A sauce-age?

I seriously didn’t stop sweating yesterday. Literally. All day sweat-a-thon. I could have harvested salt from my skin by the time bedtime rolled around. I’m like peanut butter. I’m sweet and salty.

Speaking of things that are delicious, remember all of that barbecue chicken that I’ve been craving, and finally made last Friday? Well, guess what I did with the leftovers. I pulled all of the meat of the bones, diced it up all tiny like, mixed in a bowl with more barbecue sauce and have been making sandwiches with it. With pepperjack. On pita. Warmed up until it’s steamy and gooey.

It’s so good, I’d wait under a car for a couple of hours in a shady parking garage to slice your mother’s Achilles tendon with a boxcutter that I bought at Savers for one of those flatbread sammies. They’re that good.

Speaking of things being ready, the kimchee has the green light for human consumption. Get your orders in now. I’m about to begin experimenting with different chili powders, so also let me know if you want to be one of my guinea pigs.

Today is a day of building shelves and running multiplication drills. And probably more sweating.

Speaking of Iron Maiden, my Icelandic girlfriend just released this:

Yeah, she’s dreamy.

Okay, time to get the sweat party started.

See ya’ tomorrow.

More soon. ~SC