Azn Badger's Blog

What About the Lysine Contingency…?

Laulau Makes My Brain Feel Fat

Pictured: Heaven and Hell, wrapped in taro leaves...

You see that big, steamy, pile of green/brown shit?

That my friend, is a Hawaiian dish by the name Laulau.

Don’t let the friendly, and vaguely baby talk-ish name fool you; Laulau doesn’t just put hair on your chest, it tears it out your ass and then staples it to your fuckin’ sternum.

If you don’t respect the Laulau, I shit you not, by Crom, Pele, and the Masters of the Universe; it will MAKE YOU.

A typical Laulau consists of only a handful of ingredients, most notably fat and pig.

Basically, you take the fattiest chunk of pig-butt and butterfish that you can find, salt both of ’em to shit, and then wrap it all in taro leaves and steam it until fat/grease starts to pour out.

I think the main idea behind the conception of Laulau, and indeed most Hawaiian cooking, was the idea that:

No piece of pig can’t be made better without the addition of copious amounts of fat and salt.

Oddly enough, while I’ve done posts on this blog before about the horrors of traumatic bowel evacuations AKA toilet warfare; curiously enough Laulau is a dish that has rarely given me trouble in this department.

The real challenge in dealing with Laulau, is simply coping with the sheer richness of it’s composition.

In recent years I’ve gotten in the habit of thinking of the after effects of consuming Laulau as being akin to a combination of “brain freeze” and “cheese sweats.”

To the uninitiated, brain freeze is that horrible throbbing pain you get in your frontal lobe when you eat cold dishes too quickly.

The cheese sweats are that greasy, sweaty, and logy feeling that lactose intolerant people (like myself) tend to get when they say “fuck it” in the face of their genetic defects and order the fettuccine.

Eating Laulau results in what I like to think of as a combination of these effects.

Basically, the fuckin’ taro turd is SO goddamn salty, SO goddamn fatty, and jam-packed with SO MUCH fuckin’ pig; that your brain and your belly just can’t cope with it.

Sure, you’ll start off fine, hell; you might even start shoveling the damn thing on account of how FUCKING TASTY it is, but as you start to get about halfway through it, at some point you’ll start to slow…

What follows, is a feeling I can only describe as being akin to having “fat on the brain.”

In short, it feels like you’re body is pumped full of so much fuckin’ fat and pig that it starts to feel like your stomach has run out of room, so it starts booting the shit up into your brain.

That’s when you know the Laulau’s got you by the balls.

When it’s got you under it’s hypnotic, fat and salt fueled spell…

Your thoughts start to cloud.

Your movements become lethargic.

You start to lose interest in everything else on your plate.

And oddly enough, despite intense feelings of fullness radiating throughout your torso; you keep telling yourself:

“I’m gonna’ finish this… I’m gonna’ finish this… I can’t let it win…”

Hahaha!

Silly bitch, there is no “winning” against the power of Laulau.

There is only surviving.

Surviving and waking up the next day to discover you’ve gained 10 lbs. off of a half pound dinner of pig, fish, and greens.

The worst part of succumbing to the effects of Laulau though, is the lethargy inducing grease factor.

The cheese sweats can be rough, but Laulau sweats are a whole ‘nother story.

Like dealing with a T-Rex, who’s visual acuity’s based on movement; you’re fine if you don’t move, but once you try to get up for seconds, (yeah, good luck with that…) or make a move for the rest room, you’ll be in for a nasty surprise.

Basically, any movement, no matter brief or relaxed; will result in your pores barfing up a fresh coat of pig scented sweat.

Not only that, you’ll find that any move you make will tire you the fuck out.

Now personally, I’m in pretty good shape, but if you put a Laulau in my belly; all the sudden I start sweating like Patrick Ewing and panting like Bob Sapp in the 2nd round.

Anyway, consider this article a word of caution to all the potential first timers when it comes to trying Laulau.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need go take a shower to wash the pig stink out of my skin, go into a well-deserved food coma, and then do it all over again tomorrow…

 

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Timothy Bradley Has A Big Head.

Original photo. Not doctored in any way.

Timothy Bradley has a big head.

I’m not saying he’s arrogant, I mean the man literally has a big-ass head.

It’s bulbous, outlandishly disproportionate to the rest of his body, and bears a unique shape that could only be described as “Tweety Bird-esque.”

In fact, the man’s head is so gigantic, that in the sport of boxing I feel there needs to be a concession made in the rulebooks to treat his cranium as a 4th man in the ring.

When you fight Tim Bradley, you aren’t just fighting Bradley.

You’re fighting Tim Bradley and Tim Bradley’s Head.

"And the winner is... The Head!!!"

That being said, the man has a big head, but by golly; he sure knows how to use it.

Known for being a stout, bell-to-bell pitbull-like fighter, Tim Bradley typically relies on his magnificent stamina and workrate to walk his opponents down over 12 rounds.

Such was not the case in last night’s bout against fellow (formerly) undefeated 140 lbs. prospect, Devon Alexander, as The Head saw fit to end the night prematurely.

You see, Alexander was in the fight from start to finish, however he foolishly discounted the sheer power and dominating force that is Timothy Bradley’s Head.

For several rounds, the 2 exchanged punches at a fairly even pace, with no man gaining any sort of significant advantage.

Alexander’s hand speed proved to be an effective tool for keeping Bradley at bay, however the tide was about to change…  A dark presence was looming, and it was out for blood…

After casually sitting out most of the early action, allowing it’s lower extremities to bear the brunt of the workload, the hulking beast that is Tim Bradley’s Head saw fit to make it’s presence known at the end of the 3rd round, as it crashed into Devon  Alexander’s cranium with the force (and mass) of a wrecking ball, opening a nasty cut over his right eye.

 

Artist Rendering.

In between rounds, Alexander’s trainer called out to the referee and anyone who cared to listen:

“I told you about that fucking Head!”

You see, despite whatever (futile) preparations Devon Alexander made to contend with Tim Bradley’s Head, the sheer size and power of his monstrous skull grants him a tremendous advantage in the sport of boxing.

 

Pictured: A little known distant ancestor of Timothy Bradley.

While we’ve already made note of it’s savage power, it’s great size serves as a perfect feint, goading opponents into firing away at thinking it to be an easy target, only to be fooled by it’s surprisingly lithe and dextrous movements.

Not only that, it needs to be mentioned that Tim Bradley’s Head grants him an incredible ability to cut off the ring and corner his opponents, as in most regulation sized rings, it ends up occupying at least 80% of the surface area.

There's no escape. It size grants it it's own gravitational field. It's science...

You don’t “share” a ring with Tim Bradley’s Head, it allows you to step inside.

Despite his best efforts, Alexander was unable to avoid the beast that is Tim Bradley’s Head, as though it honestly does not mean to cause harm to others with it’s near cosmic capacity to cause cuts and bleeding, it’s great size makes such collisions nigh unavoidable.

That being said, while the contest was indeed very close; Bradley’s Head was ultimately ruled the victor.

As it stands, most would agree that the top 3 of the Jr. Welterweight division would likely be comprised of: Timothy Bradley’s Head, Amir Khan, and Timothy Bradley himself.

While Amir Khan is indeed a tremendous talent, the size advantage, pressuring tactics, and sheer power of Tim Bradley’s Head are all factors that are hard to ignore when considering the outcome of this matchup.

Filed under: Boxing, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

In A Bizarre Twist Of Fate, Something Good Happened At Work Today!

How Do Asian People Smile? With The Aid of Expensive and Specialized Tools, Of Course.

Remember gym class in middle school?

Remember how you basically got an “A” just for changing into your gym clothes?

Well, don’t let anyone tell you that just plain showing up for work everyday isn’t without it’s benefits; because I just got a 16 GB Zune Touch HD for doing exactly that!

Oooooh.... Fancy...

Oh yeah, and I also got a wall charger/USB adaptor, and a screen cleaning kit to go with it.

Tower of Power, baby... Tower of Power...

FOH’ FREE Y’ALL!

*Ahem!* Sorry.  We Japanese don’t gloat all too often, but when it comes to the acquisition of fancy and overpriced material goods, we just can’t help ourselves.

Anyway, turns out there was some sort of lottery involving the various employees at the warehouse with a certain standard of attendance, and my name just happened to be pulled for the second prize.

It’s kind of funny really, I honestly didn’t know anything about a drawing or prizes or what not; which made the whole experience of being told I had won something all the more surreal.

Trust me, as awesome as the Azn Badger may seem in print, in person he is very much a mustelid (look it up, retard) of the loser-ly variety.

That being said, I was absolutely blown away by the announcement, such that I honestly didn’t believe it at first.

I think it goes without saying, that despite all the hardship and long hours at work lately, (particulary of the “frozen” variety…) a silly little thing like getting second prize in a lottery I didn’t even know I had entered really did a lot to perk me up.

In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that it made me “happy.”

It’s kind of funny actually, when the subcontractor correspondent approached me to tell me about the prize, my first reaction was to steel myself in anticipation of bad news along the lines of:

“You accidentally shipped a dildo and House of 1000 Corpses to a child for Christmas.  You sir, Mr. Badger; are fired.”

Or,

“You’re slow.  And dumb.  And you smell of lamb shanks and feces.  Now, get back to work dick fur.”

In retrospect, the sunny and inviting smile on their face probably should’ve tipped me off to their intentions, but give me a break; I’m Azn, we’re good at misinterpreting things like faces, and y’know; English.

Anyway, after far too many days of freezer duty, my hands are a cracked and, quite literally, bloody mess right now; resulting in the necessary application of bag balm.

Word to the wise:

Never type with balmy jism on your hands; it can get very messy…

With bag jizz all over my hands, I’m not really able to handle my shiny new Zune at the moment, so I’m thinking I’ll wait a day or 2 to fire her up.

Damn that thing's reflective... A little smaller than I expected too.

Hell, I can wait, after all; it’s not everyday you get a free toy, much less a $200+ one…

Oh well, happy early Christmas to me I guess!

 

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Minecraft: Survival Multiplayer (Guest Post)

Hello everyone, and welcome to the first (well technically second…) guest post on the Azn Badger’s blog!

After months of not-so-subtly prodding at my friends to give me a hand/break in posting on this blog EVERY FUCKING DAY, one of my closest of pal’s has finally stepped up to the plate and allowed me to post a comic of his!

Anyway, the author of said comic is listed as “red13,” however because I’m a dick, and like to treat my friend’s like shit, I will henceforth be referring to the contributor of this comic as “Mencius.”

That being said, the comic in question is an homage/parody/play on the online PC game, Minecraft.

I myself have not played Minecraft, nor know anything about it, but I can definitely fake it by throwing Wikipedia quotes at you!:

“Minecraft is a sandbox building[1][2] game which allows players to build constructions out of textured cubes in a 3D world. It is currently in development by Markus “Notch” Persson on the Java platform. The gameplay is inspired by Dwarf Fortress, RollerCoaster Tycoon, Dungeon Keeper, and especially Infiniminer.[3][4] Minecraft was developed for about a week before its public release on May 17, 2009 on the TIGSource forums, where it gained a considerable level of popularity. It has been continually updated since then, and while still an alpha release, it has garnered hundreds of thousands of sales and critical notice and acclaim from many reviewers.”

There, you now know just as much as I do about Minecraft!

Anyway, my buddy Mencius made this comic (for fun, not posterity) based around the basic premise tha- Oh, fuck it, I’ll just let him explain it:

“Minecraft will see updates to its multiplayer where players can take damage – leading to the inevitable creation of servers which give players a bit more of a challenge than they’re used to. This comic is about what I imagine a part of Minecraft’s future will look like.”
… I don’t get it.
Enough jibber-jabbin’ and talkin’ wise an’ otherwise though, let’s get to the comic, shall we?:
(Please open the image in another window or download it.  The comic is too large for the post width of my blog, so it has been condensed somewhat.)
Hope you all enjoyed it, please remember to thank my buddy Mencius for his contribution to the blog!
Seriously man, thanks a lot, I just snagged Demon’s Souls tonight, so I definitely don’t need the extra stress of having to pound out a blog post for tonight…

Filed under: Games, Movies, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Beowulf: Summarized by A COLLEGE GRADUATE

Let’s get one thing straight:

I read Beowulf.

Not only that, I read, and dissected Beowulf for school within a month of seeing the movie.

That being said, I know the story.

Well, no; that’s not entirely true, but for the purposes of this post bear with me.

If you ask me, the original Beowulf story (well, the translated/updated version that we all read today anyway…) was trashy and uninspired, even for it’s time.

The composition of the story is fractured, the characters are barely 2 dimensional, and the whole thing is downright caveman simple.

What I mean to say is:

Beowulf was a campfire story for DUDES, a story meant to entertain on the most visceral of levels, and one that was seemingly thrown together on the fly one night, probably by a drunk-ass dude with PTSD from killing and raping 5,000 women and children.

Wow, that was graphic.

Anyway, what follows is an intentionally stupid and ridiculous summary/reenactment of the original telling of the Beowulf story as I know it.

Try to picture this being told around an old-world viking campfire.

Please enjoy, and bear in mind, this post was brought to you by a 4 year college education:

“Okay, so there’s this monster, uh, Green- (no, wait…) Grendel!  Yeah, that’s right, Grendel!

One day, Grendel showed up at some castle, and was all like:

“IMMA’ KILL ALL’AH’ YOUSE’!”

With that, Grendel started cuttin’ bitches, so the peoples in the castle whipped out their celly’s and called the pimpest dude in the neightborhood:

BAY-O-WOLF.

Yeah that’s right, BAY-O-WOLF.

Only thing is, he’s so fuckin’ BADASS that he spells it “Beowulf,” ’cause he’s all like:

“I don’t want suckah’s soundin’ out my name n’shit.  That’s some bullshit right there, son…”

Anyway, Beowulf shows up and is all like:

“Yeah, I’ll kill your monster, but first let us all get drunk while I take some ‘roids and whip out my cock… Y’know, as a sign of good sportsmanship.

Don’t question me, I’m BADASS.”

Right as the parties startin’ to die down, Grendel busts down the door on a bad trip or some shit and is all like:

“IMMA’ KILL ALL’AH’ YOUSE’!”

So, these 2 guys bein’ the dudes that they are, Beowulf and Grendel end up drinking themselves stupid.

Naturally, again; dudes that they are, the 2 of them get into a slap boxing/wrestling match, presumably over who the better Bond was, Connery or Moore.

(It was Connery…)

Despite what began as a friendly contest, Beowulf somehow accidentally tears Grendel’s arm out of it’s socket.

That, my good friends, is what shall henceforth be known as a “party foul.”

Anyway, that’s the story!  Goodnight!”

Inevitably, gathered around a campfire with nothing else to do, someone would eventually have to ask:

“Really?  That can’t really be the end, can it?”

Not wanting to upset his testosterone and boose juiced audience, our storyteller would most likely do what he could to improv a second act for the story:

“So, *cough!* turns out Grendel had a mom

Not only that, Grendel had, uh, a SAVAGE BEAST of a mom that was 10 times more SAVAGE than him on his most SAVAGE of days!

Yeah, that’s right, SAVAGE!

‘Cause, y’know how mothers are, am I right guys? *Wink* *Wink*

……….. How come nobodies’ laughing?

*Ahem!* Anyway, Grendel’s mom shows up at the castle and is all like:

“IMMA’ KILL ALL’AH’ YOUSE’!”

So then Beowulf, fresh after having just bedded every lady in waiting in the court, is all like:

“Yeah, ‘imma kill that bitch for yah’, just let me get juiced up and nak- (no, wait he already did that) I mean, juiced up and shit-faced and I’ll get right on it.

Then maybe I’ll get naked and score some poontang afterwards…”

(Hold for applause)

Yeah, thought you guys would like that part…

With that, Beowulf, being the BADASS that he is; goes and puts the ground and pound to Grendel’s mom like she stole from him.

Seriously, that bitch got tapped out so fast, The Flash was like “Waddah’ fawk jus’ happened!?”

During the after party, Beowulf gets laid, gets hammered, and becomes king.  The end.”

Despite the storyteller’s pleas though, inevitably some other loudmouth jackass would demand that the story keep going.

Hoping to satisfy his audience, and finally bring an end to the epic monstrosity he had birthed that evening, the storyteller would ultimately go balls-out with his final act, intentionally jumping the shark for fear of further demands of continuance:

“Okay guys, this is really the end now, so don’t ask for any more story tonight, ‘k?

So a bunch of time passes, and Beowulf’s real old n’shit, right?

He’s still king n’all, but he’s real fuckin’ old is all.

Anyway, everything’s good n’shit, but then A FUCKIN’ DRAGON shows up, and Beowulf’s all like:

“I’m old and the evils of gravity have made me ashamed to disrobe in public anymore, but imma’ kill the FUCKIN’ DRAGON for everybody, ’cause goddamnit; I’m BADASS and that’s what I do.

… Even though the dragon hasn’t really done anything to warrant it’s killi- Goddamnit I’m the KING, and I’m BADASS, so this is fuckin’ happening… Right now!”

With that Beowulf heads down to the FUCKIN’ DRAGON’S house and starts wreckin’ shit like no other while his little buddy Wieglaf hangs back and is all like:

“Oh snap!  Beowulf’s a fuckin’ beast!”

Shit goes wrong though, and Beowulf falls on his knife or some shit, leaving Wieglaf to pwn the FUCKIN’ DRAGON on his own (with a little help from aimbot…).

Anyway, Beowulf dies or some shit, I don’t know; I’m tired let’s go to bed.”

Well, folks, that was my summary/reenactment of the first telling of the Beowulf story.

Hopefully you all enjoyed it, and/or learned something!

 

 

 

 

 

Filed under: Comics, Movies, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Azn Badger Eats EVERYTHING

The Azn Badger post-Ultimo Dinner, and pre-Giga Deuce...

Okay, I lied.

Maybe the Azn Badger didn’t eat EVERYTHING, but even so; he made a worthy effort…

Tonight doubled as both a family gathering, and an evening of copious consumption of eclectic eats.

Let it be known, impromptu family dinners should NEVER, repeat, NEVER, be preceded by a post-work meal, as such actions ultimately result in what is commonly known as a “food coma.”

Pictured: A child experiences his first food coma.

How I am able to type this post while under the nauseous effects of said state of being, the world may never know; but the point is, I ate a shit-ton of shit, and now you’re gonna’ read about it!

Let’s start off with my post-work “OH MY GOD I’M SO HUNGRY I COULD STRAIGHT-UP CUT A BITCH” menu:

Being as I am a simple man of simple tastes, my post-work meal consisted of a bowl of calrose rice, topped with smoked salmon, with a light dousing of mae ploy sauce, a sprinkle of my Dad’s custom BBQ rub, and a fuck-ton of black pepper.

FOOD OF THE GODS.

On the side, I had a freshly cut mango, and a little bit of watermelon.

That was Phase 1.

Phase 2 came when my brother and his girlfriend stopped by, ultimately causing my parents to flip into entertaining/feeding mode.

Phase 2, was where things got interesting.

Like, Gummo; interesting

Anyway, here’s the menu for Ultimo Dinner Phase 2:

Ball Park Hot Dogs, served 2 at a time on Costco sized buns.

Corn on the cob.

A Green Salad.

Watermelon and Cherries.

Baked Beans.

and Seared Ahi.

Where, and how the Seared Ahi goes together with everything else, I have no clue, but either way it was damn good.

Oh yeah, and there was also a hearty-as-fuck Cow dish of some sort, but between my brother, myself, and my Dad, that shit got demolished.

Oh yeah, and you how it wasn’t cooked?:

That’s right!  WELL DONE!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

*Ahem!* Anyway, I had a pretty hefty helping of pretty much everything, thereby ensuring the probability of a Giga-Deuce in my immediate future.

Good thing I just bought a bushel of comics to read, ’cause chances are I’ve got a long evening ahead of me in “the office.”

If this was my "office," I'd probably never leave.

That’s right, I used the word “bushel.”

What of it?

Anyway, I’m tired, and said Giga-Deuce is beginning to rear it’s ugly head, so I think I’ll cut things short and call it an evening.

Thanks for reading, feel free to share any goofy Ultimo Dinner Menus you’ve sampled over the years!

Filed under: Comics, Games, Uncategorized, Wrestling, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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