Disaronno Gourmand: Breakfast Edition

The menu: sauteed chicken in a cumin-curry sauce, with a side of pickles. Nothing says breakfast like sauteed chicken in a cumin-curry sauce, with a side of pickles.

Pictures are forthcoming in a separate post to get us up to 100 this month.

Pouteeeen The Threat: Act Three

All of a sudden they just decide to set up a bomb that tries to explode the whole world.

D: Dude Let's try to make up a bomb that explodes the whole world and see what happens.

E: Girl. Not sure about that. It seems pretty drastic. Really drast--

D: Too bad man. Too bad. I've already made this happen and I've got the C4 to have a damn good fireworks extravaganza.

E: Not on Bond Street. Not on Bond Street. The architecture is way too bad man. It would be too appropriate.

D: You're right. Let's just make out hardcore.

(They make out for a few minutes while cars collide and explode and random gangs infiltrate various buildings along B. Street.)


E: You're awesome, But I've got to deal. Let's jet off to Bangkok, score some guns, buy a car in Europe and just take New York by storm.

D: Good call. I don't know why I never knew you before but you might be a genius. Or very close to a rapper I once knew.

E: Let's go. Let's go.

(They fade away into the fog covering Bond street, and the yellow of a taxi can be seen picking them up and carrying them away.)

DiSaronno Blog: The Psycadelic Years: a Mesage from Tyko McGee

This week's excerpt from Tyko McGee's upcoming novel (yet to be titled):

"Things sure got rough after I left Loveboops' Traveling Circus. My beloved Doheny Jones was not quite dead, but his mind had been reduced to the level of a luded out chimp waiting in line at a barber shop, and I could not forget the scar across his pelvic region. I felt like I had nothing left to give him, or the Circus.

Down on my luck, I went back to my old demons at Taco Bell. Somewhere between my third and fourth week of living in the handicap bathroom stall, an astonishingly beautiful maiden entered the men's room to take a leak. When she saw me peeking at her, she ran in, gave me a kiss, and two tablets of LSD. Just like that, I was transformed into Tyko McGee Lovechild Warkhawk, the menacingly hip hippie.

I followed Varnonica, the fair maiden, to the countryside, where we raised ducks and gathered more wandering souls to join our group, the Purgatory's Messengers. While never purely destructive, many of our recruiting techniques came into question by the FBI, so we escaped to Canada, where we gourged on Poutine and American Bacon.

Shocking, exclussive footage of what the Purgatory's Messengers may have looked like.

This was all magical until I woke up one morning, or it may have been the day after, I can't remember, I was in the midst of a massive Dayquill binge. Varnonica was gone, the rest of the Purgatory's Messengers had surrounded me and were about to beat me up for stealing all of their peyote, and worst of all, I had peed my pants in the midst of my trance-like state the night before. I somehow made it out alive, albeit wearing only an eagles shit (and no, not the band, it was a shirt with a picture of a bunch of eagles on it). I had to sneak around the forrest for weeks with no pants, underwear, or socks. Four cases of poison ivy and zero square meals later, I was able to cross the border, albeit illegaly, as I had given up my citizenship days before. I came back looking for some sort of stability in my life, the only stability I had ever known: Lietenant Loveboops."

Tyko McGee's autobiography is not completed. We allow him to post on a week-to-week basis. If you are a publisher and interested in funding/publishing Mr. McGee's book, please contact us.

Starting Off a New Month of Bad Posts - "Who crapped in my corn pops?!?"

Update: Congratulations Firebird! You are the "Weiner!"

February is here! Besides being the month that holds Groundhog Day, Valentine's Day, and the most cases of diarrhea for Firebird, this is also a very cold month. What better way to keep warm than with our favorite white bean stew?

In honor of this dish, we will hold a comment caption contest for the dish/below picture:





My favorite recipe, courtesy of bbc.co.uk.

A Bond: A Play in Fifty Acts: Act II

Act II: The French Excursion

(Continued from Act I, which was informally known as "La Poutine"



GUY IS HANGING FROM A NOOSE TIED AROUND ONE OF THE EXPOSED BEAMS THAT MAKES UP THIS EXQUISITE CEILING

D IS SMOKING A CIGARETTE, MORE SLOWLY THAN NORMAL PEOPLE. CLOSE TO THE END, SHE FLICKS IT AT THE SWINGING CORPSE

D: Looks like it's checkout time.

SHE TAKES THE REALLY NICE ELEVATOR DOWN TO THE FLOOR CALLED 'L' WHICH MEANS EITHER LOBBY OR LEVEL

D: Hey tuxedo slave, I need a car to your nearest Moroccan restaurant. Let's make this be.

Concierge: I guess I'm lucky. I guess you have luck. I guess luck is. There's a car waiting for you. It's outside.

SHE SWIRLS HER GUN IN THE AIR. RUNS OUTSIDE OF THE HOTEL., POCKETS THE SHAMPOO AND CONDITIONER

D: Salutations driver. Step on it, and step on it.

Car Driver: That's my job. I step on it. And I'm gonna stick to it.

THEY DRIVE WHEREVER THE FUCK THEY'RE GOING. DRIVER IS DRUNK. THEY SIDESWIPE A MOPED. IT'S A VESPA BEING DRIVEN BY A FLORIST. THIS VESPA WAS TERRIBLY TERRIBLY CONSTRUCTED. THE GAS TANK FELL IN THE ROAD AND HIT THE WINDSHIELD OF THE LIMO DRIVER AND ROBBED HIM OF HIS HEAD. THE OCCUPANTS SPILL OUT BECAUSE: WHAT OTHER CHOICE DO THEY REALLY HAVE? NOTHING REALLY. NONE OTHER CHOICE. IS THAT CLEAR? I THINK SO.

D FINDS ANOTHER TAXI BY GUNPOINT

D: Let's go to JFK and step on it. My boyfriend is in Paris and I really love him but he's caught up in the the DJ scene. For this reason, I need your livery services. I need them to be so fast, so so fucking fast. Deep inside of me fast.

Livery Driver: Whatever you want...Pay me and get your white ass to Paris. Good flight...not!

SHE GOES INTO JFK AND CHECKS HER BAGS. SHE HAS ONE CARRY-ON. SHE IS WAITING IN THE SECURITY LINE.

D: I just killed a man. Hurry up. I got a plane to catch. I don't have time for your x-ray. Do I look like I would?

Security Guard: I can call someone. I can make this hard for you.

D: I'm okay. I'll take my time. Sorry, I'm stressed out by air travel.

S: I see it all the time. Nice gun by the way.

D: Thanks, now I'll put my belt back on you professional woman.

SHE BOARDS THE PLANE AND FLIES TO PARIS. SHE GETS OFF THE PLANE AND GETS CAPPED BY HER PSYCHO KILLER BOYFRIEND.

The First Play to be Episodically Published on DiSaronno Blog: A Bond: A Play in Fifty Acts: Act I

Daughter of the Congresswoman and Policeman: I can't believe I just did that. My parents will crucify me in the worst way possible. Jesus christ lof atter day saints.

Guy: Let's just jet off to Montreal

D: How about we peace and steal my parents liqour cabinet and sell it across border for a plus plus premium. Then we'll go to Quebec and enjoy the local foods such as POUTINE.

G: You're driving too fast. We gotta fucking chill out. Fucking coppers are gonna get on our ass in a big way.

THEY PULL INTO A ROADSIDE MOTEL

D: Fuck motherfucker. I lost my keys and wallet, you gotta pay and eat the cost. Swallow that shit and fucking be normal.

G: Don't worry about me, you gotta fucking stop shaking and get outta the car.

THEY CHECK IN

G: This carpet, it's a nightmare.

D: It's my carpet and you must stare upon it.

G PULLS A GUN OUT

D: Why do you always think that we should feel like this?

G: I really wanna kill someone tonight. It's gonna be you or the inkeeper. Make your choice. The choice belongs.

D DOES A BACKFLIP OUT THE WINDOW. SHE ESCAPES, KILLS AN INKEEPER, WALKS UPSTAIRS TO THE ROOM, THE DOOR OF WHICH SHE KICKS IN

D: Wow that was roundabout. Why don't we just get a room at the Four Seasons?

THEY CROSS A DEAD BODY IN THE LOBBY, HAIL A CAB, AND JET TO THE FOUR SEASONS WHERE THEY BOTH ORDER WHITE RUSSIANS

D: We really fucked that up. How about you pay more attention to me Phillip?

G: My name is not Phillip. I do know my name.

D: I do know knowledge. My boots are wet. I'm actually writing a book right now. And you don't know what it's about, but we just kill someone together. And we have a bond, a slight bond.

G: I know who you are. I saw you on the plane from Caracas. Granted I drugged you, but then we shared a life together. A fucking goddamn life. And now you're here and we gotta deal with it, so let's fucking think. So get your belongings and let's travel throughout restaurants.

D: Fuck yeah!

G: Yes rather than yeah.