Friday, October 26, 2012

Attention locals: get your TP casseroles ready!

The panic is strong with this storm. As Hurricane Sandy slowly works her way toward land, newscasters and locals are panicking. The Mayor has already declared a state of emergency. Those of us who prep for things like this regularly are ready for Sandy, but there's one thing left for us to do.

We have to make our TP casseroles. Normally this is a winter-only recipe, but with the amount of panic I'm seeing around here, I think we can adapt it for hurricanes.

Reposted with permission, and with my edits in bold.

1 Forecast of at least 1 FRANKENSTORM
3 cups of Baltimore News Channel Reporter and TV Crew
3 tbsp of panic
1 closed school system (prior to the storm)
1" of rain, with significant wind
1 gal 2% milk
Doz & 1/2 large eggs
1 full loaf of Wonder Bread (white preferred)
1 Charmin value pack (8 rolls)

Take one mixing bowl and place the Baltimore TV weatherman's forecast of a high risk of FRANKENSTORM on the 6 PM evening news. Watch this newscast until you hear the word "storm," "wind gusts," or "FRANKENSTORM" repeated at least 6 times. At which point we then shake in 1 cup of the Baltimore News Channel Reporter & TV Crew doing live shots before one drop of water can even be seen. This live shot may include canned footage of newscasters looking out to sea for their elusive ratings.

At this point, take one of the 3 tbsp of panic and use it in the mixing bowl of sensationalism. Go to bed, and let the mixture percolate in the fridge over night. At 5am the next morning, arise from bed and check the local news to see that the TV crews are still indeed doing their live shots from last night. If they are, turn on your AM radio to 1090. If at least one school system has closed, look out your window to confirm no rain has hit the ground. At this point, mix in the 2nd tbsp of panic, wake and dress the kiddies so you can get them ready to go to the store.

While at the store, head straight for the diary case first. Eggs and milk are the first things to be picked over, followed by bread. Toilet paper will be the last product to be picked over of the four main ingredients. Do not purchase any other products as this will prevent the casserole from being adequately formed. Use the express lines in the grocery store, and chat with as many people as possible about the yet to occur storm in hopes you will induce enough panic to cause your sensationalism to build to ludicrous speed.

Exit the store to head home, but if you would happen to see any TV crews, make sure you stop and talk with them, mentioning the fact that you were fortunate enough to be the last person to get any of the key ingredients to make your casserole. Safe guard these items with your life because if they should be stolen, your life will most certainly come to a screeching, panic induced end.

Once at home, retrieve your mixing bowl from the fridge and let warm. Once the TV crews report the first drop has hit the ground, you can then mix in 3cups of milk, and your remaining tbsp of panic. Crack open 2 large eggs and place the remainder in the fridge. Fold in one roll of toilet paper and 4 slices of bread. Mix thoroughly until well blended.

Poor mixture into one medium sized casserole dish (preferably Pyrex) and let bake @ 350 degrees until the end of the storm.

Servings are variable by nature, and not known to contain any nutritious qualities.

Oh, and don't forget your pallets of water.


Krysten said...

Funny lady. You're just stoked because you have a generator! BTW - I am coming over if it comes to that :)

Bubblehead Les. said...

Of course, if FrakenStorm does hit you guys bad enough, you might get a chance to Field Test those Mauser Stripper Clips I sent you, and issue out some Darwin Awards.

Remember, the Fish and Game Dept. does NOT have a season on "Looters," nor does one need a License.

FightinBluHen51 said...


I should blog again...then tends to experience blog burnout as there is so much disaster and ZOMG PANIC! everywhere all the time that it tends to grate on one's nerves.