I just made the best fucking salad in the Cosmos. It was so good I had to race over here and tell you, the internet, that I just made the best fucking salad in the Cosmos.

First of all, kalamata olives. I don't piss around when I make a salad. I make it like a man, like fucking Clint Eastwood, all squint-eyed and kalamata-olive-using. There are people walking around on this planet right this very minute who don't like kalamata olives, but that's ok because I am very accepting of pathetic loseriness.

Next, the base: iceberg lettuce, which featured prominently in the salads served aboard the Titanic, ironically enough. The amount I used is called in technical culinary parlance "a baseball-sized hunk". I chopped it up on my bamboo cutting board with the awesome red knife I got for Christmas.

Then you need a little feta cheese, chopped portabella, grape tomatoes (six or eight), and a stout clump of alfalfa spouts.

Now toss that salad, baby. Oh, yeah, you know how daddy likes it.

The dressing I make myself and it is comprised of extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar and white wine tarragon vinegar. Predominantly it is vinegar, though, mostly balsamic. Seasoned with salt, pepper, thyme, oregano, garlic powder, and onion powder, then shaken like a Polaroid picture.

Jesus christ it was good. I ate the living shit out of that salad. Rabbits all over the globe hung their furry little heads in shame. It was the perfect punctuation point for the sentence of 8 beers I had just drunk.

Now if you will excuse me, I am off to continue my never-ending awesomeness.