Painting With Shotguns XLV

Sexy-Time Salad

Been a while since I slapped you in the mouth with a hot tasty recipe, right? Right. Thus, it’s time. Except this recipe ain’t hot in the temperature sense. It’s cool. Chill. But it’s hot like sexy. It’s hot like fishnet stockings. It’s hot like that scene in Ghost with the wheel of clay. Yeah. Nnnggh. Swoon.

Anyway. This is based off a number of recipes, one of them being Eric Ripert’s Papaya Salad from (of all places) Entertainment Weekly magazine. But I like to put a whole lot more in there.

I will preface this with the overarching instruction:


Okay? Okay. Let’s do this.

Take a large green papaya, then peel it, deseed it, and before you slice it into a matchstick cut, marvel at the way it looks like a Georgia O’Keefe painting. Which is to say, like a vagooha.

Then, one ripe-ass motherfucking mango, preferably the King Of Mangoes, the Champagne Mango. If you want to watch some goofy douche cut a mango, here it is. But that’s not sexy. And I assure you, cutting a mango should be sexy. You want to get your fingers up in there. Get ‘em sticky. Then rip it apart in a fit of roaring anger! And throw it on the floor and kick a dent in your fridge!

Wait, that last part isn’t sexy.

Uhhh. Just scoop it out and cut it into slices. Lick the juices from your fingers if you like.

Last and final fruit: the forbidden fruit, the fruit of the Garden of Eden, the apple. (Shut up, I know the fruit of the Garden was probably a pomegranate — or maybe even some kind of mysterious Jesus Fruit.) Peel it, get it into thin slicey-slivers. (Also: Jesus Fruit is the name of my new band.)

Peel a small carrot. Another matchstick (or, if you’re froofy-toity, Julienne) cut.

Two small cucumbers, de-seeded. Run them through your Mandoline, or, if you’re like me and are certain the Mandoline will try to eat your fingers (one millimeter at a time), just use your chef’s knife to slice ‘em as papery as you’re capable of getting them.

Two scallions. Slicey slice, thin little scallion sphincters.

Cilantro. A fist full. Dice it up nice.

A knob of ginger: mince it, or grate it up. And by “knob,” I either mean, measure it against the head of your robust man-spire, or compare it to one of the knobs on your cabinets. That’s up to you, sweet babies.

Two tablespoons of agave syrup — or, if you’re not a millionaire and don’t have agave syrup, just go with two TBsp of straight-up granulated sugar.

Two tablespoons of rice wine vinegar.

Two tablespoons of fish sauce.

One teaspoon dark sesame oil.

One teaspoon mirin.

A sprinkling of salt.

A smack of crack black pepper.

One lime (or two if they’re small), cut it, squeeze out all the juice.

Again, to reiterate the earlier instruction:


When that’s done, crumble some crushed peanuts on top of the portioned out, er, portions.

Let it marinate for as long as you care to. I say an hour.

That is a sexy-time salad.

For maximum sexiness, make it in the nude.

With nothing on but a medieval plague mask and a giraffe’s tail butt plug.

(Don’t forget the strobe lights.)

Search Term Bingo (Now With Added Civility)

Time, once again, for another profound round of Search Term Bingo. This time, I tried to choose stuff that wasn’t precisely… y’know, profane. A difficult task, I assure you. Still, here goes! Ready to play? Woooo!

extreme strangling

Is there some other kind of strangling I’m not aware of? This feels redundant to me. Like “wet ocean” or “racist Tea Party member.” Can you strangle someone gently? Surely that’s ineffective. I mean, if you’re going to go to the effort of strangling, you best get serious. Go extreme or go home. Or, rather, EXXXTR3M3 STRANGLING!!!1!! OMG!!1 *fart noise*

why do some people think beards are dirt

Because some people are confused and believe that hobos — who can only grow dirt beards — are human beings. Hobos are not humans and should not be treated as such. Our beards are real. They are not the same as a hobo dirt beard, which as noted, is just a beard made out of dirt. Dirty dirt. Ptoo. Foul hobos. Begone from this plane! Thou shalt not pass!

damn Linda’s list

Yeah. Damn it right in the ass. Linda doesn’t know shit about shit. Linda’s all over there, putting things in order. Making her list. Of stuff. Whatever. Whatever! You know what I say? I say damn Linda’s list. Stupid goddamn Linda and her lists.

what does it mean when ypy feep dizzy

I don’t know, but I really hope that somewhere “Ypy Feep Dizzy” is some kind of magical word. Like, you whisper it into the knot of an oaktree and it opens up and yields to you a ripe bounty of elf-made cookies. And the little elf assholes are scurrying around like ants with ant eggs after you kick over the ant hill, and you’re all like, “Ha ha ha, stupid tree elfs! I eat your cookies, then I eat you!”

how to write drunk dialogue

Just use a lot of “*hic* and *vomit.*

So, like:

“Hey, then I says to the broad — *hic!* — you shut your whore mouth and — *vomit* — damn that Linda’s list, damn it right in the — *poops pants, falls asleep* ZZZzzzz.”

That’s how you write some drunk dialogue.

attacked by a pack of marmots

Then what are you doing on the Internet? Those things carry the bubonic plague. I’m not fucking around. Marmots are plague-bearing bastards. It doesn’t matter how cute they are…

Wait, what’s this…?

Oh, hell with it. If they have the plague, so what? So cute. So cute. Gimme that gingerbread cookie, marmot. Give me a sugary taste of crunchy plague germs. Mmmm. Nom nom nom.

how to rewrite your brain settings

Car battery. Wires. Hooked to your nuts. Or “lady parts” if you have those. Bzzt. Enjoy.

writing is like having a baby

It’s probably not.

meez why doesnt my double punch work

Because you didn’t do the combo right. Asshole. (Meez?)

jesus spelled backwards bacon

This is technically incorrect: Jesus spelled backwards is Sausage (er, Susej). But spiritually, yes. This is accurate. Jesus spelled backwards is bacon. It’s in the Bible. Like, all over the place.

urinals for sale with spiders on them

This is alarmingly specific. Are you trying to terrify the males of our species? Because, man, newsflash: spiders near my junk is not what the Pee-Pee Doctor ordered. I’m getting the shivers just thinking about it. Some spider doing a little tap-dance on the head of my One-Up Mushroom? No. No! No.

what to do when you publicly wet yourself

Own it. Just own it. Do a dance. Point to it. Try to convince others that it’s a fierce trend and they should do it, too. Rub it on them. Wave its ammonia fragrance at passersby.

beard trimmings as a squirrel repellent

No. Don’t you dare do that. You know what will happen, right? One of two things. First, the squirrel will glue those beard trimmings to its face with pigeon’s blood and then gain the power to walk amongst us as if human. Or two, it will eat the beard trimmings and gain a measure of our earthly power. Plus, you give the squirrel access to your bank account. Which means that squirrel will start racking up squirrel porn.

clawfoot tub hobo

The deadliest hobo known to man.

is it ok to let my son suck on my feet?

Yes, as long as you don’t mind if your son gets some kind of irreparable tooth fungus. I mean, Jesus, dude. Get your feet out of your kid’s fucking mouth. That is nas-tay. You should be dragged behind a horse.

im a little man and would like a beard

The measure of a man is in his beard, my good sir. Abraham Lincoln said that. If Abraham Lincoln is actually me. Which he is. I did not die that night at the theater. I lived on, saved by a bolt of lightning from Ben Franklin’s magic kite, powered by a tribe of seven angry ghosts!

fun ways to keep your man engaged during sex

Two words: squeaky toys.

epic tits won’t clean


A Tiny Itty-Bitty Thank You

Just wanted to say thanks to all of you who cheered my ass up the other day with helpful ideas and all that what-nottery. You’re all lovely people. Just don’t get a big head about it. Narcissists.

The Internet Is A Series Of Links, And Also, Squirrel Porn

I give you links.

You want to know how my writing partner and I handle story? Lance gives me a shout-out over at Filmmaker Magazine in his “Culture Hacker” column. Story is king, folks. Check it out right here.

The absolutely funniest shit you will read this week is from screenwriter Josh Friedman’s blog. This entry — SLEDGEHAMMER AND WHORE — is… it’s really fucking sublime. I saw this float around earlier in the week and it continues to whirl about. You need that.

Yes, yes there will be an Avatar: The Last Airbender cartoon spin-off. Count me in.

Frank Bill’s novel DONNYBROOK is now scheduled for publication thanks to Uber-Agent Stacia Decker. Congrats to Frank — I was fortunate enough to read it already, and man, Frank Bill ain’t right in the head in all the bed ways. It’s a raw, dirty, kick-ass book and it deserves your attention.

Dan O’Shea draws dirty scribbles in the margins of his new online notebook.

That is all.


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