that's all.
duders,
last night i dominated another 'nother meal.
yes, i did.
jacket potatoes.
hmm?
yup.
giant tubers, busted open, and filled with everything expert.
that's real.
i had a chance to work on my timing,
because food, like comedy, relies pretty heavily on precision clockwork,
waiting patiently, setting up all the pretense,
for a wholly enjoyable consequence arriving right when it's most appreciable..
no F*ing joke.
haha.
get it?
oh, c'mon!
anyway,
potatoes take forever to bake,
but that's actually the good news.
mmhmm.
i had plenty of minutes to meal plan on the fly,
and fry up all the fresh sh!t that we stuffed up in 'em.
neighbors,
check the my-evening-jacket-type teleport:
a bed of arugala garnish makes eveything better,
and that is almost inconceivable in regards to this herculean meal.
so what's it all about?
oh.
okay.
i'll be more than happy to spout off on the individual merits of what
my sarlacc-style bellyhole is digesting as we speak...
on the left,
inside of a rightfully righteous idaho russet,
blissfully buttered along the burst seams of it's jackety skin-
there are brussels sprouts, lightly browned on one side;
sauteed mushrooms, thick and juicy,
but without the slime or the dryness that come from improper preparation;
black-pepper-fried tempeh strips, steamed first, fried later,
and peppered to pieces on their golden browned flax-seeded sides;
and a parsley garnish because that's some crackery-A* stuff to put on a potato.
like i said earlier- expert.
and on the right?
ew!
total all-american filthy glutton-style yankee food indulgence.
yep.
another big ol' 'tato-
but this time with slow-cooked tempeh and roman bean chili,
over nootchy vegan chee' sauce,
with exxxtra-turmeric for that doo-doo buttery mellow yellow glow.
y'know?
yuuuuuup.
that's important. if it isn't bright, you're doing it wrong.
chee'sauce is s'posed to be borderline unnatural.
that's how you can be sure it has all the nutrients.
i think that is a real thing?
anyway,
caramelized onions, a little overcooked, on accident,
which only added to the elite tastiness of the overall display;
and bacon-style brick-colored strips of smoky vegetable protein;
and scallions for garnish like a proper bacon-and-onion chili-chee' bomb.
again,
i done already told you- expert.
that's what's up.
*
the thing is, kids, i can't stop eating.
i mean it.
there's so much good stuff waiting for my teeth to chomp down on,
i'd feel lazy and stupid if i let it pass by.
y'know?
i hope you do.
i know it's all really happening, and i know it's all really right there,
i've got means, i've got opportinity,
and honestly i've never lacked motive, nor motivation,
for sharkbite feeding frenzies whenever there's vegan hottness
in the fridge, on the stove, in the oven, or anywhere, for that matter.
like,
i had about a pound of leftover baked macaroni for lunch,
i needed fridge space, and then, a few huge bites later, i had lots and lots of it.
a man pan of penne is no small rectangle, y'all.
the extra room was put to good use in preparatio of potatoes, too.
but,
even before that,
i started off my day with style.
yeah.
i got up, i got busy, and i terrorized a fat stack of these:
so many panniecakes.
inside my body, there is a war being waged.
my metabolism is stoking all the flames that fuel the boiler,
and fanning the fires in my furnaces,
and trying deperately to devour the calories i'm consuming.
i don't want to be a big gross fattie,
but i also don't want to miss out on all this good stuff.
conflicting interests are never what you want to feel
when you're filling up your face with bite after bite of deliciousness.
i mean, buyer's remorse is better than waffling over whether to eat pancakes,
right?
yeah.
that's for sure.
of course,
the half a homemade pizza, after a cookie,
after a muffin for dinner wasn't helping my brain decode the destructive impulses
of intake versus exercise versus more and more and MORE and MORE..
neither was this:
two days in a row of decadent devouring.
like the fenriswolf, except i wouldn't bite the hand that feeds me,
for two very good reasons-
first, it's my own hand, so that's dumb,
and second,
my hands have teeth, and getting a bite-back b!tchslap from myself?
well,
that just seems like a terrible,idea
ugh.
but i'm STILL so F*ing fat, on the inside.
and i've always heard it's what's inside that counts.
admittedly,
almost exclusively by the unattractive creatures who would prefer to be judged
on something other than the lack of effort they've made
to activate a little personal style for offsetting the weakness of the raw materials.
holy shallow sh!thead, huh?
dudes,
i'm not saying i don't get it, or that it's fair, or that it's nice.
but if you're busted, you gotta try a little harder,
or accept that inactivity doesn't make you better at anything but being inactive.
huh?
i just said i'm so fat on the inside,
and that might be what counts.
take it easy.
that means i'm very likely just as ugly on the INside, too.
awwwwwwwwwwwww......... .
regardless of the interior renovations,
or the exterior undesirablility,
i STILL dominated another enormous diaper-monster,
and i devoured it in record time.
i guess i practice what i preach, princess.
a. you can never go too far.
b. life is pain.
c. too much is the right amount.
d. stay ugly, stay dope.
that is all there is.
what else?
yeah.
stuffed full of stuff, and fit to burst.
ranting, raving, and ravenous;
never quiet, never soft.....
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