It would seem that my local gang of teenage hoodlums has been following my blog. They must have read my account of my lil truck getting rifled through, and took offense at my sarcasm about nothing being worth stealing. They returned, and liberated my uncool sunglasses, and an ice scrapper in retaliation. I wonder what the street value of a 4 year old pink plastic ice scrapper is? Now the only things that are left are a cheap tire gauge, and an ink pen that may or may not work. I'd better watch my step or I'll be loosing those in the next week or two.

Spamwich !!!

Fried Spam, egg, cheese, and sauteed mushroom's and onion on lightly toasted wheat bread. I like to leave the yolk a little gooey, so when you bite into it, it runs all down you're elbow. Say what you will about Spam, but this is the shit. The only thing that could make it better, is a chilly home brew. Some people might argue that 8:00 a.m. is a little early to start drinkin the bier. Sometimes you gotta brake the rules...

So, I go to leave this morning, and I notice the Ranger's drivers door is not completely closed. The first thing I think is, " this doesn't look like something I would do, I wasn't even drunk last night"(yeah, right). Now I'm worried the dope lights stayed on, and I now have a dead battery. As I get in, I see that the arm rest is wide open. So is the ash tray, and glove compartment. This is the work of some local punk ass kid, much like I used to be. Truck starts right up, no problems. I take a quick inventory to see whats missing. Nothing. That's because there isn't anything to steal. The owners manual is the only thing in the glove compartment. I don't smoke, so there isn't even cig butts in the ash tray. The radio is a crappy stock CASSETTE deck, that hasn't worked in at least 5 years. The arm rest contains and ink pen, an ice scrapper, and a super cool pair of sunglasses. The sunglasses are still there. Did I mention they are super cool? In the last 4 years, my truck has been gone through 3 times. The sunglasses survived each violation. Surely my fashion sense isn't that far out of wack. I think they are messin with me. The least they could do, is snatch them, and ditch them somewhere down the alley. Give me the delusion that I actually had something someone would want to steal. This is the vehicle they hoped to liberate something of value from, which they could then flip for dope. I think it actually qualifies for the cash for clunkers program. Dumb fuckers. At least they didn't kill my battery (or steal it).

I'm really likin my new camera. So much so, that I think the "Beer and BBQ" blog is going to get hijacked, and become the "Accidental tourist" blog for awhile. I'll keep doing this until I get tired of driving around taking pictures of shit nobody really wants to see, or I see the first snowflake of the year. Around here that means I have 2 to 4 weeks.
These pix are of Paterson state park, 10 miles south of Superior, in Wi.

This is my new bad ass camera. It's water proof up to 10 feet, freeze proof down to 14 degree's Fahrenheit, shock proof up to 5 feet, and bullet proof up to 25 caliper. I'm gonna ride around some bad neighborhoods later and test this feature out. The only thing it's not, is idiot proof, and that's a feature I think I would probably use allot. Someone should invent that.

I want to go cruise around and take some random pix, just to see what the fucker will do, but this is a typical Superior day. Cold, and raining. All day. There is only one way I can salvage the day. I have to drink heroic amounts of home brew, and make a homeade pizza.

CHEERS !!!

Getting ready to crack the barley.

This is what happens when you put too much weight on one end of the table, and then bump it. Try not to do this. All we lost was what was in the hopper, which amounted to about a pound of grain. It sucked, but it didn't crash the operation.

Sparging the grain.

Into the brew pot.

This is hard work. Let's take a break.

Careful it doesn't boil over.

Cool it down fast.

From here it goes into the fermenter. At room temp. we'll toss in a packet of yeast, and leave it alone for a week or two. Then we bottle it and wait another week or two (this is taking forever! ). Then, when it's finally ready, we'll drink it up as fast as we can.

Not Beer, or BBQ related, but...

I came across this recently while looking for something else (which I never found). It's something I wrote about 12 years ago, when I was working the graveyard shift at a convenience store. Those all nighters will twist your mind for sure. While I would never do it again, I am glad I had the experience. The creatures of the night are a unique breed...




"Sometimes the raw city stench is almost unbearable. It all depends on which way the wind blows, and tonight, it's walking right in the front door, and collapsing on the floor like a homeless drunk with no place left to go. It smells like love lost, defeat, heartache. I try to neutralize the heavy negativity of the dead of night by badly over cooking a heart attack burrito. This misconceived idea not only doesn't work, but taste like shit. As I trash whats left of this microwave disaster, I suddenly become aware of an ominous presence approaching from the gloom of night.

silently she enters the store, scanning from left to right. Nervous, but determined, she moves directly toward me, her steel blue eyes piercing my very soul the whole way.

Ive seen this look before. Before she speaks a word, I know exactly what she wants. needs. She has a desperate, burning desire, that only I can satisfy. Still hypnotising me with those devil eyes, I see her lips begin to move. In a soft, almost inaudible voice, I can barely make out the words, " Marb lights, please".

My name is Joe. I work in a convenience store."