Burnt Rubber Smells Like Shee-it.

What a week it has been, kids.  And the weekend has only brought more festivities.

But this is not about my weekend.  That will be the next post (trust me, you don't want to miss out on that one).

This, is about my Wednesday and Thursday evenings.  Because let me tell you, they are more eventful than yours.  Probably.  Unless you're a famous movie actor going to every screening in Hollywood.

Or the minions in Despicable Me.  They're actually really busy all the time.
[via lindsayhumbert]

So let's chat about my Wednesday.  As usual, I was waking with the sunrise at 6 in the damn morning, knowing what the day was holding.  I've said this a million times, but I work at a car rental place.  Well, to increase business, obviously the best idea was to host a car show.  On a Wednesday.  Planning this thing was a fiasco.

Actually, fiasco is an understatement.  But in the end, everything turned out great.  About two hundred cars came out, and we somehow ran business as usual.

So I clocked in on that morning at 8:00.  Bitches, I clocked out at 9:45pm.  That's one long-ass day.  I volunteered to take pictures, but ended up running the registration booth.  And when you're registering 200 cars, picture time suffered.

But I did manage to snag a few.

"Ooh, aah"

"OOH, AAH."

"OOOH AHH OOOH AHH EVE THIS IS AWESOME."

"HOLY JESUS I WANT YOU TO TAKE MY WEDDING PICTURES."


Listen, if you really want me to take your wedding pictures, contact me for further information.  Anywho, all in all it was pretty good.  I walked away with 4.5 hours of overtime, a belly full of Dinosaur Bar-B-Que's pulled pork, and an awkward sunburn.

So I would rate my car show experience 56 out of 70 sumo wrestlers.  Until the damn burnouts started.  Have you ever smelled burning rubber?

Have you ever been immersed in a cloud of road smog and vaporized rubber and fire?


Huh? Huh? Because it's pretty damn miserable.

DAMN YOU. DAMN YOU.
[via corvetteconti]

The smell.  That smelly smell that smells...smelly.

Shoutout to Mr. Krabs.

Oh my god I can't even being to describe how horrible a burnout cloud smells.  But just think.  Two hundred cars...one burnout cloud for each.

Math time, folks.

200 x 1 = ? Think. Think. THINK.


That's 200 burnout clouds for you non-math wizards out there.  Two hundred times the nasty-ass smell of one burnout cloud.

I'm shuddering just thinking about it.

But anywho, after the quick clean up, I headed home and fell right asleep.  Then woke up the next day to go right back to work.

Dedication is what you could call that.  And monetary motivation.  I know you're impressed with that alliteration I just pulled off.

Thursday brought on a new beast.  Something enjoyable, yet full of work.  Something that does not allow Eve to relax after working for 8 hours.

I was paid to cater for a party.  My coworker couldn't find the time to make food for a grad party she was bringing a few dishes to, so she paid me to do it.

After work, I whipped up 4 dozen cupcakes and frosted them rainbow style.

Oh yeah.

But I also created something else.  Chicken riggies.  Ever heard of it?  Well let me tell you right now, it's effing delicious.  Pasta perfection.  Spicy yet creamy.  Tomato-y yet cheesy.  Mmm.  And honestly, this was one of the best batches I've ever made.  

It always happens that way.  You make the best food you've ever made and you can't even eat any of it.  MY life is just full of sorrow.  Cheesy, tomato-y sorrow.

But lucky for you, kids I feel super guilty for now blogging in a week.  So I will shareith my culinary ways with thee.  This always seems to happen, but I never take pictures of the end product anymore.  So use your imagination for the end.  

Oh, and refrain your salivary glands from overloading.

Now remember that this batch was made for like 30-40 people.  But the basic ratio is this:

1 [stick of butter] :1[white onion] :1[can of crushed tomatoes] :1/2 [cup of heavy cream] :3/4 [pound of pasta] :1[pound of chicken]

I just think this is the best way to do it, but there are definitely variations. 

So let's get started.

Throw the butter in a pot and melt it.  

You should know that any base with butter will be sheer perfection.

While that's turning into butter soup, take your onion and chop it into thick-ish ribbons.  Make them thin.  You'll notice that later in the game, most of those onions will basically melt into the sauce.  It's magical.

Okay it looks kinda gross, but this ugly duckling will turn into a beautiful swan.  So beautiful.

Cook them on medium heat until the onions start to soften.  Add in some red pepper flakes. Add as many as you want.  I usually start off with a few just to get the spice going and add more in later on when the sauce is almost finished.  Because you can always add more later, you can never take it out, ya dig?

While you're at it, throw some salt and pepper in there too.  Oh and like 6 cloves of minced garlic.

Pound down some chicken breasts and salt and pepper them.  Cook 'em up and let them cool.

While the chicken's cooking, open up the can(s) of crushed tomato and add it into the onion soup.

Oh baby.

This is when your patience comes into play.  This needs to reduce significantly.  Until it's about 3/4 of it's original volume.  This was when I made my cupcakes.  But this is when you can boil your pasta!

I know, I'm a genius.

Get that water boilin' and once it is, slap some salt in there and throw in your pasta.  Preferably penne.

Mama mia!

Get that pasta all cooked and whatnot.  Al dente if you will.  Actually, it's probably best to undercook it slightly if you plan on baking this after it's all said and done (highly recommended).

This sauce took a good two hours to reduce.  If you make a smaller portion, the reduction time is reduced (ha!).  So keep stirring it and staring at it lovingly until it's thick and delicious.  Make sure you taste the sauce while it's reducing so it's perfect.  If it's not spicy enough just pop some more red pepper flakes in there.

Note how it's a lot thicker and there's less of it.  Evaporation: 1  Sauce: 0

If it's too acidic or tomato-y, slap some brown sugar in there.

If it's too sweet, throw some salt in the sauce.

If it's too red and regular looking, throw in some heavy cream.  Who does regular anymore? No one.  So be a nonconformist and throw in some heavy cream into your reduced tomato sauce.

You're going to want to put enough cream in there to make it a beautiful sunset orange.  Like something that you see on the paint samples at Home Depot.  I mean, it's not a color meant for a dining room accent wall or anything, but there's a certain orange hue you should aim for so you know you've made the best sauce known to mankind.

Pumpkin or sunset.  I'm not sure which is the better descriptor.

Take this sauce to make sure it's creamy and spicy and sweet and tomato-y and wonderful.  If you followed my damn instructions, you should have nailed it right on the head.  And just to make it that better, we're going to do a little imagining here.

Pretend that your sauce is an ocean.  A pumpkin-colored ocean with butter currents and pepper flake fish and onion seaweed.  Pretend for me, please.  Out of the depths of this ocean, a source of heat is creating something that we humans are not yet aware.  Out of this ocean forms an underground volcano.

And out of this volcano forms Parmesan Cheese Island.  The first of the islands in this untouched ocean.

Nature always creates perfection.

Stir that mountain of cheese in the sauce and it should taste divine.  I'm not kidding you.  Pure magic.

Once you've got your pot of magnificence ready, cube up that cooked chicken, mix it with the pasta and toss the sauce in there.

Be liberal with the sauce.  You want it all to be absorbed in the noodles and chicken.

If you want to go the extra mile, slap some mozzarella cheese on there and bake it.  Best dinner ever.  

Over the Top. Way, way, way over the top.

Sometimes, people have dreams.  And those dreams may or may not include making people incredibly happy with the magic of delicious food.  Oh baby.  

And luckily, stumbleupon gives me the most inspiration I will ever need.  And a few nights ago, when I stumbled on strawberries stuffed with cheesecake, I simply could not resist.

Strawberries are a powerful temptress in the fruit world.

Anywho, I saw this and I knew it was destiny.  Sweet, luscious destiny. 

Yeah I made that.  No big.

So if you're willing to read this without salivating to the point of drowning, then continue.  When I say that these little buggers are so good, people moan, this is not an exaggeration.

People will propose to you over these.  I'm not kidding, folks.

Here's how you do it.

Take some strawberries and hollow out the center.  Just take a knife and cut around the green part.  It should pop right out.

Then, in a bowl (or bread dish if you're out of bowls from making cupcakes earlier that day), mix together softened cream cheese, powdered sugar and vanilla.  Toss in a splash of whipping cream just to make it extra perfect.  As if that's even possible.

Drooling is an understatement at this point.

Pop the cheesecake into a bag and cut the tip off.  Pipe the stuff into the hollowed out strawberries.  

Moaning is socially acceptable at this point.  I completely understand, because I was.  

Come to Mama.

So once you've piped it all in and you top off each one so they look beautiful, pop these babies in the fridge while you prep the rest of your stuff.  Because we don't want errthang meltin'.

Take some graham crackers and put them in a sandwich bag.  You only need two crackers, tops.

Put the crackers on a cutting board, take a mallet and whoop the living crap out of them. 

The larger the mallet, the better.
[via foodtrotter]

Put those newly-formed graham cracker crumbs into a bowl.  While you're at it, take a small pan and throw some water in there.  Get it boiling.

Take the berries out of the fridge and dip each one into the bowl so the cheesecake is covered.  

I can't do this right now.

Put 'em back in the fridge.  Wipe off your tears of joy.  Look at the boiling pot of water, and place a heat-safe bowl over it.  Put some chocolate in the bowl.  Turn the heat down and stir.  STIR THE CHOCOLATE UNTIL IT MELTS.

You know what's about to happen.  You know that this is completely over the top.  You know that you want it.  Don't deny, you'll only be hurting yourself.

Dip them.  Dip the strawberries in the chocolate and put them in mini-muffin cups.

They look classy as hell and taste like heaven.

The perfect duo.

Oh sweet baby Jesus.  It's so beautiful.

These things are perfect.  They're perfect right out of the chocolate.  They're perfect when refrigerated overnight.  Oh baby.  I want to eat them all and it's possible.  

But I share.  My parents taught me well.

And when I brought some of them into work today, it was noticed.  People fell in love with me today.  And I was also noticed.

One of my coworkers asked me to cater for her.  She doesn't have time to cook some food for a grad party she's bringing food to.  So I'm getting paid to create four dozen rainbow cupcakes and chicken riggies.  

I think that blog post will be the best yet.  Think of a picture containing over 40 rainbow cupcakes in it.  Sensory overload.  I'll let you know how everything turns out.  Wish me luck!

R.O.Y.G.B--HOLY CRAP.

What a great weekend it has been.  I hung out with a friend that I rarely see on Saturday, then today I made some kickass cupcakes and attempted to throw a surprise party that ended up being a huge disaster.  Alas.

Facepalms were abundant today.
[via blackandteal]

Oh, and I watched the Fairly OddParents movie.  {I'm secretly a kid at heart}  Please don't judge.

So yesterday, I hung out with someone I never get to see anymore and it was awesome to catch up.  At the end of the day, we went to see a movie.  Horrible Bosses.  Perhaps you've heard of it?  Let me just say that I almost peed myself.  There are so many quotes from that movie, it's actually ridiculous.

Yes. Just yes.
[via wikimedia]

Seriously, go see it.  Prepare to laugh.  Because this movie is effing hysterical.

And fast-forward to today.  I made some chocolate cupcakes and had the best idea in the effing world for the frosting.  White is so boring.  And brown frosting looks like...well it looks like #2, folks.  And coloring them with one color is so ten years ago.

So why have one color, when you can have AS MANY AS THE UNIVERSE PLEASES?!

Oh yes, children.  I created rainbow frosted cupcakes.

Oh yes.  This is reality.

This may look hard, but by now, I have realized that some of the best things in life are the easiest to create.  And the tastiest.  God damn, I really pulled this off.

The frosting recipe is here.  It's pretty great - just a simple buttercream frosting.

So it was white to begin with.  But then if you're planning on making the divine rainbow, this is what you're going to want to do.

Take the buttercream frosting and split it into three equal sections.  Take food gel (not liquid dye) and put red in one, yellow in another, and blue in the last bowl.  Put as much in until you're content.

"Ooh, aah"

So, I'm a huge fan of the ghetto pastry bags, so I grabbed a gallon-sized bag.

"But Eve, they're only three colors.  How will you ever make a rainbow out of them?!"


Oh you.  Take a spoon.  And scoop a spoonful of the red.  Put it in the bag, pushing toward the corner you're planning on cutting.  Continue this with the different colors, making sure to grab different colors each time.  Try to make a sporadic pattern.  You're bag will look like the 1960s.  Just accept it.  Embrace it, even.

Outta sight!

Cut off the corner, and let the frosting do the work.  Frost the cupcakes like you normally would, and shazam! 


Rainbow.


Rainbow cupcakes. 


Rainbow cupcakes that put all cupcakes to shame.

Shame on you, other cupcakes.


They all look different and they are all equally magical.  Except when I started to run out of frosting.  The last few were actually pretty ugly.

Please forgive me.  

They taste delicious.  They look even more effing delicious.  I have a feeling that this is something I'm going to be making regularly.  For the rest of my life.  I recommend you do the same.

Dear Universe:

You obviously hate me.  I know you do.  Please don't deny it, because the evidence is overwhelming.

Yesterday, I went to the gym for the first time in about five days.  The dentist wouldn't let me go.  Bastard.  I went back, and let's just say that things weren't like they used to be.  I lost a lot of progress.  UGH.  Now I have to get back to where I was...the faster the better.  And on top of that, once my blood started pumping, I could feel the holes in my mouth (where the wisdom teeth used to be) start to throb.  They just won't stop being the center of attention.  Stop it, wisdom teeth.  You had your 15 minutes.  Now leave.

But despite my lame-ass "workout" and my throbbing teeth, the universe found one more way to ensure that my gym experience kept on rolling.  And by rolling I mean making Eve incredibly angry.

If there was a cactus, it would be swung about.
[via smosh]

Universe, you know what you did.  You must get a kick out of watching me get more and more angry.  Because on my way home, I counted a total of eight fugly brown cars on the road.  I don't need to reiterate this.  I think brown is the ugliest color for cars on the face of the planet.  They look like giant pieces of crap rolling down the road with the other normal cars.

AM I RIGHT?!
[via siliconeer]

But despite yesterday's gym fiasco, on Tuesday something went down at work.  Legit.  I work at a car rental agency, and I can't even begin to tell you about the customers we get.  My mom says that it's the worst customer base on the planet.  I can't agree more.  Anywho, this all traces back to when some guy stole a car that he rented.  He never returned it, so we had to go out and find him.  One month later, the car was placed back in our possession and the dude owes us over one thousand dollars.

Yeah.  But in the car was a handicap pass.  This handicap pass did not belong to the thief, rather his friend (let us call him Marvin for the sake of the story).  Here's where it gets a little sticky, folks.  Company policy states that nothing found in the car can be released until the bill is paid.

And obviously if this dude stole a car, he wasn't about to shell out 1,500 smacks.  So, Marvin could not get what was his.  Which made Marvin very angry.  Almost as angry as I was when I drove home from the gym with a hoard of brown fugly cars hot on my trail.

He was probably spitting lightning.  Or tapeworms, I can't really tell.
[via michellephoenix]

At around 4:00pm, just when I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, a woman walks into the office.  Being the receptionist, I get to see all of the action.  It's one of the benefits.  Back to the story.  This lady goes right to the front counter and demands to get her husband's handicap pass.

Here we go.


So my boss, the owner comes down to handle everything.  Mind you, she was spitting fire.  She was saucier than marinara and you could just tell that she was mad.  So he talks to her and asks for her licens e, to prove that it's her.  So storms out and grabs it, storms back in and flicks it across the office to him.  Oh yeah.  So he kinda stares at her in shock, scans the license for our records, then proceeds to let her know that he was going to call the police to see if he could actually give the pass to her.

Everything went down because of this.  Remember that.
[via taylorgifts]

All of a sudden, she starts screaming.  "Give me the pass! Don't call the police! I just want the damn handicap pass!"  Dear God.  Then, my boss turns around and tells her that because of her disorderly conduct, he wouldn't give her the pass.

Then, the mierda hit the ventilador, if you get my drift.

Yup.
[via cartoonstock]

She stomped out of the office, and next thing I know a giant-ass blue truck pulls up in front and she steps out with Marvin.  And let me tell you, Marvin was beyond pissed. Also, Marvin had like four teeth, tops.  They both come in and Marvin starts yelling, screaming, throwing f-bombs left and right.

My boss starts yelling back, because it was getting ridiculous.  Then Marvin challenged my boss to come out from behind the counter.  Marvin threw out a few bad names, so my boss came out.

Let's remember that I'm watching this all happen.  Next thing I know, Marvin headbutts my boss.  Headbutts him in the face.  Then my boss shoved him across the room.  I think Marvin's feet left the ground at some point.

It was an all-out brawl.
[via hivelife]

I blink my eyes.  Literally, I close them for a millisecond, and next thing I know the saucy woman is holding onto a dog collar.  This dog collar was attached to a dog.  She brought the effing dog in to attack my boss.  What the hell?  The dog looked confused, and obviously had no intention of harming anyone, but what the hell lady?  WHO DOES THAT.

PS: It was a weimaraner. Aka Gary's momma.
[via free-extras]

Then, they get shoved out of the building.  The cops were called, blah blah blah.  But let us reflect on this argument-turned petty fight-turned attempted attack dog session.

This was over a handicap pass.


And to be honest, Marvin didn't even look like he needed it.  In fact, I must commend him on his form when he headbutted my boss.  He probably faked an injury or something just to get one.  His motivation is obviously to get parking spots closer to the entrance of the Golden frickin' Corral.  Dumbass.

Wouldn't surprise me.
[via shelenhammerconstruction]

Ridiculous.

Also, today while working I ripped my thumbnail open.  Oh yeah.  Do you know how hard it is to do clerical work with basically one functional thumb?  Pretty damn hard.  My life's a mess right now.

My Mouf Hurtz.

Friday...ugh.  What a nightmare.  My top wisdom teeth were extracted at around 11:00am.  I can't eat or drink before surgery, and with my full time job, "sleeping in" is considered to be anytime from 7-8am.  And in Friday's case, it was 7:30.

Unlike most people, I wake up either hungry or thirsty in the morning.   It's strange, but so is the rest of me.  Alas.  Have you ever been thirsty or hungry? Have you ever been thirsty or hungry with a kitchen full of food and beverage?  Have you ever not been able to eat or drink any of it for hours?


It SUCKED.  My effing father made rye toast.  I could smell it from a mile away.  Damn him.  And his incredible toast-making skillz.

So we get there and checked in.  I was ravenous.  I heard screaming on the other side of the wall.  Man up, little kid.  I was a tad insensitive at this point, not having eaten or had anything to drink in over fourteen hours. But that kid really did need to grow a pair and just suck it up.  I'm going to make such a great mother.  I can tell already.

I just hope I'm half the mother Britney is.
[via babble]

So they call me in, plop me in a seat and like ten people rush into the room.  No lie.  They put some monitors on me, put that weird finger monitor on my index finger, and start feeling for a vein to knock me out.  I wanted to be put under.  After my last experience with novocaine, I'll never use it again.

They searched and searched, but no avail.  I have to admit, I have some deep-ass veins.  The vampires over at the Red Cross hate me too.  So they moved down to my hand.  Ugh, needles in my hand.  They make me cringe.  DNKSDNV.  They made me squeeze me hand so something would happen.  Then the main dude was getting frustrated.  They put me under nitrous gas just to get my veins popped.  And then they finally found one!

Dear God.  If you ever need to have a needle poked into you, try to opt out of getting it in the hand.  It hurt.  And my pain threshold is pretty damn high.  But Sweet Baby Jesus.

They injected the good stuff into muh hand and next thing I know, I was feeling tired.  So tired.  And then I was asleep.

Warning: The next few paragraphs you're about to read are my recollection of this tale while I was under anesthesia.  


Ten seconds later, a wonderful lady in purple asked me to move into her magical wheelchair.  We somehow teleported over to a rest area, where I was tucked into a little cot with a fuzzy blanket atop of my tired body.  It was so cozy.  So cozy.


I took a little catnap in the bed.  And boy did I dream.  I was underwater, swimming.  I could breathe like a champ too.  Obviously I had gills.  So I was swimming and swimming, looking at my surroundings.  All I could think of was how it was the perfect opportunity to take pictures.  I wanted to take pictures so bad.  So bad.  I wished and wished and wished and a giant washing machine appeared in my hands.  Not only was it a fully functional washing machine, but this wonderful piece of technology doubled as an underwater camera. So I carried it around and snapped pictures left and right.  'Twas awesome.

You try to figure it out, because I can't.
[via appliancist]

I was slowly awakening and I saw my dad sitting down next to me.  I felt his arm.  I was incredibly smooth for a man-arm.  Like effing silk.  My dad had silk arms and he never told me.  Secret keeper!  Then another lady in purple approached me and handed me my teeth, wrapped in gauze.  She just gave me a deep look of respect and disbelief.

Notice: I am now conscious of my surroundings.  Anesthesia is mostly out of system.


What the hell?  Who gives out teeth that have been freshly extracted?  What's the point?  It should be noted that I was given a gauze pillow, and could not see the teeth.

We pay for some of the surgery and then leave, teeth in hand.  Thoroughly confused and kinda losing balance, I somehow make it to the car.  By this time, we were both wondering what my teeth looked like.  Obviously they gave them to me for a reason, right?

I peel back the tape and unfold the gauze, only to find another piece of gauze wrapped inside.  I unfold that and reveal two giant-ass teeth.  I'm not even kidding you.  These teeth are pretty effing huge.  I was amazed.  My dad couldn't believe it.  Everyone I've shown it to looks at the teeth, then at my jaw, then at me.  I perplex them.  Mission accomplished.

But seriously, I'm apparently known to exaggerate some things, but I have to attest to this.  These teeth are as big as quarters.  They're as long as quarters.

Don't believe me?

YEAH.

So imagine the pain I felt, people.  Imagine those mofos right there pressing against your gums and teeth.

But they're out now.  They gave me some narcotics to take for the pain.  About an hour after I got home, my gums started throbbing.  Naturally, my parents already filled my prescriptions, anticipating extreme pain.  I was definitely starting to feel the hurt.  So I took one.

Warning: The next few paragraphs you're about to read are my recollection of this tale while I was under pain killers.


It took a few minutes for that baby to kick in, but when it did...woahSo tired.  I sat down on the reclining part of the couch, with the full intent of napping.  I wrangled myself under a huge blanket and closed my eyes.

BUT GOD DAMN.  It was like every damn time I tried to get to sleep, someone walked around the house.  Someone just HAD to talk to someone else.  SOMEONE JUST HAD TO ANNOUNCE THAT SHE HAD TO PEE.


Every time I was about to fall asleep, right as I was drifting away, something would wake me up. Has this ever happened to you, multiple times?  HAS IT?  Because I wanted blood.  I wanted to kill.  I was so effing angry.

MY LIFE.
[via smosh]

My sister yelled that she had to pee.  She woke me up.  I screamed that I wanted to stab her in the heart.

My dog heard something outside and started barking.  He woke me up.  I stood up, grabbed him by the collar, looked into his golden eyes and threatened to kill him.  He didn't bark for hours after that.

My sister sat on the couch.  She was trying to peel a sticker off of her phone.  It was making crinkly noises.  She woke me up.  I opened my eyes and told her that I was going to happily watch the life drain out of her face if she kept it up.

By that time, everyone had enough of me, so they all shut up and let me sleep in peace.  Apparently, it looked like I was in a coma.  I was OUT.

Note: Narcotics story is over.


At the time, these feelings were normal.  But as I reflect, those things turned me into a damn monster.  I mean, when else would I have the desire to kill little Gary?

Never.


But after my four or five hour nap, my lovely mother whipped up some chicken broth and rice.  She's really the best.

PS it's her birthday. Happy 48th, lady.

But no, for the past few days, I've had to eat like a toddler.  Baby bites of soft food.

All I want is a crunchy piece of toast.  Rye toast.  Like the kind my father tormented with me on Friday morning.

Never forget.  Never surrender.


But for all of you actually concerned about my health, I'm healing well.  I should be fine by Tuesday or Wednesday.  That's pretty much it for now.  Until next time, kiddos.