[X] My Assistant

No, no, My Mighty Blorgness.
You missunderstand.
I meant better things to do WITH Blorg than just "chilling".
I beg forgiveness.

Its not Blorgmania until we've got t-shirts. Hop to it!

SHOE TARTARE

HISTORY:

Steak tartare is a delicacy in many parts of Europe, a raw meat dish that has astounded and delighted the tongue of many who have had the tenacity to seek it out. It derives its name from the people of Tatar people, who consumed the original form of the dish long ago. Because raw meat was tough and hard to eat by itself, the Tatar people tied the meat under their sandals while they rode their horses, and after a journey the meat would be tenderized and ready for consumption.

Over time, sandals grew out of fashion, and shoes were favored for their stronger stomping power, as well as the protection they offered from the sun's heat. It was only in the late 1900s, however, that a brilliant man came up with the idea of eating the shoe as well. He reasoned that the shoes would have absorbed quite a bit of the meat juices, adding to their own unique flavor. Though the man's name is unknown, his creation would gain a fervent following, and is now considered an even rarer delicacy than steak tartare.

INGREDIENTS:

• A shoe used to make steak tartare
• A horse
• A pair of sandals
• Two raw eggs
• 1/2 tablespoon salt and pepper

INSTRUCTIONS:

Take the shoe and cut it into two pieces with a knife. Be warned, it may be hard to slice through, so consider throwing it against a wall or something first. WARNING: Do not boil. This will cook the shoe, defeating the entire purpose of shoe tartar.e Tie each half of the shoe to your sandals, then put the sandals on and get on your horse.

Set on a journey across your local desert. It will be a long ride, so prepare a book to read and make yourself a sandwich or something to munch on. Avoid traveling brigands seeking to take your goods and your life. It may be a good idea to hire a local bodyguard to protect you while you embark on your journey. Make sure you hire from an honest mercenary, some are actually in cahoots with the brigands and will tip them of your coming.

Once you have reached your destination, take your eggs - hopefully the scorching rays of the desert sun will not have cooked them; if they have, buy two more from a local merchant, haggling if you can - and crack them over each shoe. Knead the shoe carefully; after the long trip it is most likely very tender and may fall apart if you grind it too hard. Salt and pepper to your taste.

Congratulations, you have just made yourself shoe tartare. After enjoying your meal, make sure your horse is fed and watered, and ride back home.

It will be a long trip, but it will have been worth it.

10/10 would read again.

Try a mixture of soft shoe and jazz tap?

I like Jazz. Jack Rabbit.

SHOE TARTARE

HISTORY:

Steak tartare is a delicacy in many parts of Europe, a raw meat dish that has astounded and delighted the tongue of many who have had the tenacity to seek it out. It derives its name from the people of Tatar people, who consumed the original form of the dish long ago. Because raw meat was tough and hard to eat by itself, the Tatar people tied the meat under their sandals while they rode their horses, and after a journey the meat would be tenderized and ready for consumption.

Over time, sandals grew out of fashion, and shoes were favored for their stronger stomping power, as well as the protection they offered from the sun's heat. It was only in the late 1900s, however, that a brilliant man came up with the idea of eating the shoe as well. He reasoned that the shoes would have absorbed quite a bit of the meat juices, adding to their own unique flavor. Though the man's name is unknown, his creation would gain a fervent following, and is now considered an even rarer delicacy than steak tartare.

INGREDIENTS:

• A shoe used to make steak tartare
• A horse
• A pair of sandals
• Two raw eggs
• 1/2 tablespoon salt and pepper

INSTRUCTIONS:

Take the shoe and cut it into two pieces with a knife. Be warned, it may be hard to slice through, so consider throwing it against a wall or something first. WARNING: Do not boil. This will cook the shoe, defeating the entire purpose of shoe tartar.e Tie each half of the shoe to your sandals, then put the sandals on and get on your horse.

Set on a journey across your local desert. It will be a long ride, so prepare a book to read and make yourself a sandwich or something to munch on. Avoid traveling brigands seeking to take your goods and your life. It may be a good idea to hire a local bodyguard to protect you while you embark on your journey. Make sure you hire from an honest mercenary, some are actually in cahoots with the brigands and will tip them of your coming.

Once you have reached your destination, take your eggs - hopefully the scorching rays of the desert sun will not have cooked them; if they have, buy two more from a local merchant, haggling if you can - and crack them over each shoe. Knead the shoe carefully; after the long trip it is most likely very tender and may fall apart if you grind it too hard. Salt and pepper to your taste.

Congratulations, you have just made yourself shoe tartare. After enjoying your meal, make sure your horse is fed and watered, and ride back home.

It will be a long trip, but it will have been worth it.

Reminds me, the other day I went across this Ethiopian restaurant. It was incredibly empty. Seeing as there's no feed in Ethiopia, the lack of patrons would make sense.

My imagination of an Ethiopian restaurant is a place with a group of people, and the chef lets loose an incredibly skinny chicken. The one that catches it is proclaimed chief and gets to eat it. The others must watch American children not finish their food.

This post has been edited by noahbody: Jul 19 2012, 06:37

No, no, My Mighty Blorgness.
You missunderstand.
I meant better things to do WITH Blorg than just "chilling".
I beg forgiveness.

This and Marvin's post is sorta creepy.

I'm hoping it's done ironically. Like a hipster.

I like Jazz. Jack Rabbit.

I was still playing my Sega Genesis around that time.

Reminds me, the other day I went across this Ethiopian restaurant. It was incredibly empty. Seeing as there's no feed in Ethiopia, the lack of patrons would make sense.

My imagination of an Ethiopian restaurant is a place with a group of people, and the chef lets loose an incredibly skinny chicken. The one that catches it is proclaimed chief and gets to eat it. The others must watch American children not finish their food.

I always pictured Ethiopian restaurants serving you a handful of grains with a cup of water. And whilst you eat you get to enjoy the old world ambiance of sickly famine victims staring at you while you eat in a sweltering hot dilapidated building with fucking flies everywhere and the inescapable smell of waste and death. And if you go to the bathroom you get AIDS and/or raped by a person with aids.

SHOE TARTARE

I like Jazz. Jack Rabbit.

I was never able to acquire a taste for Jazz. Except for Jazz Jackrabbit.

Reminds me, the other day I went across this Ethiopian restaurant. It was incredibly empty. Seeing as there's no feed in Ethiopia, the lack of patrons would make sense.

My imagination of an Ethiopian restaurant is a place with a group of people, and the chef lets loose an incredibly skinny chicken. The one that catches it is proclaimed chief and gets to eat it. The others must watch American children not finish their food.

I always pictured Ethiopian restaurants serving you a handful of grains with a cup of water. And whilst you eat you get to enjoy the old world ambiance of sickly famine victims staring at you while you eat in a sweltering hot dilapidated building with fucking flies everywhere and the inescapable smell of waste and death. And if you go to the bathroom you get AIDS and/or raped by a person with aids.

I've seen travel shows, so I imagined getting "fermented" (rancid) meat from questionable sources obliterated with spices to try to hide the spoiled flavor. For your beverage, a strange liquid, also of questionable source, either from an animal, plant, or mixture of both.

He woke up only to find that he could not see.

"Where.... where am I? Hello? Is anybody there? Can anyone hear me?"

Something thick and meaty drove itself into his stomach, cutting him off before he could say anything else. He choked back the bile threatening to make its way up, fighting the urge to vomit, gagged in pain and gasped for breath.

"You quiet! No talk!"

A deep, harsh voice that seemed to echo in his head. A stern and harsh tone that reminded him of his father. A thick accent he could not quite place.

"Please, I-"

This time it was the face. A brutal slap that set his cheek aflame, burning, painful.

"You no understand? No talk!"

A hand grabbed him by the chin, and wrenched him forward. A soft panting, the smell of unwashed filth and cigars, the sensation of hot air blasting into his face. Someone's face, he presumed.

"No talk. Just obey. Good for you. If no, then bad. Very bad. I talk. You listen."

Suddenly he could see, as the blindfold was removed from his eyes. What he saw terrified him.

Under a dim light was a massive face. Two large eyes, a thick bulbous nose, two thick lips filled with crooked teeth. Behind the face, back in the corner of the room were eyes. So many eyes. Staring. Glaring. Looking at him, into him, inside him.

Something soft and wet slapped into his face, sliding down his cheek before falling to the floor with a slight thud. He looked down. It may have been once red, but now it was something else entirely. Like a pauper turned prince, it had decked itself in a garb of green and grey, a tinge of black and even some royal purple.

The face grinned. The hand reached down and picked it up, thrusting it into his face.

"You eat. Now."

Horrified, he shook his head. The face frowned, and the fist struck him again. It grabbed his mouth, forced it open, and shoved the meat inside his mouth.

"No say again. Now."

Weeping, he choked it down.

-----------------

"No... please! Anything but this! Please!"

The fist flew towards his nose. A familiar sensation, yet he could never get used to it. A paradox. Blood streaming from his nose. Pain. It meant he was still alive. Once, he would have taken that for a good sign. Now, he knew that it was proof that he was stuck in a living hell that he could not escape. A second fist hovered near his face. Warning him. Daring him to make another sound. Even so he tried.

"I-"

This time it caught him in his mouth. A tooth fell out. Another shattered. They would never return. Once broken, forever broken. How apt. Much like the situation he was in. Perhaps that was why he struggled so, despite it all. Because if he lost that too, he would never be able to get it back.

"Please! I'll do anything! Just don't do this! I'm begging you! I-"

A gag was stuffed into his mouth, and all he could do was moan and groan in vain. He tried to twist his way free, but the hand holding him in place was too strong. He could barely struggle. His face met cold concrete as he was pushed down. The blood spewing from his nose, at least, provided him some warmth.

It entered him from behind. It hurt more than anything else he had suffered through, yet it was the most familiar. He closed his eyes, but he still saw them in his head. One did not need eyes to see what had been burned into the mind, after all. His father, pushing him down, entering him despite his protests. He had been only ten then. The sensation of something hot and sticky being sprayed across his back. The pain. Not just physical, but also emotional, wracked with angst at a betrayal of guardianship. He snapped back to reality, tears streaming from his eyes.

A grunt, and it pulled out from him. He shuddered in a mixture of disgust and relief. He was free. Finally.

He found himself being turned over, and saw the face. And to his despair, many, many more.

The face grinned.

"No done yet. Them too."

By his fourth penetration, he was no longer conscious.

-----------------

He woke up to find himself in an alley, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. His clothes were back on, and his face was no longer bloody. Only the memories that persisted, and the absence of his teeth told him that what had happened to him was not a dream.

He pushed himself up, leaning against a dumpster to balance. And with trembling hands, he unfolded the paper, and gaped.

"Thank you for dining at the EthioCuisine. We hoped you enjoyed our full-course Ethiopian Experience!"

He fell to his knees and wept.

You guys have nobody but yourselves to blame for the crap I churn out. :3

Jesus Christ two longposts on the same page what is wrong with me.

Why would we blame anybody for that?

Like a pauper turned prince, it had decked itself in a garb of green and grey, a tinge of black and even some royal purple.

This line is very close to being amazing.

Words.

That's some Stephen R. Donaldson shit right there.

"Thank you for dining at the EthioCuisine. We hoped you enjoyed our full-course Ethiopian Experience!"

Its not full-course unless it comes with AIDS. Did it come with AIDS?

I was still playing my Sega Genesis around that time.
I always pictured Ethiopian restaurants serving you a handful of grains with a cup of water. And whilst you eat you get to enjoy the old world ambiance of sickly famine victims staring at you while you eat in a sweltering hot dilapidated building with fucking flies everywhere and the inescapable smell of waste and death. And if you go to the bathroom you get AIDS and/or raped by a person with aids.

I agree in all aspects, however, an Ethiopian cuisine is not complete unless you have the waiter do the Africa face.

I was never able to acquire a taste for Jazz. Except for Jazz Jackrabbit.

Have you played the second one? Kung Fu kick, 'yall.

Le Words

Damn man, write a book already. I don't care what it's about, write it and send it to me. Also, make it about a murder. Of a turtle.

I like turtles. ;_;

Its not full-course unless it comes with AIDS. Did it come with AIDS?

Face #3, 7 and 19 had AIDs.

#3 wore a condom though.

I like turtles. ;_;

Make the turtle be a Jesus turtle; dies, revives in 3 days turtle time (approximately 200 years human time).

Then everyone should sing Turtle Christ Superstar *.

It could also be a ninja turtle pretending to be dead **. The opportunities are endless.


* Tell us that you're who they say you are.

** Non-Michael-Bay, por favor.

This is just in, noah's favorite musical is Jesus Christ of the Opera.