h a l f b a k e r yOn the one hand, true. On the other hand, bollocks.
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1. Heat 1 inch of veg. oil in medium-sized frying pan over medium-high heat.
2. Cut denim material into small triangular or circular chips.
3. Place denim in frying pan for six minutes or until brown tinge forms around edges of chips.
4. Remove chips from pan and drain excess oil.
5. Season to
taste (salt, pepper, and garlic powder are my favorite)
6. Serve and enjoy!
Motorcycle, glass door, and exploding toilet
http://www.darwinaw...legends1998-14.html
[Rayford Steele] Your Father's story is famous! [bristolz, Aug 25 2002, last modified Oct 04 2004]
Really famous
http://www.snopes.c.../legends/toilet.htm
Can I tell people that I know you? [bristolz, Aug 25 2002, last modified Oct 04 2004]
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Annotation:
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1) Denim does not have a silent n.
2) Not a bad suggestion because denim is 100 percent cotton, but not really digestible because I believe it is cellulose based. If you want to get rid of your jeans, cut em up, bury them in your garden or compost heap. |
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homer: [smirk] "Marge look! And you said I *couldn't* deep fry my shirt."
Marge: [groan] " I said you *shouldn't* dear, not couldn't." |
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[marked-for-deletion] - recipe. |
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Oh man, I really want to comment on this one... feng...
please? |
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Oh maan! What can I say?! My dad runs a Chinese restaurant and he once put his work jeans into a wok along with caustic soda and heated it to degrease them. I'm not sure if it worked or not and I don't recall him doing it recently, but madradish keeps bringing this up to embarrass me! :P |
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...not at feng's restaurant. They only serve cats with
pedigrees... |
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To quote the novelty sign madradish once gave me: "Too many cats not enough recipes". |
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Yep, don't let your cat get anywhere near Feng. He's
already giving mine a nervous breakdown. |
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Ah but that jumping action Milo makes when I startle him is priceless!... At least I'm giving him some form of exercise (he needs it). |
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I am not your brother, I haven't done anything to your
hamster (that I am aware of) |
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I used to have a cat named Milo. |
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<admires scars>As a 6-year-old, I put my hands through a glass door, too - 1st done with test, 1st out the door to recess, 1st with blood everywhere. Got a baseball glove out of sympathy, though.</admires scars> |
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Wasn't there a movie . . . Milo and Otis? Narrated by the late Dudley Moore? |
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episiotomy = the unkindest cut of all. Add that to 200 stitches = 1 tough bird. At least the cat isn't named Lilo, as you'd no doubt have to endure Lilo and Stitch movie, jokes, etc. |
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Mephista... when Feng referred to Milo, he was talking
about my cat (or rather the cat that lives with me) which
he likes to torment. I don't think Milo is a great name, but
then I didn't name him. The last cat I named was called
Pixel. |
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And Feng is definitely not your brother either. |
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Curiously, I kicked my foot through the pane of a glass
door in a fit of pique when I was about seven. |
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Gonna fishbone this idea, i'm afraid. On the face of it denim skins are a good idea. But after rolling up a spliff inside a piece of denim I will say, first, it was a bugger to light, and second , it tasted like smoking a piece of someones jeans. Think I'll stick to big blue Rizlas from now on, thanx. |
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//it tasted like smoking a piece of someones jeans//
I wonder why that would be. |
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Hey angel, you missed the // ? //. Not to be picky or anythang... |
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I'll stick at smoked windows. |
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Please explain why a question mark is required. |
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'cos dear angel, you should question EVERYTHING. Believe nothing.......Or something. |
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<another broken glass story> My dad was a cop in Tampa for awhile, and oftentimes would do ambulance runs as well. One time, this guy bought a new motorbike, and was revving it up, on the kickstand, in his garage. Now apparently, there's some sort of glass door between his garage and his living room. Or maybe it was his driveway, I dunno. Anyway, the kickstand got knocked loose, and he and his bike go flying through the glass window.
So dad gets a call and shows up to rush him into the hospital. They pick all the glass out of his um, personality, patch him back up, and send him back home.
Meanwhile, the wife is cleaning up the mess back home. She soaks up all the spilt gas from the hardwood floor with a rag, and then rings the rag out in the toilet.
So the guy comes home from the emergency room with a stitch here and a bandage there and goes to the john, lights up a cigarette and throws the match into the toilet. Ends up blowing himself headfirst into the mirror.
Dad gets another call. "352 Harlowe Avenue, weren't we just there?" |
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Now, I don't doubt you for a second [RayfordSteele] but I admit to some head scratching over why it is that I have heard/read that same story before (with slight variations)? |
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"I assumed this had something to do with Bart Simpson"... |
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no, this is my own great idea. i have a friend who used to wear really tight jeans, we called him "denim skin". |
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