that inner glow

Marjoram turns out to be key for gyro-flavored meat.

I bought a mess of ground beef and pork yesterday, along with material for more faux gyros, this time to enjoy entirely on my own. I had already made a blasphemous variant of tzatziki sauce by using sour cream as the base instead of Greek yogurt; to complement the tangy creaminess, I bought another bottle of that lovely Viet/Thai sriracha sauce I love so much. (I use that sauce on hot dogs in place of ketchup.)

Along with the sriracha and meat, I bought pita bread, a bag of ready-to-cook French fries, feta cheese, cherry tomatoes, and some Korean gochu (chili peppers). I deliberately skipped iceberg lettuce and forgot to get some black olives. I got home and spiced up the meat with marjoram, powdered garlic, powdered onion, salt, white pepper, a bit of oregano, a reckless dash of my homemade taco seasoning (gotta love the armpit-like scent from the cumin), and gouts of olive oil. I fried everything up taco-style, put crumbled feta on a pita, put hot meat on top of that, dropped some cherry tomato halves onto the meat, covered the whole thing with tzatziki sauce, dumped some fries on top of that, Turkish-style, drizzled everything with sriracha, and was in heaven. Long live me.

With all the spice from the sriracha and the gochu, this morning's toilet session was lively. The cool thing, though, is that when the ass has dragon breath, it gives a great lightshow.

Oh, yeah... speaking of "long live," it appears that long life was not in the cards for Anna Nicole Smith, who is dead at age 39 after a life of exemplary moderation. As with many celebrities, her spaceport of choice was a hotel. I admit I was shocked when I read the news over at the Nomad (whose site faithfully tracks all things boobular), but I recovered quickly. Her fate is condign.

RIP, titties.


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