Bacon-infused vodka, Part... 3?

Stage 3 involved the straining and filtering of the blissful substance. I have to say, running bacon vodka through a coffee filter is a surprisingly slow

process. It seems that the fat clogs the filter, requiring frequent changes. Who knew?

That said, the filtering was more effective than I'd even hoped. As you can see from the pre-filter jar (See photo, left), pre-filter vodka was... shall we say, gross. Cloudy, globs of fat and bits of pepper floating about. After (below, right)--lovely, clear, etc.

No, I still haven't tasted it yet. I feel that it needs an event.

I will note that the problem with keeping a wine bottle of bacon vodka in my fridge is that sometimes when I want a glass of wine I end up pouring a glass of vodka. That aroma does come as a shock, I must say.

Salty Characters I've met in the Great State, #10 in a list

I didn't think I'd encounter anything better than kazanovasex. Truly, I never hoped. But humanity continues to awe and inspire me.

And so I offer you the guy with the screen name [I won't say on what] superpiercedwang.

To address the obvious, no, his last name is not Wang.

So riddle me this: "super-pierced wang"? Or "super, pierced wang"?

That is, does he have like 35 piercings, or is the wang itself just super (and, incidentally, pierced). I know punctuation may not be prized in certain online circles, but it does highlight the importance of the hyphenated or phrasal adjective. [As Stephen offered the other day, it's the difference between "Mother fucking dog" and "Mother-fucking dog."]

And another thing--"Wang?" Heehee. Wang. Is that a euphemism much in use these days? It rather makes me wonder if "superpiercedcock" and "superpiercedschlong" were already taken. And even having to wonder that makes me a little bit sad.

PS--apparently "wang" (superpierced or otherwise) is not in the blogger dictionary.

Another note on parasites (No mom jokes in this one, I swear).

You know those little ads and notices and links you get at the top of your gmail, tailored to you by gmail's creepy content searches? Well, I'm getting an ad for parasitecleanse.com with great regularity these days and I can only assume it's from that one gchat the other day.

Too bad gmail isn't just a touch more sophisticated, realizing that I love parasites. I am not looking for an herbal way to rid them from my body.

At last.

Hot Chicks with Douchebags is an amusing blog for timekill purposes.

It is also, incidentally, my long-time assessment of the New York dating scene.

Thanks, but no thanks

Saturday, I got a haircut. (Not that much, don't panic.) So my interaction with my new hairdresser, Irma, was going along pretty normally. She inquired whether I was married and offered (unsolicited) consolation that there's still plenty of time, though she had not at that point inquired about my age. Fine.

Well, I guess she was assuming I was much younger than I am...perhaps because I was wearing a very silly horse-print shirt that I originally purchased for my high-school-aged goddaughter, but decided to keep formyself. Because when it came out that I'm 29, she got all shocked and said how I look so much younger. Again, this wasn't a problem and I was still taking it as a compliment.

But what I didn't put together was what the real cause of her shock was. Apparently, while whatever age I appeared to be (24? That seems to be a popular guess) is plenty young enough to be single, 29 is not.

I'm reminded of a friend who lived in Japan at age 26 and was told she was "Christmas cake--nobody wants it after the 25th."

Anyway, I discovered this thought process of hers because when she finished with my hair and I told her I liked it, she exclaimed, "See! We'll get you a husband."

This sort of consolation is strangely often on offer around here. I did not express concern about getting a husband. Very strange. And while I'm sure she meant well, I felt obliged to respond, "Please don't get me one here. I'll be stuck."

After that exchange, of course, I was unable to inquire about what I'd now really like to know: "Just for future reference, what haircut would get me a husband?" Cuz if it's the one I've got now, I'll be sporting a ponytail or hat at least until I move.

On questions of proper pronunciation and word-choice....

Dictionary.com's Word of the Day:
gewgaw \G(Y)OO-gaw\, noun:A showy trifle; a trinket; a bauble.

Is it really pronounced gyoo-gaw? I've never heard this, though I've often heard gee-gaw.

Anyone?

This is just one of my problems with Dictionary.com's Word of the Day program, though I note that the word selections have generally been better in 2008. Regardless, I continue to check them out daily, ever in the pursuit of new words and eternally grateful for learning "turophile."

Re: Viva!

...And so went Emily's career in political punditry based on campaign theme songs...

sigh.

Overheard on gchat...

I wouldn't know, obviously, but I would imagine that this is what two bored, immature, nerdy people might sound like on gchat:

M: In other biology news, I was considering adding to my Facebook interest list "behavior-modifying parasites." But then I realized that was just too nerdy.

N: Like rabies? I find it fascinating that rabies makes you hate water. How can a disease make you fear WATER? How can a disease make you fear anything specific? It's so weird.

M: Like, there's this fungus that infects insects and makes them climb to a really high place and then sortof latch on. Then the fungus makes their head explode and the altitude makes the spores are spread more effectively. (http://neurophilosophy.wordpress.com/2006/11/20/brainwashed-by-a-parasite/ )
Also, there's this parasite that spreads via cat shit. And apparently what it does is when a rat gets it, it makes the rat less risk averse and more likely to run into open spaces. So it's more likely to get eaten by a cat. (notexactlyrocketscience.wordpress.com/2007/01/14/brain-parasite-drives-human-culture/). Once you get started, they're riveting: there are others with grasshoppers and ants.

N: Huh. I guess those all make sense, evolutionarily.

M: My friend Jason apparently carries the cat/rat parasite. He claims it hasn't made him more risky. But I didn't know him before.

N: Wait, people can get these? Shit, now I have to worry about climbing to high places and exploding.

M: Apparently Tori Spelling once said that she didn't like jicima because it tastes like water. Maybe she has rabies.

N: That would make her the 7th rabies survivor.

M: Huh. That would still be low on her list of accomplishments, in my book.

N: "There are only six known cases of a person surviving symptomatic rabies, and only one known case of survival in which the patient received no rabies-specific treatment either before or after illness onset." (Wikipedia)

M: You know, compared to that episode of 90210 where Tori met Color Me Badd,
and her hit series So No-tori-us. Um, Wow, with the rabies info interjected, that last exchange is almost Dadaist in its randomness.

N: Your mom met Color Me Badd.

M: Your @sshole is So Notorious.

N: Your c**t is almost Dadaist in its randomness.

M: DAMMIT, I was gonna go there, except with "your face." (I went there with your mom's face.)

N: I think you know how I went there. But just in case, and for the sake of clarity: I went there with your mom's @sshole.

Viva!

How can you not vote for the guy when he has a campaign video this awesome? I know when I'm making political decisions, I ask myself, "Whom have the Mariachi Aguilas de Mexico endorsed?" This always steers me right.