Archive for the ‘ms paint masterpieces’ Category

Makin’ it Great

March 6, 2007

It has come to my attention that there are somehow still people out there who do not know what the Pizza Hut Lunch Buffet is. This upsets me. There is no reason for this sort of lack of knowledge in our modern times with intertubes and iThings and so forth.

One of my most time-honored traditions on road-trips, especially when I am driving alone for great distances, is to stop by a Pizza Hut for their world-renowned lunch buffet. Pizza Huts are interspersed along much of our federal interstate highway system, even in (perhaps especially in) our more downtrodden areas (full of poors).* The trick is timing your drive to arrive at the Pizza Hut between the hours of 11:30 and 1 – the lunch buffet is not available all day people!

One time on my way to Virginia I passed a Pizza Hut at 11:20. I certainly was not going to stop and squander ten minutes waiting for the festivities to commence. Little did I know that I had almost deprived myself of Pizza Hut for the whole day! I did not pass another one until 12:55, in some backwoods tiny mountain town in West Virginia. I think the parking lot had like a 15% grade. But all was well, and I enjoyed my feast with the same people who are at every Pizza Hut lunch buffet, which is a mother with two small children, a few painters, and (in more civilized areas) three fat guys in suits.

The procedure is simple. You enter the Hut and are seated. The waitress will likely ask you whether you want the buffet. This question usually comes right as she is seating you so be prepared! The answer is “yes” or “yeah.” You will probably also want a beverage. A bright maroon plastic tower of Pepsi will be procured for you.

Now you are free to explore the buffet. Here is a map.

You can start with the salad bar. I would not overdo it (don’t even touch it at Fogo de Chao, but that is another post for another day). Perhaps some caesar salad. If there are radishes I eat those, because radishes are good.

Now. On a new plate, you want to get some BREADSTICKS. The breadsticks are really the lynchpin of the Pizza Hut lunch buffet experience. Use the black plastic tongs to remove the breadsticks from their Dome of Warmth and place them on your plate. Next, carefully scoop some sauce out of the big metal dealie. Plop it on the plate. Make sure that the breadsticks have a lot of seasoning on them. Sometimes they fuck up and put little or no seasoning on the breadsticks. You can make a stink about it but a pro tip is to just push your breadstick around in the Dome of Warmth and pick up seasoning that fell from breadsticks long-ago.

OK, awesome. Now it’s pizza time. This can be a crapshoot. Basically there are between 4-6 pizzas at any one time. Usually you’ll have about a 2:1 pan-thin crust ratio. A typical lineup will be Supreme, Meat Lovers, Ham and Pineapple, Cheese, Sausage. If your favorites aren’t on that list, fear not. The servers are bringing piping hot pies out of the kitchen all the time. What’s the next topping going to be? Nobody knows! That’s part of the fun.

For dessert there is usually some sort of weird pie/pizza and nobody really knows what the deal is. Nobody eats it though because they’re all crammed full of breadsticks and normal pizza.

This concludes this post.

* Rich people eat at Sopprafina, which sucks.

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Take 2

March 13, 2006

I’ve decided that my spring break was insufficient, due to the specter of the MPRE hanging over my head the whole time, so I have decided to take a second spring break this week. I will be reuniting with the illustrious Bubbles, who defies categorization or explanation, and whom I can only describe to my readers with the following photograph. Bubbles is on the right.

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On his left is Mark “The Phantom” Wurtzler. I think this photograph was truly a fantastic character study.

We are going to the Outer Banks. I don’t really know what that means, but I’m kind of apprehensive because the Outer Banks are featured prominently on many local SVUs by way of those oval stickers appropriated from European nations. You know. You see a JH, and you know that the driver of the SUV in front of you has been to Jackson Hole and done something gnarly, possibly while drinking Mountain Dew. Around here you get a lot of OBX. O stands for Outer. B stands for Bank. X stands for both the s at the end of Banks and for the notion that the Outer Banks are hip and eXtreme to the maX.

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It occurs to me that there’s another demographic I could target with this particular style of look-at-me-ism. Behold, my next business venture:

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Patent pending, fuckers.

The Blasphemy Post

March 1, 2006

Lent is my favorite season, suddenly everyone I know is religious again. If I recall correctly (my experiment with Catholicism has been over for at least 8 years now), Lent is about reflection. But what it really is, to many people of my generation, is the chance to put on a show, in three ways.

1. Ash Wednesday. Let’s kick it off by letting everyone know that GOD LOVES ME and I GOT UP VERY EARLY to go to church today. I went before work/school, in fact. Forget the fact that although such masses are available the other 364 days of the year, I never go. I’ll go to Christmas and Easter Mass, but mostly because my digestive tract needs a break. How often do people get the ashes in the evening, when nobody else will see them?

I say, if you’re going to get the man in robes to rub last year’s burnt palms on your forehead, at least ask for some truth in your cranial advertising.

2. Giving shit up. Another opportunity to announce to the world that “I AM CATHOLIC” or whatever, and “I AM PIOUS” because I gave up rutabaga sandwiches or whatever trivial shit it is this year. I think as a kid I gave up gum once. Let me tell you, Jesus filled my soul with every passing day. My advice: give up religion. If you can recognize the vices in your life, give them up for good, or don’t, but don’t make a big production out of it.

3. Fishy Friday. This was always the shitty part of Lent when I was a kid, because I hated fish, plus it had bones and I was concerned about choking on the Fish (Of course I had NO REASON to be afraid because the same man in robes who rubbed fried plants on me had touched my throat with two candlesticks and invoked St. Blaise to protect me from choking. Seriously.) Anyway. At my fraternity we’d get dinner delivered nightly – by Italians, no less – and the first Friday in Lent, it may have been hamburgers. Loud protests from the resident Catholics, notably I think, Mills. “I can’t eat this! I’m Catholic. It’s Lent. Man, who ordered this stuff? I guess we’re going to have to do something about this for the remainder of Lent.”

Next Friday, I come downstairs and Mills is halfway through a plate of chicken fingers. What’s the point of self-denial if you can’t exercise it twice in eight days? You want to smoke, curse, fuck, eat red meat, DO IT. If you don’t want to, don’t DO IT. But if it’s really a personal matter, do it FOR YOURSELF .

Which brings me to the complaint policy about this post, as I can think of several readers of this blog who could feasibly be offended. This is how I feel. If your reasons for following Lenten traditions are genuine, great, more power to you. No need to call me on it, because it’s between you and the invisible man in the sky. There’s no need to defend your faith to me, and in any case I won’t change my mind.

My Trip to Washington

October 17, 2005

Fun times in DC this weekend. I had never been to the Chinatown area before. I thought it was pretty cool. Every business, no matter how unabashedly American (or Mexican) had its name in Chinese characters as well as their usual signage. The only storefront without Chinese characters was Radio Shack, which I found ironic, if you consider the source of 95% of their product lines.

The other thing I love about DC is the license plates, which to my knowledge are the only cranky license plates in the union. Most state license plates have pleasant sayings such as:

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or

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DC however chooses to lament its non-state status:

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So I did a little research, because the situation has deteriorated is a scholarly blog, and I found out that “TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION” was actually only one of many cranky license plates suggested. Here are some of the runners-up:

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Yes, that last plate is right; I am beginning to think that frozen sausage pizza is unavailable throughout the eastern seaboard, and it is getting on my last nerves. And they say we won the cold war.