Hi, I have a package of Pepperoni that I want to make it hot and spicy,, what can I soak it in. Please help.
Pat j.
Dear Pat j.,
Clever. Very clever, MISTER HORMEL!! I know it's you! You and that stinking over priced Tabasco Brand laced Pepperoni in the stinking 5 ounce package. I outed you months ago and now you come crawling back to good ol' HolyJuan seeking advice about how you can make your rotten spicy pepperoni on the cheap!
Well I'll tell you how to make it hot and spicy. Use Frank's RedHot! I use Frank's on almost everything I want to give a nice, but not too hot, spicy kick.
Step One:
Buy pepperoni (you own a pepperoni company so I assume you do not need to buy it. Just walk out on the factory floor and grab a handful.)
Step Two:
Buy some Frank's RedHot (Don't let the Tabasco people see you buy it... that would be breach of contract.)
Step Three:
Put eight (not five) ounces of pepperoni in a plastic bag
Step Four:
Through a proprietary process, infuse the pepperoni with Frank's RedHot.
Step Five:
Sell it for the same price as your other eight ounce products.
Step Six:
Enjoy!
There, I fixed it for you!
Love,
HolyJuan
Clay Pipe Bomb
I’ll just start this out by saying that the names have been changed.
Lewis, Tony and Seth had planned on going toilet papering. They had saved up a large number of rolls of toilet paper and had a pretty good plan of attack. They waited until after midnight and then snuck out of Lewis’ house. Their plan was to cut through some yards, cross a major intersection, hit two houses and then get back home.
After running for about two blocks of back yards, Seth had everyone stop. Seth relayed that they had to go back so he could go the bathroom.
No way. They couldn’t risk sneaking back in and out again. Seth really had to go. Tony said they had toilet paper so he should just go and wipe. Seth said he couldn’t just poop on the ground. Nearby was a stack of clay drainage pipes. They were about 12” long and 5” in diameter. He found one that had dirt blocking one end and stood up on the ground. It was almost perfect as the dirt not only made a plug, but it also helped to keep the pipe standing upright. Seth filled the pipe with fecal goodness and wiped. The pipe was then stuffed with toilet paper and they were on their way.
What happened next is debatable. Some say it was Tony’s idea and others say it was Tony’s idea. I am not here to place blame on Tony. I am here to tell you about the pool.
Next to where Seth filled the clay pipe was a hill and at the bottom of the hill was a house with a very nice in ground pool. From the top of the hill you could easily see how clean and inviting the water was as it was lit and glimmering in the darkness. The boys did not have time to go swimming, but they did have time to hurl that pipe filled with foul into the pool.
It made a tremendous splash and immediately the dirt, or similar, started to swirl and sprout from the end of the pipe.
The boys giggled and ran off to tp.
They tp’d without incident.
On the way back, they looked at the pool.
The casual observer would look and think they were looking at a paler version of the chocolate river from the set of Willy Wonka. The water was very, very brown. They were speechless. Speechlessly, they ran home.
The next day they slept in all morning and wanted to go and check out their tp handiwork from the night before. Overnight, the pool struggled and strained to filter the water, but it only succeeded to spreading the foulness evenly, especially in thick brown ring along the top.
A day later the pool was emptied and professionals came in with brushes to scrub the sides clean.
The pool was filled with water.
The brown ring came back.
Again emptied. Professionals. Scrub. Filled.
A third time the ring came back.
The boys didn’t check out the pool again until later in the summer. When they did go to look for it, they almost didn’t see it because it had been filled in and covered with dirt. The owners had completely given up.
I’m not here to judge. I will not place blame. All I can say is that the statute of limitations has passed and from the satellite view you cannot even tell that a pool once had a home there.
Lewis, Tony and Seth had planned on going toilet papering. They had saved up a large number of rolls of toilet paper and had a pretty good plan of attack. They waited until after midnight and then snuck out of Lewis’ house. Their plan was to cut through some yards, cross a major intersection, hit two houses and then get back home.
After running for about two blocks of back yards, Seth had everyone stop. Seth relayed that they had to go back so he could go the bathroom.
No way. They couldn’t risk sneaking back in and out again. Seth really had to go. Tony said they had toilet paper so he should just go and wipe. Seth said he couldn’t just poop on the ground. Nearby was a stack of clay drainage pipes. They were about 12” long and 5” in diameter. He found one that had dirt blocking one end and stood up on the ground. It was almost perfect as the dirt not only made a plug, but it also helped to keep the pipe standing upright. Seth filled the pipe with fecal goodness and wiped. The pipe was then stuffed with toilet paper and they were on their way.
What happened next is debatable. Some say it was Tony’s idea and others say it was Tony’s idea. I am not here to place blame on Tony. I am here to tell you about the pool.
Next to where Seth filled the clay pipe was a hill and at the bottom of the hill was a house with a very nice in ground pool. From the top of the hill you could easily see how clean and inviting the water was as it was lit and glimmering in the darkness. The boys did not have time to go swimming, but they did have time to hurl that pipe filled with foul into the pool.
It made a tremendous splash and immediately the dirt, or similar, started to swirl and sprout from the end of the pipe.
The boys giggled and ran off to tp.
They tp’d without incident.
On the way back, they looked at the pool.
The casual observer would look and think they were looking at a paler version of the chocolate river from the set of Willy Wonka. The water was very, very brown. They were speechless. Speechlessly, they ran home.
The next day they slept in all morning and wanted to go and check out their tp handiwork from the night before. Overnight, the pool struggled and strained to filter the water, but it only succeeded to spreading the foulness evenly, especially in thick brown ring along the top.
A day later the pool was emptied and professionals came in with brushes to scrub the sides clean.
The pool was filled with water.
The brown ring came back.
Again emptied. Professionals. Scrub. Filled.
A third time the ring came back.
The boys didn’t check out the pool again until later in the summer. When they did go to look for it, they almost didn’t see it because it had been filled in and covered with dirt. The owners had completely given up.
I’m not here to judge. I will not place blame. All I can say is that the statute of limitations has passed and from the satellite view you cannot even tell that a pool once had a home there.
HolyJuan: Guest Poet
I received an e-mail from a reader named Tom who thought that his poem, that was created in 1992 with the help of his buddy Jim, would be suitable for printing on my site. On the day I agreed to do so, he became very ill and will be out of commission for a few days while he pees blood. I believe that this is what they call in the story telling business, foreshadowing. HolyJuan.com is not responsible for the poem's content nor any aneurism you might have reading this:
I don’t give a fuck
I don’t care if you run a mile
I don’t care if you french kiss a vertical smile
I don’t care if you smell like a pile
I don’t care if your shaped like a pear
If you have no hair
Or suck off a bear
I don’t care if you swallow a puck
Or your fingers stuck
Because I don’t give a fuck
I don’t care if you pet the beaver or analy penetrate Mrs. Cleaver
I don’t care if you keep heads in a freezer
I don’t care if you have genital warts or drink bull seaman by the quarts
I have no fear that you ride a steer or have a bumpy gourd stuck in your ear
I don’t care if you’re a candy striper or wear a diaper
I don’t care if your ass sucks canal water or if you know Barry Goldwater
Don’t give a fuck that you’re out of luck or fuck six albino bikers in the back of a truck
I don’t care if you’re a loner or if you knit a sweater for your boner
If you fondle a baker or bury a Quaker
If you’re under house arrest or shave a dinner guest, if you think your smart or smell like an elk fart
If you have cauliflower ear or field dress a deer
I don’t care if you’ve got a good lawyer or an incredibly large goiter
If you eat perch or enjoy a generous cavity search
If you stand naked in an elevator with a machete, or Jell-O wrestle with Mario Andretti
If you act loony or give unmerciful enemas to Rosemary Clooney
If your always on the go, or grab your nose with pliers and scream “look I’m Moe!”
I don’t care if you sing with inflection or go to the Vatican for a free wiener inspection
If you eat a rancid pudding pie or braid the butt hair of your local rabbi
And I don’t care if your uncle wears a hood and his motto is “Hitler bad sausage good!”
Because you suck
And I don’t give a fuck
Bear and the BJ
Time was moving very slowly. I was very uncomfortable. I had another thirty minutes of this. After that there would be explosive violence. Time was moving very slowly.
Previously…
The roofing company I worked for had a couple of trucks that we took on roofing jobs. A large truck with removable, fenced sides for carrying materials. A large pick up truck for tools. And a little son-of-a-bitch Subaru diesel flatbed. The Subaru had more of a wooden back seat than a truck bed. The trucks all used to be white. The guys who did plumbing jobs had newer trucks with newer paint jobs. The roofers got the shit trucks. Well, perhaps we got good trucks and just treated them like shit. Bear was driving the Subaru and I was in the only other seat.
Bear was just passing though town. He was a trucker without a truck. He had been in Lancaster for a few months and with the roofing company for about a month. I’m sure they called him Bear because he was huge and because he was furry. He was one of those guys that told you what his nickname was without mentioning his real one. I'm sure he had something to hide. He was a talker or a sawbitch as Miss Sally would have called him. He had big plans. Driving munitions for the Army. Carrying hazardous cargo for the government. Each “job” was exciting, dangerous and paid a shitload of money. I don’t know why then he was driving my ass to a roofing job in a Subaru for $8.50 an hour.
About $4.25 into the morning, Bear and I were heading down to Logan, OH to the GE plant to continue a roofing job. We had all met at the shop, loaded the trucks and divided up for the trip down. I got stuck with Bear. As we headed out of town, he pulled off the highway into a residential neighborhood I was unfamiliar with. I asked where we were going. “My girlfriend’s house.” We pulled up to a little green house in the neighborhood and he got out with his coffee mug. “Be right back.” I waited. Be right back turned out to be fifteen minutes. Just enough time to fill his coffee cup and get a BJ. He got back in all smiles and laughs. I pretended to be asleep. We headed south to the jobsite.
The Subaru did have one good attribute. It had a choke. And when you were going down the highway, pulling on the choke would emit copious amounts of smoke out the tailpipe. Because the top speed of the Subaru was 58 MPH, many people would ride our ass. I’d yell, “Give um the smoke!” and the driver would pull the choke and bury the unlucky bastard behind us.
A week later, I found myself in the Subaru again. This time with Mark. Mark was a plumber who was working as a roofer until a plumbing job opened up. He felt like the owner of the company was keeping him back and not promoting him. Especially when they hired another plumber without offering him the job. I think he spent his entire life picking himself up and dusting off after some bully pushed him down.
We loaded up the trucks with roofing materials and divided up to drive down to Logan. Mark and I got in the Subaru and headed south. Mark swore. He had forgotten his lunch bucket. He apologized and soon pulled off the highway into a little residential neighborhood that I was now familiar with. I remarked, “Hey, this is the same neighborhood where Bear’s girlfriend lives.”
“Really?” He said “really” in a way that implied that his brain plumbing was springing a small leak. Mark never really got along with Bear. Bear had been picking on guys like Mark since the first grade.
We pulled up to a little green house in the neighborhood.
“Hey, this is where Bear’s girlfriend lives.”
“No, this is where I live.” Mark has a wife and two kids. He mentioned them often.
“Does Bear’s girlfriend live with you?” At that moment, we both realized that yes, Bear’s girlfriend did live in Mark’s house.
Mark got out of the truck and walked into the house. He was only in there for four or five minutes. He didn’t have his lunch bucket when he walked out. He didn’t say anything as he got in the truck. He pulled out and we headed south.
Time was moving very slowly. I was very uncomfortable. I had another thirty minutes of this. After that there would be explosive violence. Time was moving very slowly.
Bear had ridden down in one of the other trucks and I wondered if he would sense Mark walking up behind him with a shovel and bashing his brains in. Or Mark dumping a bucket of hot, liquid asphalt on him. There was also an axe in the tool truck…
We arrived at the jobsite in silence. Mark got out of the truck and put on his gloves and boots. He then went to work. I did the same.
Throughout the day, Mark was silent. At lunch he drove down with the foreman to buy stale sandwiches from the gas station. He ate them alone in the truck.
“What’s wrong with Mark?” others would ask.
“I don’t know,” I lied.
At the end of the day, I made sure I wasn’t in the same truck as Mark or Bear. So I rode in the back of the fenced truck with roofing debris and fiberglass swirling about. Permanent eye damage seemed more desirable than half an hour of silence with Mark or half an hour of bullshit with The-guy-who-is-sleeping-with-Mark’s-wife. We got back to the shop and everyone went home.
I’m sorry to tell you that is how this story ends. There was no confrontation. There was no bashing of the skull or death by black tar. Everything went back to normal the next day. It turns out Mark was still the little kid getting pushed down by a bully or a boss or a guy fucking his wife. And he wasn’t fighting back. The story doesn’t always end with a montage of the little kid leaning karate and kicking the bully’s ass. Sometimes we just keep getting pushed over.
Why do I feel like I’m leaving something out…
Oh! Did I mention that Bear did give his real name to Mark’s wife?
I think I also forgot that Bear had several warrants out for his arrest.
And then there was the part about Bear being arrested as few days later when someone left an anonymous message with the Lancaster police.
In about a month, a plumber position did open up. Mark got one of the newer trucks.
Previously…
The roofing company I worked for had a couple of trucks that we took on roofing jobs. A large truck with removable, fenced sides for carrying materials. A large pick up truck for tools. And a little son-of-a-bitch Subaru diesel flatbed. The Subaru had more of a wooden back seat than a truck bed. The trucks all used to be white. The guys who did plumbing jobs had newer trucks with newer paint jobs. The roofers got the shit trucks. Well, perhaps we got good trucks and just treated them like shit. Bear was driving the Subaru and I was in the only other seat.
Bear was just passing though town. He was a trucker without a truck. He had been in Lancaster for a few months and with the roofing company for about a month. I’m sure they called him Bear because he was huge and because he was furry. He was one of those guys that told you what his nickname was without mentioning his real one. I'm sure he had something to hide. He was a talker or a sawbitch as Miss Sally would have called him. He had big plans. Driving munitions for the Army. Carrying hazardous cargo for the government. Each “job” was exciting, dangerous and paid a shitload of money. I don’t know why then he was driving my ass to a roofing job in a Subaru for $8.50 an hour.
About $4.25 into the morning, Bear and I were heading down to Logan, OH to the GE plant to continue a roofing job. We had all met at the shop, loaded the trucks and divided up for the trip down. I got stuck with Bear. As we headed out of town, he pulled off the highway into a residential neighborhood I was unfamiliar with. I asked where we were going. “My girlfriend’s house.” We pulled up to a little green house in the neighborhood and he got out with his coffee mug. “Be right back.” I waited. Be right back turned out to be fifteen minutes. Just enough time to fill his coffee cup and get a BJ. He got back in all smiles and laughs. I pretended to be asleep. We headed south to the jobsite.
The Subaru did have one good attribute. It had a choke. And when you were going down the highway, pulling on the choke would emit copious amounts of smoke out the tailpipe. Because the top speed of the Subaru was 58 MPH, many people would ride our ass. I’d yell, “Give um the smoke!” and the driver would pull the choke and bury the unlucky bastard behind us.
A week later, I found myself in the Subaru again. This time with Mark. Mark was a plumber who was working as a roofer until a plumbing job opened up. He felt like the owner of the company was keeping him back and not promoting him. Especially when they hired another plumber without offering him the job. I think he spent his entire life picking himself up and dusting off after some bully pushed him down.
We loaded up the trucks with roofing materials and divided up to drive down to Logan. Mark and I got in the Subaru and headed south. Mark swore. He had forgotten his lunch bucket. He apologized and soon pulled off the highway into a little residential neighborhood that I was now familiar with. I remarked, “Hey, this is the same neighborhood where Bear’s girlfriend lives.”
“Really?” He said “really” in a way that implied that his brain plumbing was springing a small leak. Mark never really got along with Bear. Bear had been picking on guys like Mark since the first grade.
We pulled up to a little green house in the neighborhood.
“Hey, this is where Bear’s girlfriend lives.”
“No, this is where I live.” Mark has a wife and two kids. He mentioned them often.
“Does Bear’s girlfriend live with you?” At that moment, we both realized that yes, Bear’s girlfriend did live in Mark’s house.
Mark got out of the truck and walked into the house. He was only in there for four or five minutes. He didn’t have his lunch bucket when he walked out. He didn’t say anything as he got in the truck. He pulled out and we headed south.
Time was moving very slowly. I was very uncomfortable. I had another thirty minutes of this. After that there would be explosive violence. Time was moving very slowly.
Bear had ridden down in one of the other trucks and I wondered if he would sense Mark walking up behind him with a shovel and bashing his brains in. Or Mark dumping a bucket of hot, liquid asphalt on him. There was also an axe in the tool truck…
We arrived at the jobsite in silence. Mark got out of the truck and put on his gloves and boots. He then went to work. I did the same.
Throughout the day, Mark was silent. At lunch he drove down with the foreman to buy stale sandwiches from the gas station. He ate them alone in the truck.
“What’s wrong with Mark?” others would ask.
“I don’t know,” I lied.
At the end of the day, I made sure I wasn’t in the same truck as Mark or Bear. So I rode in the back of the fenced truck with roofing debris and fiberglass swirling about. Permanent eye damage seemed more desirable than half an hour of silence with Mark or half an hour of bullshit with The-guy-who-is-sleeping-with-Mark’s-wife. We got back to the shop and everyone went home.
I’m sorry to tell you that is how this story ends. There was no confrontation. There was no bashing of the skull or death by black tar. Everything went back to normal the next day. It turns out Mark was still the little kid getting pushed down by a bully or a boss or a guy fucking his wife. And he wasn’t fighting back. The story doesn’t always end with a montage of the little kid leaning karate and kicking the bully’s ass. Sometimes we just keep getting pushed over.
Why do I feel like I’m leaving something out…
Oh! Did I mention that Bear did give his real name to Mark’s wife?
I think I also forgot that Bear had several warrants out for his arrest.
And then there was the part about Bear being arrested as few days later when someone left an anonymous message with the Lancaster police.
In about a month, a plumber position did open up. Mark got one of the newer trucks.
Erik Eats Haw Flakes: Of Flatness, Fruit Arises
Who knew that stomach pumping could take a toll on one's body? Well, Erik. Erik knows. So let's disperse with the sad remembrances of the last Erik Eats Lead Paint and move on to something better:
Haw Flakes
What sounds like a cereal is actually something else. Let's take a look.
And since the packages looked so much like fireworks, we decided to light one to see what would happen.
Taste Explosion!
Haw Flakes
What sounds like a cereal is actually something else. Let's take a look.
Inside the package it looks like 10 individually wrapped tubes.
The nutritional information tells us that there is absolutely no nutritional value to this food. I guess that means it is Erik Eats Worthy©.
Erik opens the package.
Erik tries harder to open the package.
Erik gets tired of fucking around.
Ah haw! His knife wielding skills reveals a cylindrical package.
I'm going to ignore the fact that the ingredients on the package say "baw" instead of "haw."
What's this!?
It seems the Haw Flakes people have STOLEN the copyrighted Erik Eats Thumbs Up© logo! You bastards! It is spot on.
Instead of suing, Erik takes the high road and uses the symbol to help him get ready for his Teal'c from Stargate SG-1 Halloween costume.
Erik as Teal'c
Teal'c as Teal'c
Opening the package...
...reveals flat discs of red.
The discs are great for sharing!
Erik Eats...
...and tastes
The verdict...
The nutritional information tells us that there is absolutely no nutritional value to this food. I guess that means it is Erik Eats Worthy©.
Erik opens the package.
Erik tries harder to open the package.
Erik gets tired of fucking around.
Ah haw! His knife wielding skills reveals a cylindrical package.
I'm going to ignore the fact that the ingredients on the package say "baw" instead of "haw."
What's this!?
It seems the Haw Flakes people have STOLEN the copyrighted Erik Eats Thumbs Up© logo! You bastards! It is spot on.
Instead of suing, Erik takes the high road and uses the symbol to help him get ready for his Teal'c from Stargate SG-1 Halloween costume.
Erik as Teal'c
Teal'c as Teal'c
Opening the package...
...reveals flat discs of red.
The discs are great for sharing!
Erik Eats...
...and tastes
The verdict...
The haw flakes discs are sweet and crumbly in the mouth. Delicious!
And since the packages looked so much like fireworks, we decided to light one to see what would happen.
Taste Explosion!
Blog of Note!
Holy crap! That 35 dollars worth of Arby's coupons I sent to Google worked!
Thanks for visiting and check out the "YOU HAVE GOT TO READ THESE STORIES" over there on the right.
Thanks for visiting and check out the "YOU HAVE GOT TO READ THESE STORIES" over there on the right.
We have a winner!
Thank you to everyone who participated in the "Bag Not Really Full of Money" guessing game. Our winner is WNA who hails from NC and he correctly guessed $16.91.
Next contest: guess how much my vasectomy cost. (And no, it wasn't by the inch.)
Next contest: guess how much my vasectomy cost. (And no, it wasn't by the inch.)
Bag o' Money: Part Two
A few months ago I posted a photo of a bag of money and suggested you all take a shot at guessing the amount of money in it.
Oh, here it is: http://www.holyjuan.com/2009/07/money-bag.html
Here is the unguessed bag, still waiting:
Leave your guess with an e-mail address.
Here is the clue from the previous post: more than 0.01 and less than 50.00.
Here is a second clue: the amount of money is an rotationally symmetric ambigram.
Person who guesses the correct amount wins it!
Good luck.
(If no one gets it by next Thursday, I'll post a new clue.)
Person who guesses the correct amount wins it!
Good luck.
(If no one gets it by next Thursday, I'll post a new clue.)
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