Raw Fucking Lamb – Kibbeh nayyeh (Lebanese)

I recently visited the Beruit restaurant (Toledo, OH) on Monroe. This is a place that I’ve been to few times as we work with a Lebanese person. The schwarmas, gyros, salads, everything that I’ve had has been fantastic. One the most recent visit though, we had to get a special dish. It’s called Kibbeh Nayyeh and it’s not on the menu. Perhaps because it’s not much more than raw ground lamb.

The dish is very labor intensive, as the meat is mixed typically with bulgar or some form of cracked wheat. Spices are added and served as is; ours came with onion and cucumber, along with the ubiquitous pita bread.

The food is to be eaten completely by hand. One tears off a piece of bread and uses it to grab some of the lamb. Onion/cucumber may be placed on as desired.

I personally found the dish…odd. The meat starts a little bland, but the unmistakable taste of lamb comes on with a very strong aftertaste. The texture is very mushy. The main problem I had though was with the thought of it. You’re eating raw ground meat. Mentally, my brain was telling my body that I shouldn’t be eating it. I simply couldn’t get past this fact.

The taste was decent, but this is definately not for the faint of heart. I’m glad that I tried something new, but it is not something that I’ll be trying again.

White Water Rafting – Gauley River, WV

OK, so this last weekend, I went white water rafting. It was my first time, and I had high expectations. The group I went with was Ace Adventures. Now, I’ve heard a lot about white water rafting. It’s extreme, very dangerous, all in all it’s supposed to be a crazy awesome time. I learned upon arrival that we were rafting the Gauley River. Initially this didn’t mean shit to me, until someone told me it was the #2 ranked whitewater in the country and #7 in the WORLD, and that we were doing it right in the middle of it’s “prime” season.

OK, so now I’m a little more excited. Here’s what I see when I arrive:

Anyways, so the day comes and we wake up at the ass crack of down to go on a 26.2 mile trip down the Upper and Lower Gauley river. Let me just say that while it does have it brief moments of cool, white water rafting is not nearly as intense or extreme as its made out to be. I was looked at like I was crazy when the guide found out it was my first time, and I was doing the Gauley. He said:

It’s like getting your drivers license and then going and racing NASCAR.

First of NASCAR is incredibly boring. Secondly, white water involves a lot of boring periods of nothing but paddling. In fact, here’s what I compare it to.

It’s a lot like riding a mechanical bull, except there’s a lot more paddling. Now, its fun and I am glad that I did it. But I really only felt in harms way once, when we fell out of the boat. Getting tossed was by far the most enjoyable time. Either way, I don’t want to ramble. If you’re going to do it, at least do a top river, otherwise you’re going to be bored out of your mind.

Dick in a Box – I Mean Poop in a Cup

OK, so we all know that I was out of the country, and we also know that I got sick. In fact, I’m still sick – two weeks later. So, after going to the doctor I was informed that I was to give a stool sample. What a joy. I finished this process earlier today – much to the dismay of not getting any pictures – and I will tell you all about it.

First you will put a “hat” in your toilet. This is a plastic tub that sits in your toilet that you get to poop in. So you sit down and poop into the tub.

Now, let me just say that modern plumbing was founded upon the fact that shit smells. Look it up, seriously. So, you have a poop-filled plastic tub which you now have to remove and set aside so you can wipe your ass.

At this point the stench starts to become unbearable. Remember that these aren’t normal dueces; you’re sick so these are special. At this point you get open your first (of three) vials and luckily you’re greeted with a surprise. The screw on top has an attached spoon to assist with your scooping.

It’s like you have a Baskin-Robbins sample spoon going to town on a tube of chocolate-chip cookie dough.

A couple little pieces into each vial and you’re half way there. You then open the large cup and make your deposit into that one (significantly larger). At this point you close all of your cups and seal them in your biohazard-marked baggie.

This is where the crying starts. You feel so dirty after what just happened you just start washing stuff. The sink, the floors, your hands, over and over again. But it doesn’t leave, you know that you haven’t gotten all the poo from your bathroom.

*sigh*

So in a few days I’ll find out if I have parasites.

Punta Cana – 02

This picture was taken near dusk looking directly into the sun.

Vacation Pics – 01

As some of you know, I was recently in the Dominican Republic for a week. Everything went great aside from the diahrea. Anyways, over the next few days I’ll be releasing some pictures of my vacation, hope you enjoy.

The first picture is the the beach. I’m a sucker for panoramic pictures. Click it for full size.

Detroit Red Wings – Game 5 Western Conference Finals

So, I was able to go to Game 5 of the Western Conference Finals in Detroit as the Red Wings faced off against the Chicago Blackhawks. Hockey games are always fun, but they’re even better when your seats are better than nearly everyone elses’.

They were so good that we were pretty damn close to a couple of celebrities. Val Kilmer was 5 feet away from me, but by the time I noticed him (he was wearing lots of dark clothing), he was walking out (never returned, not even for OT by the way). However, I did get a picture of Mike Starr who IMHO played his best role in Dumb and Dumber as Joe “Mental” Mentalino.

This Guy: These guys gotta be professionals.

JP: How do you figure that?

Him Again: Gas Man? How the hell they know I got gas?

JP: They must have been following us for weeks.

Finally, a picture of Katy at the end of the game.

The Great Vomit Story of Memorial Day

…or maybe it was Labor Day, I always confuse the two, but I digress. The day was Memorial Day (it was the beginning of summer one), the year: 2005. I lived in a quaint little house on Perth Avenue in what is known at the University of Toledo as “behind engineering”. It’s that side of campus that isn’t the ritzy Ottawa Hills, but is still two blocks away from the hood.

We decided to throw a party and most of the room mates brought in all the friends from out of town. The problem is that I was the regional champion at bonging a beer. People would regularly come in from out of town to challenge me, only to walk away in defeat.

So the beer bong is out in full force, and I’m taking on all contenders…and again….and again. In fact, I’m taking people’s money I’m winning ‘dis shit to much (money which goes to of course buy more beer).

Anyways, at this point I’m struggling to stand, so decide it’s a good idea to leave with some friends and go to a party down the street. So of course I get lost. What’s worse is that I’m lost on the street that I live, less than 200yd away from my own house.

So, I stumble into a random house that I ‘think’ is where I’m supposed to be. Ha. Wrong house. Oh well, that couch looks comfy. So I sit down and just chill for a minute when some people (thank God they were college students find me and ask what the fuck I’m doing). I say that I’m lost and

Jjj…us..juss…..sts triiiii…twenntione….twoenty perth.

After these kind gentlemen assist me in finding my way further down the road I get back to twenntione….twoenty perth, my house. I stumble in clearly in a condition that could only be described as holy-shit how are you still walking drunk. Who needs to walk when you can drive? That’s my typical philosophy. So, I ask the keeper of my keys for the keys so I can get something to eat (or who knows). That dumb bitch gave me my keys. Stephanie, if you’re reading this, you’re a fucking idiot.

So, I’m walking out to my car, and here’s where things get funny. My room mate Mike had a friend in from out of town that drove a black Ford Probe. OMG dudorz, I drove a black Ford Probe. Here’s an artist’s rendition of what the two cars could have looked like next to each other.

Yea, notice that while they are both black Ford Probes, they really don’t look ‘that’ alike…but they might to someone in my condition. So I stumble up to Jake’s car, put my key in, turn, and open the door. I would later find out that his locks are all jacked up and was unable to lock the doors.

I put the key the ignition, and the next thing I knew…

there was a knock at the window. It was morning and Jake had to go home. I looked around, only to see that I had puked EVERYWHERE in this dude’s car. I mean, it’s in between the consoles, dashboard, windshield, EVERYWHERE! Jake was, needless to say, a little upset.

So, I went inside to change my shirt and came back out to see Jake Q-tipping vomit from all the cracks and crevises. It was actually quite humerous. If you can image how much I drank that night, then you might be able to imagine the amount of vomit in this dude’s car.

So, as anticlimtic as it is, I went back inside and sletp until 8pm.

Room mate Chronicles – Part V

In the final installment of room mate chronicles, we’ll go from escalation hilarious acts to the semester’s end. So, to recap the previous part, my room mate Chaz was sneaking into my room to use my shampoo/soap. When I started hiding these cleaning essentials, we ending up with a 400lb wet dog. Aside from this, Chaz started thinking he would sell weed out of the apartment. Take a marginally retarded pothead, have him buy a few ounces of weed, and see what happens. If you think profit, you are completely wrong.

Anyways, so to set up these “buys” (read: weed smoking sessions), ‘dis nigga was on the phone 24/7. What to do? Well, an untechnical major is just going to break the phone. While this is a temporary fix, he’s going to get another phone. Now an engineering major is going to take the phone apart, and re-wire that mother fucker.

So, the other room mate and I cracked the phone open, not sure what exactly we would do. Then it hit us. Let’s make the 4 a 6, and make the 6 a 4. Then maybe we just unplug the 0. So, then Chaz dials (419) 555-1234, he’s actually dialing (619) 555-1236. So, you can imagine the hilarity that ensues when instead of calling Toledo, he calls San Diego, talking about weed.

This was funny for a while, but eventually people would still get through calling him. Hmmm, what to do now. So, we take the phone apart again, and this time simply unplug the mouthpiece. So, what happens is something like this:

Hello

Hey Chaz, what up homie.

Nuttin man, just chillin’, you know.

Chaz, you there man?

Yea man, what up?

Chaz, yo nigga, you there?

NIGGA, I’M RIGHT HERE!

Fine, gimme a call, one.

What the fuck man. Hey Mike, I think my phone’s broken or some shit.

Quite possibly the best part was that he never got a new phone, and for the most part, never wised up to the fact that his phone was fucked with.

Well, I think that will just about cover it; there was some hilarious instances regarding a George Foreman grill and another involving orange drink, but some things are best left alone. So, we hope you enjoyed some room mate chronicles, if you have any of your own, post them in the comments.

p.s. God damn a nigga can put down some hot sauce.

Sober X is BACK!!!

At least for the time being. My man Chris over at Sober X recently sent me an email saying that they stumbled across a previously unknown supply a distributor was in possession of. What does this mean to you and me?

In short, it means more drunken weekdays, that’s what. For most of you, if you want some, let me know; I’ll be placing an order soon and I’ll get you soon. It will be $8 for pack of 6, which normally used to sell at $12. So I like to throw two on, which is $3. That’s only the price of 2.5 beers at the Triple Crown, or like a third of a beer at BW3s.

Maybe it’s good time, maybe its fate, but my buddy Steve is throwing a Beer Olympics this Saturday. Yours truly along with a healthy dose of Sober X will be on hand for the festivities. We’ll keep you in the know.

DC Night 3

OK, so I finally found a decent dude amonst the tards in this weeklong seminar. He and I decided to go out and leisurely tie one on. So, I had overhead that there’s a fantastic brew pub nearby. 15 minutes my beloved Dogfish Head 90min. IPA was available on tap (served outta brandy snifter of course). Sorry for the shitty picture.

So we hung out there for a while, and during so I seen quite possibly the most hilarious mustache ever.

Come on man, that’s fucking awesome. Anyways so we chilled there for a while. Now Jim is from St. Louis, and there they know how to make an exit. Jim says that in St. Louis you don’t just leave a bar, you take your shirt off and let them kick you out.

Simply crepuscular.

So we headed back to the hotel, swinging through a drive-through-less McDonalds on the way (wtf mate?). So we got back and then headed to the hotel bar for a quick drink while we finished our food. For some reason I decided to take a picture of this entirely way too gay guy sitting at the bar.

of course we couldn’t just leave the hotel bar though….