I'll Intentionally Fail Every Semester

If I could have majored in Tacos when I was picking colleges, things may have turned out differently for me  

Your college did have a taco bar in the dining hall every Tuesday.  That had to count for something, didn't it?

Certainly!  It counted for me eating many, many tacos...usually on Tuesdays.  

The great Hannah Hart once said,  "I find myself, when drinking, in a constant state of desiring Mexican food.  But to put that more accurately, you'd have to replace the word 'drinking' with 'awake.'"  Sure, she had been drinking and was hosting a cooking failure show at the time, but you have to admit that she had a point.  

LIR's Note: "My Drunk Kitchen" is a brilliant web show usually involving cooking failures.  The show itself is very much not a failure, it really is very successful, and we're big fans here. 

Tacos are among the greatest things ever, and much of life is a long journey to, among other things, find the perfect taco.  So, imagine my delight when I learned that the University of Kentucky is now offering a class called "Taco Literacy: Public Advocacy and Mexican Food in the US South."  Sadly, it's a single class and not something you can actually major in, but I'm sure there are loopholes worthy of exploiting to get more taco education.  

Do you have any idea what the tuition costs are at UofK?  Might be the most expensive free tacos you've ever had.

True, the tacos themselves are a fleeting bonus of the course, but it's the taco learning that lasts a lifetime.  How can you put a price on that? 

Later, I'll Re-Heat The Pasta For More Smell!

490,000 Google results for “Get rid of garlic smell.”  Why?!?

People don't like lingering smells in their house, Jeremy.  You don't seem to notice.

So, I fancy myself a pretty decent cook most of the time.  I often like to partake in what I call "Culinary Adventures" where I try to make something new for the first time.  Sometimes they are a smashing success, (Hello, Chipotle pulled taco beef!) and other times, I spend the next four days chiseling burnt oatmeal out of my crock pot (I hate you, whoever posted that crap on Facebook).  These adventures have also led to my award-winning chili recipe, and my self-proclaimed Best Oatmeal Raisin Cookies.  No, you can't have either recipe, but if you invite me to a party or something, you can request that I bring chili or cookies.  I'm fair like that.  

Not long ago, I made pasta.  Ooooo, exciting.  Yeah, I know....pasta is usually pretty simple, and it is in this case, too.  However, it does involve slicing a mildly exaggerated number of garlic cloves into thin wafers.  This means that my entire house now smells like garlic.  

Very rarely do people walk into a house that smells of garlic and say, "Yooooooo, it stinks up in this!"  The much more common reaction is something more along the lines of, "Oh, it smells so good in here," because garlic smell always means fresh home cooking.  Such is the case with me.  I love the smell of garlic cooking, and the smell of my house after I've cooked with garlic.  It also tends to linger a bit.  

By bedroom does not smell like garlic.  I have an air freshener thing in there, and a humidifier which dampens smells of all types, and one of those Himalayan salt lamp thingies which is supposed to release negative ions into the air for health benefits which I believe are purely bunk.  All of this stuff served to isolate my room from the overall garlic smell of the house.  So, when I came out of my room this morning to go to work, I was assaulted by the wonderful leftover smell of garlic.  Yay!  I wondered if there was a way to get rid of that smell, not that I really wanted to...just a curiosity. 

Is He Allowed To Ride The Goalie?

Funnier: A hockey player riding a horse, or a jockey on skates?  Discuss  

If it's only the jockey, this may be a toss-up.  If the horse was skating too, I really think we're talking some pretty next-level comedy right there.  

So, for today's Sametime Status, we're examining the effect of a single letter change on a word.  In hindsight, this might have made for a really fun Theme Week...in fact, it still might...stay tuned.  

Anyway, the words "Hockey" and "Jockey" are only off by one letter, and mean very different things. We'll ignore the fact that one is the name of a sport, and the other is the name of a participant in a sport because that takes away from everybody's pleasure, and we don't want to do that here.  So, picture if you will:

Hockey players are often fairly large expanses of humanity.  Not always, certainly, but when people think of the stereotypical hockey player, they think of the 6 foot plus goon with muscles on top of muscles, minimal teeth, and a predisposition to punching others.  This is a stereotype, people...and as you know, all generalizations are wrong.  Anyway, hockey players wear thick pads over most of their body, have a helmet, skates, and a graphite composite stick.  Imagine this person riding a horse.  

Horse racing jockeys are typically folks of minimal stature wearing remarkably colorful clothing, leather boots, a helmet, and carrying a riding crop.  Imagine this person being checked into the boards of a hockey rink by a 6 foot 230 pound defenseman.  

I honestly don't know which of these mental pictures I find more amusing.