Saturday, March 28, 2009

Man boobs



So you want to learn to grow a set do you? Here is my attempt last night.

Take your child to Friendly's, it's friday for god's sake.

Take 3 pieces of factory grown chicken.
Roll said poultry in batter.
Deep fry.
Soak them in bbq sauce
Smother them in ranch dressing.
Envelop them in gov't cheese.
Smoosh the boob explosive between two pieces of sourdough bread.
For good measure, soak said bread in butter, not that healthy margarine shit.
Grill it.
Serve with deep fried potatoes, then offer El Lard-o a free sundae to wash it down with as his prize.

Jiggle your fat ass home with a smile and watch cartoons with your kid.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Splinters

I met the single most sexist person of my life, which this year, gets the fat, round number of 20 years ago. He was my college professor and a genius. He repulsed me so much I made sure I was in line early on several occasions to make sure I got into one of the 4 sessions I had with him. He had a way with words, some of which I annoyingly slip into conversation to this day, with a cheesy Pakistani accent of course. "Who said what to who?" Still not sure what that meant, but I incorporate it anyway. Anyhow, he had this thing about women staying where they "belonged", in the home and fulfilling their sole useful purpose of driving the global economic engine with their wasteful spending, and raising of "the splinters" who would some day grow up and increase the depth of said economic pool. He was single and smoked 3 packs of Players Black a day. A man with that attitude and habit was not long for this world. Given the expression of some of my female classmates, I wouldn't be surprised if he met with an un-natural demise.

Splinters, part of something larger, but known for being an enormous pain in the body part of your choice relative to size. Kind of creative I suppose. My life has been filled with splinters this week. I miss Princess, it's one of the very few things I detest, nay hate, about being divorced. I haven't seen her in 2 days. When last we saw our hero, he was stressed out with deadlines and wasn't the best dad he could be, and I hate that. I hate that I stew about it after she is gone, I hate that I can't go back and change time. I wasn't a bad dad, but I wasn't an attentive and deeply patient dad, which means I wasn't the best I could be and that's the only acceptable standard.

Princess was a long time in coming, and I/we traveled a long and winding path to receive that gift. I reconnected with an old friend/flirt/flameless from college on facebook in early Feb. Someone I had not thought of in years, but her name jumped off the page one day on some god forsaken fb page. I read Flameless's info, I read her blog, I read an amazingly heartfelt open letter to her unborn, unknown child that welled my soul like I was some hormonal pre-menapausal splinter producer. Flameless and her husband were traveling the same winding path as I EXACTLY 6 years prior, only they didn't see the end in sight yet. Like me, they didn't even really have a map. We started emailing, talking about adoption and experiences of the winding road and I gave her Barrister Steve's info, caveat emptor galore. Flameless's road immediately overlay mine and was weeks away from fulfillment. Flameless finally had her long sought tracking number, though from an admittedly expensive and unreliable parcel service. Tuesday night saw Flameless with a newborn splinter in her arms named Audrey. For those in the know who traveled the winding road, the pain doesn't come from the splinter, it comes from the road rash. I am flooded with memories, emotions and other feelings I have not dealt deeply with in a long time. That feeling in my arms of a helpless and very, very sick infant. A dependent, with whom I shared no genetic link or history, but one which instantly merged into my soul and to whom I could only promise a future. Knowing.

Being I feel as if I am running a deficit, do I score any karma repair points for a referral? Either way, I miss my baby girl even more than usual. Princess is getting the shit squeezed out of her @ 4:59, you can bet your ass on that.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Maff


Math is a frustrating thing. A dark and mysterious art saturated with rules and conditions. There are many practicing wizards of this nonsense, and I have never been invited to their party. I don't even know where it's held for god's sake. To some, this may not seem like a big deal. For me, it is an ongoing frustration and insecurity. See, I'm a computer programmer. I take blobs of unrelated "things" and shake them up real well in an electron based game of boggle and spew out silly nuggets that someone thought was a good idea and will make them ONE-MIIIIILION-DOLLARS. Companies large and small seem to love the result and continue do drop off the money bucket every week, of which a pittance spills out and pays off my second mortage in a semi-timely manner.

Everyone I work with, both now and in the past, is a certified wizard in this evil coven. Mr Burns has 2 ph.d's in statistics and something else from Penn. My partner has undergrads from 'Blue in both math and CS, PM has degree in Chemical Engineering from Rensallaer and an MBA with CS focus. BOSS lady from previous life has MS in finite math, whatever the hell that is. The list goes on.

I barely received a bs in...wait for it..wait for it.... marketing! Woohoo, at a state school no less! As everyone knows, marketing is the comfort food consumed by drunken college students to ensure an eventual graduation date and doom themselves to a job scamming their family members into term coverage. I know people change, but I barely like talking to people anymore, especially strangers. What spaced out guidance counsellor convinced me of this heavenly match?

Somehow I jumped ship, but that's a time burner for a different day. I have enough of a pile of 1/2 done posts to churn through.

Why do I hate maff? Here's why, 3 people blew 2 hours each, 2 people blew 1 hour each on the following 3rd grade problem. The collective cost of their education exceeds $700,000 and that's not inflation adjusted. My $9,000 education failed me. I still disagree with the outcome, but I also know I am wrong.

Round 55.649999 to 1 decimal place. 9 rounds the 4 to a 5 and takes the 6 to a 7 right? Ennh, of course not. Answer is 55.6. Why did the decimal section in 5th grade math take weeks and weeks? I think my state funded education failed me. I'm bitter for some reason. But you probably couldn't tell.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Porter 2 Transfer

Moved to secondary. G 1.016. Tasted pretty good, only time will tell.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Porter II Bubble Report

Well. The curious case of the missing bubbles has been somewhat solved. First bubbles sighted at 2pm Tuesday, 15 sec's apart. Moved fermenter from back basement to finished side to get it up to temp. Gauge on side of the bucket still says 66, but it said 63. I guess that made enough of a difference.

3-7 20:00 0 63
3-8 20:00 0 63
3-9 08:00 0 63
3-9 20:00 0 64 Moved to finished side
3-10 08:00 0 64
3-10 14:00 15 66
3-10 19:00 4 68
3-11 08:00 3 68
3-11 18:00 2 70?
3-12 20:00 3 70
3-13 8:00 8 70
3-14 08:00 32 70
3-14 13:00 Transferred to secondary
3-14 20:00 54 68

Saturday, March 07, 2009

Porter Deux Brew

What a great day. Spring fever hit hard as temps were in the 70's after shoveling 4 inches on Monday. What better way to celebrate than to get my brew on with the porter. 8am found me at Cabelas becoming the proud new owner of a stainless steel 30qt pot, and the cabelas fish cooker base. More than I wanted to spend, but oh well. I look at it as an "hey, it wasn't cancer" present. Used 70$ in cabelas points so it evened out.

Brew went well, up until boil almost started and I realized I was 1 oz short of fuggles. Keystone was open and hazed me appropriately. I could no be happier with the outcome so far. Pitched at 63 degrees!

Burner only used about 2 lbs of propane??? Is that possible?

2:25 2.5 gals in steep pot with grain bill of .5 Crystal 60, .5 Chocolate, .5 black patent and .75 Carapils
2:56 152 degrees
3:10 cranked up stove to Med High
3:13 158 degrees. Fired burner outside with water level up to 2 inches below "min fill mark"
3:30 Moved hot liquor to brew pot. Sparge 1.5 gals @ 172
3:42 Pot level up to bottom rivets.
3:50 Emergency shut off and race to Keystone for 1 oz of fuggles because I am a dumbass
4:26 Pot fired up. Added 6 lbs of dme which took to within 1 inch of the top. Took time with heat to avoid boilover
5:05 Tossed 1 oz bramling cross pellets in a bag and stated count down
5:50 1 oz fuggles and whirlfloc. Whirlfloc damn near caused boilover.
5:58 .5 oz fuggles
6:02 .5 oz fuggles
6:05 flameout and chiller in
6:55 Started transfer, wort at 64
7:20 Pitched pretty weak bag of 1028 London Ale at 63 degrees dated Jan 20 that smacked at 1pm. This yeast better not screw me by being old.

OG 1.055

Tasted a shot of the liqor at 152, post 152, 158 and sparge. Pretty interesting profiles. Could definately tell it was thicker at 158, but that may just have been due to time.



March 28, 2009- Bottling day. I have to say, it is good as it is. I think the carapils did the job. I will be interesting to see how the carbonation and rest change things, but at the moment, I couldn't be happier with a flat warm porter and I am drinking the schwag as I speak. FG 1.013

Original Extract 13.55
Apparent Extract 3.32
Real Extract 5.25
Specific Gravity 1.021
Apparent Attenuation 75.5
Real Attenuation 61.3
ABW 4.4
ABV 5.7
Cals/12oz 188

Friday, March 06, 2009

Shopping

Today is shopping day for what I hope to be a brewing day tomorrow. Tonight a turkey fryer is the objective. Went to Keystone for the ingredients of Programmer Porter Deux.

1/2lb Crystal 60
1/2lb Chocolate
1/2lb Black Patent
3/4lb Carapils

1oz Bramling Cross Pellets 7%
1oz Fuggles plugs 4.5%
[edit] 1oz Fuggles plugs 4.5%
6lbs Muntons Light DME 8 ebc/3.5 L

1028 London Ale Jan 20 2009.