That so do be
how we do be do, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers
President Obama
visited with New Jersey Gov. Christie to inspect the rebuilding after hurricane
Sandy. Gov. Christie has lost weight. He has dropped one entire Snooki.
In New York,
Starbucks employees are suing over who gets to keep the tips; so the question
is, should the tips go to the guy who gets the order wrong or the barista who
makes the order wrong?
“Inside the
Actors Studio” host James Lipton admitted he was a Paris pimp in the 50’s. Asked
the difference between the hookers and today’s celebrity actresses, Lipton
said; “Class, style and professionalism. The hookers had those.”
A Royal Caribbean
Cruise ship caught fire off the coast of Florida; nobody was hurt but the fire
was serious, even the raw sewage couldn’t put it out.
New York City
has a bike share, you put a credit card deposit down and you can take it out
and ride it as long as you want as long as you put it back. They got the idea
from guys who dated Madonna.
For the third
year in a row, Australia is ranked the happiest place to live; they factored in
the beaches, the weather, the nightlife and it’s vast distance from Newark, New
Jersey.
For the third
year in a row, Australia is ranked the happiest place to live; from a place
where England dumped their nastiest prisoners to the happiest place on earth;
see that, central Florida? There is hope.
The neighbor who
called the LA cops to halt Justin Bieber’s speeding? Turns out it is former
wide receiver, Keyshawn Johnson. When your behavior offends an ex-NFL receiver,
it is time to clean up your act.
In a just world,
Keyshawn bitch-slaps Justin until Bieber poops his droopy drawers.
Saw a clip of
the reality show “What Would Ryan Lochte Do?” And what would Ryan Lochte do? Apparently
have his mother smoke a butt-ton of crack while pregnant with him.
Lex’s Favorite
Things to Grill:
Fresh Fish. Mahi
to Swordfish, the type doesn’t matter as much as the freshness.
Bone-in rib eye.
Marinated in olive oil, rubbed with salt, pepper, garlic powder and finely
ground French roast coffee.
Paella. Barbeque
the chicken and sausage first then do the rest with the pan on the Weber. Add
the chicken stock as you go as you do for Risotto.
Chicken thighs
finished with Rachel Ray’s balsamic reduction sauce at the very end.
Barbeque Beef
ribs braised in coke and beer. Finished on the grill for smoke and then
barbeque sauce – the thick, molasses kind – at the very end.
Beer can
chicken. Marinate the chicken in a quart of apple juice with a cup of sea salt.
Pork baby-back
ribs. Apple juice and sea salt marinated, rubbed with garlic powder, pepper – no salt –
smoked paprika and Old Bay seasoning, covered in tin foil and broiled in the
oven at 225 for five hours and then finished on the grill with homemade peach
barbeque sauce at the end.
Shrimp marinated
in vegetable oil and rubbed with Old Bay, garlic powder and smoked paprika. Use
soaked bamboo skewers. (Just saw a recipe where you add watermelon to the
skewers. Awesome)
Corn for my
grilled corn salsa. Corn, diced red onions, diced chilis, mayo, blast of
balsamic and salt and pepper. Blue corn tortillas chips.
Tri-tip for Santa Barbara-style barbecue.
How is this for a great story?
Personification-of-all-that-is-wrong-with-our-culture, Justin Bieber, is driving 100 mph in his one-canyon-east-of-Malibu-gated community in his Ferrari and his neighbor, playing with his kids in a park, Ex-NFL All-Pro Keyshawn Johnson, gets pissed, jumps in his Prius and follows Bieber, jumps out of his car to confront Justin, and Justin runs into his McMansion and hides in his giant home theater.
Now, remember, a fan in Dubai rushed Bieber, and Bieber fell flopping to the stage like a trout and ran off screaming like the 14-year-old girl he really is.
Justin, he of the low-hanging baggy shants, tats, sideways flat-brim cap, total thug-wannabe-speak and pimp-strut versus, Keyshawn, a 6-5, 225 pounds, no fat, who could probably still be playing in the NFL if he wanted to.
In a just world, when Keyshawn jumps out, Justin lets out a shriek that has dogs barking for miles, his jazz-hands flapping furiously, Justin then trips over his falling-down shants and Keyshawn bitch-slaps him until he Justin's his Biebers.
How is this for a great story?
Personification-of-all-that-is-wrong-with-our-culture, Justin Bieber, is driving 100 mph in his one-canyon-east-of-Malibu-gated community in his Ferrari and his neighbor, playing with his kids in a park, Ex-NFL All-Pro Keyshawn Johnson, gets pissed, jumps in his Prius and follows Bieber, jumps out of his car to confront Justin, and Justin runs into his McMansion and hides in his giant home theater.
Now, remember, a fan in Dubai rushed Bieber, and Bieber fell flopping to the stage like a trout and ran off screaming like the 14-year-old girl he really is.
Justin, he of the low-hanging baggy shants, tats, sideways flat-brim cap, total thug-wannabe-speak and pimp-strut versus, Keyshawn, a 6-5, 225 pounds, no fat, who could probably still be playing in the NFL if he wanted to.
In a just world, when Keyshawn jumps out, Justin lets out a shriek that has dogs barking for miles, his jazz-hands flapping furiously, Justin then trips over his falling-down shants and Keyshawn bitch-slaps him until he Justin's his Biebers.
<< Home