Archive for the 'nog' Category

Nogvalanche!

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on December 21, 2006 @ 9:48 am
in bitches, food and nog
. 21 Comments

Last night I went nogserk. I was completely overcome with a noggling feeling, and no amount of non-nog was going to de-nog the nogging that my internal nogometer was nogalating. … Um, nog.

I lit the nog candle
eggnog candle

and put on the nog shirt.
eggnog shirt

Then I made some nog tea*
eggnog taffy and tea

and drank my tea with nog in it**.
wawa nog

I also dunked some nog cake (that had been made with nog instead of milk) into the tea/nog combo.
eggnog cake

Then I ate a piece of nog taffy*.
eggnog taffy and tea

Why would I inundate myself with so much nog? What could possibly cause me to nogulate my internal nog-processing plant with so much nogginess?

I drank spoiled nog.

In all my years of drinking nog I’ve never consumed a single droplet of spoiled nog, but last night that all changed. I noticed that the expiration date on the Colonial Custard was about a week past the spoilage threshold. I sniffed it and it smelled fine. I had some a few days before, and hadn’t noticed a single noglet of nutweg awry, and I figured it couldn’t go from fine to filthy in a few days, so I poured myself a tiny bit to taste it.

It tasted fine.

I put my glass back down on the counter and tipped the carton to liberally suckle at the noggy teat. The nog flowed freely, filling half the glass before slowing; the ribbon of flowing nog slowing and thinning to a tiny thread of nog until the nog stopped completely. I was confused. My glass wasn’t nearly full, but the nog had stopped pouring, and there was a substantial bit of weight left in the carton so I knew there was nog in there.

I jiggled the carton a bit and gave it a little squeeze and out sploshed what can only be described as the fetal stages of nog developing bone structure. It was the consistency of runny pudding, and the squeeze was just enough to propel it, like a gelatinous missile, towards my glass. Half of the substance landed in the glass while the other half was sliced off by the edge of the glass where it continued into the sink, still a solid mass, though half its original size.

As it impacted with the sink basin whatever semi-solid/mostly viscous properties it had once retained were immediately broken, and the globnog exploded like a water-ballon filled with cream-colored paint, splattering the bottom and sides of the sink, coating everything with a thin layer of noggy slime. What was most distressing was that the nog on the sides of the sink did not run towards the drain. It was as if the nog had no need to comply with the effects of gravity, so it hung there, suspended by unadulterated vileness and spite.

This whole time I had been standing at the counter still holding the carton, witnessing these events unfold, frozen in place lest I actually come in contact with this filthy mutant that I had a few seconds ago consumed. The last remnants of what even slightly resembled nog slid slowly out of the spout and splattered onto the counter a few inches below. I knew then that drastic measures needed to be taken, or I would never have a drop of tasty nog again.

I quickly rinsed the sink and cleaned the counter. I threw away the carton and started boiling the water for the eggnog tea. I gathered my wits, surrounded myself with every last noggy item in my house, and consciously focused on all the good nog, while pushing out the bad nog from my mind, and began the ritual that I described above. It was only by doing this that I was able to retain my love of nog, and not continuously vomit from last night until well past the New Year.

I have a feeling that I’m going to have to do this all again when I eat the nog soap.

*Review forthcoming

**Wawa nog review: Wawa nog is wholly unremarkable from any other nog except that it’s the only food-mart nog that is made by said food-mart. There is no 7-11 nog. There is no Royal Farms nog. They only carry nogs from local farms. Oh, and by the way, if you don’t know about Wawa, you’re missing out. It’s the greatest food-mart in the world. Yeah, that’s right. In the world. Tim Hortons can suck it.

You may also notice that there is some cannog next to the Wawa nog. Apparently my brother bought me the cannog before he read the cannog post. I don’t know. Maybe this time it will taste better.

To all the haters

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on December 15, 2006 @ 10:31 am
in food, nog and work
. 25 Comments

Stephen Colbert understands me:

Also, bacon makes everything better:

That’s all I got, because I took the day off.

Chugnog

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on December 11, 2006 @ 10:21 am
in food, nog and zombies
. 20 Comments

Fortunately for me, but unfortunately for all of you Marquis de Sade wannabes, I didn’t eat the eggnog candle this weekend. I was going to eat it on Saturday to enamor myself to fellow guests of a dinner party, but I had forgotten to bring the candle along with me. Maybe I’ll eat it when I eat the soap, because if I’m going to jack up my digestive system, I may as well do it all at once.

However, I did indulge in this little treat:

eggnog chug

The idea of this product was a little surprising to me. As I’ve recently been informed by many of you, chugging nog is clearly a bad idea. Even I know that.

But I settled down with the chugnog and a plate full of cookies and went apeshit on my arteries. The first thing that surprised me was the lid of the nog container. It was quite difficult to remove, and once it started to budge I heard tiny clicks and pops of plastic bands breaking, much like a gallon of milk. But when I finally got the lid off there were about 400 little plastic points of connection that I had needed to break to get to the chugnog. What the fuck? Why was this nog all locked down on Defcon 1 like the zombies were about roll up on their shit and eat the black guy and the promiscuous chick? I found out quickly.

The reason why is that they don’t actually want you to drink this nog. Nobody should. First of all, it’s horrible for you. I know, I know. All nog is pretty much a mix of fat and sugar with enough of some other things to keep it from just being a lump of Crisco that’s been rolled in candy. But this stuff is REALLY bad. Most nog is portioned out in 8 ounce servings. You’ll notice that the chug nog is one pint. It is portioned out in 4 servings of 4 ounces each, and it STILL has more fat, sugar, and calories in a 4 ounce serving than an 8 ounce serving of any other regular nog. Really they should just call it Bottled Beetis. “Hey kids, ever wondered what it’s like to have pancreatic shock and early-onset diabetes? Well that’s the free prize inside every chug-sized Bottled Beetis! Drink one today! Hell, drink four!”

And you’d think that the super-high concentration of fat and sugar would make it better, but no. It’s like drinking a ball of lard that’s been rolled through candy and melted in the dismal gray light of the winter sun before being chilled, bottled, and sent to stores. (Funny aside. I recently learned that 50% of chugnog is sold in stores, and the other 50% is sold in bulk to Chuck Norris. He drinks it all at once and then suckles orphan children at his noggy teats. Then he roundhouse kicks them for being poor.) As I was drinking the nog I could actually taste the laziness, mediocrity, and and underwhelming care of the people at Lehigh Valley. It’s like they didn’t go out of their way to make a barely passable nog, but instead just let a lack of trying to do anything better steer them into this holiday beverage nightmare. Do you know what I mean? Those soynog making motherfuckers go out of their way to make a painfully undrinkable joke of a nog so that in the off chance that a non-vegan buys it and drinks it the vegans will have someone to make fun of at least once that year. The chugnog people on the other hand must have been like, “Hey. Do you want to take a dump in the nog?”
“Nah. Wanna go on smoke break?”
“Okay.”

That’s all they did. They just didn’t give a damn, but didn’t try to make it horrible either. In some sort of crazy Zen-like way they managed to make the middlest of the road, runnest of the mill (run of the millest? runnest of the noggest?) type of nog. I don’t recommend drinking this nog. I recommend using this nog to slowly kill your enemies by hardening their arteries.

There are two things you never want to see made, sausage and legislation. And now nog.

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on December 6, 2006 @ 9:59 am
in food, nog, potty humor and sex
. 23 Comments

I’m swamped with homework and workwork, but I decided to go back to what I know before disappearing for a few days: eggnog!

I’m covering two nogs at once here, in a sort of compare and contrast type of way, because they’re very similar, but have differences that should be pointed out.

First, Southern Comfort Vanilla Spice Eggnog, henceforth referred to as rednog, because it comes in a red box, and it’s made by communists.

red soco nog

Rednog is one of the more distinct nogs that I’ve tasted this year, though anyone with an untrained palette probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway, so I’ll give some background.

The nogs that SoCo uses are harvested from a nog farm located on the north side of a valley that faces south by southeast as the crow flies. The young nogs are fed a daily diet of grain, nuts, and hippies, and before long they’re fully grown. At this point, the nogs could be harvested, but generally provide a bitter sub-par taste until they’ve engaged in the mating ritual with another nog. Nogs are asexual, so they have no problem coupling-up and humping like wild monkeys with whomever across they first stumble. The nogs will all run up into the hills on their fat little legs and each claim a hill. They will begin running counter-clockwise around the top of this hill. Slower nogs who reach hills that are already occupied have two options: they can run off to find a hill of their own, or they can stay and run clockwise around the same hill. Depending on a variety of factors, some of which include wind speed, terminal velocity, and unadulterated dumb luck, the lucky nogs will eventually run into one another on the hill, lock in coitus, and roll down the hill back towards the nog ranch.

As two more nogs take the summit of the hill, the first two nogs are allowed to finish, their nutmeg is collected, (interesting aside, the frothy byproduct that sometimes results from nog congress is, once dried, the primary ingredient in nutmeg! Bet you didn’t know that.) and they are separated and squeegeed of their delicious nog flavoring. This flavoring is so concentrated that it can only be used as a food additive. However, it’s frequently used improperly, resulting in horrible Frankenstein-esque abortions of nog products that are “nog” in name only. Finally, the sexually satisfied and recently squeegeed nogs will have their heads and legs chopped off, their bodies (bones, intestines, and all) ground into a thick slurry, mixed with some preservatives, and then pumped into cardboard cartons to be sold in stores.

This isn’t how all nogs are made, and in fact, each farm has its own methods. However, SoCo’s farm is the only one that doesn’t have a secret process, so it’s the only one where I know all the details. There are rumors that cannog isn’t made from nog at all, but is instead made from the liquid wrung from old mops that were previously used in a dirty diaper factory, but I can’t substantiate those rumors.

Regardless of all this, rednog has the distinct flavor of sugar cookies and I would highly recommend it to those who are a little turned off by the flavor of a traditional nog.

Southern Comfort Traditional nog, henceforth referred to as blacknog, because it’s made in the dark by ninjas, tastes just like it sounds: traditional.

black soco nog

Blacknog has a taste very different from rednog, in that the vanilla cookie-type flavor is not present at all, and the nutmeg flavor is much stronger. Nogs on the blacknog farm are forced to copulate in order to produce enough of the foamy, frothy mixture needed to properly season the nog. Blacknog is recommended for those who like their nog like they like their once-fortnightly Saturday-evening sex half-hour: comfortable and non-threatening. But be warned; SoCo nogs are the most expensive nogs on the market, probably due to the care with which they treat their nogs before mercilessly slaughtering them.

After trying these two nogs I felt I would be remiss to not try them with Southern Comfort, but I didn’t have any Southern Comfort laying around, so I had to improvise. First I poured a glass of nog:

first some nog....

Then I added some booze in the form of Miller Lite:

then some beer...

I stirred it once and drank. It was awesome! My hypotheis was that nothing would make a shitty beer better than a delicious nog, and damn was I validated like a sonofabitch. And bacon makes everything better, so next time I think I’m going to garnish the whole beernog shebang with a piece of hickory smoked bacon. Mmm mmm that’s a tasty heart attack.

Skank you very much

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on December 4, 2006 @ 9:48 am
in bitches, movies, nog and zombies
. 12 Comments

Recently the Amazon gods bestowed upon me gifts of incalculable value. First and foremost, big thanks to the person who got me the Monster Nation book. You can never go wrong with zombie fiction! Woot!

monster nation

By the way, if the person who sent me Monster Nation could send me a quick email, I’d really appreciate it. I just want to say thanks.

I was also quite happy to get the perfect shirt in which to consume nog:

eggnog shirt

Thanks Bekah! Bekah was also kind enough to inform me that I shouldn’t under any circumstances try to eat the shirt.

Finally, tfg sent me this, with the understanding that I would be eating some of it.

eggnog candle

Thanks for the candle, jerkass.

For those of you interested in meeting me in the emergency room, I’ll be eating this candle on Saturday evening, December 9th. I’ll be sure to have an hilarious post, or an obituary, up on Monday. And for the record, I want my headstone to read, “He loved his nog like he loved his women, thick and frothy.”

No wait, that sounds horrible. How about, “He loved his zombies like he loved his women, dead and shambling.”? No. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.

“Died Tragically Rescuing His Family From The Remains Of A Destroyed Sinking Battleship“? Nah, it’s been done.

It’ll probably just be, “Please don’t urinate on this headstone. Thank you, The Management.”

Turbo and Laser can have eggnog cake when they’re done sucking so much.

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on November 28, 2006 @ 8:42 am
in bitches, food, nog and work
. 12 Comments

This past Wednesday afternoon, Thanksgiving Eve if you will, when the punch-card bonds of my oppression were lifted at a refreshing 2pm, I dashed home with nary a thought in the world outside of playing some video games in anticipation of what was going to be four solid days of brain-rot and a blatant disregard for personal health and hygiene.

And how right I was.

I settled in to my modded Xbox and began searching for old Super Nintendo video games when one in particular caught my eye: American Gladiators. It was so stupefiyingly stupid, yet also face-punchingly frustrating, that after less than one minute of what I can only extremely charitably refer to as “game play” was I ready to pitch the whole fucking console through the sliding glass doors of the living room and build a fire hot enough to purge the world of its wickedness.

Instead I baked some nog cake.

eggnog cake ingredients

The directions were simple enough for even a Desperate Housewives fan to follow without much blood loss, and pretty soon I had a bowl full of crap that looked like this:

eggnog cake ingredients mixed

(If you click on that image you’ll notice that I helpfully outlined each specific ingredient for you.) I should mention at this point that the first thing I did upon opening the bag of cake mix was smell it. It smelled remarkably like eggnog. To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. And just when I was about to get full-on, Tony Montana coke-nosed with the stuff, I realized that I might be better served by eating some of the powder than just snorting it like an elephant with a monkey on his back. It tasted like eggnog flavored flour. Nothing you’d want to eat regularly, but given the choice between eating only that stuff or flour, I’d pick that stuff every time.

So I mixed it up and found the frothy results

eggnog cake ingredients fully mixed

too tempting to pass up

eggnog batter

so I ate some

eggnog batter taste

and it was delicious. It wasn’t exactly the perfect nog substitute, but the stuff tasted fucking great for being powder in plastic about two minutes prior. I probably would have just sat down and eaten the whole bowl full if it hadn’t contained my daily allowance of calories and then some. Forget wrestling in kiddie pools filled with chocolate pudding. I want all my strippers wrestling in pools filled with this stuff.

What? Yes, I own strippers. No, I don’t “manage” them, I own them. They are my property and they do my bidding. No, you can’t borrow them.

Anyway, before you got so stripper-obsessed, perv, I was telling you about this nog-batter. I poured it into a pan, baked it for 45 minutes, almost killed myself twice because of American Gladiators and its super-duper shittiness, or, I should say, levels of shittiness heretofore unattained by the likes of anyone or anything not performing on Dancing With the Stars.

A scant 45 minutes later the cake was done, and it looked like this:

eggnog cake

All the stupid plums settled on the bottom, so the crosscut wasn’t as cool looking as it could have been, but it was pretty good looking none the less. I mean, it didn’t have any pubes on it, and it hadn’t been dropped in a toilet, so it was already about a thousand times better looking than anything you would get at Vinnie’s Toilet Soaked Cakes with Pubes, which is about a thousand times better an idea than the American Gladiators game. I hate that stupid game so much! You can’t even beat the first challenge. The stupid game cheats.

I gave the piece pictured above to Mrs. ACW, and then I dug in for my own:

eggnog cake

A few moments later, the cake looked like this:

eggnog cake

This shit is delicious. I’ve not known nog in a batter-to-bake form, and all my expectations were surpassed. Plus, I have three more boxes of the stuff left thanks to Monkey, so in the next permutation I plan to replace the milk in the recipe with actual eggnog. I imagine this will be very much like having to play a game called American Gladiators, and then being introduced to the designers of that game and being able to kick them in the the crotch until they bleed out their mouths. Seriously, this game was terrible. The cake: awesomeness incarnate.

For Johnny Dollar

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on November 27, 2006 @ 9:17 am
in jokes, meta blogging and nog
. 12 Comments

That will teach you to mess with my nog!

Explanation.

Acknogledging my shortcomings

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on November 22, 2006 @ 11:13 am
in beer, devil cat, food, meta blogging and nog
. 19 Comments

Here we are, the day before Thanksgiving, and I don’t feel quite right. I should be basking in wave of warmth and nostalgia so saccharine that Norman Rockwell could get aroused and paint charming small-town vignette with his dong. But I don’t feel like that. No sir. I feel like a whore. I feel like a painted-up, wrinkly, coked-out, pees-in-alleys, haven’t-bathed-in-days, liver-spotted, crying-because-these-guys-are-my-regular-johns whore. I guess you could say I feel like Thomas Kinkade, a whore’s whore. The whoreingest whore that ever whored a whorehouse in the history of whoredom.

I’ve asked you over, and over, and over again to support my nogdicition, throwing this link up in your faces willy-nilly.

And finally I asked you to shell out dough to make me eat some soap. Which you did. In four hours. You sick fucks.

Well after today, I’m not whoring myself anymore. The Amazon link will stay there, but I won’t dry-hump it into oblivion any longer. I already have to eat some soap, and eat some candle, and four boxes of cake mix, all on top of my regular nog-blogging (noggling? blognoging? shpedoinkle?) which, if you hadn’t noticed, has been sufficiently lacking. I called the coffee nog-additive “soapy bathwater”. Where’s the poetry in that? Where’s the delightful blending of verbs, adjectives and nouns with the word “nog”? I have failed you, and for that I apolnoglize.

Wait! Right there! Did you see that? “Apolnoglize”! I think it’s coming back.

Nogliscious! Nogtastic! Nogliscious! Wait, no, shit I already did that one. Damn.

You know what else the problem is? All the freaking nog tastes the same this year! Last year I had some pretty horrible products to sample, some of which were so terrible that I threw them out even after adding alcohol to them. That’s right, I threw out alcohol. Those drinks were so nogferior (!) that I didn’t even think the alcohol in them was worth saving, and I’m the type of guy who says, “Well, if I can just drink around the cigarette butts and ignore the backwash, I think I can get the last half of the Schlitz out of this can.” Those sub-par nogs were so much fun to blog about because of their awfulness. I long for something that terrible this year, but no, I just get mediocre, middle of the road, decent-tasting nogs. I don’t know how to critique a nog if it’s not terrible. I only know how to tear nog down, not how to place it on a pedestal and revere it like the sumptuous and sultry drink that it deserves to be. I think I’m going to have to be creative and get to mixing my nogs with other things (not a euphemism) to see what stands out (that’s a euphemism (?)), like beer, or scotch, or Kool-Aid.

Maybe I’ll see if I can get my cats addicted to the nog. Maybe I’ll fill the bathtub with nog and bathe in it. Maybe I’ll design a nog enema to see if nog’s as delightful when entering other orifices. Regardless, I owe some people some nog-posts, and I intend to deliver. I’d better get to writing before I blow my nog on this lame-ass excuse for a post.

Happy turkey day, people.

A Good Day Goes Bad: I’m going to eat some soap

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on November 21, 2006 @ 1:25 pm
in Mrs. ACW, money, nog and suhmuhmuh bitch
. 15 Comments

Yesterday was a pretty good day. The work day ended with a big slice of pumpkin pie and some apple cider, so I had that going for me, which is good. Then on a whim I decided to buy this for the old ball and chain. Now she can’t complain about not being able to blow and suck at the same time. As I was dragging said gift up to the porch, I also noticed another box. It was full of these:

cakenog

cakenog close

Thanks Monkey! At first I thought Monkey was a good person, because, hey, four boxes of cake is pretty awesome, but then I read the included note which said something along the lines of, “I suggest you polish these off with some TUMS,” leading me to believe that Monkey wants me to eat all four boxes of pre-made cake mix at once. Once the cakes are baked they pack a hefty 2600 calories per cake, and apparently Monkey wants me to consume 10,400 calories all at once. And just when I thought my message was getting through to you people. Oh well. I’ll bake the cakes at a later date when I have more time, and I’ll probably end up eating a whole cake all by myself anyway, so at least I’ll have that. But, for those of you interested in me punishing myself, I implore you, read on!

So, on to bigger, more deadly things. Serra has whipped up some eggnog soap for me using real eggnog. Cool! And she, like the rest of you no-good harpies, wants me to eat it. In an effort to appease you sick, sadistic, twisted voyeurs, I will take a bite of the soap and eat it, and suffer through the resulting diarrhea and possible death, but I’m not going to pay for it. Serra is using Paypal to raise the 10 bucks and change needed to cover the cost of the soap and the shipping. Once she’s got that, she’ll send me the soap.* So, if you were hesitating pricewise on any of the Amazon stuff, here’s your chance to plunk down a few nickels and make a guy eat some soap. Even a penny helps… me eventually get diarrhea.

At this point, it’s like a “choose your own adventure” blog. If you want me to eat soap, click here:

[paypal button pulled. you gave ten beans to make me eat soap. i hope you're happy.]

If you want to be a nice and kind person and buy me something that I’ll enjoy, click here, and then look for zombie stuff.

Let the wild rumpus start!

*By the way. Serra has sent me some homemade incense and soap before, and it smells absolutely delightful. So if you’re looking for scented gifts this holiday, i can vouch for the awesomeness. Let’s just hope they taste as good as they smell.

For clarification purposes

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on November 20, 2006 @ 10:17 am
in bitches, nog and potty humor
. 15 Comments

When I posted my wishlist I said that I would eat anything that you would send to me. I realize that this was presumptive of me, because some of your are sadistic in a way that makes Charles Manson look like a bucket full of puppies.

If you’d like to send me something from the list, and it is SEMI-EDIBLE I will make an attempt to eat SOME or A SMALL PART of it. For example. I will TRY a SMALL PIECE of eggnog candle if someone decides to send that. As much as I’m sure you’d all enjoy the LONG, SLOW, PAINFUL DISEMBOWELING I am sure to receive from ingesting the Melvins Eggnog CD, I will not actually eat it. Furthermore, even if I were so loaded on eggnog laced with ground up, hallucinogenic tree-frog skins, and little fluffs of asbestos that I would actually eat a compact disc, they VERY LAST THING I would do would be to give you SADISTIC BASTARDS the wanking material of my slow, painful, and torturous last moments. Do you really think I’d actually LOG ON TO THE INTERNET to say:

omg. this totaly herts doods. my insides r falllling out f my stomache lining and onto teh flor. eff. this is no teh roxors. lol. you so totly just pwned me. wtg. ur so 1337.

ARE YOU RETARDED?

If you want to send me something inedible, more power to you, but don’t get all bitchy when I won’t “yes massa” you and eat a box of glass. For chrissaskes, I’ll eat candle wax! I’ll probably have horrible diarrhea for HOURS if not DAYS, and you KNOW I’ll blog about that, so why must you be so EVIL? For serious, you should probably knock on the little window the next time the orderly brings the food around, becuase you have some serious problems, and you need some serious therapy. In fact, you should request shock therapy, just to see if you’re even the slightest bit human. If that doesn’t make you cry we’ll all have proof that your heart is an infinitely black and expansive abyss that houses demons more terrifying that the darkest corners of Hell, and that in your free time you’d much rather beat children to death with a sack full of baby bunnies while forcibly sodomizing Santa Claus with the Tooth Fairy (that is, actually INSERTING the Tooth Fairy into Jolly Old St. Nick) than buying a guy on the internet some bizarre eggnog flavored items for him to eat and blog about.

So, if you want to buy me some crap, then go ahead and buy me some crap. But if you want me to die from ingesting something that might kill me… check back here tomorrow.

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