I had a dream Guy Fieri survived the nuclear apocalypse as a ghoul and roamed the world in a suit of flaming red power armor looking for the wasteland’s greatest diners drive ins and dives
DO YOU HAVE COMPANY COMING OVER, BUT YOUR HOUSE SMELLS LIKE SMOKE OR YOUR MOLD EXPERIMENTS OR CAT PISS OR SOME BULLSHIT LIKE THAT?
WELL SLAP MY ASS AND CALL ME BRILLIANT, BECAUSE THIS SHIT ISN’T EDIBLE, BUT IT’LL MAKE YOUR HOUSE SMELL LIKE A GODDAMN CHURCH CHOIR SINGING HALLE-FUCKING-LUJAH IN YOUR NASAL PASSAGE! (YOU SHOULD GET RID OF WHATEVER’S STINKING UP YOUR HOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE AS WELL, MORON)
RUN YOUR CLASSY ASS OVER TO THE STORE AND MAKE SURE YOU’RE PREPARED FOR THE MIND-FUCK OF THIS SHIT. YOU’LL WANT 1 ORANGE, A SMALL BAG OF CRANBERRIES, 3 CINNAMON STICKS, GROUND CLOVES, NUTMEG, 2 LEMONS, ROSEMARY AND VANILLA.
THERE ARE TWO VERSIONS OF THIS THAT YOU CAN COOK, BECAUSE CLASSY-ASS MOTHERFUCKERS NEED VARIETIES IN THEIR LIFE! THE FIRST IS ‘CHRISTMAS’ AND THE SECOND DOESN’T HAVE A DAMN NAME, BUT IT’S FUCKING WONDERFUL.
ONLY HAVE ONE POT OF THIS SHIT GOING, IT’S CRAZY POWERFUL.
“CHRISTMAS” CHOP UP THE ORANGE, SKIN AND ALL, BECAUSE YOU DON’T JOKE AROUND WITH THIS SORT OF SHIT. USE YOUR WARRIOR STRENGTH TO BREAK THE CINNAMON STICKS IN HALF, LIKE YOUR CHILDHOOD MEMORIES OF SNAPPING THE FEMURS OF DRAGONS BEFORE YOU SUCKED THE MARROW OUT. THROW THE ORANGE AND CINNAMON STICK PIECES INTO THE POT, OR IF YOU’RE NOT CONFIDENT WITH YOUR AIM, YOU CAN SET THEM GENTLY INSIDE. SHOVE A SMALL SPOONFUL OF NUTMEG AND A SMALL SPOONFUL OF CLOVES INTO THE POT.
THEN FILL THAT FUCKER UP WITH WATER UNTIL THERE’S ONLY AN INCH OF LEEWAY BETWEEN THE WATER AND EDGE, BECAUSE YOU’RE A DAREDEVIL MOTHERFUCKER.
NOW SET YOUR STOVE TO A LOW-MEDIUM SETTING, AND LEAVE IT SITTING THERE TO MARINATE IN IT’S OWN QUIET ACCEPTANCE OF DEATH. DON’T COVER THIS FUCKER, BECAUSE THE SMELL OF IT IS GOING TO INVADE YOUR ENTIRE GODDAMN HOUSE.
THAT WHICH WILL NOT BE NAMED
THE OTHER VERSION OF BOILING POTPOURRI ONLY HAS LEMONS, ROSEMARY SPRIGS AND VANILLA.
RIP THE LEMON INTO CHUNKS WHILE SOLVING THREE UNSOLVED MYSTERIES IN YOUR HEAD AND YELLING AT YOUR FLATMATE TO LEAVE YOUR OTHER EXPERIMENTS ALONE, THEN BE A CHAMPION BY NOT USING A MEASURING TOOL WHEN SPLASHING 1 TABLESPOON OF VANILLA INTO THE POT.
TOSS IN THE ROSEMARY SPRIGS AFTER YOU’VE STARED THEM INTO SUBMISSION. FILL THAT SUCKER WITH WATER AND PUT IT ON THE HEAT.
YOU LEAVE IT ON FOR 2 HOURS AT THE START OF THE DAY, THEN TURN IT ON AGAIN AN HOUR BEFORE GUESTS GET TO YOUR HOME AND LEAVE IT ON ALL EVENING. TAKE A WHIFF UP CLOSE EVERY FEW HOURS, BECAUSE THE FRUIT WILL START TO SMELL WEIRD AT THE END OF THE DAY AND THAT’S WHEN YOU TURN IT OFF.
WHEN YOUR GUESTS ARRIVE THEY’LL HAVE TO STEP BACK AND EXCLAIM “HOLY MOTHERFUCKING TITS, THIS IS ONE CLASSY HOME”
Not gonna lie, I’m mostly reblogging this because reading it is so thoroughly enjoyable.
I really love aggressive recipes
I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. Gotta try it!!
And while the pot(s) are simmering, stamp around the house in your biggest, heaviest boots, clashing two saucepan lids together and shouting “SMELL BETTER, DAMMIT!” at the top of your voice – because, after these instructions, just sitting quietly while the scent develops is a bit of an anti-climax…
This is hilarious but I’m going to have to try this. It sounds amazing ^_^
I make things like this. Reblogging so everyone else can to, and also because something about it made me think of @ninetailedraven
It used to be that prosthetic limbs and style had little to do with one another. Prosthetic limbs have typically had as much style as
orthopedic shoes, sheathed in beige fabric to cover the metal and
plastic parts within. They lacked originality, they lacked flair and they certainly didn’t reflect the wearer’s personality. Now, that couldn’t further from the truth.
Before Windscale, Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, and Fukushima, there was the Demon Core.
The Demon Core was a 6.2-kilogram subcritical mass of plutonium, which briefly went critical in two separate accidents at Los Alamos National Lab in 1945 and 1946. Each incident resulted in acute radiation poisoning and the subsequent death of a scientist. After the incidents, the spherical plutonium pit was dubbed the Demon Core.
On 21 August 1945, the plutonium core produced a burst of radiation that led to death of physicist Harry Daghlian. Daghlian was working alone, performing neutron reflection experiments on the core. The core was placed within a stack of neutron-reflective tungsten carbide bricks, and the addition each brick pushed the core closer to going critical. Daghlian was attempting to stack another brick on the pile when he dropped it on the core by accident. Despite his quick action to pull the brick off the assembly, Daghlian received a fatal dose of radiation and died 25 days later.
On 21 May 1946, physicist Louis Slotin and several others were conducting an experiment to verify the exact point at which a subcritical mass could be made critical by positioning neutron reflectors. It required the operator to place two half-spheres of beryllium, a neutron reflector, around the core to be tested and manually lower the top reflector over the core. Scintillation counters measured the relative activity from the core as the reflectors were moved closer and farther away from each other. The blade of a standard flathead screwdriver was necessary to keep the reflectors from closing completely around the core because it could result in instantaneous formation of a critical mass and a lethal power excursion. While lowering the top sphere, Slotin’s screwdriver slipped outward a fraction of an inch, and that was all that was needed for the top reflector to fall into place around the core. Instantly there was a flash of bright blue light and a wave of heat passed over Slotin’s skin; the mass had become supercritical, releasing a massive burst of neutron radiation. Slotin quickly knocked the two halves apart, stopping the chain reaction and saving the lives of his colleagues. He received a lethal dose of radiation and died 9 days later.
