|Dangerspouse Rides Again|
Garage - Track
Jul. 04, 2015 - 2:48 p.m.
Jesus Christ, C-Diff sucks. You know how I advised you earlier not to get Diverticulitis? Well, don't get C-Diff even more.
Diverticulitis is like an American invasion of...well, any country with oil that won't share: it invades, it does tons of indiscriminate damage, and it takes a long time to defeat. But at least it can be defeated. And even though it leaves a blighted wasteland behind when it leaves - AND inevitably taking with it most of the oil it came for in the first place, by the way - at least you're glad it left.
C-Diff, though, is more like ISIS. It invades and does tons of indiscriminate damage, but it can't be defeated. At least not with current technology or tactics. So it becomes more and more entrenched, and it smashes any artifacts it finds in its new territories, and attracts new recruits to help kill those who refuse to become new recruits, and doesn't care what the fuck you and your piss-ant "enlightened" ideas do or say to try and stop it. Oh, and they're mean to women.
So that's where I've been.
Since my last entry, the forces of C-Diff have made a resurgence. As we were warned they might. After a few weeks of high tech bombardment by the latest Big Pharm ordinance division, NewWifey(tm)'s Gut-ISIS gradually retreated and she began to feel more like her old self. In fact, on our anniversary last week she felt well enough to indulge in both a bottle of vino ('03 Penfold's Bin-407...and fwiw, get the '05 instead if given the choice) with dinner and the traditional post-prandial pork-a-thon.
But apparently, the insurgents weren't defeated. They were regrouping.
Last Thursday they launched a counter-offensive.
Late Thursday afternoon I was getting ready to go to bed when NewWifey(tm) all of the sudden blurted out "I don't feel good." That was all the warning she got before BOOM!, the black flag of Gut-ISIS was raised over her colon again.
And so, once again, the battle is joined.
I haven't been getting much sleep, or updating here, as a result. I won't bore you with details, but...ah, fuck it. You're not getting any details. I'm tired. Suffice it to say, with a work day that consists of getting up at 3am and not getting home til 2pm, caring for a sicko on top of that - sometimes including hospital visits - really makes you wonder if you should have stricken that "in sickness or in health" line from your vows when you had a chance.
Anyway, this is finally the point of this whole post. Previously when NewWifey(tm) has been unable to, for one reason or another, update her Facebook status, she'll ask me to pinch-hit for her. (I just posted one of those guest appearances a few entries ago here, in fact).
This morning, then, she asked me to fill in with something good. Well actually, she just said - as she always does - "Nothing Dirty. Do you hear me, Fuckhead? NOTHING. DIRTY."
So I did. And after I read what I posted there I said to myself, "Hey, I should post this at Diaryland, too! Someone there might appreciate this sale, but most of all it will fulfill my obligation to toss up an update more than once per Halley's Comet.
Here ya go (with only minor changes to keep her name out of things, ya stalkers):
And I mean, REALLY flattened. All she can do is lie in bed, sip weak tea, watch GoatsLive on ROKU, and gesture feebly when she wants her pillow fluffed. She can't stitch more alphabets (thank god). She can't call her mom. She sure can't ride her motorcycle. And...she can't yell at her husband for hijacking her Facebook page.
So here he is. Or rather, here I am.
But this time, out of pity for my wife in her time of plague, I'm here to perform a valuable public service rather than regale you with some ribald tale of questionable veracity that will cause her to hang her head in shame around her friends later. Not that *cough* that has ever happened before.
Ok, here ya go:
You know I used to be a professional chef in a previous life, right?
What? You didn't? It's true! Big white hat and everything. I can cook you and any 10 of your friends under the table. And I'm still very humble about it, too.
I actually don't rely on many gadgets in the kitchen. My hands have been touched by God, so using only them and a few basic stone-simple tools allows me to pump out Guide Michelin 3-star delights in the time it takes you mere mortals to dump a load of pallid, rubbery, scrambled eggs ("they're organic!") out of your $480 10" All Clad. It's all about technique, baby. Technology can't make up for your poor saute skills. Sorry.
Anyway, one of the few gadgets I *do* allow to grace my sacred counter top is a KitchenAid stand mixer. Correction: TWO KitchenAid stand mixers. A big one, and a little one. More on that in a minute.
Most people by now know about these machines. If you're one of them, skip to the next paragraph. If you're not: you fool! Where the heck have you been all these years? What are you, an illegal alien from Mars? How could you not know what a KitchenAid stand mixer is? Jeez. Ok, in a nutshell: this thing is the shizzle of mixers, yo. Need I say more? If you have one of these bad boys, you have no excuse any more to not make your own whipped cream, at the very least. "Cool Whip?" you'll sneer, Martha Stewart style, as you pass up the mini cupcake being proffered, "Thank you, but I think I'll just have another carrot stick...." And that's just the mixer part. These thing have all sorts of attachments you can buy which allow you to do everything from grind your own meat to a complete brake job on a '67 Chevy Chevelle. Even the SS! Get one. Now.
Here's where my public service now begins. Along with the more serious tone in my voice:
KitchenAid's eBay store has a sale on refurbished Pro-600 stand mixers for 210 dollars, going on right now. That's a pretty hellacious deal, as it drops it to less than the price of the smaller Artisan, and just slightly above the baseline 4.5 quart Classic model.
It's been a while since I shopped for one, but I think I recall the Pro-500 getting a lot of negative reviews for poor reliability. But the Pro-600, I think, was lauded for being a real workhorse and worthy of the KitchenAid reputation of old. (Um...you should probably do some research and see if I'm right about that before you pull the trigger, though. Memory is the second thing to go soft as a guy ages, you know, so I may be a bit off base on this. Although I don't think so. I think.)
I don't think, personally, you could do better for the money than this if you were looking for a large stand mixer. Which does lead me to state the obvious: it IS large, perhaps too large if you're not churning out batches of gruel for the orphanage 3 times a day. I have a large and a small KA, as I mentioned, and with just me and NewWifey(tm) in the house I find myself plugging in my little 4 quart more often than the behemoth. It just works better on things like kneading a single batch of bread dough, or making enough whipped cream for just one 9" cake.
Still, when you DO need massive firepower, it's good to have the Monster Truck of KA's at your disposal. For anyone who ever spent time using the classic Hobart restaurant line when the two were owned by the same company, you know what I mean. This Pro-600 will probably be as close to the small Hobarts as you can get now, at least in the KA line.
If my schpiel here has snowed you into thinking you need one, NEED one I say, then click here. They even have an assortment of pretty colors to match all the stains on your walls (not that I would know anything about that).
A final word: I don't know how long this sale is going on. Is it just for the 4th of July? Does the factory want to declutter the place and they'll keep that price in effect until all the fuckers are finally out from underfoot? Who knows. Ya takes yer chances if you want to sit and think about this one for a while.
Well, that's about all I have time or energy for right now. Back I go to fight the black flag forces that are ravaging NewWifey(tm)s guts. Damn them and their sophisticated internet-savvy recruitment techniques! Or whatever it is they're using from deep in the bowels of my wife's bowels to stay in power. All I know is, they're keeping me from getting laid. Therefor I won't rest until they're defeated. I'll return either with my shield, or upon it. Wish me luck.
Wait. This is the final word:
I made a batch of both pulled pork and pulled chicken for the 4th (for just myself, because C-Diff).
Hands down, no contest, not even close, the pulled chicken wins this battle. It tasted more like pulled pork than pulled pork. I was stunned how vast the gulf was between the two.
To be fair, I used the last of my authentic, imported-direct-from-the-Holy-Land, Kansas City BBQ sauce (Jack Stack) on the chicken and had to resort to a mass-market brand for the pork. But even taking that into account, it was a no-brainer. The chicken took it on texture, moistness, everything. I don't know that I'll ever go back to pork pulled pork again. And I make good pulled pork out of pork.
On the other hand, copious beer is a great equalizer. So both pig and fowl will be demolished with gusto, I'm sure.
Ok. The end.