i am more super awesome than...

2007-11-05T20:12:00.000-08:00

Hey guys, you know the alternate ending of the Butterfly Effect, when Ashton Kutcher willfully throws himself through time to imbue his foetal consciousness with all of the self-loathing and horror of life you learn as an adult? Then the little foetus gets so depressed that it strangles itself while floating in amniotic fluid?

I just think that is so awesome. If you could psychically project yourself into the minds of unborn children, would you build your own Shakey's pizza by recruiting an army of walk-outs? Babies walking out of wombs, baby charms on clit rings, depressed foetus suicide.

Life is awesome, guys.

2007-09-09T20:32:00.000-07:00

I have been at a loss all summer. It's now been more than a year since I've driven two minutes up to my favourite wan tan mee stall and ordered a ta pau with lo shu fun instead, ka liu.

I miss my home country so much I'm dying.

2007-08-03T05:01:00.000-07:00

What was I dispensed for? I am feeling much less than super awesome these days.

2007-07-22T22:13:00.001-07:00

"They have wood chips scattered in playgrounds so that kids won't die, right?" he stated in his deviating soprano. "They should use panko bread crumbs instead. I mean, look."

"Yeah. Sure, kid." The bigger man paused to cover his nose. "I'm so confused. Is this a Lebanese hooker or am I cleaning the oven out."

2007-06-21T10:42:00.000-07:00

through similar blood vessels
(analogy for metaphorical parallel)

My father only speaks to me in recipes:

Girl,

For roast duck, I suggest you try traditional cantonese roast duck, which is easier to manage compare to beijing duck,

Whether cantonese or beijing duck, the roasting time is 45 min. When roasting with a domestic oven, roast the bird on a raised grating over a tray. Do NOT put water in the tray, instead wrap the top surface of the tray with bacon foil to avoid having to scrap the tray after use.

You may choose to prepare the duck with nothing in the cavity, or you may stuff the cavity with salted bean paste mixed with minced garlic and bits of sugar, before closing the cavity with skewer. In the later case, you may put a straw through the neck and blow in some air, then tighten the neck with piece of string or something. Bath the skin with a mixture of garlic, red bean curd and cooking rice wine. You may substitute the mixture with just vinegar and garlic.

Then hang the duck for a few hours, with the weather you have, the duck can be hung up overnight. The bathing can be repeated a few times, the last being 3 hours before roasting.

Hope you enjoy the cooking.

Bye,

from dad with love

Fucking super awesome. Any girl would dream of a similar relationship with her immediate patriarch...

2007-06-18T13:28:00.000-07:00

Siew yok

Efforts to polish my super-awesome skillz continue. I am in the midst of preparing 'siew yok', which means roast meat in Cantonese. It is well-known that a fine and sexy piece of 'siew yok' proceeds as such:

an airy, crispy layer of skin that has been crackling under a grill, ready to give way to the hedonist's domain: a layer of melting fat,
- the seductive nature of fat provides an unparalleled mouth-feel. This is from my food science textbook. Endorsed by scientists, guys! -
which then interacts with the tender bite of perfectly-roasted meat, which has efficiently absorbed the heady mixture of spice marinade in its 24-hr isolation period.

It's secondary to charsiew in my opinion, but damn, you'd still stare at it walking down the street 'cause it's a fine piece of arse...

The most important step here is the evolution of the perfect skin texture, that most people fuck up. I've definitely done that but back then, I was young... I never ran test trials, I didn't do research.

The skin has to be leached of moisture prior to the roast for good performance in this context. We take the science of 'cold burn' and apply this. 'Cold burn' or 'freezer burn' is notorious for drying out fresh vegetables and meats that have not been properly stored in the refrigerator; an osmotic process. More moisture in meat, less moisture in air... guess where H2O goes.

In this case, the burn is a good thing. The skin loses water while the meat, rubbed with spices, absorbs the flavour during the incubation period. I am trying to figure out the science behind scalding the rind prior to putting it in the fridge, in boiling water and vinegar. But I am on summer holiday and it would be improper to begin thinking too hard. Most likely, it serves to aid in moisture removal.

After t= >12hr, it is time. The meat is cooked at about 15 mins at 450F, after which the skin has become soft enough to pierce with a fork. The grilling commences. You first go apeshit with the fork, poking holes in the skin like your life depends on it. I also cut a pattern of diagonally-aligned squares into the skin before I started this process. This made the skin snap and pop much faster than expected.

There. You can see that I burnt the sides.
Whatevs. It's super. Awesome.

2007-06-17T17:17:00.000-07:00

Charsiew and female writers. When it comes to eating, I'll take the former first.
It was once said, "Let no good Cantonese girl go without her charsiew.
Also, let her never go bereft of soup".
Wise words, surely from a great philosopher.

Dad has long since established an iron-clad dictatorship in the kitchen, barring the entrance of his talentless bourgeoisie children. However, moving out necessitated the disposal of bad habits - and here I am! A super awesome, super motivated protege. An old general is more set in his ways than a concrete slab contained within an ultra-compressed gravity field, though. Apparently, it is a pointless and vile thing for an academic such as I to slave away in the kitchen instead of meticulously poring through scientific journals.

In the interest of gaining a marriageable skill, I launched a campaign of discrete spy-work. I also had to become a sort of linguist and spent hours trying to decipher his unintelligible grunts (the only response he'll deign to give you while cooking). Here is an example of the spawn of this subterfuge.

It's the result of the holy triad: soy sauce, sugar and garlic.
Super. Awesome.

2007-04-18T17:42:00.000-07:00

women writers are super-fags. wait, let me rephrase that. the feminine aspect prevalent in today's contemporary scene is enough to sympathetically stimulate a bowel tremor on my part. it's a defensive mechanism - so that i can shit on yo' face first, bitch!

2007-04-12T23:12:00.000-07:00

there i was, telepathically shitting up a stormcloud and feeling like a left-behind fading '80's cartoon character as is found in "Jem and the Holograms". Does anyone even remember that magical crime-fighting rock band with pastel hair-dos anymore? They battled the Misfits, who were the evil rock band. This is what i recall.

anyway there i was feeling like an echo of poor old Jem, sinking to the bottom of the pineapple barrel, boarding the bus, and lo and behold!

under where i sat was a respectably sized bag of pot sitting as innocent as a fetal rattlesnake.

I swiped it into my bag with my hat and the old man sitting across from me gave me a conspiratorial grin. I shrugged.

cheers to this one!

2007-03-26T17:06:00.000-07:00

POLYSICS. I am subatomic particle comparison to super awesome of j-pop punk. Please come to Canada, I promise to masturbate everyday and think about smoking girls in high-heels popping balloons with sexy futuristic laser beams shooting from belly buttons. That's what Japanese people do.

2006-12-01T03:06:00.000-08:00

Javascript

function flipoff()
var third finger,
all other fingers;

all other fingers = parseFist(document.fuckoff.frustration.value);
third finger = parseErect(document.fuckoff.rebellion.value),

ABORT

Javascript can do alot of things. This is what I've learnt. But can it defend against mockery such as in above graphic?

ANSWER: NO.

Therefore, I MUST be way more super awesome than Javascript.

2006-11-29T00:16:00.000-08:00

Kicking off this shit

As she smeared herself across the sidewalk, thinking about global trade, she injected herself to the core of the earth to see what this supposedly inanimate monolith thought.

It said: i am inanimate, child - not all things large are wise.

Her eyes welled up with the indignance of one whose inherent philosophies were just thrown aside, like a rabid chihuahua to the flock of mescaline-addicted swans.
She said: what of the neverending story?

It said: ah, ah, but fiction is no longer champion among men. the rhyme and rhythm generic has tapped off into tepid areas ruled by density-differentials (but only relative, never absolute) - the postmodernist claim to random chance and the list of chance in catalogue.