The pudding I would try to make would be a rather complex little figgy pudding, with small bits of bone, for texture. There would be an intricate garnish of liquid coconut, dyed red. The coconut would spell out, in a highly stylized calligraphy, the Croatian alphabet. Maybe the pudding would come with a toy, for the little ones. This is after the mass-production part of the pudding-making happens. I would try very hard to make this pudding delicious, but I mean come on, it’s my first pudding, so cut me some slack, all right? This is a big step for me. I can’t wait to hear from you.
The pudding I would try to make
4 June 2009 ?
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Things I would do | Tagged: drunk!, pudding | 
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Posted by hornblower
The ice cream I would invent
6 May 2009 ?The ice cream I would invent would be a special flavor formulated for maximal taste bud stimulation in a good way. I would make it not with cream, but rather with salad dressing — Russian, French, and South African. When I combine the dressings, the result is a magic thing. There are many other parts of a good ice cream, and my ice cream would have all of these parts. The other ice creams around town do not have all these parts. Some of the ice creams have all of the parts some of the time. All of the ice creams have some of the parts all of the time. But none of the ice creams has all of the parts all of the time. None except mine, that is. This is the main reason that my ice cream is a championship-winner. There are other reasons as well. My ice cream wears a cape and a false moustache (bigote falso). It (the ice cream, not the cape nor the false moustache (bigote falso)) is delicious for more reasons than just these, however. The texture is of the highest magnitude on the Herring Index. This is a supreme accomplishment of mine. For this I am well-respected — revered, even — in ice-cream-making circles. I have been given many prizes for my ice-cream-making prowess, including the Palm d’Or at Cannes in 2007. It is a nice prize to have. Thank you. I also make sacrifices to the Mayan gods.
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the Horse I would ride
20 April 2009 ?The horse I would ride would buck like a bronco, but it wouldn’t actually be bronco, dummy! Man. No, this horse would be made out of topaz, and Helen Mirren would ride him too — bareback (whoa sexual innuendo! sexy older lady innuendo — the best kind). Helen and I would be on this horse, and his name would be Rustygate, obviously, and we would trot around, and then start to gallop, then Helen would fall off because, I mean, what did you think, both of us could stay on the horse? There’s no saddle, remember? And there are two of us, on one horse? And it’s bucking like a bronco? And neither of us knows how to ride a horse? And we’re blindfolded? And so is the horse? And so is God?
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The chicken I would Raise
10 April 2009 ?The chicken I would raise would be the biggest, strongest, baddest chicken around, probably. I would feed it staples and thimbles, and train it from a young age to attack bigger chickens — to make it tougher, duh! I’d name it Leonard, or Jheri. If my chicken wanted to go to the movies or play the saxophone or something, I’d make him do some martial arts and then play some Jai Alai with me first. And we would win — every time.
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The Raisin I Would Eat
10 April 2009 ?The raisin I would eat would be an enormous raisin. I would make it myself, by drying an enormous purple grape on my windowsill. I’ll put the old grape out there on a Friday (!) and by Tuesday I’ll see if it’s at raisin status.
It might fester, out there on the windowsill. I’ll let it. I’ll wait. I’ve got patience.
It might stink, like rotten meat. I’ll stand it because I have to do.
It might get syrupy sweet, crusted over with natural sugar — an odd photosynthesis. All right with me. I’ve grown used to cloying saccharin.
Is it too big? It might expand, volume up, density down. Skin folded on itself paradoxically, sagging under its new, unwelcome weight. I’ll watch it sag under its own heavy load.
It might explode.
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The bar That I Would Own
10 April 2009 ?The bar that I would own would be in a barn. It would not be a difficult transition. Traffic would be slow, except on Sundays. I would stock the bar with plenty of drinks and then sell them for more money than what I paid for them. In this way I would make profit.
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The Portrait That I Would Paint
10 April 2009 ?The portrait that I would paint would be of the Princess of England. It would be an organic interpretation of the Princess, incorporating elements of daily life and current events. In all likelihood, it would not bear any discernible resemblance to the Princess herself, looks-wise, but her close friends and handmaidens would almost certainly recognize the little touches that would make it a wonderful little treat.
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The Dictionary That I Would Write
10 April 2009 ?The dictionary that I would Write would only have happy words, like “raisin” and “January.” Sad words like “cauliflower” and “geranium” would be eliminated like *that* yes sir. My dictionary would be the most popular dictionary in the nation on account of the grassroots movement.
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