"This Little Piggy"

My buddy, Daniel, showed me a fun recipe while I was visiting him. He took a nice pork loin, made a few cuts so it rolled out flat, seasoned it and prepped it for stage two. That's where he took boudin out of its casing and spread it on the pork loin before rolling it back up to its original shape. I got my hand slapped for trying to cut off a piece before he could cook it. He quickly tied it closed with twine and cooked it in a loaf pan like that. 

I patiently sat by the oven watching it cook, drooling the whole time like Pavlov had a bell concert going on. Occasionally I would take emotional comfort in the form of some of the incredible cookies his mom had made. Oh, I'm stealing that recipe too! I'll admit here that I nipped myself in the fingers a few times. I knew what was in that oven and I wasn't taking my eyes off of it.

So there I was, groping blindly for cookies to occupy my mind when the timer finally rang. Music to my stomach! I'm pretty sure he thought I was part golden retriever the way I set my head on the counter and whimpered as that pork loin just lay there cooling and resting. Agony! Just give it to me hot! Hell, just pour the juice into a cup and let me drink it! It was like a delicious meat Swiss roll. Eat your heart out Little Debbie! 

I've since gone home and toyed with this recipe. When I make it I put a link of andouille in the middle and wrap the loin in strips of bacon. Yes, bacon. Thick, peppered bacon just the way God intended bacon to be. It's a pork buffet in a single pan. 

I'm thinking of trying a variation of this with red meat except that'll be tricky because we all know the only way to eat red meat is rare. I like my steak with a little life left in it. Sometimes I have to wrestle it but that just adds to the enjoyment. 

So why am I telling you all this? Because I wanted to discuss another important component here. See, when I rein myself in a little there's leftovers. Leftovers of this pork loin are a treasure that'll be hard to top. 

You take a slice of the pork torte, a couple slices of bread, some mayo, ham, cheese (Gouda or mozzarella are excellent for this occasion) and tomato slices and you've got a fantastic sandwich. 

The bread is extremely important here. Too thin and you've just got "mayo fingers". Mayo fingers isn't sexy. So some nice, thick sliced sourdough is the way to go. I prefer to slice it about 3/4 of an inch thick. It's even better if you have a panini press. Or a Foreman grill. Maybe brush a little garlic butter on the outsides before you toast it. I like to elevate my sandwiches to "art" status. 

Oh, you don't eat bread? You're "gluten free"? You fell for that gluten free nonsense they're selling? That's too bad. Whoever started that fad should be shot. 

How is it 10 years ago the only glute anyone knew about was the butt and now everyone's afraid of glutens?! Everyone's running around worried about flour and I'm over here smiling at my sandwich. 

There's "vegetarian" where you don't eat meat except fish and shrimp and stuff because "fish isn't meat". Weird because salmon doesn't taste like apples to me. But vegetarian is "healthier". Healthier than what? Being happy?! What poppycock is this that fish isn't meat? Of course it is. 

And this gibberish "I don't anything that has a face"? That's why we don't serve the whole cow, goober, so it isn't just laying there smiling at you while you enjoy a filet mignon. "Meat is murder". Pfft. Murder is murder; meat is delicious and nutritious. Look, if my dogs were made of bacon I'd eat them. 

Then there's "vegan" which is like the gestapo of the vegetarian class. Not only do they not eat meat, they don't eat anything dairy or anything "animal by-product". So all they eat is plants. Clearly whoever started this fad was chewing on marijuana or those weird mushrooms that make you hear colors and taste sounds. 

So these hippies think we should just eat plants. Only now the plants are striking back. Wheat has apparently taken out advertising to get us off gluten. We can't use peanuts for anything anymore because of allergies. Next we will develop an allergy to lettuce or something. See what you're making the plants do, vegans? 

Tofu isn't a food group. Nor is "organic". Somebody comes up with an idea for how to charge more for food. That's all that "organic" nonsense is. It's the same food, just with a different label on it. Tomfoolery, I tell you. 

We have incisors and canine teeth, people! We were meant to eat meat. Salad is what my dinner ate. Vegans is what causes cannibalism. They end up getting so strung out for actual protein (which is what our body uses to build muscle by the way) that they end up snacking on themselves. 

Here we are apex predators and these jackalopes are back to foraging for berries. You're embarrassing us in front of the other animals. The other animals are going to think we've gone soft. This is how you set it up for rock badgers to take over. 

Have some meat! Don't ask where it came from. You don't need to run down the genealogy of a rabbit in order to enjoy some stew. Besides, do you have any idea how long it'd take to trace that back? They breed like bunnies. 

You want "nonGMO", "non gluten"? Get a friggin fishing license and catch some food. Or go hunting at Winn-Dixie like I do. Gluten free pizza has to taste like goat ass with tomato sauce. That's no way to live. 

Like one person in a million is actually allergic to gluten. The rest of you are just following the herd on that. Makes me wonder if that didn't start that whole "gluten free" thing as some kind of mass social experiment. Some "diet expert" made a bet with another one. "Watch, I bet I can get everyone to quit eating bread." Then they snickered when people started falling for it. 

Look, you're not "gluten intolerant". Being vegan doesn't make you healthier than omnivores. I've known a few vegans and I can certainly tell you that vegans don't seem to be any more "moral" than I am. 

What you are is the top of the damn food chain. Start acting like it, people. 

"The Good, The Bad and The Dumb"

Ok, let's just get this out of the way up front: I'm probably going to say something things in this post that are going to offend some people. I do that sometimes; I say things that upset someone's liberal sensibilities and they write me about what a meany I am. Good times. 

So, quick, avert thine eyes lest you read on and risk my "less than progressive" ways upsetting you. For everyone who's still here, come on in. Enjoy the train wreck about to unfold...

So I go into the driver's lounge with my food, right? Well I end up being the only person in there. First off, that's clearly a sign of the apocalypse. Secondly, the tv is on "COPS", one of my favorite shows. Can my day get any better? I say nay. 

Talk about good fortune, they've got fresh hot wings and half gallon containers of cow juice. I recently switched to low-fat milk so I apparently feel I have to consume larger quantities. Don't judge Grog and his appetite. 

Consumables purchased I practically skip back into the tv room. Just in time for a chase scene to start. (It really is shaping up to be a perfect evening). Here's how it plays out:

A driver was speeding and flees going north in the southbound lanes. He spins out and a cop tries to get in front of him. The dude hits the cop car and takes off. Another cop gets involved. Dude spins out again on a bridge. They think they've got him pinned in. Until he backs up and goes around them. 

From there they change directions and pursue him some more. (By the way, they'd said "we've got him boxed in" right before he figured out they left the lid open on that box. Good going, cops. It shouldn't have taken an engineer to figure out he wasn't as "boxed in" as they thought). Anyway, back to the chase. He's speeding away and loses control on a turn. BAMMO! He hits a car head-on. 

Bad luck for the innocent motorist who got hit. The cops zoom in, get the suspect on the ground and in custody. Hooray for the good guys, right? Their first concern is to check on the other driver and any by-standers. They call for medical assistance, make sure no one is in immediate need and turn their attention to Mr Bad Guy Driver (they don't give names so I make them up). Turns out he's drunk. Not just a little but a lot. We're talking near coma here. 

Ambulances show up and paramedics tend to Mr What The Hell, I Was On My Way Home guy. Long name, I know, but it seemed to fit him. While he's getting looked at the cops explain to the camera crew that they're gonna get Mr Bad Guy Driver taken to the hospital to get checked out then he's going to jail. Because he did bad things and innocent people got hurt. 

And here's where I start having a problem. This jackalope didn't care about anyone else when he started driving drunk. He didn't care who he may kill while playing Gone In 60 Seconds with the cops. Yet he's being taken care of and taken to the hospital in case he got hurt. 

I say no. He doesn't deserve that medical care. Nope. I don't care if he ruptured his spleen and shattered his pelvis. I couldn't care less if he was bleeding out. You show a blatant disregard for those you could've killed, why should we care about your well-being? 

This led me to think about an experience I had many years ago. I'd only been driving a truck for about a year at the time. I can still remember it like it just happened though. 

I was driving through San Antonio about 6 in the morning on a Sunday. Traffic was really light and there was a local day-cab truck in front of me. Fortunately I always leave plenty of distance between me and whoever is in front of me. 

Up ahead I saw a car pull onto the shoulder of the highway and park. The driver's side door opened just a crack. The other truck and I were in the middle lane so there was plenty of room if the driver decided to get out. 

As we got closer, he did get out. As soon as he got both feet on the ground he took off at a sprint and ran out in front of the lead truck. I swerved a little out of instinct but I'm surprised I managed to find the brake pedal because I was so shocked by what I was witnessing. 

This guy made it almost fully in front of the other truck. Almost. Instead he got clipped by the passenger side fender. And he flew. About 10 feet in the air and 15 feet or so sideways. He basically caromed off the truck like a human snooker ball. He landed back on the shoulder of the highway but he was definitely not going to get back up. 

The driver that hit him pulled to the shoulder quickly. I pulled in behind him. I ran back to check on the runner. He was alive but probably just barely. Several cars were already pulling over and everyone was calling 911. 

The truck driver that hit him? He was still behind the wheel. Crying. Yes, I would've probably been too had I been him. Except rumor has it I may lack tear ducts. Who did I feel for though? The truck driver. Not just because he's a fellow truck driver but because he was an innocent victim who's life may get ruined for this. 

The Bouncing Runner got airlifted to the hospital where they managed to save his life. I remember standing there, though, while he was moaning "help me". And I remember thinking "just a second ago you didn't care whose life you ruined and now you want help. Ironic."

Does that make me cold and callous? Possibly. But I think we should care more for those who deserve it. Those who value life. Their own life and the lives of others. 

Criminals generally don't care who they hurt in the commission of their crimes. By definition criminals aren't the most moral people. Some are worse than others, I'll agree. However, I'm real tired of seeing people claim there's a police brutality issue. Theirs are generally the first lives on the line when dealing with the bad guys. Show them some appreciation. 

"Narcoleptic Nymphomaniac"

Here I am, the indestructible Incredible Bulk!, sitting in my truck replaying the day's events in my head. Where did I go wrong? How could I have prevented this? Why did I agree to come to Irving, TX? 

I woke up early without my alarm. I guess that should've been my first clue. Normally I like to sleep in when I can so when my body's like "Yeeeeeah! Up and at em, Sparky!" at 4:30 in the morning that should've been a sign. Instead I took as logical since I wanted to get to the Dallas area early. Parking is nearly impossible anywhere near there so the earlier the better. 

Turns out that any time after Friday is just plain bad. Getting there at 1:45 on a Sunday really wasn't the way to go. I'd stopped at 3 different truck stops when I got close. 

The first was a Loves in Rockwall. As I pulled in a truck was vacating a spot. That was the only available spot but I was still at the entrance when I saw a truck already setting up to back into that opening. Figures. 

So I kept on going. A mile down the road is a TA truck stop. I knew it was laughable but I had to try. First, allow me to explain that this truck stop is already on my "in case of emergency...STILL try to avoid this mess" list. Yeah yeah, it's a long name for a list but there are several truck stops on it. Like the Pilot just east of Baton Rouge. Both of these places are horrible. Even tornadoes would skip them. Sadly. 

Anyway, so I get to the TA and circle the lot. Yes, you've gotta circle like vultures in these places. Or like sharks sensing blood in the water. I circle and I pray. And I'm not the praying type so that's gotta tell you something. 

There it is! One open spot. A reserved parking spot. A few of the greedier truck stops like TA and Petro have started doing that, putting in "reserved" spots. These used to be regular parking spots but those corporate leeches found a way to make more money off us since parking is difficult to find. $12.00 for a shower, .35-.50 cents over cost per gallon of fuel, and now $12-$15 just to park. They were also kind enough to put in fast food restaurants like Taco Bell and Burger King and raise the prices above the standard. But I digress. 

I go inside and say I see an open reserved spot available and I'd like to take it. Nope. Apparently that spot's already been taken too. Of course. That's my luck. 

So now I've no choice but go farther into the Dallas area. This is not going to be good. I already know that. As luck would have it, my trucker GPS found a truck stop about 5 miles from where I need to be in Irving. So that's a plus. 

I call them. "Excuse me, my GPS says you guys are a truck stop. Are you an actual full-size truck stop with truck parking?" (Sounds like a stupid question but you'd be surprised how many places aren't really truck stops but "fuel stops" with no parking). "Oh, you are? Excellent. Do you have any parking available?" They don't know. But they were kind enough to let me know it's paid parking. Of course. 

So they don't know if they actually have any spots available and they can't give me directions to get there. They can tell me they have a shop, which is good because I need to replace a wheel seal. They just don't know if they have any mechanics on duty. 

So I'm thinking "you guys aren't much good to me alive, are you?" And I'm off to play "Where's Waldo" with a truck stop. Good times. I try to follow my truck GPS to get there but it has me taking so many turns, twists, backtracks and loops that it'd give a pretzel vertigo. During the trip I must've let loose more cuss words than an Irishman and Australian arguing. I hate Dallas traffic. Especially so on rainy days like this. 

I finally arrive at my destination. Big D's Travel Plaza. Oh boy. The smell alone is probably why there were empty spots. It was an outright attack on my olfactory senses. I was truly shocked not to see a massive pig farm next door since it certainly smelled like there must be. 

Since I wasn't sure I'd find parking down in the parking pit they gave us, I parked first. I left my phone in the truck to protect it from the monsoon as I began the half mile hike up to the fuel desk to pay for my parking. I'd like to say they were pleasant people to deal with but they really weren't. And I was already thinking that THEY should be paying US to park here. 

Parking pass in hand I started the journey back to my truck. I certainly have no problem walking long distances thanks to my tree trunk looking legs but the long drive, weather and Dallas traffic had worn me down. 

So the trip back to my truck was starting to look like a Lord of the Rings kinda journey. I was wishing I'd brought bread and a wine skin. I couldn't even lose myself in the Internet since I'd left my phone in the truck to protect it from the rain. So I just plodded along with my head down, hands in my pockets. 

Had I been looking up I probably wouldn't have given a second thought to the pickup truck coming towards me anyway. We see cars in truck stops all the time so it's no big deal. Well, this time it was I guess. They pulled up to me and asked if I wanted to buy DVDs. Again, not unusual at all. You can get some pretty high quality pirated DVDs at truck stops. 

I wasn't interested in movies today though so I declined. No, I'm not interested in a tv either. Thanks anyway. These were pretty pushy salesmen though and decided they were gonna make money regardless. Or so the gun indicated when they pointed it at me and said "then I'll take what you got. Gimme your wallet." 

Normally I resist being told what to do but I figured I'd better not argue with someone holding a gun. 

After a little pleading from me they were kind enough to let me remove my license before surrendering my wallet. That was mighty swell of them. I would've preferred to keep the whole wallet too. That would've been better. 

Unfortunately, they decided that the license was my cut and everything else was theirs. I work, they get paid. Ah, so this is the welfare "direct approach". Makes more sense now. 

In retrospect I probably could've talked my way into just giving them the $200+ I had in cash and kept my whole wallet. I just wasn't thinking clearly. Guns apparently do that to me. At the time I just asked myself if my life was worth my wallet and its contents and decided it was worth more. Did I overdramatize it in my head at the time? I doubt it. However, I don't know if the gun was loaded or not and figured I didn't want to ask. Hell, I can honestly say I don't even know if it was real. It probably was but, again, does one ask in this situation? I'm not sure what the robbery protocol is. What I do know is that I've got two kids at home that want to see me come home. That and I've gotta stick around so I can share these lovely posts for you guys. Gosh, so much responsibility. 

I was told I should've immediately called the police once I got to my truck. I didn't catch the license plate and my only real description was "it was two black guys and a big gun". Sure, in the Dallas area that should narrow it down significantly. 

Anyway, what've I learned from this? Mostly that that truck stop really stinks. Both figuratively and literally. I certainly won't be going back there. The worst part? They didn't have milk. Ruins my whole day. 

The other thing I learned is that I am, in fact, still indestructible. Notice I'm still here and haven't been destroyed? Clearly that makes me indestructible. Logic. Tada and shit. 

Situations like this are rare but I can tell you firsthand that they happen. So the next time you're mad that a truck is in your way or something just remember that if that's the worst part of your day maybe your day isn't so bad. 

Now, to address a couple of the questions I've been asked:

A) were you scared?

Seriously?! Of course I was scared. There was a gun pointed at my face. It would totally ruin my future modeling career if I got my face shot off. Was I scared?? The dude ended up with my wallet, didn't he? You do the math. 

B) what kind of gun was it?

Big. Is that a make? All I knew was that whatever came out of the hole at the end would probably make me dead or in serious pain. I don't like either of those things. Sorry I didn't think to ask the guy what his weapon of choice was. 

C) do you even know if it was loaded?

Um. No. I felt that moment wasn't the appropriate time to discuss with him the importance of gun safety. I do know that if it's loaded and he pulls the trigger it makes a noise but I didn't want to have to identify the gun by its sound or verify its lethality that way. 

After a long, less than perfect day, I just headed back to my truck. My pride and finances were injured but I was physically fine. So I made my obligatory phone calls then decided I was just done with the day.