Cornbeefin' G

Well, I must admit it was surprising to hear from someone who just last week explained that his experience going to see Rent wasn't quite as enjoyable as a lovely evening spent soaking in the Lion King (is that guy fucking a cheetah?). These hardly seem like jackal-worthy exploits. Furthermore, I gather that "corning beef" has been dubbed to be an un-jackal activity by someone that gloats about "smoking pork" on a fairly regular basis. I ask you, jackals, what sounds more questionable through the lens of a jackal?

So, after a work induced-respiteit appears I was the target of some slander.
That shit aside, this week's been jam-packed with awesomeness; namely, seeing the fruits of my medival approach to brisket.

This tale of curing began last Tuesday (June 2nd to be exact) with a brisket, some shit, internet access and dreams. After a week of soaking in some sweet-ass juices and spice I was ready to get my corned beef on.

Just having a soak.


Into the fire...


Add the filler


Get some


Two women told me they "dug my beef" today, and they would "love some more", who else can say that? Oh yeah, and his dog is "afraid of water" too, how jackal could he be?

'Nuff said, and remember, ScarShoulders, I brought you into this blogging world, and I can damn sure take you out.