Another staple of the Scottish Buddhist Diet is the Monstrosity at Mike's Chili in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle. The Monstrosity is a grilled cheese sandwich with a hot dog on top (butterflied), smothered in chili with onion, cheese and jalepenoes. The Monstrosity is not on the menu, and it probably never will be as long as Phil, the owner, is still alive. The Monstrosity came to me in a dream, is best made by Steve on a weeknight, and was named by Mariah who no longer works there. Nobody is really sure how much a Monstrosity and two Redhook ESBs on tap should cost, but I always leave $21 and that seems to be cool. If you're not local to Ballard here's how to make it at home (though it's not quite as good):

Homemade Monstrosity

Needed:
Butter
2 Onions
Garlic
2 pounds ground beef
1 can of tomato paste
2 fresh tomatoes, diced
Green pepper, diced
Bag of kidney beans
Chili paste
Tabasco
Salt and pepper
Zantac
Hot dogs
Bread (get the sourdough)
Cheddar cheese
Jalepeno Soak the beans overnight. I know cans are easier, but we're not animals, are we?

Prepare the Pot (see page 7)

Add the tomato paste, diced tomato, tabasco, more garlic, another onion, and some chili paste to the crock pot. Turn the pot to Low.

Brown and drain the beef. Add to the pot. Cook for 4-6 hours.

About an hour before preparing the hot dogs and grilled cheese, add the kidney beans and take a double dose of Zantac.

Grill the hot dogs and cheese sandwiches. Butterfly the hot dogs, put on top of the sandwiches, cover with chili, and add freshly grated cheddar cheese, chopped onion and chopped jalepeno.

NOTE: It is important to know the difference between a heart attack and severe chest pain brought on by a hiatal hernia, which is very easily aggravated by meals like the Monstrosity and the chest-clenching Sloppy Joes. Recently, after a couple months of increasing chest pain, I felt like I was having a heart attack. I gobbled down about six aspirin because I knew that my Uncle John had done this the night before he woke up to a heart attack, and it most likely saved his life.

I tidied up my boat a little bit, and buried a copy of Playboy in the trash. Not the one with some blonde cutie named Sara Jean Underwood who likes guys with facial hair that work with their hands and an international chick soccer team (that one goes into the cremation box with me), but the one somebody gave me with a bunch of overly made-up women wearing latex bodices and some chick with nipples that looked like huge brown nicotine patches. Blech. I swear that I have never masturbated to that issue.

After about an hour, the aspirin wasn't working. It was worse, and I had to decide whether to go to the emergency room or risk dying in my berth. I had some tea (another mistake--it was black tea with lots of caffeine), and weighed my options. I have no health insurance, but I've managed over the past year to get mostly out of debt and reduce my living expenses to almost nothing. A trip to the hospital would be a big hit. I'd been slowly getting back to zero, and this would be yet another kick in the coin purse.

But I now had a dog to take care of and Kenny had already been abandoned once before. I got dressed (it would be a cold walk) and looked to see if Cecyl and Rick, who live on a boat across from me and Kenny, were home and awake 'cause I wasn't gonna leave Kenny alone. There were no lights on, so we went to Swedish Medical.

I had been having some nerve pain in my arms, and it seemed like it was worse on my left side. And the left side of my face, which has some nerve damage from a bar fight a few years ago, seemed to be a lot more noticeable. We walked quickly and I was short of breath by the time we got to the hospital. Another sign of an impending heart attack.

We walked into the emergency room, and the security guard asked if Kenny was a service dog. I told him that he was a "therapy" dog and I was having chest pain. He waved me through and a very nice nurse took my vitals. My blood pressure was something over something, I had no idea what that meant. As she whisked me to a new room, I asked her if that was high. She said "yes" and within minutes I was lying down with electrodes taped all over my chest.

And instead of being even slightly nervous, I was both proud of myself for taking a positive action to possibly save my pathetic and lonely life, and glad that I was in a place where they might revive my sorry ass if my heart actually did give out. I had no idea if "something over something" was a little bad, pretty bad, or over the top and you're about to die bad. Kenny sat patiently at the side of the bed, even while doctors and nurses rushed around with machines on rolling carts and gave me shots, made me drink something, and drew blood. Somebody parked another machine outside the open door which may or may not have been one of those resuscitation machines with the electric paddles, I wasn't sure.

Things calmed down for a little bit, and I could see the nurses and doctors at their station. I could hear them talking about me and Kenny, but I was very relaxed and mostly unconcerned about whatever state I was in. It felt good to be safe. I wouldn't be dying this night, even though it will probably end up costing me a couple hundred dollars a month for the next several years.

A nurse or technician came in and said I needed some X-rays. He wasn't sure what to do with Kenny, but I told him to just pass him up and he'd come with me. We went for some chest X-rays and then back to the room, and Kenny was a perfect little guy. He laid at my feet keeping watch, but also greeted every person who came in to see me.

He's an extremely friendly and loving little guy. He's a Cairn Terrier, but he looks more like a mix between a miniature bear, an Ewok, and a kindly but senile old man. I love him to death and all of my friends and everyone in my neighborhood yells "Kenny!" whenever they see us and then apologize to me and say, "Oh, it's nice to see you too, Jay."

Anyway, it wasn't a heart attack. It was a combination of extreme heartburn, high blood pressure, and an untimely act up of nerve pain. But the point of this story is this:

If you feel like you're having a heart attack, by all means go to the emergency room. My other uncle, Ernie, had a hiatal hernia and then died of a massive heart attack, probably thinking it was no more than another flare up of indigestion. And my buddy Dave died of a heart attack as he was driving home to lie down when he wasn't feeling well.

But, if you keep a steady supply of Zantac around, you can eat whatever you want and spare yourself a possible trip to the hospital that might cost you upwards of $4,383.60, if you don't have insurance.

Suggested beverage: Redhook ESB, merlot (good for the heart).