Oh My Gawd Sodagirl!

Archive for the 'Food Disasters' Category

October 3, 2008

Cooking with balls.

As you know, I’m not a very good cook. Actually “shitty cook” is a better description. However, there are times when I get the urge to try something new, despite my family’s loud protest. I say, ‘can’t learn to cook properly unless you try.’ Actually I NEVER say that, but it sounded good.

I’m not exactly sure how I ended up where I ended up, but rest assured, I will never be the same. Neither will you – particularly if you’re a dude. And listen, some of us *cough* have had these in our mouths for one reason or another – but probably not to devour them.

See that photo up there? That’s a picture of a pizza. A testicle pizza. Yes, you read me correctly. Testicles. As in balls. I wish I were kidding. I wish I could go back in time, say about 38 minutes ago, but unfortunately we can’t turn back time. We can however, stab ourselves in the eyes and I’m seriously considering that.

A Siberian guy named Ljubomir Erovic has a new online cookbook that features, uh, family jewels as being the main ingredient. I will tell you know, never again will I eat chicken balls at the Chinese restaurant or enjoy spagetti and meatballs, that’s been taken away from me.

Sure, the jewels (I will never think of diamonds the same way again either) are not from a human, but still…. nasty. He uses bull balls (sure, we’ve all heard of prairie oysters…barf), horse balls, ostriches, pigs and turkeys. I’m becoming a vegetarian. Like now.

Got a hankering for battered testies? No prob, there’s bound to be something for you. We know there’s testicle pizza as shown above and there are recipes that teach you how to barbeque those nuts as well. Oh and you’ll need a sharp knife to cut through those babies and some water to soak them – to loosen them up. Oh GOD.

Chef Ljubomir (or Chef INSANE as I like to call him) says that balls are a strong aphrodisiac. Sure, chomping down and chewing a pair of giblets makes me hot.

Chef Balls said, “The tastiest testicles in my opinion probably came from bulls, stallions or ostriches, although other people have their own favourites. The best for aphrodisiac properties are sheep and stallion testicles. All testicles can be eaten – except human, of course.” Of course.

I was going to take my family out for ribs, but hell, let me get my sharp knife and pizza pan.

If you gots a hankerin’, you can click HERE to download some tasty testicle recipes. Bon appetit!

Posted by Sassy @ 6:35 pmFood Disasters5 comments  

September 18, 2008

This ISN’T Starbucks.

It has been fairly hot here for the last few days. On Tuesday, after picking my children up from their respective bus stop and school, I decided I would treat myself to a strawberries n’ cream from Starbucks. My favourite drink ever. I don’t get them very often because, well, they have a habit of making one’s ass bigger. And some of us just don’t want a bigger ass.

I went through the drive-thru, and after a minute or so, it was my turn to order. I was told that they were out of the mix to make the strawberry frapps. What????? Are you kidding me? No. Sadly they were not. Fine, I would make my way to another similar place – it’s not Starbucks, but they do have a chocolate ice frapp that is good – not as good as the strawberries n’ cream but close enough to satisfy my craving.

I, once again decided on the drive-thru. I placed my order of one small drink and one chocolate chip cookie. My son had a craving as well it seemed. The girl taking my order had to ask me again, she didn’t quite hear me, so I repeated myself, slowly and loudly.

I get up to the window to pay, girl takes my money – it came to over $8! Holy shit, what kind of cookie am I getting? The drink is just over $3, so a frigging cookie is $5 bucks? I hope it does my laundry too.

I’m handed my change and then I wait. And wait, and wait, and wait. For TEN MINUTES. I can see into the coffee shop – there are no other customers, and three girls working. How long does it take to make a frapp? A minute, two at the most? Finally, one of the girls comes over and asks me if I want cream on the drink. Duh. If I’m going to enlarge my ass, I may as well do it in style.

She hands me my drink. I’m thinking I’ll be there for another 30 seconds or so because really, how long does it take to put a chocolate chip cookie into a bag? Well it takes ANOTHER TEN MINUTES. I’m starting to get a little impatient and even my kids are wondering if they’re actually BAKING the cookies right then and there.

What takes place next baffles my mind. The sheer stupidity is only something I can experience. I swear I’m wearing a huge sign that says ‘abuse me with your stupidity, please, I beg you.’

Finally, one of the girls comes over. I don’t see a bag with a cookie in it, in her hand. I’m trying hard not to punch her in the neck.

Um, do you want cream on it?

Cream on it?

Ya, cream on top.

On my cookie? Um, no, thanks


Yes, my cookie – I don’t want cream on it. Thanks.

Cookie? What do you mean?

I ordered a chocolate chip cookie.

Uh, this ISN’T Starbucks.


This ISN’T Starbucks. *Says with disgust*

I know it’s not Starbucks.

We don’t have those drinks.

Drinks? I ordered one drink, which I got and a chocolate chip cookie.

A chocolate chip cookie?

Yes. A cookie. With chocolate chips in it.

She stares at me like I’ve spewed pea soup and spun my head around.

I ordered a cookie.

A cookie? I’m not familiar with that drink.

Drink? It’s a COOKIE. I’m waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out at me with his crazy bullshit punking crap.

She then turns to the other two girls, dumbfounded. Finally, one of them asks what I ordered. Chick who insists on telling me that this isn’t Starbucks, over and over, says ‘she said a cookie.’

Finally, one of them clues in that I WANT A COOKIE. You know, A COOKIE.

She gets a cookie and puts it in a bag and hands it to me. It’s then I realize that the price they charged me, must have been for two drinks, one being a large. I nicely ask them if they did indeed charge me for two drinks.

Oh ya, we did.

Okay, we’ll I’d like a refund please, you know, the difference is fine.

Um, *giggles all around* we just started here like a week ago and our manager left us here and we don’t know how to return money.

Me *head exploding and punching all three of them in my mind*

You can’t give me my money back? I mean two or three bucks isn’t going to break me but I’m not paying five dollars for a cookie.

We don’t know how to do that. How about another cookie?

No thanks, I’d just like a refund.

*Giggles* We can’t give money back, we like, don’t know how.

Me *not giggling* I see. Do you have a card that you can give me with the managers name? Maybe he or she can give me a refund.

They all disappear, probably calling me names, although it was really me who should have been doing the name calling. Oh wait, I did.

They all three came back, with an 8×10 sheet of lined paper with a name scribbled on it and a barely readable phone number. Probably not even really the manager’s name. And probably their friend Tina’s phone number. I’m going to go in tomorrow and shake things up.

And yes, chickie poo, I know this ISN’T Starbucks. Damn straight.

Posted by Sassy @ 7:55 pmFood Disasters,I want to Punch You in the Neck3 comments  

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