Posted on 02/26/2011 1:38:34 PM PST by Squawk 8888
I’m not the wiener peeler, I’m the wiener peeler’s son, And I’m only peeling wieners, ‘Til the wiener peeler comes.
I apologize to pheasant pluckers’ sons everywhere for stealing their tongue-twister.
But who can resist when my Internet fairy, Irene, drops this job ad on my desk? “Get out your resume,” she purrs.
I pause in processing Moonlight Lady submissions, and take a boo.
“Full-time Wiener Peeler,” says the ad.
Wazzat? I ask. A red-hot stripper?
“No. As in weenie. It’s got you written all over it, ” says Irene, and she flutters off.
Well, I’m getting sick of grinding out daily columns like hamburger. So I read on.
“Opportunity. Excitement. Teamwork. Respect.
“At Maple Leaf Foods we are committed to attracting, rewarding and retaining talented people who are passionate about making a positive impact in their professional and personal lives every day.”
A noble mission. What better way to pursue it than as a bona fide full-time professional wiener peeler. The opening is at Maple Leafs’ hotdog plant in Hamilton.
Imagine the awe when you tell fellow partiers your occupation.
Picture the lineup of schools recruiting for career days.
The teachers may giggle, but the kids will scream for free samples.
You’re on Price Is Right and Drew Carey says, “What d’ya do for a living up in Canada, Mikey?”
I peel wieners, Drew.
“Good for you. Wiener peeler. Hmmm. reminds me, folks, get your pets spayed or neutered.”
Anyway, I check around and find yet another job opening at Maple Leaf. Wiener stuffer. Hit it ...
I’m not the wiener stuffer
I’m the wiener stuffer’s son
I’m only stuffing ...
(Ed. note: Stop that, you hotdogger, or we’ll make you pose for a picture like Gilles Duceppe in the silly hairnet.)
NO! Not that! I’ll do anything, boss.
The photo of Duceppe in a cheese factory was a body blow to the Bloc. He looked like a weenie. Un chien chaud. Un hotdog.
I wonder. How do wiener peelers and stuffers look? All dressed?
I call Linda Smith at Maple Leaf Foods and ask: What company wit came up with those job titles?
“They’re in the union contract,” she says. “They’re really a kind of food-processing operator.”
So machines do the actual stuffing and peeling. Thank God. I can’t imagine sitting there all day, fingers numb, going, “hundred thousand and one weenies, hundred thousand and two weenies, hundred thousand and ...”
The wiener stuffer fills the tubular collagen casings with hot dog sludge. Since you asked, the ooze typically comprises mechanically separated chicken, pork, beef, water, wheat gluten, salt, sodium phosphate, spice, dextrose, corn syrup solids, sodium erythorbate, garlic powder, onion powder, sodium nitrite and smoke.
If you need to ask what mechanically separated chicken is, don’t.
Or go eat a veggie burger.
Once the dogs have been divided and smoked and solidified, the wiener peeler removes the casings.
The stuffer and peeler look like hazmat officials or Apollo astronauts.
They wear blue rubber and plastic head to toe, with hairnet, hardhats and mask. Plus earmuffs. Yes. All those dogs barking.
The hirings, says Smith, are to gear up for summer, when 60% of wieners are sold.
What a great job, eh?
I assume you get to take home any bent, twisted or otherwise defective wieners.
And you’d be in the pantheon of careers with chicken sexer, pet food tester, bounty hunter, odor reader, fortune cookie writer, golf ball diver and newspaper hack.
Plus, you’re wrapped in a soft, warm union. The Brotherhood of Bun Fillers (BBF), or whatever it’s called.
I can picture the negotiations:
“We want a raise, a longer lunch, three weeks holiday, dental coverage and pension improvements.
“But hold the mustard.”
Yes, but it doesn’t deserve a fancy name ;-).
Be glad he didn't have the urge for a nice kippered herring. :)
I’ll eat the leftovers for breakfast, or persuade Pat to eat them.
Some people can reach past perishable leftovers and open something that was going to last until May, thank you very much, until you freepin opened it ... but I am not one.
Good point. Or “previously eaten food,” but that sounds wrong ...
Good night all.
For this species, yes.
I kind of like ham and cheese tortillas to be a little crunchy, personally. But I turn it on high for only a few moments to darken the tortillas. I don’t keep it like that all the time.
It came with those. Special limited edition or whatever. $21.
Still reading the John Adams book. I stayed up till 2 in the morning with it last night. Won’t be doing that today. I have to get up early.
Then again, one never knows.
I stayed up too late, too.
A quesedilla is just a Mexican “grilled” cheese sandwich.
I learned how to make flour tortillas when I was 15.
It helped me to survive during the Cuban Missile Crisis. My husband said he had to go back to the ship Saturday morning, even though he had a “72” (the weekend off, from Friday afternoon to Monday morning) and he was gone for three weeks.
We didn’t have a bank account, and he had all the money. So I lived on tortillas the last week he was gone.
Somehow, kippered herring for breakfast just sounds WRONG!
I agree. Unless one is a cat ...
There is that...
I asked Shannon what she thought, and she sat down in the middle of the dinner table and said, “Nyik nyik eeyar.” I think that was affirmative, on the subject of eating fish, and by the way, where is it?
No rest for the wicked ... trip to the Post Orifice to mail Anoreth’s musical items, and then to the library, where I have reserve books in. I should call Asuncion to talk about when we can practice, but my Spanish-speaking synapses haven’t started to fire yet. I should have gone to bed much earlier.
I was up late last night, too, but for other reasons. I didn’t realize what they were until this morning.
My trip to the doctor yesterday wasn’t much fun, though he DID take the forms to be filled out for the student loan people. He said it will take about a week for it to be completed, so I can expect it next week some time.
While I was picking up some meds at Walmart, I went to look at the bettas, and other items to go into the aquarium I can’t afford yet, (again.) I saw this little shark-looking fish about 3” long eating another fish. I don’t think I want that in my tank.
I also saw some little crabs (1”) that I considered along with the snail and the glass cat, but I may be asking for too many algae cleaners, with only one betta. Which I probably won’t even be able to get for another month.
Still, it was fun to watch the tanks.
Anoreth’s CD is in the mail (Priority - two days). I wanted the t-shirt for myself, but I don’t think it would fit.
Tom and the byos need to work on Pinewood Derby cars.
Oh well, teleconference starts in a few minutes.
Enjoy! I need to take Elen to the doctor this afternoon. She has a bite or sting or infection or something on her arm that’s not responding to the all-purpose magic of tea-tree oil.
I hate to see smash-ups. They always remind me of my narrow miss.
Teleconference? Is this Monday?
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