Sunday, July 30, 2006

We Met Jesus' Brother Today.

There is this guy that me and T know by the name of Italian Stallion..good looking kid....comes by the stand every once in a while and just kind of leans against the stand to make it look like cool people like to eat corndogs. I also think he is the reason why the sales of the "ladie's corndog thong" are through the roof right now (and we have a new logo and I haven't uploaded it yet but we will have the new and improved thongs at the stand next week....shout out to Jane..whassup giiiirrrrrrrrrrl) But I digress...

Today, Stallion brought his uncle Guiseppe to the stand. Guiseppe is up from Brooklyn and we got to talking about the whole Hannoush incident and you know...Uncle Guiseppe is a smart motherfucker. Stallion always said he was but when you meet the guy, it's like.."whoa". He's got such a presence.

You know how sometimes a person will come along with advice and counsel so riveting that you actually feel like something inside you changed? Like you're eyes have been opened? (similar to but not EXACTLY like the feeling I sometimes get when I watch Martha Stewart and I think, why the fuck didn't I think of that).

Anyway, T asked Uncle G if he'd mind if we swung by Stallion's after we closed the stand, so that we could capture his valuable advice on video. If only Guiseppe was here during Corndog Code Orange.

Jesus has a brother, my friends. And he's a fat Italian man from Brooklyn.

Oh, and I'd also just like to thank T for being so nice to me and wrecking my personal plan of being a bitch all day. You sure know how to make a woman feel good about herself even when she's on the rag and wearing a hairnet. ; )

Saturday, July 29, 2006

The Dog Food Diet

A word for those of you who haven't heard of BigJim: He is the richest guy I know, the inventor of the "Dog Food Diet". Yeah, THAT BigJim. For those of you who aren't health concious like Z and I, that is the most effective weight loss program since Atkins. Effective in its simplicity, it is based on common dry dogfood. You buy a large bowl, and fill it everyday. That is all you eat at first, dry dogfood and pure human table scraps for you, buddy. The genius is in the diets simplicity. You eat as much as you want, whenever you want, but ONLY dry dogfood and water. As the weight comes off, you are allowed a half-can of wet dogfood twice a week. See, it is also a full body health plan, because after the first 6 weeks you are allowed a single rawhide once a day, or when you've been extra good, to help keep your teeth shiny. Later, once your fat-ass is svelte again, you are allowed egg yolks to help keep your hair shiny. Incredibly popular in Canada, Los Angeles and Miami, it is keeping models skinny, and saving the lives of lard-asses everywhere. Buy the book, fatso, he explains it much better.

And he made a fucking fortune with it. Said the idea came while pulling bong hits and watching his neighbors cockapoos hump.

I met BigJim years ago, at the Calgary Stampede. We were both broke and working as rodeo clowns. A rogue bull got loose and BJ was to heavily muscled to fit into the barrel, and was almost gored to death before I managed to distract the bovine, and we've been friends ever since. Here is a video of one of BigJim's finest moments. BigJim is..well...the big one. He's graceful. Graceful like swan.

DUI and Some Cross Border Fun

Good morning boys and girls, and a splendid day it is! Well, mostly. The good news always comes with some bad around here.

Last night was a blast, Zanna, Aunt's Sylvia and Flo, Jimmy and I all went to the "Stinky Pinky All Night Bump and Grind Country Bar" for libations and dancin'. I, personally, have white-boy disease, so I like to hold down the table and slug beers while watching the girls and Jimmy shake a leg. Zanna shimmies like a waterfall, and NO-ONE does some dirty boppin' like Flo and Jimmy.

Closing time came and went, and no one could stop Jimmy from taking one last spin in the truck. I thought I tackled him and took his keys, but Z says I missed my leap and roughed up some foliage instead. You can see the results of Jimmy's DUI test here.

I'll bail him out later. Good news: Our Canadian friend BigJim is on vacation, and will be swinging through Moose Taint County for some corndogs and good times. Everyone loves BigJim, but I think he read "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" one to many times, kinda takes the towel thing a bit literally. You'll see, eh?

Friday, July 28, 2006

Music to Dip Corndogs By

Oh this wasn't going to happen eventually? We already have "Granny Gear" that we sell at the stand. I mean, who DOESN'T want a thong with a corndog on the front? It's our hottest seller.

Here's the T&Z imix album: Music to Dip Corndogs By. It's a very bizarre compilation. And, as you can see, it has an average rating of 5 stars. But it only has one vote. And that was me.

There are only 9 songs right now but it's kind of you say in english...a "living imix" so it'll update as the blog progresses. Its basically just songs that we have linked to on this site (will have to add "where is the love" later) and some that will be linked eventually. You know you don't want it. It's crap. But you want to see it. So click here.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Where is the Love....

Just found out a couple of other ways today to piss off Hannoush. You put a a nice bright red bumper sticker that says, "MY OTHER CAR IS A CAMEL" on his fucking "Habib Van". You know, those vans that are synonymous with terrorism? Yea, those. We call them Habib vans. And we think you should too.

T also rigged up Hannoush's "boom-box" (not to be confused with my twat, which is what T and I like to call it) to play one song over and over again. He can't change it, can't turn it down and can't shut it off. T is like fucking McGyver with this shit- it's AWESOME. Nothing like seeing a VERY angry Muslim listening to this song, trying to keep his composure while he sells his sno-cones. Noooo sir.

And by the way.. Hurricane Sylvia hasn't hit yet. Sorry this post is so short but I have to go look for her. And T is sending me to Home Depot to get some stuff because he is currently creating a MASTERPIECE.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Winning the War Against Terrorism

Jihad may be afoot, but Hannoush is an asshole. And I think we are close to having him spontaneously combust. As you can see by the "anonymous" posts in the below thread, our subtle, but frequent ridicule have reduced him into a babbling mad-man.

He seemed so composed today at the sno-cone stand. Smiling at the children when they told him the sno-cones tasted like he smelled. Children can be so cruel...and even crueler when T gives them 1.00 each and to harass the fucking camel jockey. And we also had a secret weapon that we cashed in today.

We got hold of a video of Hannoush and his brother's most embarrassing moment as part of the Iraqi Resistance Movement. A moment we played on a loop on our laptop at the corndog stand. ALL FUCKING DAY. And you can clearly see, he's always been a sniveling retard. They wouldn't even let him be a suicide bomer. So much for Paradise and all your virgins, Hannoush. Everyone knows you'd cum in your pants before you got there anyway. Amy from the "Wack-a-Mole" game told us that you roll like that (whassup girl!!!!)

Anyway, Hannoush accused me today of having penis-envy. You know what I said? I said, "Hannoush, I'm GLAD I don't have a dick because then I'd have to fuck losers like you up the ass".

Here is the video of Hannoush being an idiot like usual. God, he's such a dumbfuck he makes me want to throw out all my pita bread.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Is This Considered Biological Warfare?

Let me preface this by saying that I have nothing against the people of the Middle East and their delicious gyro meat, I just hate the PTT. The PTT consists of 3 brothers: Hanoush, the sno-cone guy, Feisal, the falafal dude and Aladin, the devout Muslim owner of "All Pork, All the Time and Carpets".

It all started several years ago when Feisal decided to steal Zanna from me, by naming his eggplant dip Zannaganoush. Not being one to take a flagrant attempt at woman stealing lightly, I retaliated by placing "Falafal makes you Feel Awful" signs all over Moose Taint County. I also encouraged the locals to refer to Feisal as Weasal. And it stuck. I mean look at the guy, how could it not stick? The brothers three declared Corndog Stand the enemy at this point, and it has been scattered skirmishing ever since. Hannoush even called Z "Harlot of the Great Satan" at the Dollar General! She twisted his nose and introduced his sack to a 99 cent jar of out-dated Vienna sausages. Painful, and an understated social insult at the same time, Z has a subtle sense of immediate revenge.

Now, I am sure those fools have done something to Aunt Sylvias easy....thinkin' it was for us . I can't open it til dear, sweet Aunty shows up with the key, and it is starting to smell funny. Like artichoke dip and old sex.

Those camel fucking goat lickers always announce the beginning of some Anti-Corndog jihad with Allah Akbar stickers, and this time I am having a pre-emptive strike.

The constantly mastubating cat (God, where does it ALL COME FROM!!!!) and the hummus recipe gave me an idea: Pussy in gloved hand, I went commando style into the falafal stand.

Someone better call Homeland Security, cause tomorrow's hummus is gonna have some Anthrax in it.


Does anyone have any tips on how to get DNA off of stuff? And if it also works on grass stains that would be a bonus.


Thursday, July 20, 2006

Corndog Code Orange - High Risk of Terrorist Attack

Let me just say this. On my PERSONAL Security Advisory System, I start at "guarded" not "low". "Low" shouldn't even be an option. T and I are at Code Blue during "REM"sleep, so I'm just letting that be known. Some would argue that makes "guarded" the new "low". But what I'm saying is that we're "guarded" 24/7. I'm rambling now. Sorry.

If we weren't forced to go by the national scale, T and I would currently be at code yellow, however, because we personally start at blue, we are currently elevated to "orange" or "high".

We have decided to elevate our personal terrorist level due to the fact that Sylvia has been MIA for the last day and a half and a "live animal" crate arrived, addressed to T, with a well-worn sticker on it that says, " Allah Akbah" and a recipe for hummus. We thought there was huge bag of suspicious white powder in it...but it turns out it was Sylvia's cat curled up in the back. So we named him Anthrax.

T is currently devising an evacuation route for us and ordering various "survival" items online. Me? I'm just going to the Dollar Store to get a squirt bottle so I can spray the cat. Because it masturbates in the corner. I am usually spunk-tolerant. Hell, NOBODY is more spunk-tolerant than me. But I draw the line at cat spunk.

T just walked by me saying we might be going to code red. He went in and shot this video of Anthrax - and listen to the music in the background. We don't play Middle Eastern music, okay? Just not down with it. AT ALL. You can't dance to it and there is usually too much going on in that kind of music and it makes the bones in my face ache. Seriously.

You don't have to be Nostradamus to see what's coming. With the "Allah Akbar" sticker, the hummus recipe and NOW the mysterious music? T always said that would be our PTT (Personal Terrorist Trifecta). He called it 3 years ago and he wrote it down. It's on a piece of paper in the visor on the driver's side of the Pinto. And here it is. It has come to pass.

Stay tuned. T is going into a zone right now. He makes me feel safe but at the same time I feel scared. And if you don't believe me about Anthrax, just look.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Hurricane Sylvia is En-route

Well, T just sat on the Pinto and went through the mail. We got a letter from the Kingston Gated Community with a video in it. Turns out, Aunt Flo has a sister..and her name is Sylvia, and Sylvia has been getting her bitch on with the neighbors at The Kingston. And the "association" has had a meeting and got her evicted. So, Sylvia and all her fucking doilies, efferdent and plastic covered furniture are heading in our general direction with an ETA of Saturday. Batton-down the corndog stand, because Hurricane Sylvia is en-route.

So I looked at this video a few times and I'm like, call the cops on an old lady because she tried to burn your house down? Fucking SUCK IT UP. If I was old and some hoity toity bitch talked to me the way this chic is talking to Sylvia, I'd try to burn your house down too. Becuase I'm old and I was there first and I invented fire so I'll do what I want with it.

Billie Ronda's Famous Bourbon Franks

T and I don't like to post anything about hotdogs that's not battered and fried, but this sounded like a good recipe so I'm going to post it because we've got some Rachel Ray haters coming to the site and they probably would like to see a recipe or two. This is and EVOO Free recipe, bitches! Enjoy!

So, I was at the monthly "Ladie's Luncheon" yesterday and sat with Miss Billie Ronda (she's the one in front of the stuffed fox) and her daughter-in-law Felicia when we got to talking about the corndog stand and she told me about this recipe. And I'm not surprised it contains alcohol. I'm pretty certain that's a main staple in her diet. I'm going to write it verbatim as it is on the napkin she scrawled it on, except my comments on using 100% beef hotdogs and the hot tip on how refrigeration prevents food poisoning.

1/2 cup good bourbon whiskey
1/2 cup tomato ketchup
3 tsp dark brown sugar
1 lb franfurters (Billie Ronda didn't say they had to be all beef but it's what T and I recommend)

Stir together bourbon, ketchup and sugar in a pan set over low heat. Now put the heat up, but don't let it boil. Cut franks into bite-size pieces and add. Stir a bit, cover the pot and let sit on the back of the stove overnight (T and I recommenend putting it in the refrigerator overnight though - being in the food biz we're kind of sticklers like that). Next day, when you've got folks coming, just heat it up again without it bubbling. Then you've got yourself something - just make sure you've got toothpicks and a load of napkins for the drips. Toothpick 'em. Put on tray and surround with saltines.

And just for the record. Something just dosen't feel right when you are eating lunch next to something that's been taxidermed. I don't know if that's the correct word for it. I should ask T and wait to publish this but I'm not going to. You know what I mean.

Update: Just saw Jimmy at Bunghole Liquors taking a leak on the side of the building, so I stopped to chat. Turns out that stuffed fox wasn't a centerpiece or table decoration. It's Billlie Ronda's "cat" and she takes it everywhere with her. I guess Jimmy was supposed to taxiderm her real cat when it died but it's body got stolen (T said Jimmy got drunk and did something to it with fireworks) and he replaced it with the fox and she doesn't even notice the difference. I can't wait to get old and not give a fuck anymore.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Jesus Needs a New Mechanic

As you all know, Jimmy our mechanic has a very special bond with the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Being that T and I are still feeling guilty about the time we freaked him out with the "I will Survive" Jesus Video (which we thought would cheer him since he was still shook up from the "monster pig" incident).

So when we came upon this article, we HADTO show it to Jimmy. Turns out Jesus Cristo (pronounced in my head at the current moment as HEY-SUESS CREEE-STO so read it that way) is looking for a new mechanic because Gus Feigurt is an asshole.

Which first of all, can I just say, even I knew not to go to Gus Feigurt when I jacknifed the Pinto that time and knew it was better to go with the wierd guy at the deli who turned out to be Jimmy. But it just goes to show you know one really knows what the fuck is up when it comes to mechanics. So anyway, T brought the article to Jimmy. And now I'm not sure if we did Jimmy a favor or not. It's not every day you get to work on Jesus' ride..and Jimmy only works on domestic..and we're kind of thinking J.C. drives a foreign car.

So I'd like to just say, J.C., if you are reading this...please give Jimmy a chance. He's a little wierd but he means well. And thank you for helping us win the corndog competition. And bless T and all the "Corndogians" that stop by the stand and the people who read and post comments on our site. And if you could please kill Hannoush the guy with the sno-cone stand, I would appreciate it. Amen.

To read Jesus' rant, click here. And fuck you Gus Feigurt!

Saturday, July 15, 2006

No Time for Losers, Cuz We Are the Champions...

This is going to be a brief post because if you think I'm missing out on any of the party that is going down tonight, you've got another thing coming.

BUT...WE WON!!!! T did it! Just like he said he would! Our corndog scene "Korntrina' won first place today at the corndog festival! We won 500.00 and T is walking around like he's the King of All that is Corndog! He's so happy right now,...singing "We are the Champions" and swaying back and forth by the bonfire holding his trophy. I would say "ours" but he's been so focused and diligent and determined..this is all his, it really is. Korntrina might have been my idea but he made it happen.

So feast your eyes on our winning styling.... it is of social and political's based on last year's devistating hurricane, Katrina. We call it: Korntrina. Look at the detail people. Look how T made the car look submerged. You can almost sense the desparation in that corndog in the front. His little arms out...wandering, searching....

The Looters and the Leavers

And here is a picture of Everett and Mary getting ready to present T with the first place trophy:

Tomorrow, me and T are going to Lowes and we are getting some wood and some plexiglass to make a trophy case for the corndog trailer. Life is good, my friends. THIS, is what it's all about.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

E=MC Hammer

Ok, it has been a crazy few days, Zanna and I have been busy correcting a few glaring errors in Mr. Einsteins Theory of Relativity. As Z posted previously I was beginning to have my doubts about the accuracy of E=MC squared, while preparing an entry for the annual Corndog Festival.

Ok, a quick aside about our is gonna win this year. Our entry is a brilliant effigy of hope, humanity, soul and submerged penii. Zanna, being the soft touch that she is, convinced me that we should make a statement about Americana's hopes and dreams this year, and after a merciless hot-oil debate, I agreed. Her silver tongue just slipped the debate in her favor. She is such an idealist, always volunteering with children and others. Why, just last week, she taught an entire boy scout troop to squirt milk from their noses! Without sneezing!


For those of you not familiar with Einstein's most noted work, allow me to give a glimpse into how it is used to make corndogs. Mass of the weiner coupled with Cornmeal batter Squared is equal to the Eatability of the completed corndog. Brilliant in its simplicity. Until I experimented with merely doubling the cornmeal batter. The result is sheer genius, if I do say so myself. And I do. Roughly .41766% less batter is used, creating a 58.234% meatier taste, while at the same time saving product AND making the corndog even more delicious! And you didn't think that was possible. How many times have you bit into a sub-standard corndog at a second rate fair and thought "Where is the delicious wiener flavor, I didn't order cornbread?" Not from Corndog Trailer, not EVER! Nothing but delectible wiener with the precise amount of fluffy coating, served on the most wonderful invention, a stick. For our discerning customers, nothing but the best.

So, in essence "Einstein", perhaps you should look into E=MC(2). You are using way to much cornmeal to make those friggin bombs.

Boy, all this thinking has made me want to go have a 40 with Z on the Pinto, and maybe look into differences in the Coefficient of Gravity and it's effects on the overall corndog cooking process.

And maybe boogy to some "U Can't Touch This" in honor of helping physicists worldwide in their work. Cause, Mr. Einstein, wherever you are, you can't touch my newly improved and diligently battered weiner!

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Turkey Bologna Still on the Hoof/Go Italia!

Ok, Zanna finally dragged me away from my corndog project, she said I needed some fresh air. We get down by the river, and she's all playfull, wants me to cover my eyes and count to 30 while she goes and hides. Twenty-eight counts later, I open my eyes, and she is still standing right in front of me. Butt-nekkid. Oh my. Nothing to do carry her to the nearest tree-stump and spend some time frightening the wildlife.

Well, after a while, we come up for air, and are laying in the grass, enjoying the sunshine, when we hear something crashing out in the woods, heading our direction. Moments later, the hugest 12-point buck I have ever seen runs through the clearing. Moments after he disappears from sight, who should show up but Jimmy. He's running, shrieking "Here Kitty, Kitty!" at the top of his lungs, the shotgun pointed backwards over his shoulder, and throwing Pez from a feedbag. Yes, he is naked. Mostly. Zanna said, in an amused way "Did he seriously duct-tape his johnson to his leg?" In a way, it makes sense, running naked tends to bruise the nutsack.

Seeing that enormous buck is making me reconsider hunting season this year. I haven't hunted in a few years, due to moral and ethical concerns. Not my concerns, mind you, but the moral and ethical concerns of the Moose Taint County Sheriffs Department. I mean, really, I keep explaining that just because my AK has a 50 round clip doesn't mean I'm going to use all those bullets in one deer!

Anyway, that was this morning, and I just snuck away from the impromptu street party in town to borrow some wi-fi and write this: Italy won the World Cup. Now, any time the French lose is a cause for celebration, but more so if the local register-jockey at the liquor store is an ex-OSS agent with one leg...named Eileen. When Z and I first got to town to pick up some well-deserved Sunday 40's, Eileen was already in fine form, dancing a sort of hoppity jig with her own leg. That's right, she popped her own prosthetic off to dance with it, singing to the tune of "Amore" her own rendition "Team Italia makes me high, like a big pizza pie (covered in) marijuana. MARIJUANA!". She then started throwing free booze to the crowd, and asking people of French decent to step forward, so she could bean them in the head with her peg. After all "If head butting is good enough for the Italians, you frogs can taste my stump!"

Well, Z and I were happy to swill free booze, and I am of Italian decent, so in the spirit of things, I began handing bottle rockets out to whom-ever wanted to light some off in celebration. You may want to watch this.

I gotta get back, who knows what will happen next!

Get Well Soon, Aunt Flo!

We all know how much Aunt Flo loves to party. We also know she gives blowjobs for cash to supplement her monthly social security check.

Well, last week during the festival (how we missed her at the festival T and I cannot even FATHOM)... she fucked her neck up doing keg-stands. And because of the neckbrace, she can't "perform" her usual duties so she had to get a for-real paying gig and she is NOT happy about it.

T and I love you lots, Aunt Flo!! God willing and the creek don't rise, you'll be back on your knees in no time!!

Saturday, July 08, 2006

BREAKING NEWS: E may not equal MC2!!

So, I was on my way down to WalMart to get some Massengil when I'm stuck at the train tracks because this freight train was taking FOR-FUCKING-EVER. And I see this guy.

And I'm conflicted.

Part of me wants to run this ass-clown down for basically calling me a dick (yea, I'm taking the sign personally) and part of me wants to give him money because it says "God Bless" on the sign. But I'm not giving him shit because he didn't capitalize the G in God and so that's how I can justify why I'm not giving him anything but a dirty look and the finger as soon as traffic starts moving again (hey, I'm not as stupid as I look but who could be).

So me and T are taking a break from the corndog stand this weekend. We basically need to hose it down and air it out after last weekend's Festival. But its good because it gives us time to work on our new project. T entered us in the 2006 corndog festival contest where you make a scene out of nothing but corndogs. It can be anything. Last year, we came in third with our rendition of "Neverland". We should have won. But apparently our "corndog children" weren't realistic enough because they weren't anatomically correct. Give me a fucking break. T said we're putting penises (or is more than one penis, penii?) on EVERYTHING this year.


And you may ask yourself, "why hasn't T been posting lately." I'll tell you why. This man is so driven about this contest. He's not himself at all. He just sits on the hood of the pinto sketching out our "master plan" and thinking about what we are going to enter into the contest this year. He's hunkered down. He's not eating. He's not tapping my ass. I even heard him mumble something about how Einstein was full of shit and that E does NOT equal MC2. And if it doesn't...that means we have to change how we make our corndog batter because we based it mainly on the theory of relativity.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Jimmy is back from "sabbatical"

Well, a few posts ago, you might remember that Jimmy has been MIA. We did set a trap for him in the woods, with a pack of turkey bologna and a six pack of Canadians under it but he never showed. Which worked out because we ran out of beer at the festival and went back and got them before they skunked.

Jimmy re-appeared at the festival a new man...telling T he was on "sabbatical". T told me later the "sabbatical" was really just the time the cops had Jimmy in protective custody but that Jimmy thought it was detox and now felt he was clean and sober enough to start drinking again. You know, a fresh start.

Well Jimmy wanted to celebrate that he was now born-again and he went and got some fireworks. He might have been born again but alls I know is he was born again stupid. If we knew this show was going to happen, we would have sold corndogs at it. Maybe even Cornbasa. You can see T at one point start towards the clusterfuck but then stops. You can hear me ask, "Is that Jimmy's truck" near the end to which some little kid gleefully replies, "YEA!"

Fuck those coordinated, orchestrated fireworks...this HERE is entertainment. Man I fucking love this town.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Rock out with your Cock out!

Thats Cock with a capital C baby. ever have one of those weekends when you are GLAD it's fucking over? Well, I just came from one. We ran out of hotdogs at a critical juncture and T was SOMEWHERE at the festival during said juncture in nothing but a kilt and our BJs card so I could't go get then in bulk. So I ended up going to the local place and ended up making Cornbasa and Cornwurst. Which we were able to charge more for (ca-ching!!!!). Necessity is the mother of invention, bitches! Pay me!

Can I also just throw in how the little things T does makes me smile? Like when he's drunk and thinks its sexy to approach me with his kilt up and his erect penis dipped in corndog batter. Rock out with your cock out baby! I get all the perks. ; ) I love my job. And I love it more when I don't worry about how sanitary the batter is. I can't even tell you how good it is to just have that devil-may-care, "that couldn't possibly be a pubic hair in your corndog, ma'am I think that's YOUR eyelash" feeling. It was a "throw your hairnet to the breeze' kind of weekend.

Speaking of which...get a load of this bitch in front of our corndog stand rocking out to Sammy Hager's, "There's Only One Way to Rock". What a whore. A dirty, dirty drunken whore. (try to ignore T's conversation with one of our customers about something he heard on NPR and old people in Mexico...). It always comes back to Mexico with ya, babe!