This Steak I Got Here

It was my birthday a few weeks ago—yeah thanks for nothing, nope, too late, I’m all cried out—and I got a bunch of steaks from my parents, along with some whiskey. I choose to think this is a reflection of my inherent manliness as opposed to an effort to force manliness upon me RIGHT YOU GUYS? Ow I think I just sprained my wrist typing in all caps like that. Seriously look, it’s swelling up. You know what, I’m going to go lie down and cuddle with my stuffed animals (I think Mister Bear Q. Huggymonster will be getting special attention!) until I feel better.

[seven hours later]

Anyway so I decided I’d cook up one of the ribeyes tonight and I figured I’d liveblog it. Let’s see what Wikipedia has to say.

Ribeye steaks are mostly composed of the Longissimus dorsi muscle but also contain the Complexus and Spinalis muscles.

OK gross. Oh god now all I can see are muscles in this thing. What the fuck is that, a tendon? This thing used to be a cow, just stone chillin in a pasture, thinking simple thoughts, the sun warming her … her what, her udder? GUHHHHHHH

All right enough. Shush. Be a man like your parents wish you were. OK. Let me just cut some of the fat off—oh god I’m for reals going to puke. I’m throwing this away. I’m just going to throw it—no, it’ll stink up the garbage. The rotting flesh in my garbage will smell. Why do I have a chunk of flesh in my home. Why did my parents think this was a cool gift. It’s like: Here, have a pound of animal parts. What is this, ancient viking times? What next, I have to marry my sister?

[seven hours later]

Mister Bearington W. Snuggleford, I demand you eat this vegan cupcake! Well then I will be forced to smother you to death with kisses!!!

» Rating: FOUR SEXY LADIES