare all my meals.
Back to the food. Last night’s dinner was far from vegetarian. It was grilled sirloin with thin-sliced grilled potatoes, which is simple and easy, except for the fact that last night’s weather was windy and humid. Our back porch is on the third floor and there is no wind protection or roof over it. An El train track is about 20 feet from the deck and trains runs about 40 or 50 miles per hour every 10 to 20 minutes on average. At rush hour, a train rumbles by every couple minutes in either direction. When I’m grilling, it plays a role in causing mental instability.
That said, here’s a shot of last night’s meal. Battling the elements is part of the process, and when I get a steak with perfect grill lines and hardly any burned taters, I’m a happy camper. The wind tends to blow out the flames, and I barricade a bunch of chairs around the grill. I also grill at a higher temperature than I would like, because it helps keep the flames lit. But after all that, it was worth it.
My wife Tina and I have been diagnosed as infertile with scientific proof to bat. We’ve been trying to conceive for over a year. We worked closely with Tina’s OB/GYN for over three months in the spring to see what she could do. After it seemed that the OB/GYN’s efforts were ineffective, we sought fertility clinic help.
Since September, we’ve been pricked, prodded and probed. Tina had one ultrasound of her cervix that was devastatingly painful. Guys, could you imagine having your penis hole opened large enough to fit a freight train inside? That’s how bad it was. After other various tests, including HIV and STD tests, as well as semen samples from me, we’ve been diagnosed with potentially “curable” infertility. Continue reading “Infertility Monster (NSFW)”→
While home a week ago, my Mom gave me a box of stuff to take home or throw away. I got all kinds of great stuff, like report cards, hand-written reports I did when I was 11, and this photo of me playing soccer when I was a senior in high school. My coach gave me the print one day before practice. I’m number 9. It came from a photographer who used to follow us around and shoot us for his own practice. I was stunned and excited to see how high I could jump at the time. I couldn’t get close to that now.
I remember this game clearly. My coach pulled me aside and told me to mark their best player. It didn’t matter where he went on the field, he told me to shut him down and not to let him have the ball. We won the game, and I haven’t cut my hair since. No, but I imagine it was a shot the photographer was proud of. This is one I would have put on my wall or sent to some competition.
It certainly played a part in encouraging me to be a photographer, because it’s shots like these that make shooting hundreds, if not thousands of shots before getting “the one” all worthwhile.
Ladies and gentlemen, nothing says I love you like a swallower. Fellatio is not fellatio without it … erhm, unless you’re shooting fallatio for porn. Then it’s all over the face and chest in a gooey, spermatozoa-, protein- and fructose-rich mess.
But when it comes to bats, they integrate some convoluted form of fellatio into their wacky upside-down amorous routines. According to this article, they (parenthetical comments mine) “Female bats often lick their mate’s penis during dorsoventral copulation (bat version of doggy style, but hanging upside down). The female lowers her head to lick the shaft (hell yeah!)or the base of the male’s penis but does not lick the glans penis which has already penetrated the vagina.”
I’d really like to start working out (or have Tina workout) to be able to work this into our bedroom business transactions. You have to go to this link to download the video to see what I’m talking about. I started to get excited watching it, and might use it soon for autosexual gratification tomorrow or Saturday.
Yes, it’s that hot.
I’m changing my middle name to Bonobo.
Bonobos are another animal that enjoys fellatio. Bonobos are one of our common ancestors who exhibit the loosest amorous activities, most like humans. Well, most like sexually-stifled Republicans during their clandestine sex romps. But it’s also most like decent sexually-honest, normal people. Bonobos exhibit lots of sex with lots of partners, even same sex sex. And they appear to enjoy sex, opposed to dogs, and most Republicans, who look like their grinding through sex like it’s another day at the metal-working plant, bonobos LOVE sex.
To break it down, they dig girl on girl, guy on guy, guy on girl on guy. They french kiss. They sodomize. They bump muffins. They eat out. They eat in. They spit. They swallow. They probably even do foot fetish.
(Thanks to fucking fellating Sunny Lee for the link)
Maxipads. That’s what atheists are. Bloody, mildewed, moldy, bacteria laden cunt monsters. They’re insolent, ignorant, and they spout off boneheadedly without learning all the evidence before they open their mouths or type with their little idiot fingers. Now I’m going to go out and join a new group, because this one is infiltrated with bozo nose lickin’ wack jobs.
First evidence, insolent atheist biologist (probable closet creationist) Pz Myers has been tweeting that he’s in Chicago and he didn’t call ahead to tell me. I mean, COME ON. Remember CreoZerg, old friend? How quickly you forget all the good times we had together. [insert Pz’s face and mine on Paul Newman‘s and Katharine Ross‘s faces in the cheesy bike scene in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” riding around the Creation “Museum” campus]. I have NO clue why he’s here in town. I could have picked him up from the airport and drove him to his hotel. We could have had tea and strumpets, and giggle a little about Ken Ham.
Second evidence: facebook. Hemant Mehta picked up my blog about the Yeshua Fog Conundrum and wrote about it at The Friendly Atheist. After he posts blogs, he posts to twitter and facebook that the post is up (I bet my family is marginally glad I don’t do that). One idiot named Andrea decided to respond and say, “Sure is weird that the guy (me!) would think no one would find his blog.” That’s not what she said. Wait, here’s a screen capture (thanks Julie!). Read it yourselves.
Of course I’m being a complete bumbling idiot. I mean none of this.
I ❤ atheism.
It is bizarre to me that within the “smart” group, there would appear to be the casual idiosyncratic glimmer of mental instability lacking research before flippantly making ignorant statements. Before long, Julie will have two web sites. One for religious statements and one for non-religious.
I’m skeptical of skepticism. This exhibition of insincerely whimsical questioning calls into question the mental prowess of the group I call my own. Pick up the pace, kids. I don’t need one of you bringing the rest of us down.
Pastor of River Oaks Community Church Tim Rowland integrated one of my favorite atheists William Lobdell and his book “Losing My Religion: How I lost my Faith Reporting on Religion in America-And found Unexpected Peace” in a recent sermon. The church series is “What I’m Learning From God.”
You can listen to the entire sermon here, which I suggest doing (at least trying to). It’s a good reminder what happens in churches for non-believers. And it’s an excellent way for believers to check out what advice you can use to continue on your paths in the strength Rowland suggests.
I have to say, Rowland is a little wordy for my taste, and I’m a verbose chump. It takes him six minutes to get any momentum going. He starts talking about Lobdell around minute 7.
I have to point out that while he’s not saying not to read the book, he’s not really saying read it. He’s giving a book report full of biased warnings and fear-inducing counsel. I have a beef with pastors telling congregations what to think rather than having them go find out for themselves. I also have a problem with the perpetual reminder of how awful Christians used to have it. As if the congregation deserves the right to sit in a climate controlled multimillion dollar complex because Christians used to get mauled, tortured and martyred back a couple thousand years ago.