Women Are Always Right
You know that old saying about “if I got a dime every time somebody ___________”?
Well, I used to think if I got a small commission every time a woman expressed her fear of lifting weights simply because she thought it would make her look more man-like, I’d have enough to pay off the U.S. debt and still have enough left over to buy a couple small continents.
But apparently lifting weights really does have the potential to make some women take on male characteristics.
Just in case these pictures aren’t a fluke (or photo-shopped), I’ve already started brainstorming a formal apology to women everywhere for all the misinformation I – and my fitness industry brothers and sisters – been giving over the years. Here’s my rough notes so far. Let me know if you have any ideas how I can make this better…
Ladies of the world, I’m so sorry.
You were right all along. [women just love this crap. use this phrase frequently!]
It’s all my fault that you stayed fat when all you wanted to do was lose a measly 30 pounds in a weekend to “kickstart” your results before doing a “real” fitness program.
Those ab-sculpting videos and low-intensity ‘cardio’ classes I talked you out of really were the answer you were looking for – and I didn’t take your feelings into consideration.
I’m so stupid and feel so ashamed. [here's where I'll start doing the fake cry thing]
I’m just now seeing how special you really are. [sniffle a little bit] You were absolutely right when you told me that your body wouldn’t respond to progressive resistance training and a goal-supportive diet even though you only had a ‘cheat meal’ once – sometimes twice – a day.
The frequent cakes, cookies, muffins and wine were only ‘snacks’ and couldn’t have had anything to do with your lack of results. They were all organic. Heck, you bought ‘em from the ‘health food’ store, so they must be good for you.
I don’t know if I can ever earn back your trust…But maybe if you let me buy each and every one of you a triple-scoop frozen yogurt smothered with organic, free-trade chocolate syrup, we can try to rebuild what we once had. But I’ll lift the spoon to your mouth. We wouldn’t want you to get even bulkier from all that lifting.
When I realized you were right, I created something especially for women like you. Now I want to show you a preview of my brand new infomercial. It’s a product I call “sleeping beauty.” There’s a battery operated 1/4lb plastic weight that comes in a little, pink box with a ribbon. You put it under your pillow at night and the weight sends fat burning signals to your brain while you sleep…
CPR/AED Renewal Notes (PIC NSFW)
I finally renewed my expired CPR/AED certification. Even though this is roughly my 15th-ish time or so sitting through the cheesy videos and repetitive demonstrations of my ability (to pretend) to remove a foreign object from Rescue Anne’s mouth, I actually learned some new things… sort of.
1) The American Red Cross Adult CPR/AED cert used to be good for just one year. Now, it’s good for 2.
2) When you have a young college girl instructing for the first time, it can be incredibly entertaining to ask her questions such as “if a victim has nipple rings, do I need to remove them before placing the AED pads on their chest?” – along with “…and if so, how do I do that?” Another fun question: “How should I modify my hand position for chest compressions if a victim has breast implants that won’t ‘give’ any more than a pair of upside-down Tupperware bowls on a kitchen counter?” (neither of which she was able to answer)
- If I can’t give proper chest compressions, should I try the “motorboat” technique instead?
3) even though there’s evidence chest compressions ONLY can be more effective than rescue breaths plus chest compressions, the ARC still teaches the supposedly ‘less effective,’ up close and personal method – though they are in the process of reconsidering that position.
4) Finally, no matter how comfortable you might think it’ll be to “spoon” a limbless mannikin while you’re on the floor watching Red Cross videos, never… I repeat, NEVER do this in public.
Riding Ted Williams’ Coattails
Ted "Golden Voice" Williams
Certainly by now, you’ve heard all about Ted Williams fall and rise (and fall?) from glory. Not being one to pass up a good opportunity for shameless self-promotion, I figured if the Today Show, the Cleveland Cavaliers and umpteen other businesses are willing to ride Mr. Williams’ camouflaged coat-tails into viral-video stardom, then who the hell am I to sit here and think up my own unique marketing message to promote my new Grand Rapids personal trainer website?
After all, fame sells, baby.
It’s amazing what you can create with some cardboard, a couple of permanent markers and a camera, don’t ya’ think?
(Note to Matt Lauer & Meredith Vieira… have your people call my people and we’ll try to set up a time for me to come on your show.)
The Solution To Childhood Obesity: Shame?
Ya’ know, the answer seems so obvious after watching this ‘news’ from The Onion.
Hair Removal: Where Does It End?
I used to give one of my ol’ buddies a hard time when his mom would Nair his back in high school.
Perhaps it’s what they call poetic justice, but I’ve grown progressively hirstute over the years.
Since finally breaking down and going to the table for my first back waxing experience last year, I’ve had to face tough questions. Namely, where do you STOP?
Unlike the naturally occurring tree line near the top of mountains, I think it looks pretty darned ridiculous to go from a woolly forest of body fur to the alpine tundra of bare skin.
No transition zone. No feathering/fading from one area to the next. Just a sharp line where the skin stops and hair starts.
To spite the fact that I have, in fact, become “one of those guys”, I’ve actually toyed with the idea of doing a full-body mohawk – one continuous loop of pelage from top to bottom. I seriously doubt I’ll ever go down that road, but it certainly paints an amusing picture in my mind.
At least now that I’ve become a regular at a local de-hairing establishment, it seems the hair that does grow back really is thinner and lighter that it used to be. And using balls of sugar, water and who-knows-what-else (instead of traditional wax), they’re able to give me a more natural looking ‘fade’ from back to shoulder.
If you want more information on the history of hair removal (and you know you do), you’re gonna love this.
While we’re on the subject of hair, is it just me, or have you ever noticed the correlation between bald guys and convertibles? On those rare occasions I see a guy with a full head of hair driving in the open air, I always snicker and think, “enjoy your hair while you got it, chump!” I plan on keeping my (head) hair as long as I can - I won’t even open the sunroof.
More Liberal Fan Mail…
Name: MOLLT L.
Email: CROPDUSTER1xxx@xxxxxx.xxxx
JOE, EAVERY [sic] MORNING I WATCH YOUR SHOW AND I AM TIRIED [sic] OF HEARNIG [sic] YOU NOT ALOWING [sic] YOUR GUEST TO TALK OR FINISH SPEAKING.
BUT MY MAIN COMPLAINT IS YOU CRYING EVERY MORNING. FIRST ABOUT THE ELECTION NOW ABOUT OUR NEWELY [sic] ELECTED PRESIDENT.
SUCK IT UP AND STOP COMPLAINING. SORRY THE NEWELY [sic] ELECTED PRESIDENT DIDEN;T [sic] REACH ACROSS THE ISLE AND PICK YOUR SORRY ASS.
A DEVOTED FAN
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
While I certainly appreciate you taking the time to email me and calling me a “sorry ass” (not to mention your liberal use of CAPITAL LETTERS), perhaps it would do you some good to revisit my contact page.
This time, pay v-e-r-y c-l-o-s-e a-t-t-e-n-t-i-o-n to the BOLD red print.
Thanks.
-Joe-
Back Waxing and the Modern Neanderthal
Boron = Moron?
It started back when I was about 17. Boron was being touted as the ‘new miracle supplement’ – it was said to ‘increase testosterone levels’.
I’ve already been weight training for 5 years and figured “what the hell?” It’s about time I try something a little stronger than a multi-vitamin.
While I can’t say I actually got stronger because of the boron, as soon as the hair started growing on my shoulders and back, I assumed it was doing something – and that was good enough for me. At least there was a visual “return” on my investment (more than I can say for the multi-vits).
Soon after, I learned that the boron studies were done on post-menopausal women and their testosterone increases were negligible at best (of course, they wouldn’t put that fine print on the bottle at GNC).
I quickly stopped taking the supplement du jour for fear of going into early man-opause (buh-duh-DUM! Try the veal – I’m here all weekend. Be sure to tip your waitress…) Maybe my youthful man-fur was just a carry-over from my cave-dwelling ancestors, triggered by puberty. Surely it’ll stop as soon as this phase of my life is behind me, right?
Almost 20 years later…
Having lived with my personal (and continually expanding) wool sweater for all this time, being a sensitive, new age kind of guy, earlier this week I had another one of those “what the hell?” moments of inspiration.
This time… waxing.
Going Undercover
Delaware really is a small town and I seriously contemplated crossing the state line to hide my secret plans from anyone who might know me. After an hour of driving around, scouting out possible locations to have the last ounce of my pride ripped from my flesh, I found the perfect place.
It was tucked away behind a Starbucks; right next to a sandwich shop. Surely I won’t bump into anyone I know here.
I asked the woman at the front desk if they were equipped to handle me – a first timer. She assured me lots of guys have this done. But I never thought I’d be one of THOSE guys.
As I paced back and forth waiting for the back-hair-ripping-specialist, I noticed an ambulance pulled up to the entrance. I immediately assumed they were on standby mode for me – just in case. Turns out, they were only going to the sandwich shop.
After a 40 minute wait (my god! what kind of problems must the person before me have to deal with?), my wax-er (is that what they’re called?) came out. She looked at me and said, “Joe? Do you remember me?”
Yep. Former client. I helped her get in shape for her wedding a couple years ago.
“I…I…I thought you worked in a BANK???”, I stammered.
So much for laying low.
Janet told me how skin was her real passion and she got out of the financial world to help people look and feel better about themselves (I can see how high interest rates and late payments could have the opposite effect).
R-value: 13
Slightly uncomfortable reintroduction aside, the actual hair removal wasn’t so bad. I have a few tattoos and waxing reminded me of the dull, burning feeling you get after a few hours getting inked. It’s a much stranger feeling to have my shirt and skin in direct contact. It’s also surprising how much of an insulative value body hair has to offer. We’re having a mild winter, but now I feel a bit of a chill coming in from behind me. Next time I’ll be sure to plan my waxing appointment around the long-term weather forecast.
Wax on, Wax off. Don’t Even Go There
After she removed the final remnants of my dignity (and hair), Janet put some kind of a “calming” gel on my skin.
I have a feeling it’s the reason I’ve been dealing with a pimple breakout on my back for the last couple of days. Maybe it’s just a normal reaction for a first timer, but I suspect Janet added something extra to make me think twice before scheduling a Brazilian wax.
My Vote Goes To The Candidate Who…
Ok, I’m not really gonna make this a political post. In the interest of keeping this a health/fitness/training themed blog, how ’bout we file this one under “personal hygiene”
If you’re planning on voting for McCain or Obama only because you believe a president should be capable of standing up while they take a leak, this might be a good time to review your voting criteria.
Now I wonder how long it’ll take for Hillary to promote universal P-mate coverage at sporting events, political rallies and concerts…
(for the record, I found the video at my favorite blog for a guaranteed laugh: ListOfTheDay)
***** ***** *****
While we’re on the subject of morons, would any of my fine readership care to meander over to my contact page and explain to me a better way to get the point across to “Gabe Benjamin S”?
(um… what I mean to say is that Gabe is the moron, not you, fine reader…)
Maybee I’s nots thuh most kleerest wryder somestime, but I thunk it’d bin ‘splained wellz ‘nuf in the BOLD RED PRINT…
Gabe, you’re an idiot – the first one worth singling out since I added the BOLD RED PRINT.
Before I sign off, did anyone else happen to notice the BOLD RED PRINT?
Political Correctness Lessons for Skinny People
Being the always considerate, caring, warm-hearted (and only occasionally sarcastic) person that I am, I figured it would be helpful to you, my dear, insensitive readers – if I provided a brief lesson on ways to call someone a “lard-ass” without the risk of overstepping bounds of common decency.
Lesson one: Use specific anatomical/physiological terms instead of offensive slang
Example: “look at that fat ass dude!” becomes “please join me in observing the person with an XY chromosome pattern and an adipose tissue-dominant posterior”
Lesson two: Never – EVER – point and laugh at someone just because they can eat you for breakfast. Instead, find some quality other than physical size to laugh at. Traditional alternatives such as race, religion, gender, political affiliation, IQ or disfigurations of the reproductive organs are always acceptable.
Example: Michael Moore is not fat. He’s just a tree-hugging satanic liberal hermaphrodite.
(See? Doesn’t that sound so much nicer than saying he’s a “fat-ass piece of sh*t”?)
Lesson three: If you do get caught saying something which could be misconstrued as inappropriate or offensive regarding one’s larger-than-life physical stature, follow the Don Imus approach: Lay low for a couple months and then resurface as if nothing ever happened. Time heals all wounds.
Before the hate mail comes rolling in, let me remind you that in my power-lifting days, I was a 300+ pound lump o’ crap. While at the time, I held firmly to the delusion that it was all muscle, the few remaining pictures would tell otherwise. Heck, even when I was a kid, I always had to wear the “husky boy” jeans from Sears.
When Did Nipples Become Unfashionable?
I went to the post office today to pick up my usual bag of fan mail (OK, so maybe it’s a really small bag, but it’s still a bag!) and what to my amazement did appear but a new fitness-music catalog.
It’s the kind of mix/jam stuff designed for the leg-warmer & leotard ‘group fitness leader’, but somehow I found my way to their mailing list. Lucky me.
Sitting at a red light, I figure I might as well thumb through this full color publication before getting back to my office where it was certain to make its way directly to the recycling bin.
Then it happened…
Page 6…
They were right there, staring at me – smack dab in the middle of the page…..
Nippits Concealment Strips
The product was billed as
The perfect Solution for times you do not want your nipples to show
A 5-pair package is a measly 7 bucks.
I don’t know if it’s worth it, and maybe I’m the only one who finds this kind of thing funny, but I just had to dig a little deeper to see how big of a problem undesired nipple exposure really is.
According to the Nippits website,
For years, women have been looking for an effective alternative to painful and bulky adhesive taping methods for concealing their nipples.
They continue by suggesting
…Nippits design fills an important niche’ in the area of fashion…
Always eager to learn more, I discovered that
Nippits do not cover the areola. They compress the nipple to the level of the surrounding breast.
Whew! Would you believe that my first concern was that the areola would be covered.
Seriously, ladies… are protruding nipples really as ‘unfashionable’ as I’m supposed to believe?
I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever had to deal with being in the 7th grade and while your mind drifts only for a moment, your teacher calls you up to the board to solve an equation at the “worst possible time”.
Just ask any guy far enough beyond the grueling pubescent years if he can recall (or even cares to admit) a time when he walked red-faced and eyes-down to the front of the class protectively clutching a math book in front of his “junk” in effort to hide a raging-hormone induced bulge.
Fashionable or not, THAT’S a market that needs to be better served.
I can’t wait to see what next week’s mailbag has to offer.
Circumcision, Necrophiliac Porn and a Cat Fetish
Regular readers of The Cup may have noticed an uncharacteristically long gap between posts. First-timers are probably wondering what the hell they’ve gotten themselves into.
While it was long before the advent of blogging, perhaps the best piece of advice I ever got was “If it don’t fit, don’t force it“.
(Get your mind out of the gutter, will ya’? Many years ago, I had a job as a stationary engineer at the University of Chicago [that story is a post for another day] and the advice was given to me regarding the correct way to repack a gate valve, but I digress…)
Over the past week or so, I’ve been tossing ideas around for your continued reading (and my writing) enjoyment. Some of ‘em were okay at best. Others met a quick death. It’s not what I’d call writer’s block, I just wasn’t excited about any of ‘em enough to sit down and type ‘em out.
Of course, I always welcome ideas and thoughts other than my own, so my friends and clients often come up with some really inspiring concepts – many of which have mutated into the ramblings which lay here before you.
Aware of my ongoing ‘war‘ with Leigh Peele, one friend suggested the title, “I’m Uncircumcised and Sleep With Dead Cats“ (At least I’m hoping it was a blog suggestion and not a desperate cry for help.) Besides, I’m not sure what it has to do with anything fitness-related, so I left that one on the back-burner… ’til today ;-)
As I learned about packing valves in my former life, forcing an issue doesn’t usually give the best results – which explains my self-imposed break from blogging.
Fast forward to today’s take home message in the form of a couple of the more (for lack of a better word) interesting life lessons I’ve learned.
Damn you, Count Dracula – When I was about 4 years old, I watched an episode of Sesame Street when the ‘number of the day’ was 3. Somehow this number sparked a burning question in my mind, so I was compelled to ask my father if 3 seconds was a long time.
He said, “It depends.”
Being the curious li’l guy that I was, I couldn’t resist following up with a “what d’ya mean?”
Apparently not one for philosophical discussion, I was hoisted off the floor by my ears while ol’ dad slowly counted out, “one…two…three…” and then put me back on my feet. This time he asked me if 3 seconds is a long time.
My answer: “It depends!”
This is how I came to understand the theory of relativity.
***** ***** *****
Ahhh… NOW I Get It!!! - Once during college football practice, I dislocated all 3 joints of my middle finger. The athletic trainer quickly straightened things out, taped my discombobulated digit and sent me back into practice. At the end of the day, I asked him if there was anything I can do to strengthen my finger so this doesn’t become a recurring issue. His advice: Soak it in cider…
As every wild salmon instinctively knows it must fight the current to return to the place of its birth where nature’s cycle can be made complete, the mind always finds its way back to the gutter…
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Porn Stars and Armadillos
You do have some experience lifting weights, don’t you?
(here’s the part where you say ‘Yes, Joe. Of course I do.’)
Great! Then you probably know exactly what I’m talking about when I refer to ”porn star ass” and “armadillo back”.
(“Did he really just say ‘porn star ass’?”)
Don’t Worry, I Got Your Back
Seated and bent rows, stiff legged deadlifts and many other exercises challenge the postural muscles of your back and can be dangerous if not performed without attention to form.
When talking shop with my peers, I have no problem speaking in terms of anterior pelvic tilt/contra-lateral reach/terminal hip extension and so on, but for “regular” people (eg: my typical clients, models at photo shoots, etc), I find it much easier to get my point across by using (ahem) “common language”.
Today, I’d like to introduce you to two of my favorite ”cues”: Armadillo back and porn star ass.
Both are terms I’d use to help a client find “neutral spine”, and are at extreme opposite ends of the curve, so to speak.
Armadillo back could also be referred to as ‘halloween cat’ (a seasonal variation I like to use in October) and is characterized by an excessive rounding of the spine.
On the other side of the coin, we have the very classy porn star ass. It’s easily recognizable by the increased arch of the lower back and a little-too-much-backside sticking out (this is a sassy little combination of ’anterior pelvic tilt and lumbar extension’ if you’re really interested).
I don’t think there are many armadillos capable of reading this blog, but if you do happen to be a porn star (or are an armadillo listening to a podcast version of this post), you probably shouldn’t spend too much time worrying about back problems due to frequent repetition of your respective spinal positions. We love you just the way you are.
The real risk of injury increases when you start loading the movement and/or add in too much rotation.
Neutral spine is somewhere in between the two extremes. You can (and should be able to) locate it from any position. If you have too much armadillo, shift toward porn star – and vice versa.
Isn’t fitness fun?
Going Commando
For all the raving fans who have expressed an interest in my feet (ok, maybe not my feet, but my new Vibram FiveFingers shoes), this picture’s for both of you.
Ahhhh… the sweet feeling of freedom. All natural - just as nature intended
My hope now is that Vibram will develop a matching line of total-freedom underwear.
Maybe I Was Wrong About Yoga?
I’m known for taking a strong stance against yoga and other ‘outdated’ flexibility techniques in favor of Muscle Activation, StopStretching, etc. but when I stumbled across this video, I found myself questioning my long-standing professional philosophy and personal opinions for a moment.
Just as I was dialing the the local yoga studio to reserve my space in the next class, I found this short clip to snap my senses right back to reality.
I don’t care how you package it, yoga IS still evil.
Is There A Doctor In The House?
Regular readers of The Cup already know I’m an 80′s metal fan/headbanger at heart, but once in awhile I like to mix up my training tunes. I was thinking of adding this “classy” version of everyone’s favorite Dr. Dre tune to my workout playlist.
[NOTE: THIS IS NOT A WORK-FRIENDLY VIDEO (unless you have headphones). Tipper Gore, Al Sharpton and others of that ilk who may be easily offended by words should avoid viewing the video (and probably this blog, too) at all costs. Don Imus, if you are a Cup reader - enjoy!]
I just have enough time to hit the squat rack and take a shower before I need to get back to work. As I always say, leg training ain’t sh*t :-)
Conspiracy
As speculation about the apparent double-murder/suicide of pro-wrestler Chris Benoit rages on, I have a few theories of my own.
1) Somebody failed to forward an email-chain letter to 5 of their friends and “something bad” really did happen.
2) Nobody died. Vince McMahon is just pushing the storyline thing a little too far outside of the ring.
3) This is another one of those ”right-wing diversion tactics”. See how we got you liberal-wackos to forget all about Iraq? Just wait to see what we have up our sleeves for 2008!
4) Three words: Kim Jong Il
5) Professor Plum in the library with a… lat pulldown machine?
6) Chuck Norris killed ‘em. Eventually, Chuck Norris kills everybody.
What Happens In Vegas…?
As I’ve said many times before, ALL forms of exercise have some level of value (as well as inherent limitations). With this in mind, while I’d be happy to sit in the audience observing their movement – from a purely bio-mechanical perspective, of course :-) – don’t expect to see me teaching Las Vegas’ fitness craze, Stripper 101 anytime soon.
But as soon as the marketplace is finally ready to accept a Gentleman’s Club Patron 101 (pre-req: Deeply Rooted Fantasies I’ve Been Clinging To Since Puberty 100), I’d be happy to develop a commercially marketable fitness program that begins with a warm up amongst the soft glow of black lights while seated in a comfortable chair (ergonomically correct, no less).
Don’t think the workout will be easy though. To be effective, any training program must include a progressive increase of the training variables.
Here’s A Sample Of What I Have In Mind:
First, perform an iso-tonic contraction against your overpriced, watered down drink in a glass that only gets washed once a week (if you’re lucky). Next, you’ll work contra-lateral elbow and shoulder flexion along with alternating horizontal abduction/adduction. To achieve this, you’ll hand over a progressively loaded fist weighted with a stack of dollar bills to your “training partner” – a young woman named Destiny, Candy or Mocha – she’ll have a story about how she’s working her way through college (she’s obviously on the Dean’s List, too).
Look, But Don’t Touch
Strive to maintain core activation and optimal posture throughout, if not some degree of eye contact and/or personal dignity.
To assist you in maintaining proper training tempo, a bonus CD would include such 1980′s strip club favorites as “Girls, Girls, Girls” or “Hot For Teacher”.
I Was Abducted By Aliens…
It sticks in my mind so clearly, it’s as if it happened only yesterday.I remember looking up and seeing the bright lights all around.
They carted me off to some sort of interrogation room. I counted 3 – possibly 4 of them. Their small, round faces were covered but I could still see their goggle-shielded eyes peering curiously at me – almost as if they were human and could somehow relate to my natural sense of discomfort.
One (possibly a female of their species) seemed to almost glide across the surface of the sterile floor, taking a position directly beside me. For a quick instant, I felt a sharp stabbing pain on the top of my right hand. This was followed by a cold, icy feeling running up through my arm.
Another one placed a clear plastic mask over my face (presumably to muffle my cries for help) and before I could even attempt to fight back, the room went completely black.
…I later learned from conversations with other abductees that my abdomen was filled with some kind of inert gas — and then the probing began. Toto, we’re certainly not in Kansas anymore.
Yes, it’s true. I had a colonoscopy yesterday – my first ever medical procedure requiring sedation (I’ve never even had a cavity, for crying out loud).
I can’t say I was particularly looking forward to the procedure (for multiple reasons), but now that it’s done, I can tell you that it’s not as bad as you might expect. In fact, the worst part was the day before the actual exam.
I’ll avoid being overly graphic here, but if you’ve ever seen a slurry pump in action (like the ones on the Discovery Channel production where they show how Dubai’s man-made “Palm Islands” are built), you’ll have a rough idea what I was experiencing by the end of a full day of nothing but clear liquids and oral laxatives.
But in just 20 minutes, the probing was done. The ‘aliens’ found what they were looking for and removed a small non-cancerous (whew!) polyp from my colon.
As I awoke in the recovery room, the sounds and smells emanating from the other abductees were familiar and earth-like, yet at the same time, more intense than anything I had ever experienced before.
The moral of today’s story: Even if a medical procedure makes you a little uncomfortable, it’s okay to make yourself the butt of a joke if it helps you deal with it.
While we’re on the subject, I just gotta add this classic punch line: Wrecked ‘em? Damn near killed ‘em!
Spotted WHAT??
According to this article, Dutch scientists are now hoping to develop “foods that can prevent obesity by making people eat less”.
I don’t mean to burst any Dutch bubbles here, but as I mentioned in a recent post, I lived in England for a few years. From my experience overseas, I’m fully confident the Brits have already crossed the bridge and mastered the skills of creating food that people wouldn’t want to eat.
While I hoping to return to the US with a slick new James Bond accent, I came away with something much more valuable – a true appreciation for the culinary artistry of Taco Bell.
Imagine sitting down in a restaurant, opening the menu and having to choose from traditional British fare such as:
Bubble & Squeak
Toad in the Hole
Black Pudding
Lardy Cake
Bedfordshire Clanger
Steak and Oyster Pie
or
Spotted Dick
Feeling hungry yet?
I quickly figured out why our neighbors across the pond drink so much alcohol.
I could go on and tell you how they’d add baked beans to any recipe (beans on toast, baked bean pizza, etc), but I’d worry that it would come across as cheap filler for an otherwise tasteless blog post.
Veel Geluk, my Nederland-ish friends, but if you want to be “first” at something, you might consider creating wooden cross-trainers or tulip bulb flavored energy bars.
"Mighty" Joe Stankowski
