Placenta Domingo Is A Vampire Now (With Bonus Recipe!)

Hello, dear reader(s?)

At least, hello to my fellow woodland-dweller. I am unsure if you want to be credited on...this. This.

This is a chronicling of my transformation into a night-walker, a crypt-dwelling creature who hides from day and abhors the dread allium. And alfalfa sprouts. And melatonin. And artificial sweeteners.

For, you see, I am a vampire now.

How can a cabbage be a vampire, you ask? What would you possibly drink? What is the cabbage version of fangs? Shut the fuck up, I say! If a man can be a vampire, if a rabbit can be a vampire in a series of journalistic nonfiction accounts, then surely a sentient cabbage can too become the undead!

How did I become transformed, you may ask? What hideous process perverted the natural state of life within this innocent except for the kidnap of Manhattanites and also jewel thievery and that thing in Texas and that thing in Hong Kong and some tax stuff and the thing that happened in the Falkland Islands that was really Colin's fault cabbage?

I....visited the Johns Hopkins Undifferentiated Cabbage Connective Greenery Disease information website. The Horror!

Apparently my new diagnosis, known by the acronym of UCCGD to the paranormally unaware, is severely aggravated by the purifying light of the sun. While I have avoided the sun for years because it gives me a rash and makes my cabbage asthma DON'T ASK HOW IT WORKS worse and makes me sleepy, I have to take further precautions. Verily, I must smear my whole cabbagery with SPF one zillion, wear dark fabrics, be completely covered, don a horrible ladies who lunch hat, and in general avoid the daystar between the super convenient hours of 10 and 4. I must also take "hella" chlorophyll supplements (one hella per week.) Granted, this is all more convenient than sleeping in a coffin all day, and certainly better than tanning myself to an early demise.

I am also no longer allowed to consume garlic, as it supercharges the cabbage immune system DON'T ASK HOW IT WORKS as well as my belov'd melatonin. I am not so upset about sprouts and Splenda, although I will have to stop making my Alfalfa Aspartame Two-Layer Salad. People love it! (Recipe below.) I am convinced, if I avoid these things and the demon sun, I will be rewarded with a long immortality. To look stupid in hats with. I do not look good in hats.

I MISS YOU GARLIC
I LOVE YOU

BEATRICEEEEEEEEEEE

Alfalfa-Aspartame Salad

2 pounds Alfalfa Sprouts

3 cups Aspartame

Wash and clean your Alfalfa Sprouts. Layer in a salad bowl, sprinkling with the Aspartame. Top with remaining Aspartame. Serve to your adoring friends and companions! This recipe does not fail to win fervent and hasty praise from all.

If you enjoy this blog, would you consider donating to my favorite cause, Stop German Food Now! Stop German Food Now! is a charity foundation devoted to eradicating German Food from the face of the earth, using civil disobedience and educational programs for Germans about sushi. Literally MILLIONS of cabbages are lost to German Food every year. Let's band together to Stoperkraut the Sauerkraut!

Placenta Damns Animals to Hell

Hey, loyal readers!*

I'm a rural girl through and through. There's nothing better than waking in my illegal tree sublet to the twittering of sparrows, making myself a sandwich and taking a walk through the morning forest to reset the Manhattanite snares get some exercise.

There's also nothing worse than having a centipede big enough to garrote someone with skitter its way across your breakfast nutelluffernutter, leaving a trail of-something? I couldn't possibly guess-glistening on the bread you selected specifically for its lack of bug jizz or whatever.

Let's face it, asshole animals ruin nature. But have they ever been confronted about it?

fucking why?

Well, I'm going to call them out on their shit right now. Animals get away with everything: stinging, biting, releasing a stinking chemical from their ass glands, using your spatula and melting it and then refusing to pay for a new one even though it was really nice and a gift! 

$15.95 at Macy's

Here's my list of animals that deserve to burn for eternity.

1. My squirrel roommate. 

not pictured: the rest of my peanuts

FUCK YOU COLIN. 

2. Skunks.

basically Dane Cook/Hitler

You should know that even though I'm running away from your butt, I'm not scared of you. I just hate dealing with my dry cleaner's rude teen employees. Maybe I should let my cat try to make ball-free love to you someday. How would you like that?

3. Silverfish.

I'm not posting a picture of a silverfish because God made them to punish us with fear. Which are legs? Which are antennae? Whatever they are, there are too many of them. And late at night, the scrabbling, shifting noise they make

watching

moving

waiting for you to go to sleep so they can crawl in your face!

Case closed. Silverfish are bad.

4. Foxes.

the British hunted them on horses to be higher than the smell

People love foxes, specifically Manhattanites I catch in my snares people who don't live very close to foxes. The straight dope on foxes is: when a vixen is horny, she'll scream like an actual human person. It'll be a lovely evening and you'll be ensconced in your tree putting your cabbage feet up and relaxing with Hee Haw and the latest Reader's Digest when you hear this noise like someone's being murdered. Has a Manhattanite escaped? Is someone in need of assistance? So you'll pull on your specialized boots and trudge out into the woods, giving Colin enough time to eat your Easy-Mac, only to find that it's just a horny fire-colored dog creature. And then you find a totally unrelated body and that causes some problems and eventually it leads you to an international ring of jewel thieves culminating in a triple cross in Bucharest during your last job, you swore!

Fucking foxes.

This is probably going to be a series.

























*no one

Hello! This is Lynx's first post on Placenta Domingo's incomparable, inconceivable, incomprehensible, and the one and only Naked Mole Rat Hour. In keeping with the gravity of the occasion, I will post what I ate for lunch today. I thought it was pretty good. Measurements are imprecise--use your common sense. Yours, Lynx.

PASTA WITH BROILED TOMATO-CHEESE SAUCE

Difficulty: Easier than pie
Time: about 20 minutes
Serves: 2-4.

1. Put on some water for a box of pasta--I like rotini in this application. Also preheat the broiler to medium (or low if you only have two settings).
2. Find yourself a few nice tomatoes, a little over a pound total--don't bother making this if it's not tomato season. Cut them into chunks if they're big, wedges if they're small. Put them in a deep pan. Drizzle them with a couple tablespoons of olive oil and a pinch of salt.
3. Add about a cup of cheese to the tomatoes. Today I used a curried farmer's cheese I got as a gift, but I probably won't do that again (even though it was amazing). Some other options: chunks of fresh mozzarella, farmer's cheese, feta, brie, bleu. You could also use grated hard cheese (parmesean, asiago) and a couple tablespoons of cream. This is delicious if you add a few chopped olives at this juncture.
4. Slide the tomatoes under the broiler and keep an eye on them. When the cheese looks bubbly and a little brown (about ten minutes later), turn the broiler off, but leave the pan in the oven until the pasta is done. If it burns a little, that's okay.
5. Chop some fresh herbs, if you want them and have them. I used about a quarter cup of Thai basil (to go with the curry) and chives.
6. When the pasta is done, drain it and put it in a big bowl. Immediately pour the tomatoes and cheese over the top, along with any liquid in the pan. Add the herbs and stir it up--this will break up some of the tomatoes, and a light, creamy sauce will start to form.
7. Serve it right away with a sprinkle of parm. Or something.

Placenta's Old Woman Weekend with a Spy

why

Hello, "everyone!" As I still haven't decided what kind of blog this is going to be, I'm going to try my hand at travel blogging. This post will be about how to have an age-inappropriate and fun weekend in the Hudson Valley without having to see another person under the age of forty. Normally, it takes a lot to get this cabbage to leave her hollow tree-I'm tired of calling the police on my squirrel roommate-but this weekend my friend and future contributor The Scarlet Dodger and I decided to do some things. Here are some event writeups. Maybe I will continue to do this?

Saturday's Event: Stone House Day!

that's real stone, not plastic

Location: Hurley, New York.
Event Description: Over ten stone house tours! Local vendors! Vernacular architecture! Graveyard!

Dress Code: Colonial formal.  I wore my traditional cowhide garment (more on the garment to come). The Scarlet Dodger wore her duster and fedora, to keep a low profile. I am told it had something to do with whatever she was just doing in Buenos Aires. 

Should I Be On Drugs For This: Do you want to feel like every third person has jumped forward in time? If the answer is yes, call me

What Am I Going To Be Dropping Money On: LIBRARY FAIR YO. Three motherfucking sheds! Get ready to remove your styrofoam cup full of nickels from the whispering folds of your traditional garment!
Creepy Hanger On Event?: An antiques sale, which proved to be more fucked up than I could ever have dreamed! And a dried flower wreath closeout.

basically me at Stone House Day, because of my garment

The Antiques Scene: Possessed or Overpriced?

                                              
The eyes of the dog on the right possess a strange intelligence. Verdict: POSSESSED.

A broken Silent-Hill-y baby carriage for only $65 dollars. Look, if I wanted to put a baby in serious danger, I could do that for free at the water park. Verdict: OVERPRICED.

Somewhere, someone's stroking a turkey skull and thinking about the day they made this. Maybe they want it back, and have unearthly powers! Should you really risk it? Verdict: POSSESSED.

Fifty fucking dollars! Verdict: OVERPRICED HULK VAGINA SCULPTURE.

Referred to as the "mannequin" by the two jocular and undeserving-of-this ladies running the sale, this three-foot-tall baby doll looks like Elizabeth Taylor with Lindsey Lohan's skin tone. If you were wondering, the eyeliner was painted on recently. Verdict: POSSESSED BY THE SPIRIT OF LIZ TAYLOR.

I also took a lot of pictures of the graveyard. People are interesting. 

aw yea a culture that remembers the dead yet removes them from the community thus affording them a liminal status

Sunday's Event: A Fucking Fiasco From Beginning to End

Location: the Magic Forest, Highland, Walkill, Modena, Rosendale, High Falls, Beekmantown, Lloyd, Poughkeepsie, Lloyd again, the Magic Forest again, wherever the fuck else we drove.

Event Description: Making plans with The Scarlet Dodger to go to a vinegar festival at a local monastery! Trusting Google Maps! Becoming hopelessly lost in the Magic Forest-adjacent boonies! Making a potentially legal u-turn on 9W! Eventually giving up and going home! 

Dress Code: Rage sweat. 

Should I Be On Drugs For This: We probably needed caffeine.

What Am I Going To Be Dropping Money On: Indian food, once you realize that the restaurant you want to eat at is closed and you'll hyper-puke on some bitch's caftan if you have to eat a greasy hot dog right now. The Scarlet Dodger also purchased some items at the hardcore thrift shop while I battled my mysterious attraction to the proprietor. That guy is my Ryan Gosling and I couldn't for the life of me tell you why. 

Creepy Hanger On Event?: Picking up myrrh for my deipna Hecate at the magic store. 

Takeaway: Old people know where the good times are (old graves!) and whoever designed the town of Lloyd is burning in hell right now. Mmm. 

Cooking With Placenta (not your own, wolverines and crunchy moms)

Hello, readers! (she typed, optimism blooming within)

While this is not going to be a cooking blog per se, I would like to present myself as a competent individual instead of the shambling, never-fully-awake disaster that I am certainly not! Thus, I will open with my infamed recipe for risotto!

this is not risotto. never do this.

This recipe was originally taken from The Silver Spoon, the premier cookbook for Italian people who are my extended family, but I've fucked with it so much over the years I feel comfortable calling it mine. But yeah, it's still basically the Silver Spoon's. 

Ingredients 

1 cardboard box thingy of store-bought chicken or vegetable Stock. If you have homemade Stock, you care more than I do.

2 cups Arborio or Carnaroli (for those of you with your own Stock, Carnaroli is best) Rice.

1/2 cup Dairy Fat, either mozzarella cheese, butter, or cream depending on your intended consistency. There is absolutely no getting around this. 

1/4-1/2 cup Hard Italian Cheese, grated.

1 white or vidalia Onion, diced. 

Some Olive Oil. I refuse to be more specific. 

Optional ingredients: 2 beaten eggs (I'll explain, purists), peppers, peas. white wine. salmon, your placenta, etc. You can put almost anything in risotto. My favorites are red pepper, spring pea or red wine and mushroom, which is a pretty horrible industrial carpet color but tastes great.

Cooking Time: You're going to be cooking for an hour.

Steps:

1.Heat the Stock in a stockpot until it's boiling. Turn it down to a low simmer and slap a lid on that shit. Otherwise you may end up needing 1 and 1/4 thingies.

2. Dump the Olive Oil in a pan and heat on medium for about five minutes.

3. Turn the heat down a little and add the Onion. Cook until it's cooked. Come on, you know how to cook an Onion. If you're using red peppers, they should go in with the Onion. Any other veggies should be added midway through step 6.

4. Add the Rice. Shove it around the pan until it's coated in the Olive Oil and Onion. Toast it for a minute or two. Now is when you would add your wine/sherry/balsamic vinegar/vanilla if you're freaky.

5. Add about 1/2 cup of the Stock to your Rice. Now the stirring begins! You're going to be stirring for a while. Use a rubber policeman. 

6. Every time the Stock is almost completely absorbed, add another 1/2 cup. This should take at least a half hour. Any less and you won't extrude enough starch from the arborio and it won't be any good. Stir constantly. 

7.When the rice is almost done but still a bit toothy and your Stock is almost gone, add your Dairy Fat and most of your Cheese. Now stir like you've never stirred before! You need to whip the starch from the Rice and the Dairy Fat together as fast as you can manage without blinding yourself with hot Rice or tearing your rotator cuff. 

8. Finish off with 1/2 cup of the Stock, wait for any excess liquid to absorb and transfer to a tureen or whatever. Your risotto should have a consistency like half-made jello. It'll tighten up at the table.

8 with eggs: Finish off with 1/2 cup Stock and your eggs, which should be swiftly incorporated to avoid egg drop risotto. Purists, this makes it really creamy and nice. Plus, with the eggs it can be your main course. 

9. Remove the Rice from your eyebrow. 

Serve with the rest of the Cheese and freshly grated pepper! Makes a great main course with a light salad or a side dish for fish. I don't have a picture of my own risotto, owing to the constant rain of superheated Rice globs whenever I make this. This picture looks accurate, though. 

that's a fucked up garnish, though. green pepper bits? 

You're fucking welcome! 

The Naked Molerat Hour Introduction and N.A.Q. (Never Asked Questions)

Hello! My name is Placenta Domingo and this is my new blog. I have decided to write a blog because I love attention, any kind of attention. I live in a hollow tree in the Hudson Valley. I attend Women's College in New England, where I am a Wasting Money major. My hobbies include mediocre cartooning, fighting my squirrel roommate, gardening, and Italian cookery.

N.A.Q. (Never Asked Questions)

Q. Why "The Naked Molerat Hour?" 

A: Why not? (there are many reasons why not).

Q: You know that "Molerat" is actually two words, right?

A: BITCH THIS IS MY BLOG I WILL DO WHAT I WANT

Q: Is Placenta Domingo your real name? 

A: Wittgenstein tells us that this question is unanswerable. 

Q: Why don't you understand the philosophy of Wittgenstein?

A: Because I didn't pay attention in my Wittgenstein seminar.

Q: Why did you take a Wittgenstein seminar?

A: I don't know! It was really difficult!

Q: What grade did you get in your Wittgenstein seminar?

A: B+.