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I floss daily, brush after every meal, and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries.

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Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Satan's Party Dip


A few days before our big trip out East, we drove up to the Chicago suburbs to attend to my cousin's college graduation party. In preparation for the party, I went with Cuz to get the ingredients for a dip she wanted to make, a dip she called, simply, "beer dip." I followed her through the isles of the Jewel, horrified, as I watched her chuck the ingredients for this dip into our cart: a 24 oz. can of Miller Lite, six (count 'em: six) cartons of Philadelphia cream cheese, a bag of pre-grated mild cheddar cheese, a packet of ranch dressing powder, and a couple bags of barrel-shaped pretzels to dip into the dip. I was afraid.

We got back to her house and she mixed the ingredients together. I watched as the beer bubbled and sizzled amid the coagulating cream cheese. I knew I would not have any of this dip. I vowed I would not. The addition of the bright orange shredded cheese and the dusty packet of ranch powder did nothing to weaken my resolve.

But when Cuz had stirred in just the right amount of Miller Lite to the cream cheese concoction to feel the dip was perfect, she turned to me and asked me to try it and give her my opinion. Okay, I would have one pretzel-tip of dip, just to assist my cousin on the day of her party.

I picked up the pretzel. I dipped. Feeling selfless and full of apprehension, I tasted. I was shocked: it was good. Really good. It was creamy and rich and had a nice little beery bite. Eew, Mikey! I liked it! I had another pretzel-tip full, and another. After ten or twelve beer-dip-laden barrel-shaped pretzels, I decided to stop.

But I could not. For the rest of the fucking party (or at least ‘til the beer dip ran out), I was a slave to that bowl. I kept coming back for more. I ate more cream cheese in one afternoon than I had eaten in the previous six months. I don’t even like cream cheese.

So, this is a warning. Do not make this dip. If you’re at a party and you meet a dip that fits my description, stay away from it. It is pure evil.

(But if you’re ever tempted to make it, say for a party you’re having, I recommend that you try using a really nice, flavorful beer like, say, Bell’s Amber, and freshly grated sharp cheddar. And if you do, please invite me, because I’d be interested to try just a pretzel-full, or maybe two.)

6 Comments:

Blogger Mona Buonanotte said...

I have the same experience when Boot Man at work brings in his cheesy crab dip. I don't want to, and I can stop at any time, but...I just don't want to.

I'll be making that beer dip just to see how horrible it is, and tasting and tasting and tasting it....

9:34 AM  
Blogger Lisa said...

I'm seriously going to fold you up and carry you around in my pocket.

Way.
Too.
Cute.

Yeah, I might have to make some o' that shiz. Just to prove you wrong. heh.

11:10 PM  
Blogger Feral Mom said...

I want to dip my balls in it. Satan's party dip, that is. And if you fold up E. and put her in your pocket, remember that you have A ROCKET in your pocket. Forewarned is forearmed. Or something. Woop woop woop! Drunk commenting alert!

9:50 PM  
Blogger Dawn said...

Was that a reference to "The State" Feral?

Holy fuck. You are both my demonic soul mates.

I'll bring the pork rinds, cause they are both delicious and horrifying at the same time.

10:23 AM  
Blogger E. said...

Hey, I want to dip my balls in it! Woop woop! I love drunk commenting!

So, Mona, invite me, and Lisa, tuck me in. I'm game.

And Dawn? Feral Mom and I are gonna have to make a trip to Montreal now that we know you are a fan of the best American sketch comedy show in the last thirty years. I'll bring my old, wavy VHS State tapes with me. I heard wind of a DVD in the works a couple years back when my Old Man and I saw Michael Ian Black speak in our town, but as far as I know it has not yet materialized. So nice to find another demonic soul mate. [evil laugh...]

11:20 AM  
Blogger Esereth said...

If we put our minds to it, I bet we can think of something, just SOMETHING to make that dish a little more deadly. Beer, cheeses, salt and oil are not enough. Add sugar lard. Perfection.

1:41 PM  

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