In celebration of Independence Day, fellow goon Maow and myself, along with a few non-goons (E, J, and L), decided to drink a metric fuckton of whiskey the night of the July 3, and then wake up early the next morning and have a BBQ by the train tracks behind J's industrial loft in scenic Oakland, California. Ever since we saw the hot dog rollup thread and its followup, we've been eager to try our own hand at wrapping meat within meat. We're girls, so we like that kind of thing. Since everything we do with J ends up feeling ripped from the cutting room floor of a Mad Max movie, we decided to dub this adventure our Post-Apocalyptic BBQ Breakfast.

We started our day with mimosas in tall plastic red cups to take the edge off our hangovers. Though the chamTang™ J offered us fit better with the theme of the day, we felt it best to not sully our palettes prior to consuming the culinary delight that awaited us. Soon, mimosas were replaced with beer, and we got to work on our daunting task. Of course, we'd never pass up an opportunity to make drunken fools of ourselves for the Internet, so here for your viewing pleasure is photographic evidence of our epic journey into the magical world of arterial-cloggery.

Maow is an expert patty-maker. Behold! Perfect right angles. And she didn't even need a T-square!


Egg soaking as required


I wrapped the hot dog in bacon, and then had my way with it.


Gratuitous camwhore meat penis shot.


E and J wait patiently by the grill. Sup fellas.


After we climbed over the razorwire-wrapped concrete fence (and I changed my shirt to something a little less yuppie), Maow and I hopped a train. EAST SIDE FURNITURE REPRAZENT. (Maow is much more adept at flashing gang signs than I am.)


We are GO for HOT DOG ROLLUP. L and J prepare their normal BBQ fare in the background.


Shit. The rollup had a wardrobe malfunction. Also: hella fire.


While the bacon-wrapped dog was cooking, Maow and I decided to partake in a bit more camwhore action. Shy timid unassuming wallflowers. Yup, that's us.


As we reveled in our own pixelated hotness, the baco-dog charred. This was poor.


However, we did not let that phase us. Much.


Commence the rolling.


AHAHA WE ARE TEH CLEVAR.


J approves.


Maow is displeased with the 2-hour old egg/meat coating on her hands. Salmonella for all!


Lookin' good.


But then...

OH SHIT NO DISASTER


Maow was miraculously able to patch things up. Let's not tell anyone we forgot about the cheese until just now.


While waiting for the final stage of cooking, I ate some of the aforementioned "cheese." It was goddamned delicious. My hair, on the other hand, was out of control. Why did I believe them when they reassured me that my bedhead just gave it more "body" than normal??


OH GOD THE BUNS AREN'T PRE-SLICED.


Oh for the love of christ and all that is holy.


The proud chefs in front of their creation. J and L throw the goat and bottled water from J's window in approval.


The horror, the horror.


The first bite, Lady & the Tramp style.


The only appropriate reaction.


Here's where things get interesting: the picture above is linked to a brilliant video of us attempting to consume this monstrosity. It's a little on the huge side (14 megs), primarily because we're too lazy to smallify it.

There is also a follow-up video after Maow spit out her bite, located here (6 megs).

My second bite. I am consumed by the tastiness.


I can't believe it's not butter!


The eye of Sauron.


Maow and me attempting to express our anguish. In the process, I inadvertently did an excellent Terri Schiavo impression.


In the end, we couldn't finish it. We decided its final resting place would best be under the wheels of a train. E said a eulogy and carefully adorned it with the closest thing to a flower he could find in the industrial wasteland that is West Oakland.




Here it is on the tracks. Click on the picture for another classic video, this one of our hot dog rollup getting obliterated by an unsuspecting train.
(9 megs)

Every girl needs a picture of herself drinking beer in front of a freight train. Bonus video action!
(4 megs)

The aftermath (please note greasy goo on the rail).


Thus concluded our meaty adventure. Note for future reference: Flip flops are not recommended footwear for post-apocalyptic BBQ breakfast. Maow learned this the hard way.

There are some pretty great outtakes but we thought 30+ pictures and 4 videos was probably enough for you fools. Let me know if we were wrong about that.