i made a TERRIBLE dinner the other night.
i couldn't even eat it.
and this was before everything else took a huge sh!t on the floor, figuratively speaking.
it was awful.
i don't know where my mind was at,
but it sure as heck wasn't in this kitchen.
look at it:
what the eff is going on?
I DON'T KNOW EITHER!!
it was a heaping hunk of nerd turds.
cajuny-battered fried baby bella mushrooms seemed like a win,
but it was zero percent victorious.
they were greasy, and clumpy,
and although the batter was molto tight, on the ones,
it did NOT go well with those mushers, which became muy muy mushy.
lettuce and peppers and pickles and sh!t did NOTHING to hook it up, either.
and the flatbread should've been called salty suck-flaps,
because i ruined that too.
the slaw was too soft, and that was a big letdown.
hey, it wasn't a complete loss, however-
the salad was good.
but, the again, it's like three things,
and two of them were just what they already are.
cukes and tomatoes are pretty tasty, and italian dressing does it's job admirably, as well.
the salad wasn't a failure, but it's also barely a salad, so there's that.
it sucked SO hard on all the balls that i was forced to admit i didn't dominate dinner.
not one little bit.
final grade: F+
was i still hungry?
what was left in the fridge?
shoutouts to salad for saving the day!
check the teleport:
A VEGAN EATING SALAD?!?!
i effs with salad heavy in my 'hood.
and all the little add-ons take dumb leaves to eleven, y'heard?
and i don't always have the time for magnificence;
i don't always have the ingredients for tremendousness;
and also also,
i don't always have an idea of what to make-
and i fall back on salad, because i will forever and ever have all ten seconds
it takes to make that.
here's a couple more:
i do that.
and i'm actually sorta surprised i don't do it more often.
i will confess to cooking very little last week.
my heart and my head just weren't in it to win it.
i did order a LOT of indian food,
and twice as much pizza.
that's a fight-back/recover combo.
sick to your stomach with guilt and grief and second-guesses and sadness?
kill it with fire,
and what's more fiery, up in the crackery whiteness of the white mountains
than a big ol' bowlful of HOT indian curry?
that's turbo-ethnic boomfire for your brown-powerful boy, duders.
and then, when i was all beat up and broken down,
what is it that kept me going,
and made me feel just a little baby bit better every single time?
ummmmmm, PIZZA, obvi.
what are you?
don't be dumb.
it's back to back to back stacks on stacks of work and work and more work,
and while the big action coming my way,
with AMPERSAND TATTOO really shaping up to be something special,
i think i've got to throw myself into it, wholeheartedly with full force and wild abandon.
i should probably start being a lot nicer to people.
it clearly makes a difference.
at the end, my sister was immeasurably well-liked.
y'ever go to your waitress's funeral, and cry your face off?
there was an enormous turnout of folks who did just that.
that's crazy to me,
but i'm so impressed by it.
i mean it.
and, like, how many ex-boyfriends were at her wake?
a whole mess.
and every last one of them was crying an ocean of tears.
if your exes are all effed up that you're gone?
that's a testament to enduring spirit and memory, isn't it?
i doubt i'd have a single tear to shed if my ex finally fell down
into her flaming punishment in the afterlife.
no jokes, these people were all the way shook.
that's some seriously molto magical juju right there -
being nicer about being mean,
and being mean without being mean,
and meaning all the nice things, too.
the kid was onto something.
seems i have a lot to think about.
and thinking about it means thinking about my sister.
that's a good idea, across the board;
never quiet, never soft.....